II.
Miss Carriage pulled into the parking lot of a building that looked
abandoned. The exile stared out the window. The glass was broken, and
weeds grew through the cracks in the pavement.
“Where are we?” he asked.
“This is the base of operations,” she told him. “My parents were the first
two people exiled from Bibleopolis. They’ve been taking in exiles since
before I was born.”
“And they all live here?” he asked.
“Some do. Most leave,” she said.
They stepped out of the car, and Miss Carriage led him into the decrepit
building. He wasn’t sure what to expect. It was dark inside. The
electricity didn’t seem to work. Spiderwebs hung from the ceiling. Jimmy
could smell the mildew from the many seasons that the building had been
exposed to the elements.
“What the hell were you thinking?” a woman’s voice echoed through the
building. “They may come after us now.”
“They won’t, Mom,” Miss Carriage replied. “Not after what I put them
through.”
“You were just supposed to grab the exile after he left the city,” the
mother said, stepping out from the shadows. “You weren’t supposed to step