Deadly Cult

by Joel Gomez-Dossi

  Raamiah laughed and Zacchaeus ran even faster.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Jamie and Eddie, still just wearing their wet underwear, returned to the camp’s entryway with everyone else. Their clothes had been taken away, and in their place were piles of linen garments. Gray pullover shirts and drawstring pants. Grubbies. Clean and neatly folded, but uniforms for manual labor all the same. They put on their work clothes with everyone else. And like everyone else, they looked Amish.

  Another man took over. He carried a huge metal clipboard with a compartment on the bottom—the kind doctors used before they got iPads. “My name is Brother Saul, and I’ll be making the dormitory assignments. Usually we do this after our blessed leader, Mordecai, gives everyone a tour of the Brethren. But given today’s lateness, the tour will be postponed until tomorrow morning.”

  Saul gave Gideon a scornful look, and Gideon stared at the ground. “Women should go with Sister Elizabeth, while the men stay here.”

  The women were hustled out once again. Brother Saul told the men, “Follow me, and in the footsteps of all the Brethren before you.”

  They went into a huge building across the compound. “These are your dormitories,” he explained. Using the plural was a misnomer, however. It was only one building separated into dozens of sections by curtains hung on wires. Each wing had a restroom, a line of four toilets. No dividers between them, and no privacy. The showers were just as bad, and had only cold water.

  In the sleeping area were rows of numbered bunk beds, three high. One woolen blanket per bunk. No sheets or pillows, though.

  Jamie looked at Eddie. “Not exactly five-star, is it?” He looked over at the shy kid, who was almost in tears.

  Saul continued his instructions. “I’m going to hand out cards with numbers on them. These numbers correspond with your bunk assignments.”

  They lined up with the other men. Jamie got 115, Eddie 116. They’d be together. Jamie looked over at the kid, who held up his number, 69. It took all of Jamie’s resolve to keep from laughing.

  There was a huge commotion at the entryway, and everyone watched Obadiah storm up to Saul and Gideon. He whispered something to them, and the three moved away from the Faithfuls. Jamie watched as Saul opened up his clipboard and looked through his notes.

  Saul returned to Jamie and Eddie and took the numbers out of their hands. “Excuse me,” he said. “But there seems to have been a clerical error. We’re missing some names on our roster.”

  Saul pointed to the shy boy. “What’s your name, young man?”

  “Peter Sokolov,” he said.

  “Ah, yes. I remember you.” He looked at his notes and gave him back his number. Then he turned back to Jamie and Eddie. “Then who are you two?”

  “Us?” Jamie asked.

  “Nobody else here, is there?”

  “Well, my name is Jamie Bradford.” He stuck out his hand for a shake, but Saul didn’t comply.

  “And I’m Eddie Delgado.”

  Saul looked at them, then at his paperwork. He even made a show of opening up his clipboard to check additional papers.

  “Tsk,” he said loudly and made a bigger show of not finding what he was supposed to be looking for. “It appears we don’t have either of your names on our lists. How could that be?”

  Jamie shrugged his shoulders. “Gee. I don’t know.”

  Saul gave him an evil-looking sneer. “It would have to be a pretty big clerical error if we left off two names, wouldn’t it?”

  Jamie said, “Well, it has to be an error. After all, Brother Gideon seems like a great commander, and I doubt he’d make a mistake like that out of negligence.” Jamie looked over at Gideon and smiled.

  “I wasn’t accusing Brother Gideon of anything,” Saul said. “I’m accusing you.”

  “Me?”

  “Yes, you.”

  “But didn’t one of your men check us in at the gates?”

  Saul remained stone-faced.

  “And weren’t we baptized by one of your men?”

  Saul glared at Obadiah and mumbled, “Yes, you were.”

  Jamie continued diplomatically. “So obviously, there must have been a simple misunderstanding somewhere in the line of command. Three highly organized soldiers of the Brethren don’t make mistakes like that. After all, Eddie and I didn’t appear out of nowhere.”

