The Cult of The Enemy: The Dark Places Trilogy

by S. G Mark

  “Welcome,” Kyle said, “ To the Ben Nevis Inn. It’s a shame it's too dark to see the mountain.”

  “It’s nearby?” Jack asked, stepping away from the car.

  “It’s right up there,” Kyle shot an arm into the darkness but the mountain was buried in ebony.

  “Wow,” Jack took a deep breath, “When I was younger, me and my dad said we’d climb Ben Nevis on my eighteenth and have a beer at the top…”

  Kyle placed a heavy hand on Jack’s shoulder, “Maybe there’ll still be time for that beer with your father after all.”

  Leaving Jack sinking into deep contemplation, Kyle ventured forth towards the Inn. There were only a few other parked cars, but the babble from inside betrayed the eerie silence that was kept outside. Noise exploded from the door as Kyle opened it and entered, caring not if Jack was following him.

  He supposed the idea still scared him. There were people in this building who, whilst drunk and jovial, were not his friends. There was no question as to what they would do to him if they discovered the organisation he was with. All that lay between Jack and a long decaying prison sentence was his own wits. His name was not Jack at all. The second he had left the car he had become someone else. He’d never been to Edinburgh. He did not love Eliza Reader. He was a free man without weight of guilt or dirty secrets. He was Charlie Macleod, a simple man of simple pleasures with a fiancé at home. Charlie studied Physics at Glasgow University and he loved old movies and reading fantasy fiction.

  Taking his first steps forward as Charlie Macleod, Jack imagined how the man walked. With a quiet confidence he marched across the gravel and along the ramp to the Inn’s entrance. New though this person was to him, Jack felt comfortable as Charlie. He wasn’t so far removed from his own experiences. Peering through the little glass window in the door, a warm log-burning fire invited him in.

  The hubbub rung in his ears not unlike shellshock. Months had vanished in the duration since he had last heard the sweet music of gaggling conversation; glasses clinking in cheers; high-pitched women shrieking with laughter a little too enthusiastically at their partner’s jokes. Inside was a wealth of drunken contentment. Wooden benches lined the interior - each laden with men and women of all ages. Atop their tables was a carnage of glasses; some empty, some being kept warm in their owner’s hands. The fire roared seductively. Set in the middle of the floor, a stair led up to a second storey where more merriment was being enjoyed by many smiling faces.

  Kyle was leaning on the bar as casually as if he had been there all evening. When he spotted Jack hovering by the entrance, he beckoned him over before signalling to the barman for a second order.

  “What’ll it be, Charlie?” Kyle asked.

  “Whatever you’re having,” he replied nervously, unsure of where the money was coming from as he had none in his pockets.

  “Two beers, cheers,” Kyle turned to the barman, who immediately set about readying their order.

  “What a lovely place this is,” Kyle began talking, though seemingly mainly to himself, “I’m so glad we stopped by here. My ex-girlfriend told me how beautiful it was.”

  “Miriam?”

  “No, the one after her - Karin,” Kyle said as he gently pressed his foot on top of Jack’s toe.

  The lying had begun.

  “Oh I remember Karin,” Jack pretended to muse on what she had been like, “Acted a bit like a snob, didn’t she?”

  “Totally,” Kyle rolled his eyes as the barman arrived with their two pints, “Cheers.”

  “Shall we grab those seats at the end of the table?” Jack asked, grabbed his own pint and making his way through the crowd at Kyle’s nod of approval.

  It was comforting to be sitting at a table in a bar again. The memories of when he was last in one were struggling to come to him. To be sitting, relaxing and with a drink in hand was a luxury that had not been afforded to him in a long while. He was well overdue to the refreshing taste as the beer hit the back of his throat and cascaded over his tongue.

  However, the delight was quickly cut short. They were not here for enjoyment, but for a purpose which had not yet been disclosed. With Kyle sitting on the opposite side of the bench, Jack tried to ask him discreetly if they were now able to talk openly. Kyle shook his head.

  “Some of my mates from down in the town said they may pop in later,” he said.

  More Resistance members would be joining them. Jack didn’t know if this comforted or worried him. The more of them there were, the more likely they were to be caught, surely?

  “How many?” he asked discreetly, “Should we get them drinks in?”

  “Only two or so,” Kyle replied mid-sip, “And no, I expect they will get their own drinks in.”

  Nervously, Jack took another gulp of his beer, hoping that the hops would reach his bloodstream quickly and calm his erratic pulse. He suddenly became very aware of the people next to him. Though deep in their own conversation, he could not help but wonder if their ears were really dedicated to their friend’s jokes. Were they merely antennas listening out the subtle sound of treason and betrayal?

  Jack sipped his beer. Another gulp to quell the nerves. Another smidgen to alleviate the panic.

  From across the table Kyle was looking at him intently. He had the air of a concerned doctor looking at his dying patient.

  “Thirsty?” he asked.

  Placing his glass on the table, Jack took a moment for the bubbles to settle in his stomach.

  “I haven’t been out in ages,” he said, “It feels good though. Worth it. What’s the plan for the rest of the night?”

  Kyle leaned in, “When an old friend greets you, follow him.”

