by S. F. Kosa
The battle between resentment and obedience, between running away and staying put, between defending herself and staying faithful to everyone and everything she’d been working toward, was constant. And crushing. What had once seemed the only safe place in the world was now a minefield, and as Ladonna turned onto the gravel road that would take them the last few miles to the compound, dread rose inside Parvaneh’s throat, threatening to choke her.
She had to leave. Had to get out. She just didn’t know how.
Fabia yawned and rubbed at her face. “I wonder what will happen tonight.”
“It was amazing, wasn’t it? Last night?” Ladonna sighed. “I really thought I was dying, and I swear I saw the consciousness, like this big, old golden hand, all warm light.”
Darius had passed out milk again at dinner last night, to all of them this time. He’d said that a few cups were what he’d taken to calling “vehicles,” ready to carry the drinker to the shores of the deep consciousness. They were to drink and wait. To have faith—and to hope that the consciousness had chosen them for the journey. Half an hour later, a few of them, Fabia and Ladonna included, had slumped in their seats. Parvaneh had thought they were really dying. All of them had. They’d carried the four unconscious Oracles to the meeting hall, laid them on the floor, and meditated as a hushed awe filled the room, thick as the perfume of incense. Parvaneh could have sworn she’d felt the power of it, her meditation stone vibrating in her palm as Fabia had taken a deep, snoring breath. She waited for the moment of death, unable to untangle the feelings of shock and horror and thrill at the idea.
It could have been any of them. It could have been her. It hadn’t seemed painful, and she was supposed to want to rejoin the consciousness. That was what Darius had been telling them through the fall, that this world was imperfect, that they would be tested and some of them would be taken as sacrifices, as bridges to help the rest of them cross over and at least touch, for a moment, that divine presence. She’d tried so hard to feel excited. But all she could feel was exhaustion and dread.
She didn’t want to die. She knew she wasn’t supposed to be afraid of it, but she couldn’t help it. And she couldn’t show her fear, or everyone would interpret it as doubt, and no one else seemed to be feeling doubt these days. So the problem was with her. That was what Darius had told her last week, as he’d concluded the whipping. That he hoped they’d beaten the doubt out of her. But all they had done was drive it underground.
“What the hell?” Ladonna muttered. “Who’s that?”
A car approached from the other direction, coming from the compound. Ladonna pulled over to the side to let it pass. From her seat behind Ladonna, Parvaneh could see the driver, a middle-aged woman with graying brown hair. Their eyes met for a moment as the woman maneuvered past the van, just briefly, but the look in her eye sent a chill riding along Parvaneh’s skin.
“Government plates on the car,” Eszter said, squinting out the back.
Fabia cursed. “More harassment. When we live more peacefully than everyone else.”
Ladonna pulled into the clearing a few minutes later, where a crowd of Oracles and the children were milling around. As they got out, Darius came to meet them.
“Who was that?” Eszter asked him. “Did they want to execute a search warrant?”
Darius looked grim. “They’re going to take our children. They have no idea what they’re doing.”
“Where do they get off?” Ladonna asked. “They don’t have the right to do that.”
Darius’s sharp gaze scanned the women who had just returned from town. “Someone called Child Protective Services,” he said. “They wouldn’t tell me who. But they’re going to come back. And I wouldn’t be surprised if the police are with them.”
“They just showed up,” said Zana, coming forward with Ladonna’s chubby, rosy-cheeked baby boy. “They said there had been a call about us hitting the kids.”
“But we don’t,” said Fabia.
Xerxes, who had been examining the right front tire of the van, trying to pry a stone from its grooves, looked up at her. “You hit me all the time.”
Fabia laughed. “You big fibber. Of course I don’t.”
Xerxes scowled. “You did yesterday when I called you a cow face.”
Parvaneh walked quickly to the back of the van to keep anyone from seeing her smirk. As she unloaded the mops and brooms, she heard Darius tell Xerxes that it was wrong to lie.
“You’re the liar,” Xerxes shouted.