  “We don’t make mistakes,” Saul said stoically.

  “Come on.” Jamie lightly tapped Saul’s paperwork. “Just put our names down on your list and give us back our bunk numbers.”

  “No,” Saul said.

  Gideon finally yelled, “Just give them their bunk numbers, Saul. That way Mordecai won’t find out.”

  Saul frowned, but he wrote their names onto his list and handed the boys new numbers. He signaled his cohorts and the three men huffed off.

  Jamie now had bunk number 412. Eddie had number 326. Not only were their beds far apart, they were in different wings. But at least Jamie and Eddie weren’t being thrown completely out of the Brethren.

  They moved toward their assigned resting areas, and Peter asked, “See you guys tomorrow?”

  “Where would we go?” Jamie said.

  Peter smiled and left. When he was out of sight, Eddie whispered in Jamie’s ear. “It may not be wise to consider him an ally.”

  “What?”

  “That Peter kid. He was joining the Brethren, after all. His loyalties are probably more with them then they are to us.”

  “You’re being paranoid. Peter’s gay. He just doesn’t admit it yet.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not. That’s all I’m saying.”

  They walked in silence, stopping as Eddie turned in to the third wing.

  Jamie reached out to give Eddie’s cheek a light caress, then thought better of it. “Sorry,” he said.

  “No, you’re right. Maybe I am paranoid.”

  “No, I said sorry about almost touching you. I have to be more careful because nothing’s going right with this mission.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “Well, you’re probably right about Peter. We don’t know him. And we won’t be able to contact Ellen, either.”

  Eddie nodded. It looked like he was worried, too. Jamie looked around to be sure they were alone and then gave Eddie a quick kiss on the forehead. Eddie’s face brightened, and he left for his wing.

  Jamie finally felt good. Important. He and Eddie were on another mission. Ellen, too. Not exactly as dangerous or exotic as he imagined, but a mission all the same.

  Jamie walked to the fourth wing and looked back. He saw Saul watching him from afar. Taking notes. Jamie didn’t know if he’d seen the kiss, but he worried and made his own mental note. Watch out for Brother Saul, the Clipboard Man.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Christian couldn’t meet with Ellen that night. He had to contact potential security firms, so they made plans for the next day. She called Marianne and asked about her father’s schedule, hoping to have a late dinner with him. He was already booked, but Marianne promised to let her know if he became available.

  Determined to put her time to good use, she checked into her condominium, one of several Rhodes Petroleum leased for new executive employees. Only a few blocks from the Rhodes building, it was convenient and plush. But most important, the protestors weren’t picketing there.

  The first thing she did was call Jamie. The call went to voicemail. But it was only the first day, and she knew they could take care of themselves.

  Besides, what harm can a delusional preacher do? Right now, they’re probably singing “Kumbayah” by a campfire. She looked at Jamie and Eddie’s picture in her contact list and hoped she wasn’t fooling herself. They were supposed to call me by now. It’s not like my boys to forget about something that important.

  She shuddered at the words she used. My boys. They weren’t her boys. They were close friends. And they would never be anything more than that. They’re the fabulous gay couple, and I’m their good friend.
Their fag hag.

  She hated that phrase, but made herself say it out loud. “Fag hag.”

  A tear rolled down her cheek, which she wiped away. She wasn’t going to cry over her situation. She became determined to remedy it. And to do that, she needed to be rational and face the problem head-on.

  She’d never find a meaningful romantic relationship if all the men she hung around with were gay.

  Thoughts about Christian ran through her mind and made her nervous. He was handsome and she was attracted to him. But would the interest be reciprocal? She hoped to find out after she was finished with her investigation.

  She set up her office, taking her laptop and cell phone out of her backpack. The suite already came equipped with necessities. Fax, printer, copier, all connected with a dedicated T1 line. Evidently, every Rhodes suite had its own high-speed communication access to Rhodes Petroleum. A little overkill, Ellen thought as she logged on to their private network.

