Loving the Cult

by Nicole Tillman

  Daphne tilts her head to the side and narrows her eyes at Lyla. Something passes between them and I swivel my eyes back and forth, trying to read between the lines. Lyla nods, apparently answering Daphne's unspoken question, and her friend's jaw drops to her chest.

  “It's my initiation gift from Bobby.”

  Daphne squeals and claps her hands together in rapid succession, drawing attention from the rest of the room before launching herself into Lyla's arms.

  “I'm so happy for you! Isn't it wonderful? Don't you feel so amazing and so... so fulfilled?”

  “That's definitely not how I'm feeling right now. I kinda feel like I'm dying.”

  “Oh, sweetie, that'll pass,” Daphne says, wiping the tears from her eyes.

  Lyla seems apprehensive, but Daphne just looks relieved as she leans in close and whispers, “I'm so glad I don't have to be alone in this.”

  My eyes are exhausted from ping-ponging back and forth between the two confounding women.

  “I don't understand.”

  “She's almost a member!” Daphne says. “She completed the first stage.”

  “First stage of what?”

  “Of initiation, silly,” Daphne states, as if it's obvious.

  The two stare at me with wide smiles, one nervous and one relieved, as they wait for it to sink in. When it finally does, I feel like throwing up every spoonful of strawberry oatmeal I've been trying to eat.

  “You- you're pregnant?”

  Lyla nods and Daphne squeals again as she throws her arms around her friend's neck.

  “Isn't it great?” Daphne asks.

  “Yes! It happened really fast, but we couldn't be happier.” Her words are concrete, never wavering the tiniest bit, but her eyes are clouded with fear and, if I'm not mistaken, defeat. “I'm finally going to be able to contribute.”

  I think my head is about to fucking explode. I know that deep down these women don't really want this. It's an act. They are pretending to be obedient, brainwashed incubators. But even though it's not real, the emotion they are displaying is for everyone else's benefit, it's still sickening.

  I open my mouth to give them a piece of my mind, but something stops me. A flash of red causes me to jerk my head to the side, but there's nothing there and I think I'm imagining things.

  Creepy...

  “Shouldn't you be congratulating Lyla?”

  Her voice scrapes across my skin like nails on a chalk board and I jerk my head to look over my shoulder. Joan's red hair is curled today, and somehow it seems darker, like the color of fresh blood.

  Looking back at my companions, I grit my teeth and mutter, “congratulations.”

  Joan walks around the table to stand between Lyla and I. “You don't seem very enthusiastic.”

  Opening my lips wider, showing what I know is a snarl instead of a smile, I tear my eyes away from Joan and land them on Lyla.

  “Congratulations, Lyla. I'm so happy for you.” The words are even emptier than they were before.

  Joan grins in that secret way of hers and shakes her head, sending her fiery curls flailing.

  “You're going to have to do better than that, my dear.”

  “I'm smiling,” I say sweetly. “I'm humoring her. What more do you want?”

  “Genuine happiness wouldn't hurt,” she says, her smile slipping.

  “On the contrary, Joan, I think it would hurt a great deal.”

  Bending over the table, she glares at me and I can feel her dominance, her authority, bearing down on me.

  “Trust me, there are things that hurt much, much worse.”

  Turning away from me, she lays a hand on Lyla's still flat stomach. “One tiny step for the cause, from such tiny, tiny feet.”

  Hearing her talk about the baby like that, like a tool, makes my skin crawl, but Lyla places her hand above Joan's.

  “It's an honor, Ma'am.”

  “Of course it is.” Joan purrs as she runs her free hand through Lyla's hair.

  Lyla's skin flushes at the contact and I feel an instant need to protect her, to move myself in between her and that monster. But I can't. I know I can't. No matter what I do, no matter what I say, someone will be punished. That someone would most likely be me, but depending on her reaction, Lyla could be hurt as well.

