“Nothing is what you think it is,” Father Lonnie said, hitting the wall between us in frustration. “You have no idea what is happening around you—what has happened around you your entire life, for decades…”
He hit the wall between us again, his energy already waning. “I don’t have the strength to be an instrument of this capacity. I can’t hide you. I can’t protect you. I am just a blogger…a messenger. There’s not even a reason to be speaking to you now if your Chosens aren’t here. You could be dead tonight or even by the end of the hour—”
“Then if I’m going to die, there’s no reason for you not to help me,” I cut him off. “No one will ever know.”
“You don’t understand,” he said. “They’ll kill me regardless. I’ve spoken to you. I’ve seen you. I’ve got to die now, too.”
Unexpectedly, he broke into a light sob so earnest that my anger was immediately broken. I could hear the terror in the priest’s weeping, a fear he tried to disguise from me but could not.
“You don’t even know who you are,” he said. “You’re the bringer of the dawn, right here in front of me, right now. I’m ecstatic. You don’t know how much this world will change if you live to see the next two days.”
He gasped in and out painfully like a trapped animal. He was so intent on my importance that I was startled. I thought he might be insane, but that didn’t feel right—he appeared so well-spoken from the pulpit.
“And I want you to live,” he said, “but I don’t know if it’s possible. I don’t know if you can. I don’t even know how you’ve lasted this long alone.”
“I don’t understand,” I said. My voice broke midsentence.
“You’re a threat,” he said. “To yourself, to the ones you love, to me…to the entire world. I’m going to die. They’re going to die. Everyone you love is going to die if you stay alive now. The Guardians will make sure of it, just so you’re gone again. And even in the end—if you do live, and everyone else dies—it will still all be worth it. But only if you live.”
I had no reply. Even swallowing was painful. I could hear the depth of truth in the priest’s voice, such terror to overtake a man who knew so much, who’d seen so many days and decades, and yet appeared to hold our meeting as some type of pinnacle in his lifetime.
“I would help if I could,” Father Lonnie said. “But not now. Not when you’re alone. Not when I and others will die just for you to fail in the end.”
“You’re so sure I’m going to fail,” I said as my eyes narrowed. I’d never known anyone to have such little confidence in me. “I could go into hiding if I need to.”
He shook his head.
“Every inch of this world is controlled by them,” he replied. “The police, the media, the government. You think that your mayors and governors run your tiny piece of a country? They are sheep. Humans are like bugs on the sheep. And even the sheep have shepherds who herd them into circles, separating one for slaughter and another to be sheared at their whim.”
He laced his fingers together, almost as if he was praying for strength to continue. “But if the sheep have shepherds, who then are the masters of the shepherds? Those are Guardians. Everything you do, everything you say, everything you write and transmit and read—every piece of your minuscule life is followed like germs under a microscope. Since the day you are born you are placed into the maze, with shifting walls and doors in place so you continue to run but never find the exit: never see the hands or faces of those who master your life and death.”
Father Lonnie had taken a nosedive into things I couldn’t bring myself to fathom or believe.
“But you know?” I whispered. “If something is so secret, how did you find out?”
“I have a source,” he said. “Someone outside the maze.”
“Anon?”
The priest nodded slowly. Even after all he’d said, Father Lonnie still struggled to identify this person.
“He tells me everything,” the priest went on. “It was so long ago I can hardly remember how it started, but for a decade I’ve heard from Anon. Always letters, never a phone call or a visit. Always typed and signed, always with the direction to scan and post them onto my website…to observe the Guardians and make record of everything.”
“And you believe him?”
“Not at first,” Father Lonnie said. “I…I theorized on these things before, but never to the depth that he wrote of. Never with the information he has, and the names and charts and pictures. Never with the proof: predictions of elections, businesses going bankrupt, so-called natural disasters. He’s spoken of them to me in letters months before they even happen!”
“But where do I fit in?” I said, trying at least to sort through my burning questions. I could almost hear him trembling, so many things that he wanted to say to me but unable to choose which to start with. I couldn’t read his eyes through the screen but I knew he wanted to go on, even though he felt it was a waste. He was certain I was going to die anyway.
“Because you’re a threat,” the priest said again. Like ghosts, his words flew into my head, haunting even the fears that still gathered inside. What did that mean?
Suddenly, there was a distant knock from his side of the box. Both of us jumped.
“Father,” came the low voice of the monk. “Not to intrude the confession, but they’re locking up the church.”
“We’ll be done shortly,” Father Lonnie replied. The monk lingered.
“The lights are all out too, Father,” he insisted. “Just so you know.”
“I’ll be out in a minute, Brother,” the priest said. I panicked.
“You can’t leave now,” I said quickly, pushing closer. “I need more answers than this.”
“Keep your voice down,” Father Lonnie commanded, this time through clenched teeth. “Do you not think I know the urgency at hand? But already we’ve brought too much attention to ourselves.”
He leaned in to me. “I’d hide you here if I could, but that wouldn’t help either of us. It’s too suspicious, too unusual—someone would whisper about it and Guardians would know you were here in a heartbeat.”
“I have to go home,” I told him. “My mom will call the police if I don’t.”
“And that’s the worst thing to happen now,” he said. He drummed his fingers on the wood nervously.
“I can only risk a little now,” he resolved. “I don’t even know how close they are to you. You might not live past tonight. But you’ve gotten this far and there may still be hope yet. And there’s so much to tell you…”
He sighed. “But I must. I’ll tell you everything I can—everything Anon has sent me and all the research I’ve done in my lifetime. But we can’t draw attention to ourselves by meeting tonight. I—I’m only alive now because I’ve kept my identity a secret.”
I drew in a breath and let it out. I couldn’t simply go home after all that he’d told me—I’d never sleep. But there was no other option.
“Tomorrow, after the first mass,” he said. After lingering a few moments, he stood up and pushed his confessional door.
I hurried to follow him, but the old wooden door had become jammed. I fought against it frantically, only to find that I’d been pulling on a door that swung out.
I found myself alone in the back of the church, the monk folding a cloth near the pulpit, which was obviously only a thinly veiled ruse to stay in the room. Cool air burst in my face, the stuffiness of the box gone. The monk looked up at me curiously so I turned for the door.
I don’t have to believe him, I told myself. As I stepped out of the church, the incense-filled air dissipated and my thoughts became clearer. Nothing was scary in the blinding sunset that washed over the surrounding houses and parishioners who still chatted in groups.