The Tens: A captivating psychological thriller about a cult

by Vanessa Jones

  The keyring dropped to the cement floor with a hollow ting. 'How could I not have known he was in a fucking cult the entire time we were married? Like, how dumb can I be?'

  'Sophie, you mustn't blame yourself. There is so much we are blind to when we know it will hurt us. Besides, we spent a lot of time with Alex casting blindness spells so you would deliberately not see that he was part of us, The Tens.' The look of pity on Abigail's face was almost excruciating.

  'But how could he have been living out here, when I know for a fact he was living with me. We barely spent any time apart, for goodness sake!'

  'That's true. He didn't live with us since you two moved in together. We would see him occasionally. When he reported back.'

  Sophie's head swam. 'What do you mean, reported back?'

  'Oh nothing, that's not what I meant. Sorry, I...' Abigail shrugged.

  'Am I some kind of project for you all? Why me? Are you trying to recruit me?'

  'No, not really. It's hard to explain. It's just...' again Abigail couldn't locate the words.

  Sophie wanted to know more, wanted Abigail to be straight with her but the crushing realisation that Alex was part of a cult hit her hard.

  'Abigail, please tell me. You must tell me this, please...' Sophie grabbed the front of her top desperately. 'Did he... ever love me?'

  'I don't know. I assume so. I didn't have much to do with him. I did overhear Clive and Carla talking about how they were losing him. So maybe he was thinking about quitting. For you.' The small flake of hope that came with those words was a respite to Sophie, even if Abigail was lying. If it was even possible that Abigail could lie. She wore innocence like armour.

  'I find it just so hard to believe that my Alex was into spells and believing that Venus was a planet to be revered. He used to squirm any time I mentioned anything vaguely supernatural.' And as the realisation hit, Sophie mouthed the word 'oh,' and put her head in her heads for what seemed like hours. 'Where is he then? Can I see him? Please Abigail, if I could just talk to him...'

  'I honestly don't know. But it's not looking good. He hasn't been here for a few months now. I've feared the worst. As I said, I didn't know him that well but he was always kind to me. He has the same kindness in his eyes that you do. I don't want anything bad to have happened to him. But it's not above... them... this place.'

  'What do you mean?'

  'I shouldn't say. It's speculation, really. I don't know it for real. But...' Abigail tossed up whether to tell Sophie or not but a cock of Sophie's head meant she'd already gone too far.

  'There have been insinuations that people can be abolished if they don't place nicely. It's supposed to have happened before.'

  'Oh, I believe it, Abigail. The way that I overhead Carla and Clive talking, I definitely believe it. And I'm next on their hit list, I would suspect. Do you think they... with Alex?'

  'I don't know. He might have genuinely gone into hiding. It's all possible.'

  'Would they hurt you, Abigail?'

  'I don't know. They haven't so far. Unless you count the times they've admonished me for not following along and doing what I'm supposed to. There was a time when I was ordered to kill some birds by snapping their necks with my hands and I just couldn't! How could they ask me to do such a thing? Take a fragile life with my bare hands like it was as simple as picking up a stone. I thought they didn't want to hurt you either but it doesn't seem to be working.'

  'What doesn't seem to be working? Why am I here Abigail?'

  Abigail looked pained. She looked to the door and then towards the ceiling, which felt darker and lower than when they first came in. 'You have to take me with you,' she suddenly declared. 'We have to bust out of here. I want to come to the city with you. You can't leave me here.'

  Ignoring her please, Sophie’s voice dropped low. 'Abigail, why me?'

  'Tell me you'll take me first.'

  'Okay, okay, tell me and then we'll try and get out of here. Somehow.' Sophie wasn't lying, she couldn't leave this precious soul here to face the nature of this cruelness. Even if the city was going to be far too cruel for her anyway. A choice between two cruelties; what else could she do?

  'You are chosen.'

  Sophie couldn't help herself and she let out a laugh. 'Oh yeah, a regular Jesus I am.'

  'You have the inherent alchemy that they need and they want to mine from you. To complete their plan.'

  'I'm sorry but that's just absolutely absurd. I'm no more magical than a glass of water.'

  'Sophie, you can't see it because you've been drugged and cast spells upon and gaslighted to believe that you are less than ordinary. But we've been taught from birth that you are the missing link. The alchemy cross mark.'

  A fresh wave of pity rose up through her. This unkind group had brainwashed poor Abigail to not only believe in magic and spells and stuff of childhood fantasies but that Sophie was something special.

  Abigail seemed to be waiting for Sophie to take it all in.

  'We really do have to get out of here. They are probably going to kill us, Abigail.'

  She nodded silently whilst Sophie pushed herself up and doddered over to the shelves. Picking up a small box, she upended the twigs of rosemary to the floor and stepped over them with her good leg which was returning to almost full function, whilst her other leg took its time catching up. Lifting up the box in both hands she brought it down hard on the shed door latch, smashing it furiously in the hope it would release and let them out. But all it achieved was noise.