  She quickly found the PI’s initial investigation of the Brethren. The boring stuff: land deeds, certificates of incorporation, their application for IRS tax exemption, and the appeals they filed when it was denied. One interesting fact did pop up. The IRS determined that the Brethren served the private interests of one individual, Mordecai (no last name on record). He and a couple of other “ministers” appeared to be the only paid employees. She wondered if they had other, under-the-table remuneration.

  She searched the web for clues but only came across the same stuff that Jamie found. She did find some additional background, however, by clicking a resource link on the Brethren’s wiki page. She burrowed down into that site and discovered a link to a document that wasn’t listed on any of the search engines. It didn’t have a title or even say who the author was. She clicked the hyperlink, and her browser warned that downloading the file might harm her computer.

  What do I have to lose, except maybe my laptop? Holding her breath, she pressed continue. The screen flashed white. A new box appeared and the computer launched another document containing a scholarly overview of the Brethren. It said the cult took the basic concepts of Christianity, added some hocus-pocus dogma into the mix, and turned the cult’s leader, Mordecai, into God’s divine prophet.

  A potential convert’s first few encounters with the Brethren made the organization look like heaven. If they joined, they would become Mordecai’s assistants and be instrumental in saving the world from evil. And of course, they would be rewarded in heaven for their work.

  But once inside the Brethren’s compound, life became harsh. Admission into heaven was based on how hard they toiled for Mordecai. To maintain control, the leaders used coercion and violence.

  Ellen scrolled down the page and read about the biblical Mordecai. He was a prophet in the Old Testament who saved his tribe from being massacred.

  The Brethren’s Mordecai was very different. His real name was Thomas Jackson from Green County, Kentucky. He used to travel around that state, setting up a tent and preaching hellfire and damnation. He lived off the proceeds of his collection plate. Then he disappeared for a while and reemerged as Mordecai. His popularity and revenue soared.

  Below that section was a paragraph in red text, and a much larger font. When Ellen read the section, her chest constricted so tightly she couldn’t breathe.

  Beware! Mordecai believes he is the First Horseman of the Apocalypse. “I looked, and there before me was a white horse! Its rider held a bow, and he was given a crown, and he rode out as a conqueror bent on conquest.” Mordecai believes he is Christ, spreading the Gospel. But he isn’t. He is the Antichrist.

  She read it several times and decided whoever had written that part was as delusional as Mordecai. Why would he adopt the name of a hero if he wanted to destroy the world? It didn’t make sense, even for a crazy street preacher.

  She attempted to save the text onto her computer, but the application didn’t have a menu bar, so she pressed the print screen button on her keyboard. The screen flashed white and the document disappeared. Shocked, she went to her web browser and pressed the link to download it again. An error message appeared. The document you requested cannot be found. She looked at the browser. It didn’t list a URL, only an IP address. She highlighted the numbers to copy them, but the screen flashed again. Her browser shut down, corrupted.

  Freaked, she scanned her computer for viruses, but it came up clean.

  First thing tomorrow, I’m bringing this laptop in to be looked at. She powered down and went to bed, hoping Jamie would call.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Holy Tuesday

  Before the sun rose, the Brethren’s speakers bellowed loud enough to raise Lazarus from the dead—or at least enough to get the Faithfuls up from their sleep.

  Jamie didn’t have to wake up. He couldn’t fall asleep because he was worried about not being able to call Ellen. And on top of that, there must be a shooting range close to the Brethren, because gunfire rang out all night long.

  Despite being fully awake, he still had trouble getting out of his bunk. His was on the top, and there wasn’t a ladder. The mattress wasn’t filled with cotton or foam, either. It was stuffed with horse hair. When he got down, he shook the kinks out of his back and ran to Eddie’s assigned wing. Luckily, Eddie got a bottom bunk, but his mattress didn’t look any better.

  Jamie asked, “How’d you sleep?”

