Chapter Text
The last Marta saw of her mother was through the window of the police car.
She never once took her eyes off Marta. Not even when the cops cuffed her hands, and threw her into the car. She cried out Marta’s name so loud that the child could hear her through the glass.
Marta took a step towards her, when someone grabbed her hand. She looked up and recognized the good Reverend Knoth.
“We’re all meeting behind the big barn,” he told her. Amidst the chaos, his expression remained calm. “There’s an exit there that the cops didn’t find.”
“Where the old bus is?” Marta asked.
“That’s right.” Knoth opened his mouth to say something else, but when he noticed a pair of his followers in hysterics, he rushed to offer them the same choice.
Marta froze. She could still hear her mother calling her name, and her fists pounding the window, but over the voices, the calls, and the pounding, she heard Knoth’s preachings.
Only the chosen few will see paradise. We are as Noah and his kin, afloat in the flood of sinners. One day the storm will pass and the floods will recede. We will see a new world, a paradise of our own. We will not have to fear the eternal damnation our lord has forseen for the rest of this wicked world.
She took a deep breath, and looked upon her mother one last time before running as fast as she could. She dodged the flashlight paths, climbed over fences and obstacles she came across, and thanked God for her too long legs that brought her to the secret exit.
The exit was a rusted gate, covered in ivy that no one bothered with anymore, but now Marta recognized two of Knoth’s trusted deacons standing guard at the gate.
Marta stopped at the familiar faces and caught her breath.
“Knoth said to come here,” she said, when she could breathe again.
Though the men exchanged confused glances, they did pry open the gate for her to squeeze through.
Once through the gate, there was a third man guiding the stragglers to the old bus.
Marta joined the fellow escapees and found there to be a couple dozen of them on the bus. Most of them were young men, but there was a fair share of women among them, several of whom held crying infants to them, and one that prayed as she clung to her swelling stomach. All of them stopped to stare when Marta stepped in the bus. First at her, and then at one another, trying to place where she belonged, but before anyone could inquire about the stray child, one of the men outside ran in.
“Is everyone ready? The cops are getting deeper in and we don’t have much time until they find this area.”
“But what about Knoth,” asked one of the women. “We can’t go without him!”
The crowd murmured in agreement, and the man groaned. “Fine, but we need someone at the wheel when he’s here.”
He returned to his post outside, while one of the men took the driver’s seat.
For all of two minutes, the passengers waited. Many of the men fidgeted and frequently checked the windows. Meanwhile, the women murmured their prayers, and the mothers did their best to hush their bundled babies.
Marta only stood and watched their reactions until Knoth stumbled into the bus with two of the testament's women.
In tears, the women hurried to the back of the bus, and huddled together.
Once they were settled in, Knoth called for the patrols to join them, but before the driver could floor it, one of the women with an infant cried out.
“Father, wait! Don’t go yet!”
“What is it, child?” Knoth snapped. “Don’t you realize that the enemy is at our doorstep? We haven’t much time!”
“But the little girl,” she said of Marta. “Her parents aren’t here. Is it really okay for us to steal her away like this without them?”
Knoth looked to the child and raised an eyebrow. When he came towards her, Marta neither flinched nor shrank away, though her brow did furrow in concern.
“Child, what is your name?” His tone was considerably softer than before, and he smiled as if the chaos outside their hideout was nonexistent.
“It’s Marta.”
“Marta.” Knoth nodded as he echoed her name. “You’re the midwife’s daughter, aren’t you? I believe her name was Rachel?”
“Yes, Father Knoth.” Marta’s eyes fell to the floor at the mention of her mother. “The cops took her away, and I ran.”
“I see,” Knoth’s smile vanished, and he put a comforting hand on the child’s shoulder. “I’m very sorry.”
“Thank you,” Marta said, in a voice so small that she could barely hear it herself.
“And I’m also sorry to burden you with this choice, but we are leaving this place tonight and we need your answer. Will you be joining us?”
Marta bit her lip, and shifted in her seat. Her mother’s cries echoed through her head again. “What will happen if I stay behind?” she asked.
Knoth sighed. “You are still young, and for that the evils at our feet will surely show you mercy, but keep in mind that your youth will one day be spent and I cannot promise your safety beyond that. Knowing that, which do you choose?”
Though Marta fixed her gaze to the ground, she felt the stares on her. They told her to trust in Father Knoth, to believe in paradise, but it was only through recalling her mother’s regard for the reverend that she found the courage to look back up at Knoth.
“I choose salvation.”
“That’s a good girl.” Knoth’s voice was gentle as he put his hands on her shoulders. He turned her so she could face the naysayers. “You should all look to this child as an example!” He spoke as if he were at one of his sermons. “For even in her fear, she chooses that path to redemption, as treacherous as it may be. Her faith is a perfect kind, and for that she will receive the greatest rewards in Heaven!”
