Grey

by Kayley Barratt

  “The best thing you can do is forget about it,” he says. “It’ll drive you insane.”

  “Literally?” I say. “Or would it be my own choice? Let me decide. I can handle more than you think.”

  “Elizabeth…”

  He trails off, his eyes connected with mine, he gives me a look of frustration as he rubs his lips together. I only just notice how intimidating he is, despite my strange connection of trust with him. He stands so tall, so towering, and his shoulders are broad like shields; his arms are thick and muscular, and a shiver of change between his muscles occurs when he buries his hands inside his pockets. I’ve never really looked at Elijah this way before, I always notice his eyes and his hair, but this is something new, and it’s because in this moment, he reminds me of Nathan. They look alike. They both give me the same look. They both stretch out their muscles when their hands go into their pockets. The resemblance frightens me and as Elijah steps forwards, closer into my line of sight, his face temporarily changes to Nathan’s.

  You’re going insane, I think to myself. Shake it off. Stop it.

  I don’t know why I’m conjuring Nathan’s face to Elijah’s body. I don’t know why I’m now looking at warm, grey eyes that hold me a thousand feet up. Is it because I miss him? Or is it because I’m subconsciously feeling guilty that I’m observing Elijah in such a new way? Or maybe I’m hallucinating. I can’t remember the last time I thought about Nathan, I can’t remember the last time I imagined his face before me; real and loving. I’ve dreamt about him, many times, but the agony of re-living those dreams is too much for me to go through in the day. That’s why I decided not to think about him, to not engage in the memories because they will inevitably pull me to the darkness.

  “Elizabeth,” Elijah repeats. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

  I blink, taking a breath. “Like what?”

  “Nothing,” he says, his eyes squinting slightly. “You need to get back to your dorm.”

  “Elijah.”

  “What?”

  “Are you allowed to leave the compound?”

  “What?” he says. “Seriously, you need to get back, you—”

  “Can you get a letter out?”

  He sighs, dropping his eyes to the ground as he thinks something over. “You can’t ask me that.”

  “But, we’re friends, right?” I say with a pinch of something sweet in my tone. “You helped me on my first day here. You warned me about Duncan and the assembly. I see the way you look at me at breakfast, I was hoping I’d get the chance to speak to you again.”

  It’s making me sick to my stomach that I’m having to manipulate him this way. I step closer towards him and he stands exactly where is he, evaluating me. I step closer and closer, until I can feel his breaths on my face.

  “You’re different,” I say. “Brave. You just helped me again, why?”

  “I don’t know,” he says. “I feel like I owed you.”

  “I brought you back, right?” I say.

  He nods gently.

  “I need you to bring me back,” I whisper. “I need to contact someone, to let them know I’m okay. Just like you made me okay. Because you care, don’t you?”

  “What are you doing, Elizabeth?”

  “It’s just one letter,” I say. “I won’t mention anything. You won’t be in trouble. And I’ll forever be in your debt.” I unearth his hand from his pocket and he watches with a lump in his throat as I entwine my hand into his, high in the air. “Do you feel that?”

  “Stop.”

  He tries to look elsewhere, but his eyes linger back to mine.

  “How long has it been since you touched someone?” I whisper. “Since you felt human. You are human, remember? You have desires.”

  “Stop,” he repeats.

  I gently lower our entwined hands; a smile gently wraps around my face as I step even closer. And then—something even I’m not expecting happens—Elijah’s lips crush mine. I’m so taken aback that I try to hold him off by pushing a hand to his chest, but he comes on even stronger and our bodies somehow move back to the wall. His lips are hard, controlling, experienced. How could he be experienced? How could he know what he’s doing? I’m so confused, my mind races with so many questions. But the biggest question, my biggest problem—why the hell am I enjoying this?

  Why do I feel heat rising in my blood? Why is my chest tight and my legs trembling? Why is kissing Elijah bringing sore, powerful emotions to the surface? This isn’t about Nathan, this is nothing to do with Nathan, this is Elijah.

