Isaiah 41: 17.
When the poor and needy seek water, and there is none, and their tongue is parched with thirst, I the Lord will answer them; I the God of Israel will not forsake them.
Kate stood in a field of wheat that was only half grown, the brown shafts rising to her waist, and swaying softly in the wind. She couldn’t see anyone, but in the distance she heard someone screaming, a woman, and the voice sounded familiar, although she couldn’t place who it was.
And then there he was, charging at her from across the field, starting at the edge and coming in fast. He trampled the wheat under his feet, kept running, held his hand high, and held something in it. The midday sun was fat and yellow and angry, and it threw down a ray of light that hit the object in the man’s hand and reflected it, and when Kate saw the glint, she knew it was a knife.
She turned to run, but was wearing a skirt that stretched to her ankle, and restricted her from spreading her legs too far, and she fell forward. Her hands hit the dirt; her knees did too, much more painfully, and she heard the footsteps of the man as he neared her. She tried to get up, but she was too slow, and the man’s hand came down on her shoulder.
Kate awoke then, panting and covered in a cold sweat that was drying quickly on her skin in the night time Missouri heat. It had been a dream, a nightmare, nothing real, just the worst possible thing her brain could have thought up at that time.
There was a knock on her door. Kate knew it was David. She rose and took a deep breath while she walked to the door, placing her hand on the knob and exhaling slowly, her breath cool and crisp on her lips. She pulled the door open and smiled, and there her boss was, looking concerned.
“Are you okay?” he asked, and Kate nodded.
“Just a bad dream,” she replied.
“You sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure, thanks.”
“All right.” He turned and left, and Kate shut the door. She went back to the bed, untangled the sheets from the column they had been rolled into, stooped and pulled the blanket off the floor and back to the bed. Then Kate climbed into bed and lay back, covering herself up and staring at the ceiling.
A shaft of moonlight fell through the room, painting the floor, bed, wall, and even a bit of the ceiling, blue. Kate didn’t sleep any more; she just watched the blue light grow smaller, and then it was gone, and outside the world went from black to blue to orange, and there was David again, knocking on the door.
They drove a bit before stopping for breakfast, swinging through a fast food chain and buying bagels and English muffins. Missouri gave way to Illinois, and then Indiana and Ohio. As the sun was slipping behind the horizon, they entered Pennsylvania, and proceeded onward.
It was night proper when they pulled off a lonely, two lane highway and onto a dirt path that cut through an expanse of woods which gave way to a rolling swath of farmland.
There were homes here and there, although they were hard to see in the dark. At the end of the dirt path was a large white home, two storeys with a paint job that looked to be no older than a few years. As David parked the car, the front door to the home swung open, and a man came striding out, tall and thin with an angular nose, the bottom of his face covered by a long, gray beard.
Kate got out along with David, who was already making his way to the man. They shook hands.
“How are you?” the man asked, and Kate took him to be Abram.
“Could be better,” David said, throwing a glance over to Kate. “Thanks again for helping me.”
“It’s fine, really. Here let’s get her inside before anyone sees her.”
It was not until she was inside the front door that Kate was formally introduced to Abram, and she shook the man’s hand, feeling the strength in his long fingers which resembled spider legs. He smiled warmly. “Welcome. I believe we both have the same story?”
“Amnesia, buggy accident,” Kate said after saying Hello, and the Amish man smiled.
“David, are you going to stay? It’s late; you’re welcome to stay the night,” Abram said.
“No, I really can’t. I have to get started on this investigation, and get this young woman home.”
A lady bustled out from another room. “This is my wife, Martha Zook,” the bishop said.
Martha deposited a large plate of food on the table, and then greeted David and Kate warmly.
“Look, I’d better get going,” David said. “Kate, here’s the burner cell phone I got for you. Now remember, the Amish don’t use cell phones, and you’ll have to keep it hidden, ‘cause if anyone apart from Abram or Martha sees it, your cover will be blown. It’s strictly just to be used to get to me, or me to get to you. I don’t need to tell you that it needs to be kept set to vibrate.”
Kate nodded and turned the cell phone over in her hand, but when she looked up, David was already half way to the door.
Kate looked around the room, taking in the plain and neat-as-a-pin furnishings, the sense of sameness. She was a tough U.S. Marshal, but, truth be told, she was a little scared of these Amish people. While the bishop and his wife looked nice, she wondered how she would even make it two days in this place.