#2 White Sheets

by H. D. Gordon

  His words ran through her head on a loop. The service had lasted nearly three hours, but the time had passed so swiftly Christine found herself a little sad that it was over. It was oddly like coming down off of a high. She felt tired and exhilarated at the same time.

  Also, she was getting closer and closer in the line of people waiting to talk to him. She was nervous, palms sweating. She had no idea what she was even going to say, but she figured she had to say something in thanks for his letting her and Maddie stay at the Ranch while she got on her feet. For some reason, Christine felt inadequate coming to him, as though a man of his caliber shouldn’t care to waste any time talking to someone like her.

  She ran her fingers through Maddie’s hair and smiled down at the little girl, who blinked back up at her for several seconds before tentatively smiling in return. For a moment, Christine’s empowerment she’d felt during the sermon slipped away as she remembered all the issues she was facing in her life. She thought about all of it as she moved forward in the line.

  Then, warm hands were engulfing hers. She lifted her eyes and stared into the dark chocolate of the reverend’s, her breath catching as she took him in up close. The gentle smile he’d been flashing all night still sat on his lips, his perfect teeth lined up behind them. His voice was soft, yet deep and strong.

  “Why, you must be Christine,” he said, patting her hand in a fatherly way. His smile grew wider, making his dark eyes twinkle as he looked to Madison. “And that would make you Maddie, right?”

  Maddie nodded. Christine had to pick up her jaw. She hadn’t expected him to know who she was. She supposed since she’d been living at his ranch for the past few days it would be easy enough for him to find out, but there had to be over one hundred and fifty people who resided at the ranch. To say the least, she was flattered…and kind of touched that he would care. She was so caught up in his attention she barely noticed Missus Dorie, who was standing behind him, a small grin on her face.

  The way the reverend smiled at her gave Christine the strange feeling that he could hear her thoughts. After all she had witnessed this evening, she wouldn’t have been totally surprised if that were the case.

  “I’ve been waiting for you to come to me,” he said, low enough that only she could hear. “The Lord told me you’d be coming. He said, ‘Ron, you look out for the good, young mother in need of your help.’ He told me I would know you when I saw you because you would be beautiful, and so full of strength that it might blind me.” His warm hand patted hers again. “And He was right, like He always is. I can see how strong you are, and you have my sympathies that your strength has gone so underappreciated your whole life. Please, take comfort in knowing that most folks here have suffered the same.”

  Now his palm came up and cupped her cheek, but he stared off into the distance a little, as if he could see something no one else could.

  “Your family could never understand how special you are, and they rejected you,” he continued. “The one who was supposed to be protecting you is the one you now need protection from…am I right, child?”

  Was he right? Right as fucking rain. A tear fell from her eyes hearing the words that spoke so plainly the synopsis to the story of her life. His smile told her that her expression was answer enough, and he brushed the hot tear rolling down her cheek away with his thumb.

  “You have so much potential,” he told her. “We can help you reach it here. We, too, have been rejected by those who were supposed to love us, betrayed by those we trusted. Here, we’ve finally found a real family.” He gestured around to the crowd of people still in the room. “Here, we’ve finally found happiness.”

  He leaned in close now, his face only inches from hers, and spoke in hardly a whisper. The sweet smell of peppermint floated on his breath. “And we need good people like you, Christine. We need you especially, to help us spread our love and joy all around the world, where countless others like us are waiting, praying to find somewhere they can be accepted, and live meaningful lives.” He paused. “You’re so special and you don’t even know it. It’s a sad thing to see, child.” His head shook in dismay. “A sad thing.”

  Christine found herself unable to respond to this. She was pretty sure her lips were parted, but no sound was coming out. Never in her entire life had anyone said such things to her, and especially not someone of such high esteem. His words were such an opposite to the way she viewed herself that hearing them spoken in regards to her set her whole world off-kilter. She was a country girl from a blue collar family who had gotten pregnant at fifteen, dropped out of high school, and was abused on a daily basis by her loser baby’s father. Potential? Probably not. Special? No way.

  And yet, Christine could not sense a trace of mockery in his voice, not a shred of derision on his face. Her throat felt thick, and her eyes were starting to burn again.

  Luckily, he spoke for her. “I do hope you’ll consider staying a while. Either way, I know you’ll do great things, and I can only pray it will be as part of the Family.” He kissed her hand, leaving heat where his lips met her skin. “And you can stay here as long as you need. You’re safe now, child. Put your fears to rest.”

  Christine could tell that this was his gentle way of dismissing her, and suddenly felt both incredibly lucky and a little selfish for taking so much of his time when there was still at least fifty people waiting in line behind her to talk to him.

  She took Maddie’s hand—the girl hadn’t said a word the entire time, but Christine had far too much on her mind to notice—and smiled one last time at the reverend. She said to him the only thing she could think of, the only thing that felt appropriate.

  “Thank you, Father.”

  He nodded in a way that told her she was very welcome. Very welcome, indeed.