  I'm going to be sick. I can feel the bile crawling it's way up my esophagus with every pass of Joan's boney fingers through Lyla's hair. My eyes frantically search the room and immediately land on the word 'restroom' burned into a wooden plaque in the corner. My chair screeches loudly as I push away from the table and make a bee-line for the door.

  I make it inside just in time to lose what little breakfast I had ingested along with most of my stomach lining. The burn in my throat and the seizing in my stomach don't even begin to compare with the discomfort in my head. Visions of cold, unfeeling hands cradling Lyla's baby take over my thoughts and I wish I had more in my stomach to retch.

  As I'm wiping a hand across my mouth, the door opens and closes behind me. I don't bother to look over my shoulder. I don't give a damn who it is.

  Gentle hands brush my hair away from my shoulders, holding it back so it doesn't fall in the toilet.

  Too late...

  “Shh,” Lyla coos, “It's fine, Tess. It's going to be fine.”

  Her reassurance is nothing to me, because all I can see is that baby growing up to be an empty monster. Whatever humanity it's born with will be swept away. It will only love the cause, the cult, and the purpose. It will be a cog, a chess piece, in the game these people play. The Children of Neutrality.

  “It's not fine,” I reply, my voice shaking. “None of this is fine, yet you go on acting like it is.”

  Lyla takes a seat on the bathroom floor, crossing her legs and folding her hands in her lap. After tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, she looks up at me, biting her lip to keep her eyes from overflowing.

  “Tess, I'm not as stupid as I look.”

  I don't know what she means. I've never implied that I thought she was dumb. She's not. She can't be. I see that now.

  To survive in this place, without being completely overcome by these people, it takes serious strength as well as an unbelievable amount of intelligence and willpower.

  “That's not what I was trying to say.”

  “No. I know exactly what you were saying, but I'm telling you something and I need you to listen very carefully.”

  I nod as she takes my hand in hers. The way her gaze connects with mine is so severe it scares me. Her chocolate brown eyes aren't that of a sixteen year old girl, but of a woman. A woman with purpose.

  “I am not stupid,” she whispers. “I know what I'm doing, and if you're as smart as you seem, you'll do the same.”

  “I don't want this,” I snap. “I don't want any of it and I sure as hell won't pretend that I do.”

  “Do you think-” she cuts herself off with a shake of her head. “If you want to stay alive, you'll do what you have to, and you'll smile about it. Everyday you'll worship the ground Jameson and that evil woman walk on. You'll do everything that's asked of you, because it's expected. You'll blend. Because if you don't, they'll have no problem disposing of you.”

  I can feel every drop of color drain from my face. I don't know why that little factoid surprises me, it shouldn't. But I realize that if she were a true follower, if she really believed in the cause, she wouldn't be talking to me like this.

  Locking eyes with her, I try my best to pull whatever secrets she has out of her pupils. Before I'm done searching, before I can see behind the mask, her eyes harden and she snaps her smile back into place.

  “You're going to smile,” she repeats. “You're going to make friends. You're going to let Jameson take you to bed. And you're going to give him and his mother exactly what they want.”

  “Why would I do that? To serve the cause? To let myself be used and brainwashed? No thank you.”

  “You're not listening to me, Tess!” She grabs onto my arm so hard
, her nails dig into my skin.

  “You'll do it because you don't want to be hurt. You'll do it to stay alive.”

  Dumbfounded, I stutter, trying to make sense of this damn woman.

  “I-I don't think I can. I think I'd rather be hurt, rather be killed, than-”

  “Than what?” She cuts in. “You'd rather be killed than bedded by a gentle guy like Jameson? You'd rather die than stay here and be given food, shelter, and protection? I don't know about you, but I'll go to any lengths to stay alive, even if it means being talked down to and forced to carry a strangers child.”

  “I- but... Bobby looks at you like you're his world. You look at him the same way. How do you force something like that?”

  Her lip trembles, but she clenches her jaw and manages a tight smile.

  “We don't. Bobby and I... well, let's just say we have a very special relationship that would be frowned upon if the elders found out it was based on anything other than obedience.”

