Page 55 of Regressive

It was the second, unofficial job I had planned. One I detailed to Rex after we left Imogene at the house. Our kind of work isn’t exactly in Silas’ wheelhouse, but he can use a gun. Every male in Serendee knows how to wield a weapon and defend the community. It’s a concept ingrained in us since childhood. If shit goes sideways tonight, and it may, I want backup.

“Anex has communicated to some of the people we do business with, that members of our community are for sale,” I say. “We’re going to send a message that not everyone in Serendee agrees.”

“Especially,” Rex says, inspecting one of the guns he brought with him. The silver metal glints in a passing headlight, “When they’re trying to buy my mate.”

“Say that again?” Silas says, moving into the gap between the seats.

“I went on a sales trip yesterday, trying to fix a prior delivery error,” I say, catching his eye in the mirror. His expression is hard, eyes tense. We’re used to bending to the rules of our home—to our leader—but this is one step too far. “My apology and money weren’t enough. The bastard wanted Imogene as part of the deal.”

“Son of a bitch,” Silas swears. “And let me guess… the people Anex has for sale are the Fallen.”

It’s not a question. “Yep.”

“Fuck,” he says, followed by a string of curse words. “I knew something was off.”

I agree. The way those women looked in those tiny, filthy cells… it’s been gnawing at me for days. One moment those people were productive members of the community. The next they’d crossed Anex in some unforgivable way, and their lives were over.

“My father just keeps pushing and pushing the boundaries of what our community is supposed to be about. Weapons, drugs, re-education, and now sex trafficking? This is way outside of the foundation of Serendee.”

I know it’s hard for Rex to admit it. Even if he’s harbored suspicions about his mother’s death, and dislikes his father, he’s spent years reaping the rewards of Anex’s control and command of the community, but he’s right. We can’t allow this to continue.

Risking Imogene’s safety was the final straw.

“So what’s the plan?” Silas asks, as I turn off the highway and down a long, dark road.

“We’re going to give Jeb a little visit.” I ground my jaw. “That bastard almost killed me.”

I explain to them both exactly what went down, how Jeb and his wife pulled guns and are fighters. “They’re extremists of some kind,” I add. “Living off the grid, dealing to backwoods communities, heavily armed…”

“So you mean like Serendee?” Rex asks, the sarcasm thick.

If it didn’t rankle every belief, every foundation of my entire identity I’d agree, but it does, so I don’t.

“That’s it,” I say, instead, gesturing to the little shack by the road. “His file noted that they live in a house at the back of the property.”

Anex keeps dossiers on everyone we work with, from frat boys to isolated extremists.

“Jesus,” Silas mutters, eyeing the run-down stand. “I fucking hate hillbillies.”

“Anyone else lives with them?” Rex asks.

“Just the wife as far as I know.” I didn’t see any other occupants in the house, but with a guy like Jeb, you never know.

We park down at the end of the road, car tucked in near the farm stand, checking weapons and securing them before we head down the long driveway. Sure enough, there’s a small house up ahead, lights warming the windows in an otherwise pitch black night. It’s quiet and Silas picks up a rock, tossing it toward the house, trying to rouse a dog or anyone else watching. When no one responds, I nod to Rex to take the back door. He vanishes around the side, a stick snapping under his foot. I hold my breath, waiting for all hell to break loose, but the same stillness fills the night air. When Silas finally exhales next to me, I realize he is, too.

“On three,” I mouth, holding my gun at level. I count down and rear back, kicking my foot into the door. It splinters in a loud slap, voices shouting from the interior. We move so fast that the scream Jeb’s wife is about to let loose is caught in her throat.

“Don’t you dare,” I tell her, pointing the gun at her. Jeb has his hand under the couch, and I see the black steel at his fingertips. “Touch that weapon and I’ll blow her head off, Jeb.” I jerk my chin at Silas, who is a foot behind Jeb with his gun cocked and ready. “And then he’ll blow yours off, too.”

Unbelievably, I can tell he’s considering it, unphased by his wife’s panicked whimpers. Finally, he relents, drawing his hand back. I bend and remove the shot gun, positioning it behind me.

“There,” Jeb says, once he’s lost his weapon. “I don’t know what the fuck you’re doing on my property like this, but I can tell you that you’ve lost your goddamn mind.” His eyes narrow. “Your guru knows you’re here?”

“He’s not a guru,” I reply, not even sure what that word means. “He made an error and we’re here to rectify it.”

“By what? Killing me and the wife? That’s not rectifying anything—that’s triggering a war.” He grins, revealing crooked and yellow teeth. “Once Anex’s buyers find out about this, everything he’s built up will crash.”

“You think you’re that important?” Silas asks, hand shaking. He’s still furious that this man tried to take Imogene. I can see the darkness in his eyes. “You’re nothing.”

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