Darius instructed Fabia to help Zana take the children back to the dorm. Then he told everyone to convene in the meeting hall for an important announcement. Eszter said she urgently needed to go to the bathroom but that she would join them as soon as she could. Parvaneh peeked around the van to see her rushing off, still holding her belly, leaving Parvaneh to do all the unloading by herself.
By the time she got to the meeting hall a few minutes later, nearly all the Oracles had gathered. Darius stood on the altar steps. His hands were clasped in front of him. His eyes lit on each person as they walked down the aisle. When his gaze landed on Parvaneh, she remembered how wonderful it had felt when he’d looked on her with approval, when she’d felt like he loved her. She would have done anything for him. Their eyes met, and a faint smile pulled at his lips. She put her hand on her belly, to remind him what they had created together, something worth saving.
Eszter blundered in a minute later, panting but no longer clutching at her middle. She plopped into the seat next to Parvaneh, which instantly put her on guard. The last thing she needed was to be beaten again for some perceived doubt, not when the tension was this high. She could see it in the darting glances of her fellow Oracles, the way they were sitting so straight. They felt what she did: a tightening of their senses, the breeze of threat raising the fine hairs on their arms.
“Oracles,” Darius said, “we are under attack.” His head dropped back, as if the enemy had just landed a blow. “My only goal in creating this place was to enable us to journey to enlightenment together, away from all the selfish, sabotaging, degrading evil of this world. I spent every cent I had to make this world for you, so that we could share in a journey toward the ultimate…together. Now we move forward on faith alone.”
He descended the stairs to pace near the front row, the hem of his robe brushing Parvaneh’s clogs as he passed. “This last year has brought us miracles. All of us, I believe, have moved closer to our goal. And I had hoped we’d have the time we needed to achieve it, but now I know. Our time, I’m afraid, is up. This world isn’t going to leave us in peace.”
“They have no right to come onto our private property and tell us how to live,” said Basir.
Hamzi, a guy in his thirties who spent most of his time in the gardens near the animal pastures, nodded. “We can protect ourselves. Arm ourselves. I was in the military before. We could—”
“You’re not gonna win a fight with the police,” said Ladonna, sounding annoyed. “They have guns too—and a lot of backup.”
“And they’ll bring them the next time they come,” said Darius. “I have received wisdom from the consciousness—we’re entering the new millennium, but we won’t be allowed to see it, not unless we devote every fiber of our beings to this test. If we go on as we have, they’ll come.” He jabbed his finger toward the back, toward the world. “The only thing we can do is deny them the victory they’re so hungry for.”
“How do we do that?” Kazem asked. “They can’t do much to us. We haven’t done anything wrong.”
“They’ll twist everything,” Darius said. “They’ll say we killed Shirin and Ziba and Octavia. They’ll accuse us of child abuse and murder, things they do all the time, the things we’d never do in a million years. Can’t you understand that? This world won’t allow us to go on existing!”
“So we’ll leave,” suggested Kazem. “We don’t have to sit
here and wait for them to come get us.”
“Exactly!” Darius paused at the center of the room. “We’ll leave. I’ve made a plan.”
Parvaneh’s hope surged—this was what he’d told her about. Finally. The special place he’d been preparing. Even if she wasn’t his favorite anymore, maybe he’d still take her along, if he thought she was devoted enough. And if Eszter didn’t block the way. It was such a relief: they weren’t trapped here on the compound—there was somewhere else they could go. She grinned.
Darius nodded at her. The confidence in her expression seemed to reach him, strengthen him, hopefully remind him what they’d once shared. He squared his shoulders. “Tomorrow night, we’ll begin. Some of you will make the journey first, and you will be guides for the rest of us. Some of you will be sentinels, chosen to assist the guides in the journey. Whatever role you’re given, I know each of you will fulfill it with the whole measure of your dedication. You know only good things await us.”
A few people shifted in their seats. Parvaneh felt a trickle of anxiety.
