Read Online The Believers (The Breeders Series - Book 2) by Katie French - Free Book Online

grates are open now. A woman walks by, pushing a cart laden with food trays. Two others walk in front of us with large bins of dirty clothes on their hips. So many women, and they're all free. If I didn’t get the impression that this place was sitting on a big, nasty secret, I might want to stick around.
    Mage leads me past the rows of stores that make up these women's homes. I pass by a smaller store with worn pink carpet and faded plastic posters with pictures of glittering jewelry, advertising, “Buy One, Get One Free.” Small hexagonal-shaped racks that look like they can spin line the walls. Between them, a group of toddlers sits cross-legged on the carpet while an elderly woman claps and sings them a song. As we pass, their little voices repeat her refrain. “In the Gods' sight we lie. Show us, fathers, your reply. Open the eyes of a heart most true. Show us, fathers, what to do. ”
    Mage thumbs back at the store. “That's Little Tree. Kids stay there until about five. Then they move up to lessons with Yusuf in the Willow Room.” She leads me past a bigger room where older children lie on their bellies in small circles. They're writing on big canvas sheets with something that looks like bits of charcoal as a middle-aged man with a long gray ponytail walks around, monitoring their progress. He waves a hand to Mage.
    “That's Yusuf,” she says.
    We turn a corner. In a large department store, I see where my soupy breakfast came from. Inside, where racks used to hold clothing and sporting goods, these people have set up a makeshift greenhouse. Plots of dirt run in staggered rows, covering nearly every surface. The ceiling's been cut away in big rectangular sections and sheets of sand-blasted plastic have been stretched across to let in the light while keeping out the sand and heat. Men and women with stooped backs and dirt-covered fingers water, weed, and tend each little green sprout.
    “My papa was the one that got the water working.” A tinge of pride coats Mage's voice. “That's when they made him Messiah.”
    “How's this possible?” I ask. An old woman with her back bowed like a candy cane plucks a tomato from a vine and drops it into a basket she wears at her hip.
    Mage stuffs her hands in her pockets and rocks back and forth on her heels. “We use the juice from the solar panels to run power to sections of the mall, the water, the ventilation and the air conditioning. My papa says when they first came here two generations ago, it was super hot and dark. No toilets even,” she whispers, making a face. “Then the Gods showed him how to make the power, and the people have lived blessedly ever since.” She talks like she's repeating some rote message.
    I fix her with a look. “The Gods told him how to hook up the power?”
    She blinks at me and nods. “My papa's a prophet. He has the sight. He keeps us safe by following what they say.”
    “I didn't know God was an electrician.”
    She tilts her head, confused. “Come on,” she says, turning. I take one last look at the little indoor farm nestled under old “for-sale” banners. It's amazing, really.
    After a few more stores, the floor plan opens up to the giant food court we walked through when we first entered. I peek in a restaurant cubby that’s decorated with pictures of a black and white bear smiling and holding two thin sticks in its paw. Behind the counter, people are chopping, tending the stove, and stacking dishes.
    Mage leans into the counter and presses her face to the display front glass. “They're making lunch.” She peers in and makes a face. “Ham roast. Blah. Get ready for a lot of pork.”
    I shrug. “After what I've been eating? Are you kidding? Pork sounds amazing.”
    “Pigs will eat almost anything,” she says, shuffling forward. She twirls around on one toe, a clumsy ballerina, and then stops and looks at me. “I hate pork. Pork makes you a dork.” She hops on one foot across each tile as she says it.
    “If you