by R. R. Banks
I take a sip of my drink, eyeing him over the glass. “How so?”
He shrugs. “Have you looked at your string of relationships?” he says. “Most of them last a night or two. Maybe a week at the most.”
I give him a grin. “What can I say? I'm a man who likes variety.”
“You're a man terrified of commitment,” he says. “A man who seems like he's waiting for something.”
I look at him curiously. “And what is it I'm waiting for?”
“That I can't tell you,” he says. “That's something only you can answer, my friend.”
“I don't think I'm waiting for something,” I say. “I don't feel like I'm waiting for something.”
He shrugs again. “Maybe you're waiting for somebody who needs you as much as you need them?”
I laugh out loud. “What in the hell are you talking about?”
“This is just a theory,” he said, a grin creasing his face. “But ever since I've known you, you've always been kind of this protector. You watch over people. Take care of them. I kind of think that's why you became a doctor, honestly.”
“Glad you've spent so much time dissecting my reasons for becoming a doctor,” I say and laugh.
“I have a lot of free time on my hands,” he replies. “Anyway, I think deep down, you want a woman who needs you. Somebody you can watch over and take care of.”
“And you don't think the women I see now fit that bill?”
He shakes his head. “Not really, no,” he says. “The kind of need I'm talking about is a deeper need – it's not based in the physical. It's more – spiritual. It has more to do with her soul than what's between her thighs.”
I look at him a long moment and then burst into laughter. “Oh shit, Victoria is going to kill me,” I say. “I'm sending you home in the middle of the afternoon, drunk.”
“I'm serious about what I said.”
“And I'm serious about fearing the wrath of your wife.”
“I'm not drunk,” he says and then grins. “Okay. Maybe I'm a little buzzed, but I'm definitely not drunk.”
“You've always been a lightweight,” I laugh.
“Maybe,” he replies. “But I think when you find that person who needs you like you need them, everything will just fall into place. You'll just know.”
“Okay, good talk, man,” I say. “Let's call you an Uber and get you home.”
Vance laughs. “Seriously, I'm good, man.”
“Yeah, I've already got one friend dying,” I say. “I'm not going to risk losing another. It's not like I have a lot of friends to begin with.”
Despite his continued protests, I call an Uber for Vance and send him home. I sit back and think about everything he said. Everything Lara said. And I think about Steve. Vance is right, I'm going to feel like an enormous asshole if I don't at least say goodbye to the man – or at least, one of the men – who saved my life.
Grabbing my phone, I start looking up flights to Colorado.
Chapter Eleven
Calee
He loves me. I think most women would be overwhelmed with joy if a good man told them he loved them. But I'm not most women, I guess. Because joy isn't the feeling that overwhelms me. It's fear. Confusion. Anxiety.
Those three little words have changed everything.
I've thought about it a lot over the last few days and I've come to the conclusion that I care for Danny. I care for him a lot. But I don't – love him. I know that telling him that is going to hurt him, but I have to be honest. I owe him at least that much.
I can't let him take me away from Raymond and the Ark without telling him that I don't love him. It wouldn't be fair to either of us to live a lie like that. If I tell him and he still chooses to help me escape, at least we'll be doing so out in the open, without secrets and lies between us.
I don't see how it's possible, knowing his feelings for me, but maybe if everything is out in the open between us, we can even continue on like we have been.
“You're looking a little green around the gills again this morning,” Ruth says.
I'm sitting on the edge of my bunk, putting on my boots, trying to pretend like I'm not about to either throw up or pass out.
“No, I'm fine,” I say. “Just tired.”
“You've been tired every morning for the last week,” she says.
Ruth walks over and kneels down in front of me. She looks at me closely and I pull away from her. I don't want her examining me. She's a little bit older than me and has seen a lot in her life. I'm afraid if she looks at me too closely, she'll see the things I don't want her to see.
Ruth grips my chin and holds me fast. She looks into my eyes and seems to be examining every inch of my flesh. A long moment passes and I think I'm in the clear when I see her eyes grow wide and her mouth fall open into a perfect “O”.
In that moment, I know that my life is forfeit and a cold chill sweeps through me. I open my mouth to start begging Ruth not to say anything when a smile spreads across her face. She pulls me into a tight embrace and tears well in her eyes.
“I can't believe it,” she says. “You're pregnant.”
“I – I'm not,” I say weakly.
“Please,” she says, shaking her head. “I've been around enough pregnant women to know what one looks and doesn't look like. Honey, I can practically smell it on you. How long have you known?”
I shake my head, despair washing over me and when I speak, my voice is little more than a whisper.
“A few days,” I say. “God, please don't tell Raymond. Please, please, I'm begging you, Ruth. You know what they'll do to me if they find out. Please don't say anything.”
She takes my hand and gives it a reassuring squeeze. “Way I see it, we have to stick together,” she says. “Raymond don't care about us. We're all we got.”
I look her in the eye for a long moment, my fears and distrust welling up within me. Ruth and I had never been close. We aren't friends. Not really. We're not enemies or anything like that, but Ruth isn't somebody I've ever felt comfortable enough around to confide in.
