by Matt Rogers
It was a giant cottonwood tree, alone on the plains. He’d nearly walked right into the trunk.
He circled it, barely able to keep his feet, putting the trunk between himself and the commune. That way, even if a search party came out this way, he’d see their torch beams before they saw him.
He sat down against it.
The bark felt alive, each touch of the wood rippling across his back. As soon as he came to rest, his sensations heightened even further. Stillness exacerbated the effects of the drugs.
‘Holy shit,’ he breathed.
The night expanded, becoming endless and infinite.
‘The morning,’ he told himself. ‘It’ll fade by then. You just need the morning.’
Monsters in his head came to the surface, hitting him like punches.
Memories of endless killings and beatings. Blood, bullets, gore, steel, broken bones, torn skin.
He tried to force himself out of the thought loop.
He couldn’t.
So he went toward it.
‘Try it,’ he said out loud to himself. ‘Try and break me.’
He went deep into his own head, gave himself over to the traumatic memories, and the rest of the world fell away.
The Bodhi seized him, and he felt the full power of it.
Three substances, combined in perfect ratios.
A whole new world.
He rested his head back against the tree trunk and fought to maintain his sanity.
78
In the bowels of the farmhouse, Dane’s phone screen lit up with an incoming call.
It was three in the morning now. Dane had locked himself in his office, plotting, scheming. A plan was coming together. All he needed now was confirmation.
He answered the phone. ‘Connor.’
‘Sorry,’ the voice said back. It was youthful yet experienced. ‘Work’s been chaotic.’
‘Did you do what I asked?’
A pause. ‘You’re going to love me.’
‘I already do,’ Dane said. ‘Gaia runs through us, and she flows to you. You know what that feels like. If you have good intel, I’ll permit you to ascend to the next level. And the Bodhi will flow forever.’
Connor sucked in a breath in nervous anticipation.
Then he said, ‘Jason King and Will Slater. Those are their real names.’
Dane sat forward in his chair, eyes widening. ‘They’re in the system?’
Connor nearly laughed. ‘To put it mildly. You ready for this?’
‘Of course.’
Connor told him a long story.
79
In the early hours of the morning, just before the sun started rising over the plains, Violetta stirred.
There was someone in the doorway.
She jolted and sat up, and the movement rattled the bed frame. She felt Alexis stir in the bunk underneath.
Violetta composed herself and said, ‘Yes?’
It was Elias.
He said, ‘Maeve wants to speak with you.’
Silhouetted by the weak hallway light, they couldn’t see his face, so Alexis assumed he was talking to both of them.
She grumbled, ‘Right,’ and swung one leg off the mattress.
‘Not you,’ Elias said.
His voice was soft, but there was something unhinged in it.
Alexis froze, halfway out of the lower bunk.
Elias said, ‘Get more sleep. There’s nothing to worry about.’
His shadowed head tilted upwards to the top bunk. ‘You. With me. Now.’
Violetta had no choice but to comply. Refusing would mean compromising the entire cover, and they were too early in the process for that. The communication they had with King and Slater was also more difficult than they’d imagined. So for now, obedience was key.
She got dressed, put her hair up in a bun, and followed Elias outside.
It was freezing. Her breath clouded in front of her face as she tucked her hands into her armpits to encourage circulation. Elias, dressed in a loose cotton tee and corduroy slacks, didn’t seem to notice. He walked in the Asian style, with his arms folded behind his back, like a pensive philosopher out on a late night stroll.
He made her uncomfortable.
With the night hanging thick over the commune, they headed for the farmhouse.
Violetta said, ‘What does she want with me at this hour?’
Elias shrugged. ‘That’s neither my business nor my concern.’
‘Thanks for the help.’
Elias bristled. He turned to look at her as he strolled. ‘Maybe it’s something to do with that attitude.’
‘What attitude?’
‘This is a community of love,’ Elias said. ‘We all lift one another up. Being curt and smug won’t get you anywhere.’
‘I meant no disrespect.’
‘That doesn’t automatically mean none was received,’ he said. ‘I’d be careful with your words in future.’
Every part of her wanted to fire back, but she didn’t.
Maeve was waiting on the farmhouse porch. A couple of the exterior lights were on at each end of the porch, petering out into a long shadow in the centre, where the front door hung open.
Maeve stood in front of the door, her dress silhouetted.
She said, ‘I apologise for the hour, Violetta. But there’s something we need to discuss.’
‘Sure,’ Violetta said.
Her heart beat a little harder than usual in her chest. She tried to quieten it.
Maeve gestured for the door. ‘Come on in.’
Elias said, ‘Do you need me?’
‘Wait out here,’ Maeve said.
It doubled the tension.
Elias bowed his head. ‘Yes, ma’am.’
Violetta followed her into the house. They sat in the same sitting room where she and Alexis had first been initiated, but the setup seemed far more sinister at night with minimal lighting than on a beautiful sunny day with fresh air flowing through the open windows.