  “Horribly,” Eddie replied. He pulled up his linen shirt and exposed tiny red bumps all over his stomach. “I think my mattress has fleas.”

  “Oh, my poor sweetie.”

  Eddie nodded with resignation. Then he started to scratch his bites, but Jamie brushed his hand away. “Don’t touch them. That’ll only make them fester.”

  They didn’t have time to worry about infestations, though. Peter Sokolov found them before they had a chance. He yelled, “How you guys doing?” His voice was as nasal as it had been the night before. Peter ran to them, his arms in the air.

  Jamie gave Eddie an I-told-you-so kind of look, but Eddie quickly shook his head and pulled down his shirt. “We’re doing okay,” Eddie told Peter casually.

  “Speak for yourself,” Jamie piped in, ready to recite a diatribe. “Personally, I…”

  Eddie coughed. Jamie remembered last night’s conversation and took the hint. “Well, I’m starving.”

  One of the old-time Faithfuls must have overheard them talking. “How can you fellas think about food? From what I heard, you haven’t had your tour or even been assigned your mission in life.” He got up from his bunk and rolled up his mattress, sticking it at the foot of his bed.

  “Thanks,” Jamie said. “But before I do anything, I have to go to the bathroom.”

  Jamie went to the non-private toilets. All he could think about was the degradation of having to do his business in front of everyone, not to mention the smell. But he realized that was probably the Brethren’s intent—to dehumanize their Faithfuls.

  When he was done, he joined Eddie and the rest of the men. They rallied with the women in the main square and were ordered to stand at attention while they waited for Mordecai. They waited with the patience of saints for what seemed like hours, and they weren’t even allowed to sit during that time.

  “What if the rapture were to happen and God found you lollygagging on your butts?” Saul said. “God would think you weren’t expecting him, and he’d pass you by. Would you treat Mordecai with any less respect than you treat God?”

  The Faithfuls shook their heads.

  “I didn’t think so.”

  They remained standing. Yet as the minutes went by, perspiration started rolling down Eddie’s forehead. He shifted his weight from one leg to another, but he didn’t complain about the pain.

  Jamie wished Eddie still had the medicine for his leg, but the Brethren had tossed it out last night. Then he got an ingenious idea. He and Eddie still stood at attention, but they stood with their backs to each other. They used each other for support and they weren’t sitting or lyi
ng on the ground. Soon enough, all the Faithfuls caught on to their trick and were doing the same thing.

  The guards didn’t say anything. Jamie figured it was probably because none of the rules were technically being broken.

  After another half hour of leaning, celestial music finally played from the speakers. Everyone raised their hands into the air and reworked yesterday’s wave bit. “Praise be to Mordecai,” they recited in unison. “Mordecai is Great. Mordecai is good. Mordecai will redeem me of my sins.” They repeated it over and over in a deafening fortissimo.

  From a distance, a man with fair skin and dark, curly hair walked into the middle of the square. He held up his hand. “Please, I am undeserving of such acclamation. For I am merely a messenger.”

  Obviously, this was Mordecai. He was barefoot and his clothes were white, not gray. He wore a red sash tied around his waist. It looked like silk.

  When the crowd settled down, Mordecai selected a woman from the crowd. He pulled a flower from his pocket and placed it in her hair. She blushed, and Mordecai gently brought her face to his. “Like Jesus before me, no one can experience Heaven but through me.”

  This guy is obsessed with himself, Jamie thought.

  Mordecai stopped fondling the woman and walked into the middle of the crowd. Some of the Faithfuls fell to their knees. They reached out and touched his feet like they would a venerated saint.

  Jamie wanted to laugh, but the whole thing sickened him.

  Mordecai addressed the crowd. “At the Brethren, we extol the virtues of simple life. Away from worldly sins and temptations.”

  There was an uncomfortable pause, which Saul filled. “Tell us, O esteemed religious leader, why is the Brethren so concerned with shunning worldly comforts?”