  'Stop! Stop it. You'll make them come and tell us off,' Abigail was visibly afraid. Sophie discarded the box with a toss to the side. It skittered across the cement floor and stopped against one wall.

  'But how are we going to get out of here, Abigail? We probably don't have much time.'

  Abigail had sought out one of the rusty brown books from the shelf which made Sophie laugh with antipathy. 'You're not seriously suggesting that the book will help us in a time like this? The book— and the irrational idiots that believe in its tales— are the reason we are in here. Quick, flip to the page about being held hostage in a shed!' Sophie's derision was bordering on mean.

  But Abigail ignored her and kept thumbing through the pages determinedly. 'There WILL be something in here to help us, there WILL. I just know it.'

  Sophie shrugged at her and continued to explore the contents of the shed to aid in their escape. She shook her head in frustration at the useless herbs and picked up a small ornate metal pouch-shaped object, mainly for its beauty. It was made of brass or copper and eye-catching patterns and an image had been pressed into the object. Sophie ran her finger over the resting dog, which was shrouded by a garland and small birds, like those helpful animated ones that dressed Cinderella and were every kid's fantasy emblem of being a princess. There were several of the same objects and then nothing but more fresh and dried herbs on the shelf before her.

  'Any luck?' turning back to Abigail, she said.

  'Well, nothing specific but it's not always about specificity. Grab one of the books and help me look through. There has to be some kind of magic that can help us out here.'

  'Hmm. I don't really think the book is going to save us, Abigail. But let me think about things a bit,' she plonked herself down and watched over Abigail’s shoulder as she methodically turned and scanned the pages with her finger. The writing did have a magnetic quality which lulled Sophie into a small daze to the point where she almost forgot that she was in danger.

  'I am absolutely exhausted, I just realised. I have nothing left in me. Maybe it's just better if we beg to be let out?' Sophie questioned.

  'And then what?'

  'Well, then if successful, I'll go back into my tent and I'll try to escape from there.'

  'And then what will happen to me?'

  'I'll come back for you.'

  Abigail looked horrified. 'No! You mustn't leave without me. You won't come back for me and it won't be long before they do something wicked to me anyway. I
don't follow protocol and I'm an outcast here. They are dying for an excuse to get rid of the deadwood that is me. Please don't leave me here. We have to get out of this shed and sneak away. Together.'

  Sophie knew she was right and couldn't leave her to face the consequences on her own. 'Okay, you're right. I'll look after you. I promise. But how are we going to get out of here? What about one of the others? Surely there is someone willing to help you?'

  'Honestly, the only people out of the whole group that have ever shown me kindness are you and Alex. The others will turn on me for their own gain without a second's hesitation. They will not even notice that I am missing.'

  The room fell silent with impossibility. A space where all hope had whooshed out of the air and far away. Sophie slumped her shoulders with the weight.

  'I have an idea,' Abigail said desperately. 'Magic works with emotion, right? And you are supposedly the alchemy cross mark. What if... hear me out... we just channelled a whole bunch of emotion and blasted the shed wall off?'

  'That's absurd,' Sophie laughed.

  'More absurd than being locked in a shed in the middle of nowhere and having your arm thrust into a fire and then healed the next day?' Abigail flung her words at Sophie.

  'No, I suppose you're right. What should I do then?'

  'Okay, muster up some memories and strong feelings. Be angry that you are locked here, away from home. Really dive into the betrayal that Alex had deceived you all these years about who he really was and then left you on your own. Summon the deception of Carla, getting her to reveal your innermost turmoil, telling you about the nightmares, all under the guise of help but really it was to manipulate you and report back to us.'

  Sophie nodded; all these scenarios were effortless to conjure.

  'And finally, really feel the intensity of the loneliness that you feel. That you have always felt. That you believe you will always feel.'

  Abigail's astuteness punched her in the guts and she wailed with an emotional pain she had been holding onto since her parents had died.

  Abigail's soft voice floated around her head. 'That's it, use those feelings as a source of power. Now direct your feelings towards blowing open the door. You can do this!'

  After each upsurge of sobs, Sophie felt more exhausted than she had ever felt in her life. Even after being drugged. Until eventually, she slowed down to a few small sniffles, her arms so heavy they could only lay on the ground.

  'I'm sorry,' she whispered to Abigail.

  'It was worth a try,' Abigail said quietly.

  Violet half-moons had formed under Abigail’s eyes and she tapped her fingernails together. The two leant into one another, slumped over, arms around each other.

  'How about we just rest and get some sleep? Who knows what could happen later? Maybe Carla will free us tomorrow?' Sophie croaked with false optimism, wanting to buoy Abigail's spirits up and protect the young starling.

  Sophie patted her lap and Abigail snuggled her head into it. The warmth seeped through to Sophie's thighs and it stirred more than protection, more than fear. It woke a love and care that she had only ever reserved for Alex. And she was convinced that she felt it back. Abigail was someone to care about, that cared for her in return.

  She wasn't sure if Abigail was asleep but they both acted as if, their only chance at calm. Perhaps before the storm. Or perhaps a restorative tonic. She reached for the book that had been discarded by her legs. The writing, the symbols, the textured cover had started to become familiar, although the incredulity that people would take it for more than someone's ridiculous diary and made her shudder.