And now, she knows my secret – a secret that, if exposed, can get me killed.
“Who's the father?” she asks.
Even though she knows my secret, I don't know that I'm ready to give her everything. I have no choice but to trust her with what she knows. That doesn't mean though, that I want to expose Danny to the same risks I'm facing.
“Just some guy in town,” I say.
She nods. “What are you going to do?”
I shake my head. “I don't know yet,” I admit. “He wants me to run away with him.”
Ruth sits down on the bed beside me, still holding my hand. She looks at me with what I think is genuine compassion on her face. Ruth's never given me any reason to distrust her and I start to wonder if maybe I'm letting Raymond's paranoia and trust nobody mentality rub off on me more than I imagined.
At the same time though, I'm in a dangerous place and putting my trust in the wrong person can have terrible, even fatal, consequences for me.
“Are you going to do it?” she asks. “Run away with this guy?”
I shrug. “I don't know,” I reply. “I want to – but I'm afraid to.”
“I'd be afraid too,” she says. “I'd be afraid the Shepherds would find me. They seem to find everybody.”
“I know,” I say. “But at the same time, I can't stay here. I'm going to start showing at some point and if that happens...”
My voice trails off and I look down at the ground. I don't need to finish that though because we both know what that means.
“You're caught between a rock and a hard place,” she says.
“Tell me about it.”
“Why not take the risk though?” she asks me. “Maybe the Shepherds won't find you. Maybe this guy will be able to protect you.”
I sigh and bury my face in my hands, the tears spilling over. Ruth pulls me into a tight embrace, strokes my hair and murmurs soothing words in my ear.
She lets me cry for a few minutes before sitting me up and looking me in the eye.
“You need to pull yourself together, Calee,” she says. “You can't go out there looking like you've been bawling or they'll know something's up. Until you figure out what you're gonna do, you need to hold it together. For your sake.”
I wipe my eyes and take a few deep breaths, trying to regain my composure. She's right. The last thing I want to do is tip Raymond off that anything is amiss. It takes a few minutes, but I finally get myself under control. I give Ruth a smile and a nod.
“Thank you, Ruth.”
“Nothing to thank me for,” she replies.
Chapter Twelve
“Calee, good morning.”
I freeze at the sound of my name and feel a knot in my stomach tighten painfully. I look up from the laundry I'm doing and see Raymond standing before me. His smile is wide and his cheeks flushed. A girl – no more than fifteen – stands next to him, clutching his hand. She smiles at me and then turns her face back up to Raymond, looking at him with an expression bordering on rapturous.
Raymond is a tall man, easily six-three, with salt and pepper colored hair and vivid green eyes. He's slender and has a goatee that's nearly pure white. He's a fairly handsome man, I guess, and has a professorial look about him. But he's not a man you'd look twice at on the street. He's rather – ordinary looking, to be honest.
But the one thing that was undeniable about him is his charm and charisma. When he's on, he can light up a room with his personality. He's got the ability to make a single person, in a room full of hundreds, feel like the only person in the world. Like they matter. Like they're important.
He has an electricity and a magnetism about him that people are drawn to. That they're compelled by. He inspires them to do and think things they'd never consider doing or thinking on their own. He makes people pledge their lives to him – and believe it's their idea.
That's his power as the leader of this cult. He takes people's free will and twists it. Distorts it until it's nothing but a pile of dust. And then he puts them back together in the image he wants them to be – minus their ability to think or act for themselves.
And they thank him for it.
I drop the laundry back into the tub and stand up straight, bowing my head, trying to show the deference he requires. But seeing him with the girl brings back too many terrible memories and makes my skin crawl all over again.
“Good morning, Raymond,” I say, trying to keep the disgust out of my voice.
“I don't believe you've met my wife,” he says. “Rachel, this is Calee. Calee, Rachel.”
I bow my head again, not daring to meet the eyes of either one. “Very nice to meet you, Rachel,” I say. “May God bless you and grant you a very fruitful union.”
“Thank you,” the girl says, sneering at me.
“Calee was my wife for a time,” Raymond says. “But our union was not blessed. God did not see fit to bless us with children. Now, she's one of the Fruitless.”
Rachel looks me up and down, clearly unimpressed with what she sees.
“My love,” Raymond purrs to her, making my skin crawl even more. “I need to speak with Calee alone. Please see to the children at the schoolhouse, if you would please.”
She gives him a beatific smile and curtsies. The girl actually curtsied to Raymond. It's a struggle to keep from rolling my eyes or acting out in some way.
“Of course, husband,” she says. “It would please me greatly to make you happy.”
He leans down and kisses the top of her head. “And you do make me happy, sweet one,” he says. “Now, go in God's grace.”
We both stand there watching the girl trot off toward the schoolhouse – he with a look of desire on his face, me with a look of repulsion on mine. I managed to get myself back under control and a neutral expression back on my face by the time Raymond turned back to me.
“May God bless you both,” I say demurely.
“I wonder if you'd be so good as to accompany me into town this morning?” Raymond asked.
“Accompany you into town?” I ask.
He nods and smiles warmly. “That is what I believe I asked, yes.”
