The Cult of The Enemy: The Dark Places Trilogy

by S. G Mark

  “Karl is gone,” he said, “But if he were here instead of you, I’m guessing he would say exactly the same thing. It’s not easy to watch someone die, it doesn’t matter who they are.”

  Lana drained her glass and outstretched her arm, “Another.”

  Jack reached for the bottle and poured her another glass of the foul drink.

  “Reminds me of being a teenager,” she said.

  Standing beside her at the window, Jack swirled the contents of his own glass around before bringing it to his nose, “Vintage year, circa ninety-four?”

  Lana smiled, “Don’t ever try that English accent again, yeah?”

  “Well at least you’re smiling again,” he said.

  “It’s certainly a hard task to do right now,” she said, taking a sip and pointing down on the street below, “Look at them lot.”

  A parade of women in short skirts and dresses were conga-lining down the road. The first woman had a pink sash around her. A once common sight was now a rare moment of joy; a Hen party.

  “They’re off their rockers and it’s only just gone five,” she said, “Can’t remember the last time I had a good night out.”

  “It’s a shame that we both have a conscience then… cos that five hundred quid over there could buy us oh, at least two drinks each,” he joked.

  “Maybe you would be buying the drinks - me? I get them bought for me,” she wiggled her arse to a faint drumbeat from the music in a flat upstairs, “Back in the day I’d have the men clamouring for a piece of that.”

  Jack patted her patronisingly on the shoulder, “Well it’s a real shame you lost your figure, isn’t it?”

  A cheeky shocked grin spread across her face, “You little wanker. Just as well I like you, else you’d be on your knees.”

  “What! I’m only saying you’ve put on a few pounds since I first met you,” he continued.

  “Little sod,” she sneered, “Fat chance with our luck innit! Oh I’m bored, dammit. Can’t we go out?”

  “Er, no,” Jack said, stamping over her fantasy, “Curfew begins in a couple of hours and if that weren’t the only obstacle, there’s quite a few soldiers out tonight.”

  “But I just want to forget for one night - isn’t that possible? I mean nothing is happening around here anyway? We’re cut off from the rest of them. Ain’t no way of knowing if they even know we are here anyway. C’mon, why can’t we just ditch this whole thing and go out - for one night only? Drinks and food and dancing and fun? I’m twenty-two years old and I’ve not been wasted in years. For the sake of my youth, come on?”

  Jack sank back into the sofa and stared at her for a while, “Why did you join so young? I don’t think I’ve ever asked.”

  “Enough, please. Let’s have some fun already,” she said excitedly.

  “Did you know? What made you ask questions?”

  “This is boring,” she complained, “Enough of the questions.”

  “We can’t go out, Lana - you know that,” he said, “It’s too late for either of us to have fun. We can’t switch off…”

  She threw herself down at his knees, “For a few hours? Why not? Tell me why we can’t be normal fucking human beings for two measly fucking hours?”

  “Look at it out there,” he said, shrugging his shoulders, “Who the fuck is normal anymore? There’s... the wanted and there’s them, the guilty until proven innocent. Everyone’s watching their backs and they are just too frightened to admit it. You think we can go out there and forget? You think we wouldn’t be watching our backs the whole time? Checking for exits as soon as we enter a club? You reckon you wouldn’t be spooked by someone interested in you at the bar? You think you would just be able to get drunk, have a dance and come back here without anything happening?”

  The joy from her face melted into sadness.

  “I thought so,” he said, bitterly. “You can’t just forget. Don’t you dare try and fucking forget.”

  He drowned in another swig of cider.

  “Look at what we’ve become. We’re meant to be living a life, Lana. Remember what we’ve seen. Remember those we have watched die. And you think it’s okay to go out and get pissed and pretend that we’re normal fucking human beings? Well we aren’t. No one is anymore.”

  “Jack, what’s wrong?” concern spread across her face.