Before the crowd could either cheer or jeer, Knoth looked to the driver. “Go for the wooded path. Keep slow and don’t turn the lights on. Don’t be reckless unless you know for certain that we’re being pursued.”
Everyone held their breaths as the driver started the bus. They waited to hear those sirens and see the flashing lights at their tail, but as the seconds turned into minutes, there was only darkness and the hum of the engine.
It was then that Marta realized that she stood alone, even though there were plenty of open seats.
Many of the women offered her encouraging smiles, but Marta turned from them to the nearest open spot beside Knoth.
“Father Knoth?”
“Yes, my child?”
“May I?” she asked of the seat beside him.
“Of course.” He pat the spot once to welcome her.
At first, Marta was quiet. She sat straight and proper, picking at a loose thread on her skirt.
Knoth allowed her silence, without complaint, but when she found her voice again, he gave his attention.
“Father Knoth, can I ask you something?”
“Go ahead.”
Only then did Marta notice his bloodshot eyes.
“What will happen to my mother? I saw the cops take her away and I’m scared. Only the few can be saved, but she couldn’t follow us. I know she would have if she could, but...she just couldn’t. It’s not her fault. God wouldn’t punish her for something she couldn’t help, would he?”
Marta’s eyes watered as she spoke, but Knoth only smiled.
“The good Lord knows what is in her heart, and shall reward her justly.”
“Oh…” Marta feared revealing her ignorance, but Knoth continued.
“You understand what a ‘martyr’ is, do you not?”
“Yes, like Jesus Christ.”
“Just like Jesus Christ. And he is the most holy, right?”
“Right.”
“But do you remember what he had to do to become most holy?”
Marta frowned. “He had to die.”
“True, but through his death, he became our almighty, all powerful savior. For a martyr’s suffering is the most beautiful in God’s eyes, therefore their rewards are the greatest.”
Marta took a moment to process his words. “So is my mother going to be a martyr? Like Jesus Christ?”
“I suspect so,” Knoth said. “For she’s done our people a great service.” He looked to the whining infants. “She’s helped bring the next generation to life, and for that she will be remembered and revered among our people. Not only among what you see before you, but when those babes grow, they shall know it was your mother who delivered them to life, and when they offer their own children into this world, those children shall remember her, and so will their children, and so forth.” Knoth looked back at Marta. “I regret that your mother was taken by the enemy, but you are still here, and I believe your mother’s story will continue through her, and you shall keep her memory alive among our people.”
“But I’m just a child,” Marta murmured.
“For now, you are, but I believe that God has a mighty purpose for you, having delivered you from the hands of evil. Already, you have shown great courage this darkest of nights, and I believe it is only the start of many great things you shall do in the Lord’s name.”
Finally, Marta managed a smile. “You really think so?”
“I know so,” Knoth said. “And I’m eager for God to tell me his plans for you.”
“Thank you, Father Knoth,” Marta said, bowing her head.
“Don’t thank me.” Knoth gently lifted her face so she looked at him again before letting go. “Thank the Lord in your prayers tonight before you sleep.”
“Will you pray with me, Father Knoth?” Marta asked. “Not just for me, but for my mother as well?”
“Of course, child.”
Marta bowed her head and clasped her hands together. When she felt Knoth’s hand on her head, she began her prayer.
“Thou Father who art in Heaven, thank you for delivering me from the hands of evil. I will work hard to ensure you did not save me in vain. Protect us on the road ahead, wherever you may take us. I pray you bring us to paradise and that I will live to see it. Protect the men, the women, and the little ones and give us courage. Also protect my mother and those that are left behind. Should you not guide them back to us, then welcome them into your paradise with open arms. They love you so and wish to see your face, as I do.” She gripped her hands tighter. “Praise be to the God of Abraham, and of Isaac, and of Knoth. Amen.”
Marta opened her eyes.
“That was a lovely prayer, Marta,” Knoth said. He took his hand from her head and stood from his seat.
“Where are you going?” Marta asked.
“A shepherd must watch his flock,” he replied. “I’m going to offer solace to the others. You rest your eyes. The road ahead of us is long, and you should seize these moments of peace while you still can.”
“Yes, Father Knoth.”
With the reverend checking on the rest of the testament, Marta had the whole seat to herself. She laid her head down and brought her legs to her chest. Sleep came quickly, but at one point she stirred.
Her mother’s fists beat on the window, begging to be let in.
The pounding woke Marta up, and she jolted up to look out the window, but there was nothing. Only an endless expanse of desert. She soon realized it was nothing but a bump in the road, and she went back to sleep easily.