Free From Him

The sun’s last rays shone over the western mountain peaks. Celeste slipped a pair of blue jeans out from the clean laundry pile and under her apron, hoping it was dark enough outside to hide the bulkiness but light enough that no one would question her presence in the farmyard. She stepped off the porch and focused on the steady swish of her skirts brushing the dusty ground.

“Celeste!”

Celeste jumped. It was Eliza, her husband’s fourth wife and the only one who served him willingly not fearfully.

“You startled me!” Celeste tried to smile.

“What are you doing out here so late?” Eliza demanded.

“You’re asking me?” Celeste replied stiffly, to remind Eliza that she was head wife, “I’m just checking the hen that was sick this morning.”

There really was a sick hen. Celeste couldn’t afford suspicions right now.

“Better hurry back before prayers.” Eliza sneered. She openly enjoyed watching their husband, Zachariah, humiliate Celeste when she arrived late for prayers.

Celeste stooped through the small door to the coop and quickly jammed the jeans into a sack hidden beneath the straw. Then she stroked the sick chicken and gave it fresh water before hurrying back into the house to put the laundry away.

“How’s the hen?” Another voice made her jump, almost causing Celeste to drop the pile of shirts she was holding. Zachariah was standing behind her.

“Still sick.” Celeste replied shortly, realizing he must have just spoken to Eliza. She plopped the shirts in the waiting laundry basket with the other clothes. She looked up to find Zachariah looking intently at her.

“Tomorrow’s my birthday.” She blurted, “I’ll be getting up early.”

Zachariah grunted. He forbade celebrations of any kind, but Celeste had skirted this policy by getting up early each year, so she had a few hours in the daytime to herself. She usually walked along the ridge that overlooked a small town in the valley below their zealous religious community on the short mesa.

“Celeste,” Zachariah finally said, “I’m asking you for the last time to help me next week.”

Celeste opened her mouth, but paused before responding. She recognized his dangerous tone, but how could she agree to something so horrific—even if she wouldn’t be here next week to go through with it. After a few tense seconds she gave a carefully worded response.

“Do you really believe no one will get hurt?”

“Of course, they’ll have plenty of time to get out.”

“Why can’t one of the others do it instead?”

“You are the only one who won’t be recognized. Besides, it’s for our children!” Celeste winced. She was his only legal wife, and yet the only one he didn’t trust enough to accompany him to town. But now he needed her to carry out his plot of revenge against the town that had taken away their two children two months before. She was the only one who could walk into city hall, light it on fire, and leave without being recognized. She looked at the stubborn set of his face again, knowing that he wouldn’t take “no” for an answer, and knowing that angering him right now could destroy her chance for freedom.

“Alright, I will.” Celeste said quietly, turning away from him.

Zachariah said nothing in response, but came up behind her and stroked her arms gently, just as he used to do during that blissful time when they were first married. She had been filled with dreams back then of a home filled with happiness. Now all she wanted was to escape alive. Celeste grabbed the laundry basket and hurried from the room.

Their conversation left Celeste behind, and she arrived two minutes late for prayers. Zacharias for once settled for just a brief glare, perhaps fearing wouldn’t go through with the arson. Celeste slipped in next to Mary, Zacharias’ newest wife of two weeks. Celeste felt a pang of pity, knowing that Mary probably had no idea what she’d gotten in to.

“Oh, God,” Zacharias began praying, “I present to you these people as your only true followers along with those others who have embraced the Order of the Truth. I ask you to instruct these people through me, your only true Voice, and ask you to guide them in strict holiness. Oh, God, reveal your word.”

Celeste tuned out the familiar prayer and waited silently afterward for the usual revelation that came to Zacharias.

“Sarah!” Zacharias boomed at his sixth wife after about five minutes of complete silence, “You are guilty of a heinous sin and must repent! You will scrub the floor of every room in this house tomorrow.”

Sarah looked unhappy, but not surprised. Zacharias had been receiving similar revelations for a week since Sarah had forgotten to serve Zacharias first at dinner.

The moment Zacharias dismissed them, Celeste hurried to her room. She changed the alarm clock to four, wondering if she would even be able to sleep tonight.
As she lay down, Celeste suddenly saw her mother kneeling and praying next to her when she was small. A tear slipped down her cheek.

“Please, Father, help me be free.” She whispered spontaneously. For a few moments, the peace from her childhood filled her, and she sunk into sleep without realizing it.

Celeste jumped her bed when the alarm rang and in a few minutes she was pulling the bag of supplies from its hiding place in the chicken coop. She hurried down the path to the ridge, stumbling several times in the dark, and hid the bag again in a bush near the edge. Then she returned to the house and flew through the rest of her work.