  There were no answers in the book but there were clues on how Carla and Clive thought. Their whole philosophy was contained in the pages and if Sophie studied them enough to understand how their psychology played out, maybe she could work out how to appeal to their worshipping sensibilities. And persuade them to let her go back to her life.

  Sophie winced when she landed on the fire ritual page: 'A holy divinity and preparation enchantment to ensure those who pledge themselves and follow the ways of The Tens will be ready for the day when Venus and earth meld. Only those who can either withstand or heal rapidly from Venus' insufferable heat will survive and be able to exist in The New Way, The Venus Way. Anyone who does not heal overnight from this trial will certainly fare no well when the great almighty Venus latches back to earth. The sulphur will burn through the lungs and the flesh will be heat stripped from the bones. You must waste no time performing this ritual, for Venus is coming sooner than you think. There is no age too young to conduct this powerful ceremony.'

  Sophie thought of the baby that Carla wanted Abigail to burn and she wondered where it was. There was no way it was safe from harm, even if they never put it through this inhumane ritual. Growing up in a cult, The Tens as they seemed to call themselves, would leave one unfit; a brittle caged bird. Like Abigail. Sophie pictured Abigail in the outside world and knew that she would not be able to protect her, even there. In her mind, she saw her crying from the overwhelm and being left alone for more than a few hours or crumbling apart at the horror that the daily news spouted. This world was not created for someone like Abigail and she hated Clive and Carla even more for bringing Abigail up this way and belonging nowhere.

  Hastily, she flipped the page away from the unease of the fire ritual. And what greeted her next made her stare in wonderment. A double-page spread of beautiful flying blackbirds dotted around the border, standing strong against the creaminess of the pages. Some mid-flight, some standing on their forked legs and some carrying debris in their beaks, on their way back to their nest. Over the birds, she traced her finger around the paper, just knowing they had something to tell her. Skimming her eyes over the page, the quaint symbol stood out directly in the middle. It was a more complex symbol than any she had seen in the book or dotted around the camp's items. Noticing now that symbols were what she was seeing all along: on the ceramic canisters in the shed, marked on several trees, on the sides of saucepans held over the fire… made to look like innocuous squiggles, Sophie thought they were anything but seeing as they formed part of a caustic ideology. She looked at one of the ceramic urns again. It had an “X” engraved in it. The roman numeral for ten. It was hard to unsee now. Alex’s keyring, the jumpers, Carla’s number plate… all of it was staring her in the face. A week ago, Sophie would have convinced herself that she was descending into lunacy if she kept seeing symbols. But all it took was one person, Abigail in all her innocence, to show her that she wasn’t going insane.

  The symbol in the book comprised of strokes and bubbles and half circles and had indentations like rivets that suggested the lines had been drawn over and over.

  Sophie leant over Abigail's face to see if she was awake and noticed her eyes were already open. There was a soft greyness to them, like a lake had been draining away and there was nothing left to see but the lake bed. 'Sweetheart, what does this symbol mean?'

  Abigail half-heartedly shifted her body to sit upright and traced her finger along the symbol. She was about to say that she had no idea when it made sense. 'Follow the birds,' she said nonchalantly.

  'What does that mean? Does that make any sense to you?'

  'It just means... I don't know... follow the birds.' Abigail shrugged and laid her head back down in defeat.

  So, Sophie searched the birds' flight path, looking for clues, looking for anything out of the ordinary that might give her insight into what Clive and Carla were planning to do next. What they had in store for her. But the birds went around and around in a circle on the page and just ended up frustrating Sophie more than ever. Her mind drifted back to the dead birds that kept accumulating at her house. The ones that met their match with the clear windows. The sparrow that flew into her tent. The tiny birds that adorned the copper cases she spied on the shelf earlier. The cases!

  She leapt up and Abigail bounced off her. 'Abigail, what are these?' Grabbing the horned shaped ornaments in both hands she shoved
them in her friend's face.

  'Careful!' Abigail shrieked. 'They are canisters of gunpowder. The ancients believed they were a key ingredient to immortality. We use it in spells.' And as Abigail let out the last syllable, they both shared an idea at the same time, eyes and mouths agape.

  'Let's blow the door off!'

  'Do you really think we can?'

  'We need some matches or something to light them. And if there's any fertiliser in here, that would be even better!'

  Abigail nodded and starting searching as Sophie inspected the door. Where could she place them to have the most effect, without injuring themselves?

  'Sophie, what does fertiliser look like?'

  'I really don't know actually. Maybe we can try any kind of liquid you find?'

  'We have this diesel here for the vehicle we used to have. Will that work?'

  'We're going to have to try. Be careful with it! Move it gently near the door but not the exact spot until we are ready to go. When do you think the best time to do this is?'

  Abigail contemplated. 'Now?'

  'What about if we wait a bit. Lull them into a false sense of security. Maybe dinner time before it gets dark? Surely they'll be busier?'