  I feel something different. Something strong. Something that makes my arm fall around his bare shoulder to get a better grip. He lifts me up against the wall and I become lost in this kiss, in this heat, it consumes me. I can’t stop it.

  This is beyond a lie, this is truth.

  I can’t do it anymore. It annoys me to have to stop it, but it’s going too far, too intense. I lean my head away from his face and he slowly drops me back to the floor. Elijah’s eyes widen as he realises what he’s just done and I rub my mouth as he backs up from me.

  “I’m sorry,” he says. “I shouldn’t have…”

  “Don’t be sorry,” I say, still rubbing my mouth. “I think that was my fault.”

  “We can’t…” he begins, he shakes his head. “I don’t know what just happened.”

  I take a deep breath, a pang of guilt overrides my current desire to kiss him again, as Nathan’s face is yet again before me.

  I’m going crazy. This is not real.

  I move from the wall back towards the street, leaving Elijah to ramble to himself about what he’s just done.

  “I’m sorry,” I say.

  I slide around the wall, leaving him and that kiss, firmly behind me.

  Chapter 30

  Carol sits up beside me on my bed, she listened tentatively to everything I witnessed with the girl and after I was done, she fell silent. I’m not ready to share my bizarre encounter with Elijah just yet, I don’t think I’ll ever be ready. I told her that I made it back to the dorm unseen and she believed me. Even though she wanted to question my thoughtful glances into the air, she didn’t.

  “What do you think happens?” she asks me. “Do they join group D?”

  “I don’t even think group D exists,” I whisper. “It’s a cover, for what they’re really doing.”

  “Which is?”

  I turn my head to look at her. “When you were in medical that day, did you hear strange sounds?”

  “From the other patients?”

  “No,” I say. “Not the patients in medical. The ones outside. In the psychiatric unit.”

  She glares at me, her eyebrows narrow in confusion. “There’s a psychiatric unit?”

  “Wait,” I say. “You don’t know about that?”

  She shakes her head. “Elizabeth, there isn’t a psychiatric unit. Not that I’ve heard of anyway.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense,” I whisper. “The leader, the one with the blonde hair, he told me it was.”

  “He was lying,” she says.

  “Why would he lie?”

  As soon as I ask it, I know the answer, it lights up my mind. It was another cover. Maybe, I wasn’t supposed to hear those sounds that day, maybe, Duncan didn’t intend me to piece it together. Maybe, it was just an inconvenient timing.

  “The noises,” I say. “The people sounded drugged, inhuman even. Like they really were insane, or… injected with some kind of virus.”

  Injected. The girl. Her scream. There wasn’t a scuffle, or a fight, or any sound of conflict—he injected her with something, something that reacted immediately with her blood. I widen my eyes, my mouth hanging open.

  “What is it?” Carol demands.

  “I think it was group D,” I say. “I heard group D.”

  “But that’s impossible, no one has ever seen them or heard them. Pastor keeps them hidden. Probably underground.”

  “That’s why no one ever sees him around th
e compound,” I say, but mainly to myself. “Because he’s with them. He’s doing something to them.”

  “Like what, experimentation?”

  “No,” says a voice across the dorm.

  Carol and I glance towards the shadow that is moving towards us, Salome stands in front of my bed, her eyes alert and her face serious as she takes a large breath.

  “Not experimentation,” she says. “Exorcism.”

  Chapter 31

  Salome proceeds to explain, as she notices our fearful looks. “A few years ago, before the letter incident, I heard the same thing you did when I was in medical. I pulled my back and I had to spend a few nights in the infirmary. I was so dozed up on pain killers that I thought I was imagining it. And then, one night, the sounds grew louder, like they were right beside me. It was then that I realised there was an air vent in the room, attached to the roof. I walked over to it and I stood underneath it, listening to the sounds. The moaning, the groaning, the alien-like squeals coming from what I could only imagine to be a human’s mouth. And then, I heard Pastor. He was reciting a passage from the Bible, a passage to send the demon back to hell. The voices grew agonised, like they were in pain and fighting something inside of them. After that, it became quiet, and I was so afraid that I climbed back into my bed and hid underneath the covers like a child. The next day, I was released.”

