Page 60 of The Cult

My heart began to race as a thought occurred. My eyes frantically searched for feed from all the locations I’d traveled with Abel. Reassurance flooded my senses; the blind spots I’d discovered were indeed shadow zones. I followed Sterling across the room to a smaller room with a design that mimicked the setup outside. With a notable exception: there was only one monitor, much larger than the one in the previous room, and it was turned off.

“What’s this place?” I asked. One of the oddest things about The Creed was some of the buildings. They appeared to be in disrepair from the outside, but intact and updated within. The dilapidated facade hid a heavily guarded modern interior, a contrast that didn’t make sense.

“This is the control room,” Sterling answered, pulling two chairs out.

“And what are we doing here?”

He turned on the large flat-screen monitor and flipped open a laptop. “We need to match up the guys,” he said nonchalantly, as if I had a clue what he was talking about.

His computer screen mirrored what was showing on the giant monitor, so I was able to watch him navigate through the files. Sterling opened a folder titled Batch10. The folder prompted him to enter a password and he entered the same sets of digits as the keypad outside.

A dozen thumbnails covered the screen; each one appeared to be a clip from a fight. Sterling selected the first file and pressed play. There was nothing remarkable about the reel at first. Two men built like Abel sized each other up, walking in circles sideways, never taking their sight off one another. They were barefoot and half-naked, wearing nothing but a pair of tight black shorts. The camera panned out, showcasing the entire ring.

“Was this taken here?” I asked.

Sterling answered with a curt nod.

“Where’s the ref?”

“Dunno.”

“What do you mean you don’t know?”

“I haven’t seen a fight in person.” Sterling looked at me, horror reflecting in his eyes. “I hadn’t seen any fights until last night, when I watched these matches.” His shaking hands tugged his hair. “Fuck.” He took a deep breath before swiveling his chair away, turning his back to the laptop.

I pulled the other chair closer and focused on the screen. On it, the bell rang and combat began. Out of the gate, I could tell who would win the match. The bigger dude used techniques the other guy lacked. Undercuts, hooks, kicks … name it and he deployed it. One blow to the smaller guy’s jaw had him kneeling to the ground.

“Is that guy from here?” I pointed at the young man kneeling on the ring. Blood dripped from his split eyebrow and mouth, pooling with saliva on the mat.

Sterling returned his attention to the monitor and nodded. His eyes were blankly staring at the match, but I doubted he was watching.

“And him?” I pointed to the man still on his feet.

He shook his head. “I haven’t seen him before.”

“Then why was he there?” I reached for the laptop and fast-forwarded until the guy on the floor was back on his feet. What he lacked in skills, he made up for in determination. He attacked the bigger guy but missed every single punch. The underdog was brought into a head lock when his opponent grabbed his arm and twisted it behind his back. The underdog elbowed his opponent with his free elbow, but the bigger guy had it locked. The video was muted, but I could see the young man scream for his life.

The victorious guy looked up at the crowd that was bathed in darkness and flashed a deranged smile before snapping the other guy’s neck.

The young guy’s arms fell limp to his side; his lifeless head flopped at an awkward angle before the victor pushed him away like a rag doll.

“Holy fucking shit!” I yelled. “What the fuck was that?” I’d seen the worst of humankind, and very few things in this world caught me off guard. I killed for a living, erasing any traces of my target by burning them to ashes. Literally. And yet my stomach dropped after watching that video. I’m a murderer, but I have principles.

Abel. A visceral fear about him experiencing the same fate almost brought me to my knees. I glanced at Sterling and wondered what he was thinking. His face was void of emotion. He seemed to be operating on autopilot. No wonder he’d been acting odd all morning.

I cleared my dry throat. “What happened to him?” I asked, tapping the motionless guy in the ring on the screen. “Sterling, I need you to answer me.”

“No clue.”

“How about this guy?” I pointed to the other man, celebrating as if he’d just won a fucking gold medal.

“I don’t know, Toby. This is messed up.” Sterling bowed his head, his shoulders heaving. “This is messed up,” he repeated. “I didn’t sign up for this shit.”

“Sterling.” I pivoted his chair so he was facing me. “Look at me.”

It took him a few seconds, but when we were face-to-face, I couldn’t miss the horror etched on his face and the fear in his glistening eyes.

“I need you to keep it together for me, okay?” I clutched his shoulders to get his attention. “At least until we’re outta here. Can you do that?”

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