Page 4 of Torment

I had to admit, she was right. So far, it had been nice to be here, apart from the job situation. The city was big enough to ensure I was rarely recognized, especially with my hair and makeup, but it was still open enough to ensure I avoided the crushing claustrophobic sensation I got in places like New York. It was also a totally different environment to the old ranch near Amiens, so I wasn’t constantly reminded of that hellish place’s scenery, even though it was just a few hours west.

Now, if only I could stop feeling sorry for myself and get a goddamned grip on life…

Lauren suddenly sat up straighter. “Would you consider working at a library?” she asked.

I chewed my bottom lip. I’d never considered that, but it sounded nice. Quiet. Stress-free. “Probably. Why?”

“There’s this place I go to study sometimes, when I really need to knuckle down. It’s down in Audubon on a really quiet street near a park. It’s so much easier to concentrate there than at the college library,” she said. “Anyway, last time I was there, the librarian asked me if I was looking for a part-time assistant job while I’m studying. I told her I already had one, but she asked me to keep my eyes and ears out for anyone who might want the one she was offering. I think she said it’s about twenty-five hours a week. Just shelving and filing. Stuff like that. Obviously it’s not an ideal gig because it isn’t fulltime, but it’s a start, right?”

I nodded. “Yes. That actually sounds great.”

“I’ll let her know you’re interested. I’ve gotten kinda close with her, so she knows all about… well, us,” she said. “I guess that means she’ll probably be a bit more understanding than most people.”

“Cool. Thanks,” I said, my smile widening. I really needed this right now, even if it was just a small break. Perhaps this would be the one thing that would finally make me stand up and pay proper attention to my life, rather than simply drifting through it like a crumbling leaf in the wind.

“No problem. I can’t believe I only just thought of it.” Lauren paused to take a long sip of her second coffee. Then she tilted her head to the side. “You know… everyone missed you at the reunion last weekend.”

I looked away, guilt swarming my system.

Every year, a lot of the New Eden victims got together in Baton Rouge to catch up with each other and discuss where their lives were heading. I understood why they felt the need to see each other, given that we’d all grown up together, but I’d never attended a single reunion.

As much as it might be nice to see everyone again, I didn’t want to be reminded of what we went through any more than I was already reminded every single day, and I knew the conversations would inevitably turn to what happened while we lived underground.

Besides, if they didn’t discuss that, then they’d no doubt speculate on what exactly happened the day of the raid. I didn’t want to talk about that either. I already knew what happened.

I was high on drugs that day; those so-called ‘vitamins’ I was forced to take in such a high dose that morning after so many weeks of having nothing in my system. After hallucinating and trying to make sense of my garbled thoughts for what felt like forever, I’d gone to see my father and the Elders, still in a completely addled state. Unbelievably, they hadn’t seemed to care about what I had to say to them in regard to Mason. My father simply said ‘he’s your problem now’ and pushed me out of the room.

Less than two hours later, he and the Elders left the ranch, along with almost every man over the age of eighteen. Over a hundred and fifty of them marched right out and never came back. When the FBI showed up later that day, the women, young children, and teenage boys were the only ones left.

Apparently, despite everything I had to say in my drugged-out state, my father had already been tipped off about the raid, so he decided to cut his losses in Louisiana and leave us. He and the Elders had commissioned a private jet out of the country so that he and all the other culpable men could attempt to escape prosecution. It was meant to fly west through Texas before heading down to Mexico.

Unfortunately for them (but fortunately for the rest of the world) the flight never made it. The plane went down somewhere over the Sabine River in East Texas. At that point, the FBI agents were still busy checking out New Eden and getting us out of there, so it wasn’t till later that evening that they discovered the registered flight record and passenger manifest. Even later that night, they became aware of the crash.

By the time anyone showed up to recover the debris and search for survivors, it was far too late. That part of the Sabine was crawling with alligators. Bits and pieces of luggage were found amongst the debris, along with the half-eaten corpses of eleven different men, but that was it. The other bodies were long gone, probably deep in the bellies of satisfied gators. Including my father.

Lauren told me after last year’s reunion that some of the girls there had their own theories about what happened that day. They speculated that my father and the other men whose bodies weren’t found had actually survived the crash and made their way across the border to Mexico.

That was total bullshit, though. The search and rescue people had scoured the area for days, looking for any sign that a single person had survived. There was nothing. The FBI had also arranged for the border to be carefully monitored—more so than usual—and not a single person was found trying to cross over around that time, or for months afterwards either.

The men of the Path of the Covenant were all dead, and they were going to stay that way in my mind. Stone fucking dead.

I didn’t want to be around people who stirred the pot, making up all sorts of ridiculous ghost stories. So screw the reunion chatter. I couldn’t listen to it. It was bad enough that I already had to spend every day of my life dealing with the after-effects of living at New Eden.

Nightmares.

Anxiety.

A racing pulse whenever I passed any sort of church.

I knew now that demons probably didn’t exist (in the Biblical sense) but I still had my inner demons haunting me every day. The bad ones always came back to get you in the end, and sleep was no solace. My dreams at night were tortured and convoluted, the kind I used to associate with fever. They were filled with twisted shadows and dark accusatory faces, along with images of fire and death; all the things I’d witnessed down in the underground shelter for all those years, playing in my head in an endless loop.

It didn’t matter that I knew my father and the other cult men were deader than dirt and had been for years. They still found this insidious way to sneak into my bedroom at night and dance around on my body until I jerked awake with sweat rolling off my back. So really, the last thing I needed to hear was a rumor that even a single one of them had survived the crash.

“Reunions aren’t really my thing,” I finally said. My voice betrayed how bad I felt about ignoring the invitation despite my desire to stay the hell away from the event.

“I get it. I kinda hate them too,” Lauren admitted. “I mean, it’s nice seeing the others, but it’s so depressing at the same time.”

“That’s exactly why I don’t go.”

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