Celeste normally went for a walk to the ridge at this time of day, but only on her birthday did she have time to stay for a while. At eleven o’clock, she made her way along the path to the ridge once again, swinging a bag lunch in her hand.

She snatched up the supplies and then quickly walked to a spot on the ridge that was about a quarter of a mile away. She let herself down a fifteen foot cliff, holding both ends of a rope around a small tree then pulled the rope after her. In this spot, the ridge wasn’t quite as steep once you got past the cliff, so Celeste could slide down and over to a thick clump of stubby trees that sat at the base of the mesa.

As soon as she was hidden in the trees, she stripped her clothes off and replaced them with the blue jeans and a bulky brown jacket. She cut off her hair with a pair of scissors and jammed a hat over the uneven cut. The hair, dress, and every shred of evidence went into a small, hard case. When she emerged from the trees, she hoped to look like the young man, dressed in blue jeans and a dark jacket, who came to this spot several times a week to play his flute. For the next five miles, nothing taller than a low shrub grew out of the desert. Celeste’s only hope was to look like the young man with the flute. She started toward the road—the route the young man always took.

Celeste walked as quickly as possible. The road was silent. Her heart beat painfully hard. The safety of the town seemed so far away. How long had she been gone? She guessed an hour. If she was lucky, she would have two more hours before anyone realized. She could easily reach the town by then.

A growling sound came from behind her—from the mesa. Celeste’s blood turned to ice. She resisted the compulsion to run. As long as it wasn’t her husband, there was a chance that whoever it was would just drive on by.

The roar grew louder. Celeste walked at a regular pace, trying to keep her movements natural and loose. She felt like she couldn’t breathe. The town was a hundred miles away now.

The sound of the motor slowed as it came near her. Although she continued to walk nonchalantly, she knew that there was no escape now. There was no one around except whoever was in that vehicle. Finally, her husband’s green pickup growled in front of her and screeched to a stop. Zachariah and Eliza sat in the front seat.

“I knew it!” Eliza crowed triumphantly. Zacharias’ mouth contorted. He threw open the door. Celeste hurled the case at him and ran. With a roar of anger Zacharias lunged at her, catching her ankles. She fell hard on the gravel beside the road. Zacharias sat up on his knees and reeled Celeste in, finally stopping when he had his hands on her collar. He pulled her up until her nose touched his and yelled violently.

“You never leave, you understand? I am the one who says who goes and who stays. Come on.”

He jerked her to her feet, dragged her to the truck and threw her against it, then picked her up again and threw her in. He grabbed a piece of rope and wound it around her wrists, then snapped a dog chain onto the rope. Celeste stayed paralyzed, numbly watching him work. He stumbled over her case as he made his way back to the cab then picked it up and threw it at her. He drove wildly back up the dirt road to the mesa, throwing Celeste back and forth in the bed of the truck.

The bell outside of the house was tolling and most of the community had gathered by the time they arrived. Zacharias dragged Celeste from the truck and threw her on the ground in front of the crowd.

“See what happens to those who disobey.” He screamed.

Celeste was pummeled by rocks, spit, and sticks. Everyone participated. Celeste lay with her arms over her head.

“She’ll pay for her sins!” Zacharias was screaming, “She’ll pay just like everyone pays. Tie her to the tree. We will have a special prayer ceremony now, and God will reveal her punishment.”

Several pairs of hands dragged Celeste to the shade tree and someone tied her there around the neck like a dog. Then they all fell into a circle around the tree and Zacharias opened his mouth to pray.

“Where’s Mary?” Eliza asked.

Zacharias swung around with his mouth still poised open.

“I saw her running to the ridge before you left.” Someone volunteered.

Zacharias’ head swung to look at the ridge.

“She must have heard us.” Eliza said.

“Why didn’t you stop her?” He snarled, but he didn’t waste any more time on punishments. He ran for his pickup, this time leaving Eliza behind.

Everyone watched him go. Then after standing around uncomfortably for a few minutes, some people began to make their way to the edge.

“It’s the police!” a voice yelled. Everyone rushed to the ridge.

“What are they doing?”

“They’ve got Zacharias.”

“They’re coming up here.”

Several people ran away, others looked around in panic. There was only one road up the mesa, and no one knew how Celeste had gone down. The sirens could be heard a minute later and dust began to rise above the edge of the ridge. Two police cars, probably all the police of the small town, squealed to a stop at the mouth of the road. The police got out of their cars and drew their guns then waited for backup. Zacharias sat handcuffed in the back of one car. Mary jumped out of the other and ran to Celeste.

“They were going to kill you!” she had tears running down her face, and she began to undo the ropes around Celeste’s neck and hands. Celeste began to shake.

“Thank you.” she whispered, looking up at the sky.

1977 words