Now it was cold and still.
Maeve sat down in the armchair and let the silence draw out.
As soon as Violetta started to squirm, Maeve sat forward and said, ‘You should have told me you were pregnant, dear.’
80
Alexis stewed in her bunk.
Indecision had her in its grasp, clouding her judgment. Was Violetta in danger? Should she get up and investigate when she’d been explicitly told to stay where she was? Was it worth blowing her cover on the off chance it was already compromised?
As she lay there, wondering what to do, she started to drift back into sleep. The stress of pretending to be someone else got to her, making her bone-tired in the moments of quiet respite. Against her best interests, she began to fade away, slipping into much-needed additional rest.
Then she woke up again to a gun barrel in her face.
Brandon stood over her, his bulk filling her field of view, trapping her in the bunk.
He held a semi-automatic pistol with a serious lack of trigger discipline — his finger was inside the trigger guard, an inch away from sending a round through her skull. If she made any sudden movements or startled him in any way, he’d probably accidentally pull it.
She froze, the weight of the situation striking her.
Like a giant fist around her throat, obstructing her breathing.
She tried to inhale and said, ‘What are you doing?’
‘You were good,’ he said. ‘You did well. But now it’s got to come to an end. Sorry.’
She said, ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about, Brandon. Can we talk? Does it have to be like this?’
‘Yeah,’ he said, ‘unfortunately.’
Real fear outweighed the performance, and when she spoke it came from her true self, not the role she was playing. ‘Is this it?’
He said, ‘Not just yet. Maeve wants answers. No use killing you if she finds out the other bitch knows nothing.’
He winked at her.
Sh
e said nothing.
He said, ‘You could be the mastermind, after all.’
‘You’re not going to believe me,’ Alexis said, ‘but you’ve got this all wrong. Someone’s fed you bad information. The truth will come out eventually. Don’t do anything stupid until then. And trust me, I’m not mad at you for this. I understand you’re suspicious, but I’m not who you think I am.’
She spoke with conviction, and it actually made him hesitate. By reversing the confrontation to make him appear the guilty party for training a gun on an innocent woman, he was shocked out of automatic behaviour. He had to think hard about what he was doing.
But she couldn’t make a lunge for the weapon, couldn’t take advantage of the confusion.
Not with his finger inside the trigger guard.
He said, ‘Get up. Come with me.’
‘Where?’
Anger flickered in his eyes. ‘You don’t get to ask questions.’
She was already dressed, unwilling to strip to her nightwear in a place as alien as this commune, so she simply got up and slipped into her shoes and let him lead her out of the bunkhouse.
He said, ‘To the church.’
It loomed over them, the spire piercing the night.
She trudged toward the building with her head bowed.
She didn’t know what to do.
81
King saw Dane Riordan walking through the commune in the early hours of the morning.
The tall man moved slowly between buildings, and King only caught a glimpse of him out his bedroom window, but it was enough.
It was the straw that broke the camel’s back.
He decided to abandon his cover.
He was done with games. Slater hadn’t returned from the cabin, his bunk lying empty all night, and he couldn’t go check on Violetta and Alexis without drawing the attention of half the commune. There’d no doubt be watchers, disciples tasked with keeping a keen eye on the newcomers before they could be trusted, and they’d raise the alarm the instant they saw King approaching two women in the early hours of the morning.
To hell with it, he thought.
Dane was here, and Slater wasn’t. That alone was reason to raze Mother Libertas to the ground. If Dane had somehow got the upper hand on Slater…
King would tear this whole place down.
He stepped out of his bunkhouse and made a beeline across the commune, weaving between buildings. He felt naked without a pistol at his waist, but there was no chance of finding where the Riordans stored their arsenal, let alone breaking in and acquiring firepower. For now, he’d have to get this done with his bare hands.
Cortisol flooded his system as he walked hard for Violetta’s building.
Crunch time.
The door leading into their bunkhouse was already open, and he went to walk straight in.
Dane stepped out into the weak light.
King came to a halt, facing the spindly man. ‘What are you doing here?’
Dane said, ‘What are you doing here?’
‘Get out of my way.’
‘You sure that’s a good idea?’ Dane said. ‘Think about what you’re doing.’
King hesitated.
Dane said, ‘Do you really understand this place? What it is. What sort of resources I have access to. Have you ever fought two hundred people at once?’
King backtracked immediately. ‘What are you on about?’
‘You tell me. You’re the one that decides what this is.’
‘I need to piss,’ King said. ‘The toilet’s clogged in our bunkhouse.’
Dane smiled knowingly. ‘Is it?’
‘You want to go see for yourself?’
‘I just might.’
‘Be my guest. In the meantime, let me relieve myself. I don’t know what you’re on about, but I’d watch your mouth. I’m your new head of security, remember?’
Dane’s smile dissipated into a slight smirk. ‘Are you?’
King didn’t like the atmosphere one bit. He didn’t respond.
