Page 13 of The Cult

“I don’t fucking need anything,” Archer barked, pushing down on Orcus’s shoulder, forcing him to kneel on the ground.

It was my turn now. Archer and Heath had played their parts, the rest was up to me. “Hey!” I yelled. “What’s going on over there?”

“None of your fucking business!” Archer yelled. “I’d keep going if I were you.” He waved his gun toward me and the empty road behind me.

“I don’t think I can do that,” I countered carefully, inching closer to Orcus, to save him.

Archer fired a shot near my feet, the bullet ricocheting in the air. “Next one is in your head. So go the fuck away!”

I lifted my foot to step forward, but the sound of crunching rock caught my attention. A cold, hard metal brushed the back of my neck.

“I’d stay where you are if I were you,” Heath said behind me.

I had to give Archer and Heath props for their performance. I shouldn’t be surprised. I better step up my game. The success of this mission now rested on my shoulders. I raised my hands in surrender, letting fear etch into my expression. “Let’s not make decisions we’ll regret,” I said.

“I ain’t regretting shit,” Archer said. “Go on.” He pointed his gun toward me, then to the car we’d rented using a bogus name. “Leave!”

“Just let us go, okay?” I said, nodding.

“Are you one of his men?” Archer pressed the muzzle of his gun to the back of Orcus’s head.

Orcus was cracking. His hands trembled and he stared at me with a pleading desperation, as if begging me not to leave him.

“No,” I answered. “I don’t know him.”

“Really?” Heath huffed. “You’re willing to die for that loser?”

“Who said anything about dying?” I swiftly turned to face Heath, disarming his gun-holding hand before coiling his body into a chokehold. I had him in my grasp; one arm wrapped around his neck and a gun pointed at his temple. “Drop your weapon,” I ordered. “Or the next bullet scrambles your buddy’s brain.”

Archer hesitated, his stare bouncing between Orcus and me, never dropping his act. “Fuck,” he murmured.

“Drop. It!” I repeated. I stepped closer to Orcus and Archer, dragging Heath with me.

Slowly, Archer bent over, his sight never leaving mine until he was kneeling. He dropped the gun on the ground behind Orcus when Heath and I towered over him. I kicked the pistol, which slid under the SUV.

Archer reared back and threw a fistful of dirt in my face. “Goddamn it!” I loosened my hold on Heath. It didn’t hit my eyes, but I pretended it did; our orchestrated scheme was playing out beautifully. Heath elbowed my stomach twice to free himself of my hold by throwing me off balance. Wincing, I drew my gun from my waistband and fired shots at Archer.

He moved with eerie agility, ducking and weaving to evade the bullets. My shots were wild yet calculated, striking perilously close to Archer. The ammo was blank and he was wearing a bulletproof vest, but blanks could still hurt him.

Orcus took advantage of the opportunity: he stood and ran away.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” Archer grabbed Orcus’s shirt and yanked him back into a hook punch, which knocked the cult leader out cold.

We paused for a second, glancing at each other, while Archer checked the unconscious Orcus. “He’s out,” he mouthed.

Heath extended his hand to help me stand.

“That fucking hurt,” I said, rubbing my ribcage.

“My bad. Gotta commit though,” he explained with a shrug.

“I get it. Now get outta here before he wakes up.”

“Sure you’re good?” Archer asked.

“Yeah, I got it from here.”

“You know how to get a hold of me,” Archer said.

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