Page 42 of The Cult

“So … can we go now?” the punk asked, a grin on his face.

I nodded. “Go.”

“Oh shit,” a voice said when Abel and I finally entered the barracks. A smaller guy wearing black boxers hopped off one of the top bunks and woke the guy sleeping on the bottom. “Hey, wake up! Nine is here.”

“What’s up with the numbers anyway?” I asked, watching the guys sit up one by one.

“They don’t bother calling us by our names around here. In this place, we’re just a number. And when we’re gone, we’ll be replaced.” Abel was unable to hide the bitterness in his voice and the disgust on his face. “Just like that,” he said, snapping his fingers. “Nobody cares about us.”

His admission had me thinking about the life I’d lived that was parallel with his. As a child in the orphanage, I was simply a kid in the sea of lost boys. And as an adult, I was The Savior on The Firm’s roster, a dispensable assassin following orders. The last thread of who I was as a person had been wiped clean to become a killing machine. It was too late for me, but maybe not for him.

The announcement of our arrival woke the others and, seconds later, everyone was on their feet, all bare chests and that same pair of black underwear. To say that I was surrounded by muscles was an understatement. These guys were ripped like they lived in a gym. I studied their shaven faces; they appeared to be around the same age as Abel. Who are these people? I leaned over to ask about the others but was taken aback by the frown on Abel’s face. Deep lines ran over his forehead, and his jaw was clenched shut. What the hell is wrong with him? Is he fucking jealous?

I didn’t have time to dwell on it because the smallest of the group pulled Abel closer. “Nice to see you again, Abel,” he said, hugging him.

“You too, Colt,” Abel said, matching the kid’s enthusiasm.

More than a dozen young men huddled around Abel, squeezing his shoulders and tapping his back.

“We thought we’d never see you again,” one of them murmured, his eyes darting nervously around the room. “We were getting ready to switch gears.”

“How did you get out?”

“Do they know you’re here?”

“Where are the others?”

“What’s it like out there?”

Half of the young men peppered Abel with questions, while the other half appraised me warily from head to toe. Their movements were cautious, as though they were in the presence of danger.

They weren’t wrong. I was danger.

“One question at a time please,” Abel said, calming the guys. Just like the other day at lunch, Abel seemed to have a way of keeping his friends under control.

“Who is he?” someone finally inquired. I was surprised it had taken them that long.

Abel glanced over his shoulder and met my stare. “His name is Tobias. He’s my dad’s best friend.”

“What’s he doing here?” the boy named Colt asked.

“Long story,” Abel answered.

“Is he solid? Can he be trusted?” Buzzhead number two sneered, but I ignored him. “We can’t afford any hiccups in our plan.”

What plan? I held my breath, anticipating Abel’s reply. I didn’t know why his opinion mattered so much. Perhaps because his trust would make escaping with his family much easier. That had to be the only reason why—and I could use an easy mission right about now. This task was starting to get complicated.

“Yes, I trust him.”

Good. Feeling somewhat lighter and accomplished, I stepped toward the door. “I’ll be outside,” I said before exiting the room to give Abel a moment alone with his buddies.

“We’ve been trying to figure out what’s happening. Something’s not right,” someone said as I headed out.

I was curious about what he meant, but my desire to keep Abel safe won out, so I slipped away from the group and continued my investigation of the compound. There had to be a reason why this section was a ghost town. Unable to shake the feeling of trouble brewing, I began to probe around the perimeter of the barracks. Like the other part of the commune, the area was deserted. The fire I created didn’t require every guard to respond, did it? Where were the dogs from days ago?

My surveillance led me inside an old barn larger than some of the houses surrounding it. I pushed the door open, revealing a room filled with the aroma of hay. The wooden posts were embellished with rakes, shovels and other well-worn farm tools. Even in the dark, I could see metal containers wrapped with chains and padlocked stacked against the wall. They were stamped with serial numbers. Taking a mental reminder to come back with my phone so I could take a photograph to send to Zero, I went outside, but just as I was about to round a corner, my path was intercepted by Abel. “What are you doing out here?”

“Looking for you.” He peered behind me but, without any light, I doubted he could see the containers.

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