  “Why didn’t you ever tell anyone?” I say.

  “Who in group A would listen?” she says, chuckling at the thought. “Over time, I convinced myself it was a hallucination. But as more women and men started disappearing, I knew something wasn’t right.”

  I collapse back against the headboard, biting on my nail. “He’s performing exorcisms on people that aren’t even possessed,” I whisper.

  “He makes them believe they are,” Salome says. “Most likely through the injection that you mentioned. He destroys their mind, wipes their memories and then takes whatever humanity they have left away from them.”

  I suddenly think back to the night Ruth was taken. How calm she was, how ready she was to leave group C, and to try and gain some freedom from wherever they took her. She most likely thought she was going to die, that she’d be released, when in reality—she is suffering from something far worse than any death. Just like Julie, just like Susan, just like every other innocent person that has been taken abruptly with no warning.

  “We need to stop this,” I say, my voice trembles as I fight the tears. “We need to shut this place down.”

  “Many have tried,” Salome says. “Pastor has security footage that covers most of the compound, not to mention members of group A and B that patrol at night. It’s almost impossible.”

  I glance at Carol, then I move eyes back to Salome. “It’s not impossible,” I say. “I’ve just done it. I can get out unseen.”

  “How?” she says.

  I shrug. “I remember where every camera is. I know which direction they’re pointing at in every minute. I can get out and I’ll alert authorities. It’ll be too risky to take people with me.”

  “Elizabeth,” Carol whispers. “That’s too risky, if you get caught—”

  “I won’t,” I say. “I just need a distraction to take place for the guards at the gate. It might take some time, but with careful planning, I think I can do it.”

  “You need to be surer than think,” Salome says.

  “I know I can do it.”

  That is a lie, a lie that rolls off my tongue confidently as though I do, in fact, believe it. I do have a plan, sort of, but it’s not something I can share with them because it involves Elijah. I just need time to work him, to gain his favour, otherwise, this entire plan will fall apart. I don’t know if that will take days, weeks, or even months—but it’s the only plan that will work.

  “For all our sakes, I hope you can.”

  Salome turns, heading back to her bed. I look across the space to see Mary sat up, her eyes staring back into mine. Her long, dark hair is sticking up all over head, as though she has just rolled across a vacuum. She smiles at me, it is warm and comforting; despite her body being in unbearable pain.

  Carol props herself up from my bed, she flattens down her tangled blonde hair as she walks around it. “Get some rest,” she says. “We’re all going to need it.”

  “Goodnight,” I say and then my attention turns back to Mary. “Are you okay?”

  She rubs her eyes and shakes her head.

  “Come here,” I whisper, opening up my sheet.

  Mary slowly gets out of bed, wincing with every move she makes. She limps over to my bed and lays inside of it, turning her face to stare up at me before rubbing her sore eyes again.

  “How bad is it?” I ask. “Honestly?”

  “Six,” she whispers, then let’s out a small groan. “Seven.”

  “It’s not your fault, okay?” I say. “You haven’t done anything wrong.”

  “It’s always me,” she says so quietly that I can barely hear her. “She hit me so many times.”

  “Did you do what I told you to do?”

  She nods. “I imagined I was somewhere else. It helped.”

  “Where?”

  “The ocean,” she says. “I was playing on the beach.”

  “Good,” I say, dropping to lay beside her. “We won’t be in the field tomorrow, it’ll get better.”

  “Got to go back to the field one day,” she whimpers. “I’m tired. Goodnight, sister.”

  Mary rolls herself over, her hand going above her head as she faces away from me.

  “Goodnight, sister,” I whisper, smiling at the phrase.