  Jack nodded, returning instantly to normal conversation. They discussed their pretend girlfriends and reminisced over their pretend student life together. Every casual lie was more natural than the last. They were becoming their characters. Jack’s was a bit of a slacker with a great sense of humour. Kyle’s was a bit more serious, though how much of that was an act to disguise his constant vigilance, Jack did not know.

  When they had finished their drinks, Kyle ventured up to the bar again leaving Jack alone at the table. He was grinning to himself. Even though he was here for The Resistance, he could not help but find enjoyment in being around people again. People who were not carrying deadly secrets or planning deadly attacks. People who were not embittered by life and ground down by grief and loss to the extent that they’d lost a little piece of the person they used to be before all this started. Contained within the rustic ambience of the Ben Nevis Inn were a hundred blind people who despite all their troubles were the happier for it. The group next to him were not discussing a conversation of lies. The girls behind him were not gauging the other people in the room, scared that they would soon be caught out.

  A hand tapped him on the shoulder from behind. Thinking it was Kyle, he turned around welcomingly only to meet a strange face greeting him excitedly.

  “Oh my god, it’s you!” the man said animatedly, “How have you been?”

  The man swooped in to hug him like an old friend… and before his natural instincts kicked in, Jack remembered the instructions Kyle had given him earlier.

  “What are you doing here? I can’t believe it! How many years has it been?” he reacted, reciprocating the hug and clamouring to his feet.

  “I should buy you a drink, come to the bar!” the man beckoned.

  Jack followed him, calculating the reactions of the people around them. Were they idly watching or were they surveying them?

  As they approached the bar, Jack instantly saw that Kyle was missing. Though internally he panicked, his brain took the reins and found reason in the madness. Wherever Kyle was, he was sure to be there by intention, Jack thought to himself.

  “What can I get you?” the man asked.

  “Whatever you’re having!” Jack shrugged his shoulders for again he had no money to give.

  “Two whiskies, please barman!”

 
; Elation. Whisky. Jack’s taste buds were tantalised.

  “We’ve got a table through in another room, if you’d like to join us?” the man asked as their drinks arrived.

  “Aye, that’ll be great,” Jack said, going along with whatever was coming his way. He had no real choice. He was stranded without these people.

  He followed the man round the side of the bar towards the entrance of the pub. Instead of leaving, however, he continued down the dark, cold corridor to a narrow staircase that led downstairs. Creaking down each step with trepidation, Jack clutched the whisky as if it were gold. At the bottom of the stairs they were approached by a muscular man with folded arms displaying his massive biceps and who wore a gingery beard.

  “You’re not supposed to be down here,” he said, grizzly.

  “I’m here for the surprise party for Anne,” the man said eagerly, “We were instructed to come down here and help set up, by her partner, Neil.”

  “Oh if you’re with Neil then that’s fine,” Muscles stepped aside to allow them passage to a set of wooden doors.

  Jack was focussing on his breathing once more. The lies were mounting. There was no Anne, there was no Neil and he didn’t even know the name of his new companion but he knew he had to act as if he’d known him for years. Sweat trickled down his temple and he was convinced necking back his whisky was sure to help him. It stung the back of his throat and burned down his oesophagus. He felt slightly better for it.

  As his companion burst through the set of doors, Jack’s nerves were set at ease as he clapped eyes on Kyle in mid-conversation with another man. Across the ceiling, bunting had been hung all with the numbers twenty-three written in gold. Balloons had been blown up and were dangling from the walls at various intervals around the room. Was this all to preserve the lie?

  “Neil!” his new friend cried.

  Neil turned and Jack finally realised who Kyle’s pseudonym was. A wave of calm hit him. It was one less problem to deal with.

  “James!” Kyle raced forwards, “And you’ve brought Charlie too - great!”

  “How can we help out? When’s your fine lady arriving?”

  “It’s alright, James, we’re among friends here,” Kyle said discreetly.

  James offered Kyle his hand, “Good to see you again, brother. When are our guests joining us?”

  “It’s good to see you too,” Kyle smiled, “Within the next hour or so.”

  “Have they been vetted?”

  “Nope, that’s why we are here. We need to be on alert all evening. That’s why I’ve brought an extra pair of eyes,” Kyle nodded toward Jack.

  Jack smiled awkwardly. He felt ashamed to have had little to do with The Resistance’s activities until now. He had no brother to shake his hand with, no one through which he had travelled to hell and back with. He had no bond with any of the waifs and strays here except the man running the show, and even then that had been pushed to the limits.

  “Ah yes, new?” James speculated, “I could tell by the way he didn’t know what to do with his hands.”

  Casting aside the slight insult, “Really? I would have thought it was the way I looked like a complete and total eejit,” he smiled. He didn’t want to make enemies now. He already had enough of those.

  “Come now,” Kyle took the helm once more, “Let’s get this place set up.”

  “Are we really having a party?” Jack asked.

  “Well of course,” Kyle answered, shaking his head violently, “Though I hope Anne doesn’t find out beforehand! It’d ruin everything.”

  Kyle stepped towards Jack and whispered in his ear, “Keep your voice a little lower next time. The bouncer is our man, but the owners know nothing of this.”

