Sawyer stretches her left leg, relieving the pressure on her back. A constellation of red imprints paint the side of her thigh, where it had been pressed into the carpet for nearly an hour. Her cat purrs from his perch in the corner of the room, where he watches her with half-lidded eyes, probably judging her in his own feline way.
Her bedroom floor is starting to look like the murder board of an obsessed stalker, or a conspiracy theory board. Recent articles about herself and Lynell fill the border, followed by the edited version of Ellery’s speech and a digital flier for Friday’s conference. In the center of the spiderweb of images and texts is a picture of Thomas Johnson and a typed message she hasn’t looked at in five years.
Brothers, our words are as empty as the hearts of those we despise if there are no actions behind them. We must prove that we are worthy of these beliefs. That we are worthy to be soldiers in this never-ending war against the love of sin. As our founding Elder said, “A man who speaks but does not act is not a man at all, but a declawed house cat mewling for food he cannot hunt.”
Let us emulate his example and make a stand none can ignore, just as he fought for his beliefs. This once great country, broken as it now is, has gifted us with a weapon to begin ridding the world of the infectious disease that too many have both ignored and accepted. Let us earn the title of Sin-Fighting Warriors and silence the opposition’s loudest voices. Rise, brothers, and make our Elders proud!
* * *
Her lawyer found the manifesto weeks after Ellery died. Sawyer, fueled by anger, wanted justice outside of the Registration. She didn’t have a civil case against Johnson, not for defamation, discrimination, or a misused Registration. But her lawyer said they could try suing someone else, claiming they coerced Johnson into Registering Ellery. If they could prove that Johnson was pressured, forced, or manipulated into Registering Ellery, then they might be able to sue the manipulator. Unfortunately, they never found the ‘Elder’ referenced.
She scans the conspiracy board again. This time, though, her eyes snag on an article about the Resurrection she’s read a dozen times.
THE RESSURECTION AVOIDS LEGAL ACTION
The rebel group known as the Resurrection was nearly sued for unlawful assembly
On Friday last, thirty-one members of the Resurrection were apprehended in Salt Lake City during an anti-Registration protest and threatened with prosecution for unlawful assembly. Sawyer D’Angelo, the rebels’ leader and granddaughter of the late Jude D’Angelo, flew to Utah to speak with the district attorney.
* * *
Sawyer stops reading, her finger pressed under Jude’s name. She hasn’t been described as his granddaughter in years, not since she became more well-known than her family’s sordid history. At the beginning of her career, she was always named in reference to her grandfather, uncle, or father.
Ellery used to say, “I never get lost. I just have to start over and pay better attention to the path.”
Deciding to start over, Sawyer stands, grabs her keys and phone, and hurries out to her car, driving to the large home several miles outside of the city limits. An older nurse wearing black horn-rimmed glasses framed in plastic gems answers the door.
“Sawyer, what a pleasant surprise,” Melissa Redd greets her.
“Hi, Mrs. Redd,” Sawyer says. “Where’s Uncle Paul?”
“In his chair.”
“Thank you.” Sawyer walks to the den at the back of the home. Her uncle is sitting in the recliner where he spends most of his time these days, an IV taped to his hand and a monitor behind the chair. “Hi, Uncle Paul.” Sawyer settles at the corner of a couch next to the recliner. Paul blinks, taking several seconds to focus on her.
“Sally, darling,” Paul says. His strong voice is at odds with his thinning limbs and broken memory. “What are you doing here?”
Sawyer’s smile stems more from sadness than happiness. Paul often confuses her for her Aunt Sally, who she favors more in appearance than her own mother. “I wanted to visit.”
“Do the others know you’re here?”
“No,” Sawyer says. She’s learned to allow Paul to lead conversations until she knows what year he thinks it is. Otherwise, he grows agitated if she says something that opposes his current memories.
“My brother wouldn’t appreciate his daughter speaking with the family disappointment,” Paul warns.
“I won’t tell him,” Sawyer assures him. She spends a few minutes following Paul’s lead, simply keeping her aging uncle company. Then, after about half an hour, she asks, “I was wondering, what is it that Grand—Father calls cowards?”
“Hmm . . .” Paul hums as he thinks. “You mean men who use words over brute force?”
“Yes.”
“I believe the term is ‘declawed house cats.’ My brother never did appreciate a well-formed argument. He says he respects action, but I think he fears appearing stupid.”
Sawyer’s body goes cold.
A declawed house cat mewling for food he cannot hunt.
Her grandfather Jude was the founding Elder of the Sin-Fighting Warriors.
She feels herself walking into a blinding desert storm of grief. Paul continues speaking, oblivious to Sawyer’s inattention.
Thomas Johnson and those other men were encouraged by her grandfather’s words. Jude hated the Elysian family because he believed Gideon betrayed him. He also hated the rebels because he thought they were cowards, afraid of society progressing under the influence of the Registration.
But he died when Johnson was a child. So, how is he still influencing the Sin-Fighting Warriors?
“Paul, what church does Jude go to again?” Sawyer asks, though she’s not sure her grandfather ever went to church. No one in their family is particularly religious.
“Oh, he doesn’t. He says the weak willed go to church, needing a higher power to tell them what to do.”
“What did he do after Gideon betrayed him and took the credit for the Registration?”
Paul frowns. “I’m not sure what you mean, Sally darling.”
“I mean, did he leave the oligarchs immediately? Or did he stick around?”
“He left fairly soon, but not quietly. And he wouldn’t surrender the influence of knowing such powerful people.”
“You mean he kept in contact with the oligarchs? Is he still friends with them? Or anyone on the Registration committee?”
“Well, he was a few years ago. That’s one reason we don’t speak anymore. I told Jude that if he supports the Registration, he should be the bigger man and step aside. But he refuses to let Gideon win.”
“What is he doing? How is he betraying Gideon?” she asks, remembering what Lincoln said on Thursday about Jude going behind Gideon’s back.
Paul’s attention has broken, though. He stares into the room with no fixed point of focus. Then his eyes fill with tears and his hands start to shake.
“Uncle Paul?” Sawyer stands in alarm. “Are you okay?”
Paul gasps and shakes his head. “No, don’t leave me, please. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
“What is it?” Sawyer asks. Paul seems to be looking at someone a few feet in front of him. She knows no one is there, but Sawyer looks over her shoulder anyway.
“I ended things with Juniper, I swear.”
“Who?”
“It meant nothing. She meant nothing, I promise.” In his agitation, Paul starts pulling at the IV chord in his hand.
“It’s okay, Uncle Paul,” Sawyer says, trying to reach through time and soothe a man living decades ago.
“It was just Juniper. No one else. You’re all who matters to me, Paige. Please.”
“Who is Juniper?”
“Mr. D’Angelo!” Melissa rushes to Paul’s other side.
Sawyer lets go of her uncle and jumps back, giving the nurse space to work. Rattled herself, Sawyer turns and leaves the room, both her heart and mind racing.
The entire drive home, she replays everything Paul said, unable to get two facts out of her mind.
First, her grandfather is the reason she is a widow.
Second, Paul, Sawyer’s biggest role model, cheated on his wife with a woman named Juniper.