“But – why?” I ask. “Why do you want me to go into town with you?”
A dark look crosses his face, but like a cloud quickly passing over the face of the sun, is gone in an instant. He maintains his smile and warm, friendly demeanor. Like I said, he's a chameleon and believes he can be all things to all people. And for the most part, when it comes to this cult, he is.
But I've changed. I'm no longer that broken little doll he can move around and manipulate. Not anymore. Though, I can't let him know or see that.
The invitation to go into town with him though, scares me. He hasn't acknowledged my existence or spoken to me in months. Why now? He reaches out and puts a hand gently on my shoulder, giving me a squeeze that's meant to be reassuring and it's all I can do to keep from shuddering with disgust and shrugging it off.
“It occurs to me that I've lost touch with you, my child,” he says smoothly. “We used to be in love, Calee. And now, we haven't even spoken in a long while.”
A state of affairs I'd really like to maintain because just looking at you is enough to make me want to throw up, I think to myself.
“No, we haven't spoken in some time and I've felt emptier for it,” I say, giving him the expected response – the response that would feed his ego and make him happy.
“Well, I'd like to correct that,” Raymond says.
Keeping my eyes downcast, I nod. “I would enjoy that.”
“Good,” he says, clapping his hands. “Then, shall we go?”
“Now?” I ask. “But the laundry –”
“Will still be here when you return,” he says. “That's what I like about you, Calee. Your dedication to your work. God says much about a good work ethic, as you know.”
“I know,” I reply.
I let him guide me to a black SUV that sits near the gates of the compound idling. One of Raymond's Shepherds – a man named Harold – holds the rear door open for me. I give him a look, my stomach roiling and tried to shake off the feeling that something very bad is about to happen to me.
I clear my throat and get into the back of the SUV and Harold closes the door after me. Raymond gets in on the other side, sitting next to me in the back while Harold slides behind the wheel. My anxiety and paranoia are in overdrive as the SUV pulls out through the gates and heads for town. I have no idea what is going on or why Raymond is taking such a sudden interest in me.
“So, Calee,” Raymond says. “How are you doing?”
“I'm well,” I say, keeping my eyes averted. “Thank you for asking.”
“Of course,” he replies. “You are one of my flock and I fear I haven't done a good enough job of making sure my whole flock is doing well. Feeling appreciated and loved. You are feeling loved, aren't you Calee? You're feeling the love of God in your life?”
“I feel the love of God in everything, everyday,” I say. “Thank you.”
“Excellent,” he says. “I'm thrilled to hear that.”
The trip to town is short – the Ark only sits a few miles away from the heart of Elk Plains. Harold pulls to a stop near the curb and gets out, opening my door for me. I slip out and immediately lower my eyes as I've been taught to do. Raymond falls into step beside me and we walk down the street with Harold following close behind.
We wander through the farmer's market and Raymond picks up a few things – fruits and vegetables mostly. He tries to make normal, everyday conversation with me. The way he's acting not only creeps me out, but it's making the warning bells in my head go off long and loud. None of this makes any sense to me and the longer I don't know what's happening, the more concerned I get.
“Hey, come with me,” Raymond says. “I want to show you something.”
I let Raymond lead me down a side street, the warning bells growing louder and louder in my mind. Up a
head, I can see police and emergency vehicles parked on the Mercy Bridge and a feeling of dread overwhelms me.
“What's going on?” I ask, my mouth suddenly dry.
“I don't know,” Raymond says. “Let's go and find out.”
He exchanges an odd look with Harold that sends a cold shiver down my spine. I don't know what's going on, but I have the distinct feeling that the both of them do. And that this whole episode is nothing but a show for me.
“Sorry folks, the bridge is closed,” says an officer stationed at the barricade.
“What's going on, officer?” Raymond asks.
The cop looks behind him – probably to make sure nobody is within earshot. People in this town love to gossip – even the cops. Looking back at Raymond, the cop's face is grim.
“Murder,” he says, pitching his voice low. “They're fishing the body out of the river now.”
“Murder?” Raymond asks, his voice colored with shock. “How terrible.”
“Tell me about it,” he says. “First murder in almost three years in this town.”
The knots in my stomach are tightening painfully and I feel like I might be sick. I don't know who it is they're fishing out of the river. There's no possible way I could know. But somehow, I know all the same. My head is spinning and my body is trembling.
“What happened?” Raymond asks the cop.
The cop looks around again before turning back to us. “Victim took four bullets – two in the chest, two in the head.”
“Awful,” Raymond replies. “What is this world coming to? Do you know who the poor soul is? I'd like to include him in our prayers back at the Ark.”
“Danny Miller,” the cop replies.
I look up and find Raymond looking directly at me. His eyes lock on to mine and hold them – and I find myself powerless to look away. He knows. He knows everything. I can see it in the way he's looking at me. In the cruel twist of his mouth and the hardened look in his eyes.
Tears well in my eyes and I feel my knees grow weak, suddenly unable to support me. I feel myself falling, see the darkness creeping in at the corners of my vision, and let myself surrender to it. But then I feel a pair of strong arms around me. Holding me up. A rough, calloused hand is slapping my face.