  Chapter 21

  Joe

  The service seemed to last a lifetime, maybe two.

  After the initial curiosity over it all faded, I was left kind of bored and burnt out. It didn’t help that I was on edge the entire time. Mr. Landry’s words kept coming back to me. Sheep surrounded by wolves. Though I was getting tired and hungry, I had to keep my guard up. Also, I needed to get out of this overcrowded, soon-to-be death room. I hadn’t had another vision since I’d entered, but the leftover effects of that one were still swimming around my grumbling stomach. I needed some air.

  It was obvious Michael felt the same way, because as soon as the service concluded, he took my hand and began leading me through the crowd to the exit. I came to a stop, and he turned to me with raised eyebrows. People continued to move past us, making me feel a little like a small island in a rapid stream. I pulled him over to the side before explaining myself.

  My voice pitched as low as possible, trying to sound surer than I felt, I said, “I want to go muh-meet the reverend.”

  Something flashed behind Michael’s eyes that told me that was the last thing he wanted me to do, but he was smart, and knew better than to disagree verbally. There were too many people all around us, and telling me not to go to the man would certainly raise some flags. From our research I’d learned that no one in a cult could trust anyone else; they were all spies against each other. They were essentially their own police. Divided and conquered.

  Michael knew this, and an almost pained look passed over his face and vanished so quickly that if I hadn’t been paying attention, I wouldn’t have seen it. He smiled, and though I knew it was forced, it looked real enough. “Okay,” he said, and began leading me up to the line of people who were waiting to talk to the reverend.

  I pulled him to a stop again and gave him a small smile. “Wuh-wait outside for me?”

  Now Michael’s jaw clenched, but his lips curved up again and he nodded. “Fine,” he said in a normal tone. But as he passed me, he whispered, “Fifteen minutes, or I’m coming in to get you.”

  This made a real smile come to my lips, but as I watched him walk away, it slipped off my face and fear settled into my stomach. This meeting the madman be
fore the disaster would be a first for me, unless you counted my unknowing encounters with Daniel Deaton, the school shooter who’d I’d dubbed the Shadowman before learning his name from the news, after the incident at UMMS...

  Something occurred to me then, and though I would eventually come to the conclusion that it made sense, it was easily one of the darkest thoughts I’d ever had. Which, as you may know, was really saying something.

  I knew who the madman was. I knew where he was. I knew what he was going to do, for the most part. If I wanted to, couldn’t I just…kill him before the disaster started, and save myself, and everyone else, a lot of trouble? Well…could I?

  And that was another question for later. As I took my place in line, I caught sight of Mr. Landry making his way toward the exit along with others. From the look he gave me, I knew that he’d been listening to my thoughts just a moment ago, and would be sure to broach the subject with me later. I sighed. I had enough food for thought to feed a generation.

  “What are you doing?” Mr. Landry asked me silently, pausing when he saw that I wasn’t leaving just yet.

  “Just making an acquaintance,” I answered. When he looked like he was going to wait for me, I quickly added, “I’ll be fine. Michael is waiting right outside for me, and has promised to come in with guns blazing if I’m not out in fifteen minutes. You look tired. Go home and I’ll see you when we get back to the apartment.”

  He hesitated, as if trying to find some reason why this was unreasonable. I sighed mentally. “Go on,” I said. “I’ll be right behind you.”

  Finally, he gave a curt nod and left, and I turned around to realize that there were only three people in line in front of me. I followed them up the steps to the stage, where the reverend sat in the white, throne-like chair I recognized from my drawing. When I felt my palms growing moist and my heart picking up in pace, I took a deep breath and repeated silently the mantra that seemed to have been with me my whole life, one that only popped into my head in high-stress situations.

  Just breathe, just breathe, just breathe…

  I was concentrating on doing just that when the person in front of me finished up his talk with the reverend. The impulse to gulp was strong, but I forced it away and put on a demure smile. I was proud of the fact that my legs didn’t shake when his dark, piercing eyes fell on me, and I came forward to make acquaintance with the Middle Man.

  His smile, while others surely found it charming and disarming, made me feel as though I needed a shower, and the way his watchful gaze travelled over made me mark that as the first task as soon as I got home. When he reached out and took my hands into his own, gently patting my hand the way I would assume a father does to his child, I had to clench my teeth against the uneasy tightening in my stomach.

  I was admittedly a strange person, but this guy—at least to me—was obviously a creep.

  As he launched into what I assumed was one of his go-to spiels about how special and important I was, and how happy he was I had found my way here, I had to forcibly stop myself from rolling my eyes like a bratty teenager. He was spouting more crap than a cracked septic pipe. Instead, I listened and nodded my head in the appropriate places.

  “Tell me, child,” he said, pausing again for dramatic purpose, something he seemed fond of doing. “What’s your name?”

