RUNAWAY TWINS and RUNAWAY TWINS IN ALASKA: BOXED SET (2 page)

"We need to get smaller," said Janie, "like Alice in Wonderland. We need a little bottle that says DRINK ME on it. If we were ten inches high, we could slip past the temple guards and make it to Sheba."

"If the dogs, cats, or goats don't eat us."

They both laughed.

Rachel said, "We don't have much time left. We don't want to end up as two of Elder Biggars' wives. The thought of staring at that ghoul for the rest of our lives makes me ill."

Janie grimaced. "I wish we could escape down Alice's rabbit hole."

"I've got an idea," said Rachel. "It's not a permanent solution, but it might cause them to postpone the wedding. Any extra time would help."

They left the house and headed for the gazebo next to the old covered well. It was a favorite spot for them, and they'd played, talked, and giggled there since they were toddlers. When Rachel explained her plan, Janie said, "It might work. No, I
know
it'll work. How about tonight?"

"Why not?" said Rachel.

**

They were thankful the
floodlights were concentrated toward the center of the compound and the quarter moon was not bright enough to light the outer areas, but even in the darkness they could see the outline form of a temple guard patrolling about a hundred yards from their position. They waited until he disappeared over the ridge, and then they moved out to begin their work. Rachel carried a small paper bag, and Janie carried a gallon milk jug filled with a clear liquid.

Hank Biggars' unfinished new home stood on a small rise close behind his barn, not too far from his present house. The new structure was a three-level mansion, necessary to accommodate the elder's growing family—children and wives.

The milk jug Janie was carrying contained kerosene, and she began to soak the naked studs along the darkest side of the structure. When Janie completed her task, Rachel stepped forward and removed two items from her paper bag: a box of kitchen matches and a handheld digging tool. "Let's dig the hole first," Rachel said, "and then light the kerosene. That way we'll be ready to bury the stuff quickly."

They moved back to a spot under a large ash tree where they knelt while Rachel dug and Janie scooped the dirt into a mound that could be readily shoved back into the hole. Then they gathered a small pile of leaves so they could camouflage the area when they were through. Next, they crept back to the building site and Rachel struck a match and touched off the kerosene. The flames leapt toward the sky and the girls recoiled in surprise. They hadn't expected such an eruption and they looked at each other in shock.

"Run!" shouted Janie. The fire was illuminating her frightened face, and she was already moving as she spoke. Rachel followed close behind, her long blonde hair blowing in the wind; and when they reached the hole to bury the evidence, they took only a few seconds to dump the milk jug, matches, and trowel and to kick in the dirt and cover everything with leaves. They raced home, slipped in the back door, and were in their room, breathing heavily, when they heard the first shouts coming from the outer perimeter where Elder Biggars' new house stood. They grinned at each other in satisfaction, and Rachel said, "Well, that should slow the old fool down."

**

What they didn't know
at the time was that the fire had escalated far beyond what they had intended. A burning ember from the construction site had set the roof of the barn on fire; and shortly thereafter an ember from the barn had blown onto the roof of Elder Biggars' present house. All three buildings were soon ablaze. Fortunately, no one was hurt in any of the three fires, and Rachel and Janie were greatly relieved. "What if someone had died?" said Rachel. "One of the children or one of Elder Biggars' wives?"

"We would never have forgiven ourselves," said Janie. "We would have felt guilty for the rest of our lives."

Rachel said, "Unless Hank Biggars himself had been burned up. That wouldn't have been so bad."

"No," Janie objected. "We didn't want that either. We're not killers, Rachel."

"I know. I'm only joking. But the thought of our future husband roasting is sort of pleasant, wouldn't you agree?"

"Well, a little pleasant."

**

Two fire trucks raced
up the hill from the town of Sheba, but they were too late to be effective, and soon after their arrival they were reduced to pouring water on three heaps of smoldering ruins.

The twins watched the action from the safety of the large crowd that had gathered behind the fire lines. Elder Biggars, the Prophet J.J. Flack, and several other elders and deacons stood in front of the girls, talking about the fire and about how it would affect Biggars' immediate plans.