  I stare at the ceiling as everyone else sleeps around me. I begin torturing myself with images of that kiss. I gently touch my finger against my lip, feeling the place that Elijah had claimed. After all I’ve discovered tonight, why is that the one thing I can’t get out of my head?

  This makes no sense. I’m losing it. I know I am.

  I must be.

  Chapter 32

  One Week Later

  Time. Time is a curse. Time is knowing that every day that passes is another day when Duncan is performing his sadistic rituals on innocent victims. Time is knowing that the days are becoming longer and the nights shorter, and Elijah still won’t look at me. He won’t talk to me. Time is a thin piece of guilt, pressure, impatience and nerves, all rolled into one. Time is a reminder that every moment of the past week; I am still exhausted, sleep-deprived, weak and insignificant. Time is passing as though no one else feels it, but I feel it, I have to. Because we’re running out of it.

  Today is my birthday. My eighteenth. But I am not in the mood for celebrating it, or even sharing it with anyone else because it’s a haunting reminder that three weeks ago, everything was okay. When I sat on that balcony, when I looked up at the stars, when my only worry was if my parents would ever find out about Nathan. I’m beginning to lose hope and I don’t want to, but I am. Not only do we fear the days and how much work we have to complete without water or a rest, but now we fear being taken. Now, we fear the unknown. And it’s still a mystery to why Duncan is doing this. What is his agenda? Does he truly believe that those that act against the cult are possessed?

  As much as I hate to admit it, it doesn’t make sense that he hasn’t taken Carol. I watch her now as she sweeps the outside street of the compound; her small body moves mechanically and tiredly, she was whipped a few times over the last few days, it’s taking its toll on her. When I look at her, I see a girl that has lost everything and is still standing. That has been beaten, broken and tested, but is still fighting. I wonder if Duncan sees that too and that is why he has spared her from the unknown. She hasn’t spoken to Andrew since the incident, out of fear and he hasn’t tried to either—they both just get on with their day, while thinking about the other, with no clue what to do about it.

  I sigh as my eyes fall on Elijah through the window that I’ve been ordered to clean. He stands with a member of group A, both of them observing the rest of g
roup A who are patrolling the grounds with shotguns. He instructs the man to do something and the man nods, wandering over to the main entrance. Just for a moment, Elijah looks towards this window, his stare shocks me into looking away and I move my hand in a circular motion across the window to dry it with a paper towel.

  But, curiosity gets the better of me and I lift my eyes again.

  He’s gone. Elijah is gone. I scour the grounds for him, but he has firmly vanished. My hand begins moving faster, angrier, as I become frustrated with this entire situation. I shouldn’t have led him on the way I did, I shouldn’t have pushed him into kissing me—it was my fault. And now, he is the one paying for it. Whether it’s guilt, confusion or affliction; I know he felt something, because I felt it too.

  “You,” calls Joan from across the room.

  I turn, instinctively knowing it’s me.

  “Your next job is to clean the infirmary.”

  I nod. “And after?”

  “Did I tell you what you’re doing after?”

  I shake my head.

  “Then don’t ask,” she says, her ice-cold eyes narrow with bitterness. “Get to it.”

  I bite on my lip, throwing the paper towel down onto the window sill. As I head towards the door of the cabin, I notice Salome is trying to get my attention by widening her eyes at me. I narrow my eyes at her, wondering if she’s mentally okay. She nods her head towards me, her eyes wide, like she’s really trying to tell me something. I just shrug, glancing around the room to make sure no one saw.

  When I leave the building and I cross over the compound to the infirmary, I suddenly pause in my tracks.

  The infirmary. Medical. The building of the supposed psychiatric unit. I now understand what Salome was trying to tell me and as I approach the familiar steps that lead into the medical waiting room, the idea of all ideas plants itself in my head. There are no supervisors or leaders following me, I’ve been sent alone.

  I’m going to find out what’s behind those doors. And while the opportunity is there, I’m going to discover much more.