  “I shouldn’t even be here,” he cried, “I should be at home. I should be with her…”

  Three drinks in and he was already this unsteady. He hadn’t even dared to mention her these past few weeks. It was too painful.

  “We all chose to be here, Jack,” she said, “And maybe the choice was between this and some rotten CRU prison, but it was still a choice… I just wanted to blow off a little steam.”

  “Do you really think I want to be sitting drinking the cheapest cider in the shop? I mean I fucking stole the thing - and I couldn’t even pick the expensive shit.”

  “Jack, calm down,” she said, stroking his knee soothingly, “What’s wrong?”

  He restored his composure, breathing regularly and deeply, “I’m sorry. It just makes me angry.”

  “What does?”

  “Being normal,” he said, “I don’t think we can ever be normal again. I’m scared… I’m scared that I’ve lost that chance…”

  It was a few seconds before Lana responded. She spoke softly, as if she herself were choked up by tears, “Me too.”

  Jack stared out the window. From the sofa he could barely see the city’s skyline. A cloudy amber hue buried the city, obscuring the shining stars. Soon ShutDown would kick in. The only joy of no electricity or water: seeing the light from a hundred billion gas giants burning furiously and magnanimously. Nothing matter by contrast. Whenever he looked up at the stars he consoled himself that all times pass; everything is a phase that will one day vanish into history and slip into long forgotten folklore. And though he tried with all his might to remember that right now, he was too swamped by the here and now. For Jack Blackwood, there was no certain future free from being on the run; there would be no days without terrorism and the constant fight; there would be no government to hide from and the suffering would never end. That was the reality; a thousand years from now meant nothing to him, even if it could charm him with its whimsical beauty.

  “I never knew my dad,” she said abruptly, “That never mattered to me. I had my mum. My mum and my kid sister, Kyra. When I was twelve my mum attended a small group. I didn’t think anything of it. She dropped me and my sister off at her brother’s and two hours later she would come back. And then one day I caught her praying at six in the morning. I’d not slept and wanted a hug, I asked her what she was doing and she said she was asking God for forgiveness. I didn’t question it, I just asked if we could have pop tarts for breakfast. Gradually she introduced praying before meals and soon she would be off every evening to these events. Sometimes she’d drag us along - and that’s when I learnt the name of this group that had... infected her… God’s Disciples.”

  “Fuck, Lana,” Jack began, not really wanting to know where her story was leading.

  “The GD were around a lot sooner than anyone thinks,” she continued, “They were there for my mum when she couldn’t afford the rent or when she couldn’t find the strength to carry on. But they got into her head. Somehow, I don’t know, they weaved their way in. One day mum told us what they had suggested. Being a single mum was a sin and that her friends at the GD had a way of making God forgive her. We had a new dad within six months. Kenneth. He was in his forties - maybe not much older than my mum. There was something about him - the way he wanted to read us bedtime stories even though we were past that age. He wanted to be our daddy, but we had grown up without one and we didn’t need one.”

  Lana paused to refill her drink.

  “I didn’t like him, but he meant the world to mum. So I kept quiet. Until,” she seemed to choke on her own words, “Until Kyra came to me after school one day and cried into my shoulders. It took her hours to
tell me what was wrong. When I found out I could have killed him.”

  “He didn’t?”

  “Put his sweaty hands all over her. Made me feel sick inside. I took Kyra to my friend’s house and ran straight home to confront him. I shouted for him to admit what he’d done, but he denied everything. Then mum came back and saw us arguing. He remained fucking calm. I screamed what Kyra had told me at mum and she just calmed me down… fucking calmed me down. She told me that Kyra was telling me lies and that Kenneth would never harm anyone. I was furious at her. I was sixteen, but I knew right from wrong. But her word was final. Kyra came back that night and I couldn’t look her in the eye. I let her down. I let her fucking down. For the next few months I would wake in the night to check on her - check he hadn’t touched her. But he hadn’t. He never dared touch her again. But that didn’t erase what he’d put her through. The memories were still there.”