  “You...” I feel my eyes go wide in my skull. “You love each other.”

  It's not a question. It's a statement. I don't need her to answer me because it's written so clearly in her eyes, her lips, her body. She's gone and fallen in love in a place that prohibits the very emotion.

  “Like I said, Tess, if I were you, I'd learn exactly what it is you have to do in order to survive.”

  I'm in awe of this girl, this woman. She's clever. She's so much smarter, so much stronger than I initially gave her credit for. She knows she doesn't belong here and she understands how wrong it is. But she's also found something to cling to, however forbidden. Love.

  Lyla hasn't been brainwashed. She's just a damn good actress.

  And she's in love.

  “Now, smile,” she says, never unscrewing her jaw. “Get off your ass and go back out there. Keep to yourself, act like you've given up all hope, and then learn to obey orders. And never, I repeat, never mention to anyone that we've had this little conversation. Are we clear?”

  Not only is she a good actress, she's a pint-sized badass.

  A genuine, hopeful smile blooms from my lips. Not because of what I'm about to do, but because this young woman has given me something to hold onto; some strand of hope that maybe we're not all doomed. Maybe I'm not alone in this, and maybe, just maybe, we have a fighting chance.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  After we finish eating in silence, the girls take me on a tour of the compound. We start in the kitchen, which is filled with stainless steel appliances that I would never in a million years be able to afford, before moving into a large meeting room. Daphne tells me that the space was built to accommodate every single person who lives here. I'm not surprised. It's massive and cold, just like the inhabitants.

  Once we finish there, we move into a hallway with three white doors adorned with brass nameplates. The first one makes my skin crawl and I immediately want to turn around and head back the way we came.

  Joan Foster

  “If you ever need something and can't find Joan in one of the common rooms, she's usually here in her office,” Daphne explains. “Her living quarters are also here, so if anything happens at night, this is where to come.”

  “What would happen at night?” I ask, hoping she doesn't have an answer.

  Daphne just shrugs and continues down the hall.

  “She means once you're initiated. Once you're...” she cuts off to pat her belly.

  “Why her? Shouldn't someone find a doctor first?”

  “Chain of command. You tell Joan and she'll tell Omar.” She points to the next door.

  Omar Bailey

  “Okay, which one is he? The old one or the really old one?”

  “The really old one,” she says with a laugh. “He's pretty well the brains behind the operation. Apparently he's a genius so he doubles as the doctor.”

  “So... so you guys have the babies here? You don't go to a hospital?”

  If I wasn't cringing at the idea before, I sure as hell am now. Surely they don't have all the amenities that a hospital would. What if something goes wrong?

  “Yup. Omar delivers every single one.”

  “Where?” I ask. “I didn't see a delivery room.”

  “There's not one,” she explains. “It's kind of a midwife situation. You'll give birth in your room, and if that's out of the question, he has an exam table in his office. That's where I'll be headed when we're done here. He insists on monthly checkups for all the women.”

  Eww. I visibly shudder.

  “Yeah, he'll probably be calling you in to see him soon.”

  “Wait, what? Why?” My pulse quickens. I don't have a problem visiting the doctor like some people, but I can already tell I'm going to hate this one.

  “I just told you,” she says. “All women have monthly checkups.”

  I grab her arm to bring her to a stop in front of the third door. “I thought you meant all pregnant women.”

  “Nope,” Daphne chimes in. “Every woman in the compound, pregnant or not.”

  “Why? If you're not pregnant, why the exams?”

  “To make sure you're... primed.” Daphne's smile is forced and I wonder what she's remembering.

  “Primed?”

  “You know,” Lyla says, “Prenatal vitamins, anemia test, dietary instructions, that whole spiel. Hey, are you okay? Your face is white as a sheet.”

  No shit my face is white. I'm going to be forced to visit some old sadistic pervert that thinks he's a physician so he can prepare me to have a child I don't want.

  It's not going to happen. You'll be long gone before then.