“Every journey requires bravery,” he continued. “We came here because we were committed, and we’ll leave here because that commitment has only grown stronger with adversity. Are you all with me? Are you fully committed?”
Several people said, “Yes!”
Darius’s eyes narrowed. “Are you all with me?”
“Yes,” Parvaneh said, along with all the others. Next to her, Eszter murmured her agreement. Parvaneh turned to her. “You don’t sound certain, Eszter. Is that doubt?”
Eszter smiled. “If I shout it or whisper it, the answer is the same.”
“Eszter’s right,” Darius said. “Tomorrow, as we embark, she’ll be a sentinel. Parvaneh, you as well.” He walked around the room, designating nine guides, twenty sentinels. Kazem, guide. Zana, guide. Hamzi, sentinel. Basir, sentinel. And so on. Next, he assigned each guide to two sentinels—Kazem was paired with Hamzi and Basir. Zana with Kyra and Laleh. Vahid with Parsa and Izad. Goli with Beetah and Roya.
Finally, only Fabia, Ladonna, and Tadeas sat silent, looking worried and disappointed that their names hadn’t been called.
“Darius,” Fabia finally said. “What about us?”
“You have another purpose,” Darius assured them.
Parvaneh raised her hand. “You didn’t assign a guide to me and Eszter.”
Darius smiled. “That’s not true. I have.” He knelt in front of them. “I’m assigning you the most important guide of all.”
Parvaneh felt a rush of satisfaction—he meant himself. It was exactly the reassurance she’d needed. “We’ll be honored to help you.”
He kissed her forehead. “I know, my butterfly.” He stood up and addressed the group. “Tomorrow night, we will all meet here, one final time in this place. And then we will set out. I will provide you with all the tools you need for the journey. I’ve already prepared, as I knew this was coming, only waiting for the consciousness to give me the signal. Tonight, we’ll have a big feast. Basir, go begin the preparations. All the meat.” He turned to Kazem. “I wouldn’t want to waste a single scrap of it, right?”
Kazem smiled, but there was uncertainty in his eyes.
As people began to file out, Parvaneh rushed over to Darius. She wanted to touch him, to pull up the memories of their closeness, to show him that she was all there, all in. “I’m so happy to be your sentinel, Darius. I know we’ll—”
“You’re not my sentinel, Parvaneh.”
The smile melted from her face. “But—”
“I said your guide was important, but you should never have assumed it would be me.”
Parvaneh looked around at everyone still remaining in the meeting hall. “Then who?”
He grinned as Eszter approached them. “The two of you are assigned to Xerxes.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Bend, Oregon
December 14, present day
I’m so panicked that it takes me several seconds to find my laptop bag, my purse, my car in the parking lot. I’m so disjointed that I have to adjust the seat twice; I must have scooted it back to give my broken arm more room as I got out of the car. Miles was supposed to be back by ten last night, and who knows when he was in the accident, but it must have been hours ago. I’m terrified of what I might find.
I drive straight to the hospital and get shunted into the emergency department because the main doors are still locked. The attendant behind the desk isn’t Essie; it’s the woman I spoke to yesterday, who seemed uneasy with the urgency of my request to speak with her colleague. This morning, she looks haggard, her graying hair pulling loose from her ponytail. She greets me with a haunted, wary gaze. What with the terrible weather, especially in an area that doesn’t see a ton of rain, there have probably been more than a few accidents in the last several hours.
She looks Miles up and tells me he’s been admitted to a general floor, which is a relief: he’s not in the ICU. She reminds me that it’s not visiting hours yet, but she calls up to the unit, and the nurse says he’s awake and had just asked if anyone had come to see him overnight. With a churning stomach, I ride up in the elevator and get out on the fourth floor. The place is still mostly dark, save for dim lights over the charge nurse’s desk. When I approach, a nurse tells me that Miles is in room 409.
It’s a small single room, and the curtain is pulled around the bed. “Miles?”
“Hey,” he says, sounding thrashed.