  “That’s fucking disgusting,” Jack said, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

  “A year later I’m coming back from a night out. Lipstick smeared on, low cut top. I’m feeling good. I had just turned eighteen. There’s an ambulance at the foot of the flats - I didn’t really think anything’s happened, but the panic’s there, thundering in my chest. Eight flights of stairs and I reach the top just in time for them to wheel my little sister out on a stretcher - white sheet covering her face. Kyra had killed herself. She couldn’t live with what that bastard had made her go through and she killed herself. I ran to mum - I needed my mum… but she refused to hug me. I’ll never forget that image of her - standing by the sink, washing the dishes as her dead daughter is taken from the house. If she was upset, she hid it well. I grabbed her, but she threw me off. I asked her what had happened and her response? She told me I didn’t have a sister. I never had a sister. I looked at the paramedic and she knew something was wrong. I ran down to the nearest GD meeting centre and I raged at them. I tore the place apart. They sat and watched. Repeat after repeat, all they told me was that suicide was a sin and that my mum was better off.”

  “Fucking hell,” Jack said, shocked to the core, “What the fuck had they done to her?”

  “Indoctrination, propaganda, brainwashing - call it what you like they diseased her brain. Imagine a mother not attending their own daughter’s funeral? I was eighteen years old and all alone in the world. My sister was dead. I needed my mum more than ever and I was so angry. I went to the police about the GD - a fucking deadbeat street kid went to the police? It took a lot of guts to go there, after the number of times I’d been hauled in there for truancy. You know what they said? They told me that the GD were not one of their avenues of investigation. No crime had been committed. And that got me thinking. Who else had been affected by the same thing? Surely these GD guys couldn’t be a one off? And if they weren’t then why were they being so ignored, meanwhile the DD and others are being hounded down?”

  “Is that how you found The Resistance?”

  Lana nodded, “They were the only ones who dared to answer my question and who answered it well. I asked them how the GD were able to get away with whatever it was they did? You know what they said?”

  Jack shook his head.

  “We would like to know too.”

  Jack smiled faintly, in his mind it had been Alex who had said that to her.

  “I signed up there and then. I still don’t have any clear fucking answers. But you know what? A night out would be nice. I haven’t had a night out since the day my sister killed herself. So yeah, I’d like to fucking forget. I’d like to rewind back to that night when life might have been shit, but at least there was some hope left in it.”

  “I had a friend, Charlie,” Jack said, “She was so lovely, but damaged for whatever reason. I didn’t realise until she told me, but she was suffering from depression. I guess it was quite common, except no one ever said. I found out she was involved in the GD. I don’t know how they did it, but they manipulated her - made her worse, made her paranoid. She... became obsessive. Possessive. And then blamed it all on me, saying the GD had warned her against me. I didn’t understand it, it was as if they wanted her to hate me but for what reason I never found out.”

  “That’s horrible,” Lana said, “But not surprisingly. It’s how they operate, preying on the weak.”

  Jack raised his glass, “To Kyra.”

  Lana chinked hers against his, “To Charlie.”

  “It seems we have more in common than we first thought,” Jack said, his tongue tightening rapidly.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I also had a sister…” he drifted off. He was torn between sharing his grief with someone who would understand, and guarding his heart from further pain.

  “I’m so sorry,” she said, “What was her name?”

  “Jess,” he said, finding it strange to say her name aloud, “Her name was Jess.”

  Lana raised herself up on her knees, “You know what? Too long have our sisters been forgotten - I haven’t mentioned Kyra since I first joined. I wanted to protect myself, protect who I was and what I was fighting for. But we’re in this together. The Resistance is united and we would rather die that reveal the secrets of our kin.”

  Jack maintained eye contact, but there the connection stammered. He recalled the dying man in the forest - there was a spy amongst them all. Looking at the fight reignite in Lana once more, Jack hadn’t the heart to stamp it out.

  “Is that who you meant when you said you should be with her?” she asked.