"Four to six months and I'll be back on track," said Biggars.

The other men waited for the Prophet to respond. They obviously had no wish to make a comment that would be stepped on or overruled by their leader. The twins' father Seth Lemon was among the men, and Rachel and Janie stared at his back, aware that he was no different from the others; and they suspected he was worse. They were fairly certain he was the one who had reported them missing the night they were captured on their run to Sheba.

The Prophet cleared his throat, and all of the men turned toward him anxiously. His long iron-gray hair shone in the dying firelight, and his hooded eyes were filled with purpose and insight. "This fire may be a sign from God," he said. "I believe I'm now receiving new messages, new plans, new revelations."

"Like what?" Biggars asked hesitantly. The suspicion in his voice revealed he was aware that whenever the Prophet began to receive information directly from God, someone in the vicinity was going to come out on the short end of the stick.

3
Good News and Very Bad News

The morning sky over
Sheba Hill was streaked with red and orange from the rising sun, and there was still a residue of gray smoke in the air from the fires the night before. The twins stepped off their front porch, buttoned their coats, and headed for the temple to attend early morning chapel. They were required to attend one of the Sunday services, and they always chose the earliest so they would be free for the rest of the day.

"No one said a word about arson," Janie said.

"They wouldn't admit it, even if they suspected," said Rachel. "Our people are above such crimes. Arson is for the outside world."

"But the fire department—"

"They're all church members. They'll say what the Prophet wants them to say. Anyway, there may not be any evidence. That was a hot, hot fire. Nothing left."

"The kerosene?"

"Gone—no smell, nothing."

"Good, let's hope so."

They were wearing matching beige cloth coats, matching long dark blue dresses, and even their shoes were identical. They hated dressing this way. They preferred to express their individuality, but the Prophet insisted that when attending public affairs, they appear as a team, a unit, a double image. He explained that they symbolized a double portion—and God demanded double portions.

**

The Prophet's full name
was John Joseph Flack, son of John Joseph Flack, and grandson of John Joseph Flack. The Sheba Hill Fellowship was an offshoot of an offshoot of the Latter Day Saints. When the Mormons opted for respectability by discontinuing polygamy, a small group chose to ignore such restrictions and moved their operation to South Dakota. And some years later when the South Dakota group decided to minimize polygamy (while not outlawing it), the original J.J. Flack herded his people into the Montana wilderness with the comment that God doesn't change, and therefore neither should the practices and beliefs of God's people change. In Montana they established the town of Sheba, and on the highest point in the area, they built the Sheba Hill Temple. The first two J.J. Flacks were gone, and all power was now concentrated in the hands of John Joseph III who ran the sect as if it were his own private kingdom—which in fact it was.

In chapel he wore a long purple robe and stood on an extremely high dais as he addressed his subjects. "Please come to order, my dear friends."

Rachel and Janie sat with their three little brothers (each from a different mother) sandwiched between them. The boys were five, seven, and nine; and the instruction to come to order did not change their behavior. All three were fidgeting, shoving, and kicking, and it didn't appear Moses himself could settle them down.

"Young men!" the Prophet said sharply. "Please sit still and behave or we will think of some creative punishment for you after chapel."

The boys ceased their activity at once. Even at their age, they knew that punishment on Sheba Hill could be very severe indeed, and they wanted no part of it.

**

Toward the end of his
message the Prophet announced a decision that changed everything. At first the girls thought they were receiving good news, for the Prophet decreed that because of the fire, the marriage of the Lemon twins to Elder Biggars would not take place. The girls were overjoyed, and they nudged one another in relief. Their scheme had worked.

Biggars didn't like the news one bit, and against all Sheba Hill protocol he leapt to his feet in protest. "What's this?" he stammered. "What's this all about?" His jowly round face was scarlet with anxiety and fury, and he was breaking the primary commandment of the Sheba Hill society: never question the Prophet. He was sovereign and no dissent of any kind was tolerated.