  “It's fine,” Daphne says reassuringly. “He's not that bad.”

  The way Joan's 'not that bad'? The way being here's 'not that bad'? Or the way my future is shaping up to be 'not that bad'?

  “Who's this?” I ask, pointing at the third door in an effort to get my mind off the doctor.

  “Robert Perry,” Lyla says as she takes my hand in hers and leads me down to the stairwell.

  “Well, what about him? Who is he?”

  Lyla leans in to whisper in my ear once we're a few steps ahead of Daphne.

  “Someone you don't want to know.”

  Surely he can't be worse than Joan...

  “If he comes to see you, not only are you in trouble, but so is your partner.”

  “What does that mean?”

  We stop at the top of the stairs and wait for Daphne to catch up.

  “Let's just say, there are a lot of kids here that share his genetic code.”

  “Eww,” I gasp. This place just keeps getting worse. “You mean if Jameson doesn't...”

  “Yeah. If Jameson doesn't finish the job, Robert will.”

  “That's disgusting! So, if a guy can't knock his partner up, he just goes around and does it for them? That's insane!”

  “Insane,” Daphne says, breathing heavily as she trudges toward the landing. “But effective.”

  My jaw drops open at the possibility of Robert being her child's father. Could Bradley not get the job done? And how is it a man in his forties is more virile than the twenty-somethings?

  “He's not,” I say, pausing to point at Daphne's belly, “the father, is he?”

  She laughs. “Oh, God no! This is definitely Bradley's.”

  “And you?” I ask, turning to Lyla.

  “Are you kidding? Bobby wouldn't let anyone else touch me with a ten foot pole.”

  Good. I couldn't stand the idea of that man getting his hands on Lyla. In truth, I don't like it that Daphne is paired with such an asshole, but Bradley doesn't seem near as bad now that I've come to know Mr. Robert Backup-Plan Perry.

  “I think I've had about enough of a tour. How about we call it a day?”

  “That sounds fantastic,” Daphne wheezes, propping herself up against the wall.

  “You okay, Daph?”

  “Yeah, just wishing we had an elevator in this damn building.”

  “Amen to that,” Lyla laug
hs.

  Suddenly, something hits me and I feel like an idiot for not noticing it before. Since I've been here, I haven't seen a single child. No toys strung through the halls, no feet pattering across the floor, no inconsolable crying. I haven't seen so much as a teddy bear.

  “Where are the kids?”

  When I realize my words came out as a breathy whisper, I ask again.

  “Where are the kids?”

  Both Daphne and Lyla turn toward the window in the stairwell and point.

  Down the hill, about a hundred yards away, I see a house identical to the one we're standing in.

  “That's the nursery,” Daphne whispers as she presses her palm against the glass. Her voice is filled with longing and an ache that makes my own heart hurt for her. “That's where they take them.”

  I turn to face her.

  “What do you mean take them?”

  “After they're born Joan takes them away.”

  Lyla's voice is just as despairing as Daphne's. This is their future, their children's future. After birth, their son or daughter will be ripped from their chest and taken away to be raised without their parents.

  My heart goes out to them. It would almost be better if they were brainwashed like I thought. Maybe then it wouldn't hurt as bad once that day finally came.

  I've never wanted to be a mother, and I know why. I don't have a maternal bone in my body. But these two women, it's so blindingly obvious that they have what it takes. They would make stellar mothers. And now, life is blossoming in their bodies.

  Sadly, they'll never get to feed their little ones, never get to rock them to sleep, never get to watch them take their first steps.

  “I'd give anything to be in that building right now.” Daphne's whisper is so soft, so gut-wrenching.

  I shake my head. “It doesn't matter how much you want to help them. There'd be no way you could get them out, not without being caught.”

  “I don't care. At this point, I wouldn't even try to leave.”

  That's insane. Why would she want in and then not want to get... Then it hits me.

  “You said you had been here for how many years?”

  “Too many,” she answers.

  “How many years, Daphne?”