  Jack nodded, “What do you need me to do?”

  Pointing to a bag slumped in the corner, Kyle instructed Jack to take out the contents and distribute them among each person in the room before helping the others with the fake decorations they were putting up.

  Inside the bag, Jack found heaps of CRU booklets. How to Report Terrorism, Who’s Listening? Eight Ways You Can Help Prevent Terrorism and Your Travel Licence and You were just some of them. Jack squinted a horrified look back at Kyle who nodded encouragingly. Picking one of the booklets up, Jack rifled through the pages and to his relief found nothing but anti-government propaganda. There were pages and pages of information on what the government’s true actions were as well as how The Resistance promised to help out.

  “I can’t believe you’ve printed terrorism self help books,” Jack grinned at Kyle as he handed him a selection of booklets.

  “I can’t believe you thought we’d brought along a hundred copies of CRU guides! You can be such a daftie at times,” he winked.

  Once everyone had a few copies of every booklet, Jack helped blow up more balloons and set up more bunting. It was very surreal to be setting up a surprise birthday party as part of Resistance business. This was not how he imagined his first adventure turning out to be like. In the journey over here he had dreaded what being out in the open would be like. Whatever his expectations, they were far from met. However, there was a cloud growing in his mind. This surprise party for a mysterious girl called Anne who may or may not exist, troubled Jack. What did Kyle hope to achieve? What or who was the show all for?

  The doubt continued to fester as they finished off the decorations. Standing on a chair, Jack bashed in the last of the pins to hold up the final string of bunting. The man he was helping high-fived him.

  “Awesome,” he said, “My name is Max. Are you a friend of Neil’s or Anne’s?”

  “Neil,” Jack said, “What about you?”

  “Neil too, though I’ve met Anne a few times,” he said, “Are you just down here for the day?”

  “I’m here for as long as Neil needs me here for,” Jack explained, confounded by the complexities of the conversations he was having. He couldn’t separate the lies people were telling from the truths they were implying. Until this point, the existence of Anne hadn’t even been confirmed.

  “She’s on her way,” Neil said excitedly, “First few guests may start to join us. Remember the brief.”

  The room hushed for his instructions. Jack looked tentatively at Max, whose expression was equally grave.

  “Good luck,” Max backed away, “Oh, I didn’t catch your name.”

  “Charlie,” Jack said, “My name is Charlie.”

  Max wandered over to see someone on the other side of the room. Jack felt more alone than ever. Everyone in the room knew the score; they had been told why they were here and what their purpose was. Jack simply felt like a liability. At any moment a bunch of strangers were going to walk through the doors and he needed to be ready to act a part that no one had advised him on. What was he supposed to say? Could he even mention The Resistance to them? He guessed not, but then what were the leaflets for? He felt a complete fool.

  “Hey,” James clamped a hand on his shoulder, “How are you doing?”

  “I’m alright,” he said, not wishing to divulge his fears to a complete stranger.

  “Well clearly you’re not,” James steered Jack into the corner, “I’ve never seen someone look more nervous. What’s bothering you?”

  Jack stared back nervously. Could he even trust this man? Who could he trust beside the people at HQ?

  “Charlie,” James said, “Calm down. You can trust me. We’re both on the same team here. Everyone in this room is. You can talk to me.”

  “I don’t know what’s going on,” the admission burst from his lips before he could prevent it, “It’s my first time doing this… Kyle never explained any of this to me.”

  James leant further in so that only Jack could hear what he had to say.

  “Firstly, we never use our real names outside of safehouses,” James said, “That should have been explained to you. Clearly it wasn’t. Secondly, we’re here for a pretend surprise birthday party for Anne. Anne is our girl in town. She is super connected with the community. We
’ve invited a few people. When they turn up, we mingle. We gauge them. We suss out who might be prone to our cause. We do this as subtly as possible. My tactic is to take one or two people in a night, talk to them and subtly discover how they feel about certain aspect of the government and all that.”

  “Fucksake, what if they realise what’s going on?”

  “They won’t. We never mention The Resistance on the first meeting. If they are vaguely interested, we’ll slip one of these booklets onto their person somehow. Don’t worry if you don’t feel up to this time, it’s a tricky thing to do. And nerve wracking the first few times as well. If you get caught, it looks like you’re just supporting the government policies, but it still doesn’t look great.”

  “So this is a recruitment drive, essentially?”

  “Basically,” James said, “Yes. First stage recruitment. There are about five stages normally, but sometimes we cut that for those we rescue from the CRU. I take it you were a rescue, if you don’t know how first contact is established?”

  The truth lay as a pebble splashing over a place loch. But just as the ripples made by the pebble were irrelevant compared to the great expanse of water, so too was the truth behind Jack’s recruitment. James did not need to know how or why he had joined - he just needed to be fed something believable.

  “Neil saved me from arrest,” he said, “I’ve known him for years, so he knew to trust me.”

  “Neil’s a fucking great guy,” James smiled, “One of the finest this organisation has. Honest to the bone, you just know he’d give his life for you.”

  “I hope he never has that opportunity,” Jack said.”