"Settle down, brother," the Prophet said smoothly. "God has appeared to me personally and made it clear that—"

"But, sir…there's no need to—" He now realized he was going too far, and he looked around to see who was watching and listening.

The Prophet hurriedly dismissed the congregation and took Biggars by the arm and led him to a small alcove off the main auditorium.

After shooing their little brothers out the front door, Rachel and Janie crept back inside the temple to see if they could overhear what Biggars and the Prophet were talking about. The two men's voices were muffled, and the girls knew if they were to understand what was being said, they needed to make it to a position behind the marble pillar that stood about ten feet from the alcove. They measured each step carefully, halting when there was a pause in the men's conversation and creeping forward again when the men resumed talking. At the pillar, Rachel looked into her sister's bright green eyes and indicated with a nod that they should both squeeze into the space between the pillar and the wall.

"God makes the final decisions in these matters," said the Prophet.

"Yes, yes, I know. But why is it necessary to cancel—"

"Because God has told me the Lemon girls are to be my wives."

"No, wait," Biggars stammered. "You got Mary, and now you want her sisters. That's not fair. I've always been loyal—a good soldier and I deserve—"

"Yes, you're a good soldier, and I need you and count on you. You're my most trusted aide. But God makes these choices, not me."

Biggars lowered his head submissively. "I know that. But it hurts, and it doesn't seem right."

"I'll make it up to you."

The Elder assented, but his voice was weak and unhappy.

The twins stared at each other in astonishment. The fire had not saved them after all. It had given the Prophet the excuse he needed to claim them as his own. Janie gasped at the thought, and Rachel reached out and covered her sister's mouth with her hand. But the men had heard the sound, and they stopped their conversation abruptly. They remained silent for several long moments, and then Biggars said, "What was that?"

"Hold on," the Prophet said, "let's see."

The girls burrowed into their nook, folding into each other's arms so they could slip deeper into the narrow space behind the pillar.

The men began to search the chapel to see if anyone was present. They examined the aisles toward the back entrance and then turned to walk toward the front near the altar. Seeing nothing, they grunted with satisfaction. "No one," said the Prophet.

The girls held their breath; and Janie reached out and tucked the hem of her dress under her leg. She motioned for Rachel to do the same, for the blue material from their long dresses was extending beyond the pillar and out onto the hardwood floor.

The men moved down the aisle in the direction of the rear exit, and as they passed the pillar their faces came into view. The Prophet's expression was one of control and self-satisfaction, but Hank Biggars' face was contorted with rage, and his eyes were filled with hate.

When they were alone, the twins eased out of their hiding place and went out through the side door behind the dais. They ran to the gazebo, and when they were seated on the familiar safe bench, they turned to each other in dismay. "What now?" asked Rachel.

"I don't know," said Janie, "but I know one thing for sure. We are not going to end up like Mary."

"We've got to get away," said Rachel, "get to Sheba, get some help."

They were startled by a sound at the base of the gazebo, about five feet below where they were sitting. They jumped up at the same time and saw a boy disappearing into the nearby woods. He had apparently been sitting on the grass with his back against the latticework. He was carrying a book in his hand.

"Do you think he heard us?" asked Janie.

"How could he help but hear."

"Do you think he'll tell?"

Rachel shrugged. "Probably. They're all brainwashed in this place."

"Did you recognize him?"

"I think it was the new boy Justin—the one who came in with his aunt a couple of months ago."

"Maybe they haven't had time to brainwash him yet."

"I guess we'll find out."

4
A Reluctant Bride

One week after her
thirteenth birthday, the twins' older sister Mary Lemon had become the tenth wife of J.J. Flack, the Prophet of Sheba Hill, a hatchet-faced, black-eyed, Doberman pinscher of a man in his fifties. Some years earlier, he had decreed she was to be the wife of Elder Hank Biggars, his trusted aide-de-camp; but the Prophet watched her as she developed, and when it became obvious she was going to blossom into an extraordinary beauty, he claimed her for himself. Elder Biggars didn't like it, but there was nothing he could do because the Prophet ruled the Sheba Hill Temple with an iron fist.