  For a moment, I panicked. I hadn’t thought about this when I’d decided to come up here. I did a quick assessment of the situation, knowing that if I could get close enough to this “Family”, eventually I would run into Kayla, who might find it odd if I lied about my name, and tell “Father” on me. So, I made an on-the-spot decision that it was best to tell the truth, and sighed internally at the irony. It seemed my choices and behavior were already being affected by this man. At least I knew it, and was consciously playing along.

  “Joe,” I answered, surprised at the way the word slipped easily from my lips, especially since my stutter is most pronounced when I get nervous.

  He studied me with those dark eyes, that leering smile ever present. “Well, that’s a lovely name. What’s it short for? Jolene? Josephine?”

  I shook my head. “Nuh-nuh-nothing,” I said. Ah, there it was. “It’s juh-just Joe.”

  Something happened then. It was so subtle, that if I hadn’t known it so well, I might not have noticed it. It was just the tiniest softening in his eyes, a flash of a look I’d been seeing all my life when people witnessed me speak for the first time. It was, quite simply, a look of pity. It was that too-bad-for-her, glad-I-don’t-have-that-problem and oh-the-poor-girl look. Sure, I knew it well.

  The smile on my lips was less forced now, because I saw my way in. It was like being handed over the keys, or seeing a door swing wide open. This was why research was always important. These cult leaders were predators on the weak-minded (which, unfortunately, seemed to be a good part of the human population) and my impediment had often made people think just that of me. They even dubbed me Simple Joe in high school. Most people don’t think about how much articulation is linked to intelligence, but trust me, it is.

  With that one look, I could tell the reverend thought I was exactly the kind of person he was looking for. Weak-minded, easily persuadable and insecure. Well, I had my fair share of issues, but weak-minded was not one of them. A weak-minded person would never have been able to make it this far in my life, and the nature of its events had left little time for brooding over what others thought of me.

  I knew just what to do then, and though it make my stomach flip in disgust, I gave his clammy hands a squeeze and said, “Th-th-thank you fuh-for the s-service, fuh-Father. I-I-I thought it was uh-uh-mazing.”

  This earned me a smile so bright I thought his bleached teeth might blind me. “Oh, child,” the reverend said, his sickly sweet breath smacking me in the face. I had to suppress a gag. “Thank you for coming today. I’m so glad you did. I hope you know how happy we are to have you, how blessed we are that you are in our presence…Tell me, what do you think really brought you here today?”

  Again, I panicked, questioning my earlier conclusions about being “in”. Was he testing me? Had I somehow made him suspicious? And really, why had I come? Why couldn’t I just—

  “I’ll tell you why you came, child,” he continued, and I slowly released the breath I’d been holding. He hadn’t been expecting me to answer. He just really liked to hear himself talk. He leaned forward, his face coming so close to mine that I felt my lip twitch and had to bite my cheek to keep the distaste off my face.

  In hardly a whisper, he said, “You came today because you’ve seen firsthand how dark and cruel this world can be, and you want to help make it a better place, to fight that darkness. Am I right, child?”

  I was genuinely a bit staggered by this. Even though I knew he didn’t know the context which made his discernment accurate, or that he was the subject of it, I had to give him credit. I knew it wasn’t any God-like power that gave him such insight, but the way he picked up on the subtleties of others was admittedly impressive. I nodded my response, widening my eyes just a little in feigned wonder.

  His answering smile told me I was doing a fine job, and his next words confirmed it. He put his beefy hand on my shoulder and pulled me into a hug that made my skin crawl with invisible beetles. His lips were a quarter-breath from my ear, and in his deep, fatherly voice, he said, “I’m having a dinner to welcome new members tomorrow, here at the ranch. It would be my greatest honor if you would consider joining us. Six o’clock. What do you say?”

  I pulled back from him and put a smile on my face that was not as hard to fake as one might think. This kind of invitation was exactly what I had been fishing for, and now that I had the bite, all I had to do was reel it in and hope I wouldn’t get pulled into the water with the rest of them. Which, was a strong possibility if I refused to let go of the pole when it became obvious I was being dragged overboard.

  But those were thoughts for later. I met Middle Man’s piercing stare and nodded my consen
t, stuttering a bit more than necessary something along the lines of: I wouldn’t miss it for the world.

  The reverend’s hand came up and cupped my cheek, and there was nothing I could do to stop the goose bumps that erupted over my skin. His leering grin told me he thought his touch was igniting the polar opposite desire of what I was feeling, and I barely managed to suppress a shudder. For the first time, I was seriously questioning just what I was getting myself into.

  Of course, Father had an answer for that as well.

  He kissed my cheek and whispered, “Welcome to the Family.”

  PART II: FOLLOW HIM DOWN

  Chapter 22

  Middle Man

  He watched her walk away, her hair a curtain of black, and her eyes, though no longer visible, burned into his memory. He had never seen eyes quite like hers, that odd mixture of silver and blue. One side of his mouth pulled up a fraction as he came to the immediate conclusion that the girl named Joe was special.