I pull the curtain back. His leg is casted up over his thigh, held up with what looks to be some sort of medieval torture contraption, and his face is swollen and bruised. “Oh god.”
“Broken femur,” he says. “And internal bruising, apparently. A few broken ribs.” He turns his head, revealing that the left side of it is plastered with bandages, his curly hair sticking up, shaven in places just outside the bandaged spot. His glasses are nowhere in sight. “Twenty stitches. Mild concussion.” He gives me a sloppy grin. “Lots of pain meds.”
“What happened?”
He lets out a shaky breath as he repositions his head on the pillow. “You remember what I just said about the concussion?”
“You can’t remember?”
“I remember getting off the phone with Valentina, who tore me a new asshole because I hadn’t sent her the story yet. And that’s it until I was being unloaded in the ambulance bay in the worst pain I’ve ever felt.”
“Is your car…?”
“Apparently, the police carted it off.”
“What? Why?”
“They said it was a hit-and-run. My car flipped. It was upside down in a ditch. Luckily a trucker drove by and saw the wheels sticking up.”
“I’m so glad you’re okay.”
“Yeah?” he asks. His tone is flat. Weary. But he sounded like that even before this accident. “I have a story for you to fact-check and copyedit.”
“Didn’t you tell me that Valentina—”
“I told her I didn’t have it ready. I didn’t say I hadn’t written it. I wanted you to read it and make sure everything is accurate before I send it on.”
My heart picks up the terrified rhythm it’s maintained almost since Miles’s first mention of Bend. “I’d be happy to take care of it.”
He glances at his phone, charging on his bedside cart. “Promise me one thing.”
“Anything.” I’m craving his smile, his easy, confident manner. But it seems to have been smashed out of him last night.
“Work on it here, not at your hotel.” He nods toward the laptop bag hanging off my shoulder.
“How did you know I was at a hotel?”
“I talked with Hailey yesterday.” His eyes are closed, and his voice is weak.
I quietly begin to set up at the plastic chair by the window. As upsetting as this is, selfishly, it could be good for me. From his hospit
al bed, Miles can’t traipse around the state, picking up all the evidence of my connection with this mess. So whatever story he’s written? For a while, that might be it. And that would be fine with me. Except it means that I care more about myself than him, which is shitty. I promise myself I’ll make it up to him somehow, someday.
I’ve just sat down when Noah texts. I roll my eyes—it’s only seven in the morning, and he’s back at it. Whether you’ve read my story or not, we need to talk.
I’m considering a sharp reply when Miles yanks me from my thoughts. “I sent the file to you just now. My computer was destroyed in the accident. Good thing I always have a backup.”
“I’m on it,” I say. I pull out my notebook to build my fact-checking grid. But a few seconds after opening the file on my laptop, I’ve forgotten all about checking any facts.
It’s called: Running for Her Life: How Far Will One Woman Go to Escape Her Past?
It feels like my throat is closing.
Getting out of a cult isn’t easy, and the psychological aftermath can be just as difficult and treacherous. Therapists who specialize in work with former cultists describe the recovery process as long, complicated, and often painful, with anxiety, panic, dissociation, and depression relatively common. Former cult members are often embarrassed, and stigma in the general public—including the belief that those who join cults are gullible and weak—abounds. As a result, it shouldn’t be a surprise to anyone that many former cult members keep that information to themselves, preferring not to discuss what happened to them and others during their time in the cult.
But what if “what happened” involved multiple deaths? Maybe even murder?
On December 15, 2000, a fire at the Oracles of Innocence compound in Bend, Oregon, claimed the lives of 33 of its members. Three cult members, all of whom were outside the main building affected by the fire, none of whom attempted to save their fellow Oracles, and one of whom actually barred the door of the building, effectively condemning dozens of people to death, were until recently thought to be the only adult survivors of this tragedy. All of them served time for their actions that night. Today is the twentieth anniversary of the blaze. And it turns out there is another story to tell. One that has become, for this reporter, very personal.