  The cider swam in his mind, tingling his senses.

  “No,” he said, “No, that was someone else.”

  Lana curled her lips, appearing to be on the edge of another question, but whatever she was going to say it was drowned by the large gulp of cider.

  “What did you want to be before this?” Jack asked.

  “Ha,” she laughed, “You’re going to think it’s well odd.”

  “Go on,” he encouraged.

  “I always had it in my head that I’d make a good teacher,” she said, “Course I was horrible enough to them when I was at school myself, so maybe it was more a guilt thing.”

  “You’d have made a good teacher,” Jack said, “I mean, shit at teaching the kids, but fantastic at keeping them in line.”

  “Shush you,” she whacked him affectionately across the shins.

  “I can hardly believe you’re only twenty-two, you know that?”

  “Why? Do I look older?”

  “No, but you act it. I feel… incredibly ignorant next to you,” he said, “I remember when I first arrived, I felt like a new recruit.”

  “Let’s be honest, you were a new recruit - doesn’t matter how many months you spent cooped up at HQ.”

  “You’re so right,” he said, “I don’t feel that I’m the same person as I was back then, even though it was only a few weeks ago.”

  “I think every day you spend in this fight is another day farther from the person you were when you joined,” she said, “I don’t recognise myself. I can go out there and kill if it was ordered. Watching what’s around me is natural. Lying comes more easily than breathing.”

  “Do you think it’s worth it?”

  Lana shot him a look of disgust, “Every single second of it.”

  Jack could not be as confident. That afternoon he had taken money from a man guilty of nothing more than greed. Maybe he did deserve to be blackmailed; but where was that money going? It went to pay the rent on the safe houses, the printing machines for the Rations and the travel costs to move everyone around the country. Was it worth it all that pain, even to one man? The threat hung over him and his family like a brewing tornado. Could the end really justify the means?

  “Have you spoken to your mum recently?” Jack asked.

  Lana shook her head, “I know she’s alive - that much I keep a track of. That bastard is still in her life though. I don’t expect her to wake up suddenly one day and have this almighty revelation - I’m not naive, but it would be
nice to be able to have her back one day.”

  “You think you could forgive her then?”

  “Forgive her for being manipulated? Of course. I don’t blame any of this on her - it’s all the GD lot. They are poison.”

  “I attended one of their meetings once,” Jack said, throwing his hands up in protest when a fierce look descended on Lana’s face, “I was led there under false pretences! But it was odd. Very odd. Everyone was very friendly, welcoming and… normal. And then they shared their views. It was something out of Hitler Youth circle time. They came out with these worrying opinions on homosexuality and sin.”

  “They act normal, but then they go and blow up bus shelters to cleanse the world of sinners,” she said, “It freaks me out that they have such a following.”

  “They indoctrinated a friend of mine against me,” Jack said, the guilt rising over Charlie’s nervous breakdown resurfacing, “I could understand why they had it against me, but she was mentally ill and they did nothing but fuel her depression. She used to be normal, happy and by the time I last saw her she was a complete mess.”

  “It’s what they do,” she said, “They get inside your head. They tell you how to feel good, and then you’re told to feel bad. They did that to my mum. They sucked her in and then told her she was a sinner for being a single parent. She never felt that way before she met them. She was proud of who she was.”

  Jack leant over to pour themselves another glass. The cider was running low already. But his hand froze when he heard the chilling ring of the doorbell.

  Lana looked at him; shock spreading like a cloud between them. Neither of them were expecting anyone. There was a chance it could be another member searching for a safe place to rest, but Jack was instantly unnerved. Discussing the GD had served only to heighten their fretted panic.

  “Were you followed? Did your contact follow you?” she whispered, sinking low to the ground as she kept a close watch on the front door.

  “No, I’m certain of it,” Jack said, as the doorbell rang again.

  “It’s probably just some other visitors…”

  “Possibly,” Jack said, “I’ll go. Grab a kitchen knife just in case.”