Dane said, ‘Don’t use this building. You’ll wake everyone up. There’s a bathroom in the mess hall. I’ll take you to it.’
‘No thanks.’
Dane raised an eyebrow. ‘No?’
‘You heard me.’
Dane gave him the once over with his gaze, and came away satisfied. ‘You’re not armed.’
‘Neither are you.’
‘But you’ll still do as I say. It’s not a request. It’s a command.’
‘No one in this place is commanding me to do anything.’
‘You work for me.’
‘Do I?’
They were going round in circles, and they both knew it. Skirting around the unspoken truth.
Does he know? King thought.
Dane sure seemed different.
All that was left to do was take a risk. ‘I need this building, not the mess hall. Violetta wanted to speak with me.’
Dane hesitated before responding, letting the words hang.
‘At four-thirty in the morning?’ he said. ‘What on earth about?’
‘I don’t know. That’s why I’m here.’
‘How did she contact you?’
‘We spoke at dinner.’
‘You’re new here. This isn’t the right timing to be sleeping with the disciples.’
‘She’s not a disciple yet,’ King said. ‘She’s as new as I am. And I’m not sleeping with her.’
Dane smiled. It was sinister. ‘Everyone here is a disciple, my friend.’
‘I’m going to need you to get out of my way,’ King said. ‘Respectfully.’
‘“Respectfully,”’ Dane parroted.
He left it at that.
King said, ‘Dane.’
Dane said, ‘Jason.’
‘You know what I’m asking.’
‘She’s not here,’ Dane said. ‘She’s up at the farmhouse. Speaking with Maeve.’
Now it was King’s turn to parrot. ‘At four in the morning? What on earth about?’
Dane said, ‘That’s not your concern.’
Make a decision, King thought.
He was done with games.
He said, ‘Yes, it is.’
He turned and strode for the trail leading to the farmhouse.
Dane didn’t call after him, or protest, or give chase. He just watched quietly as King walked away, which was somehow more uncomfortable than if he’d become angry.
King felt eyes drilling into his back all the way across the commune.
82
Every footstep in the empty church echoed.
Brandon walked Alexis down the central aisle and directed her to sit in one of the pews. Then he stood over her, keeping the gun trained on her face. He was calm and poised in the midst of heightened tension, and she was sure there was a small dose of Bodhi flowing through his veins.
She said, ‘Do you know what you’re doing?’
‘Shut up.’
He was still too far away to make a lunge. Bodhi was helping him stay calm and composed in a risky situation, and it nullified most of the beginner mistakes he would have made if he was sober. If his youthful anger was free to control him, he might step in and put the gun to her temple, which would allow her to jerk to the side and break his fingers as she disarmed him. Although she had to accept that might not work either — King and Slater could do it, but they both weighed north of two hundred pounds, and had powerlifted their whole lives. That sort of explosive strength simply wasn’t replicable.
So she fell back on persuasive methods. ‘You know, I’ve always thought there was something about you…’
He didn’t say anything.
She continued. ‘Ever since you picked me up … I don’t know. It’s like I haven’t been able to take my eyes off you.’
‘Shut up.’
‘I might as well tell you,’ she said. ‘If you’re being serious and my life is really in danger. I might as well say what’s on my mind.’
He di
dn’t repeat the phrase. He fell quiet, looking at the space above her head, trying to feign that he wasn’t listening despite every part of him wanting to hear what came next.
She said, ‘If this is my last night on earth, then so be it. What Mother Libertas deems as necessary is always right. I won’t put up a fight. But I damn well want to enjoy what time I have left.’
‘Would you be quiet?’ he said. ‘No one said anything about killing you. I have to hold you here.’
‘But if Maeve decides it’s not in the best interests of the movement to keep me alive … well …’
She trailed off.
He lowered his head in a slight nod, encouraging her to keep talking.
She skirted half a foot across the pew, inching closer to him. She lowered her voice and said, ‘No one’s around. They won’t see what we get up to.’
Silence.
She said, ‘I want you, Brandon.’
‘Why?’ he said. ‘No one wants me.’
‘I do.’
In her peripheral vision, she watched his jeans grow tight around the crotch area. In his head, two opposing impulses fought for control. The subservience to the Riordans, screaming at him to do his job and not get caught up in this foolishness. Then the animal, primal part of his brain, relishing power over this gorgeous creature, desperate to satiate his desires.
He finally looked at her — her green eyes, her pale skin, her luscious curves.
He said, ‘What do you want with me, exactly?’
She touched her lips with her tongue. ‘To get those pants off, for starters.’
‘Go on, then.’
He was still holding the gun, but his finger came out of the trigger guard as he sauntered forward.
She was seconds away from ripping the weapon — which she now identified as a Beretta — out of his hands when a voice broke the silence from the other end of the church. ‘What’s going on?’
It was a female voice, timid in tone, but it echoed.
Brandon wheeled around, and Alexis looked over her shoulder.