'Well, no obviously I've been feeling quite paralysed and exhausted since I've been here!' She set herself up to start yelling at him but she remembered his promise that he would help her get home tomorrow.
Something else started to dawn on her. He was right. Her mind was much better since she had happened upon the camp. And she hadn’t had the nightmare once.
CHAPTER TWENTY NINE
Sophie awoke and even though she lifted her eyelids, everything stayed the same hopeless black. But she forgot herself and went to swing her legs out from under the covers and was delighted to discover they moved somewhat. Barely able to feel her feet, they were numb as they hit the floor. But she forced weight upon them and found herself able to perform an awkward crawl, using her hands on the ground.
Carefully, she snuck out of her tent, peeling back the flaps bit by bit, afraid of what might wait for her on the other side. But the only sign of life outside was the fire which had dropped smaller into a bundle of neon red coals, casting an eerie glow on the ground around it. The red made Sophie think of an 80s nostalgia movie, all stereotypical horror and cliché. She almost laughed at the irony.
Scanning the empty seats that rimmed the fire and the motionless tents, Sophie tried to get her bearings to scramble her way out, back down the hill to the road. She no longer wanted to wait to see if Clive would keep his promise. Although she was sure she had come in from one way, everything seemed flipped around. And in the dark, she couldn't tell where the land rose and where it fell. But she didn't care, she was desperate and would rather spend the night in the middle of isolated scrublands, without even the birds for company, than be kept a prisoner of the unhinged people of the camp in their matching jumpers. Limping, with her hands pressed to the ground, she shot off towards a wall of darkness, widening her eyes so she would see whatever she was about to run into. Her shoulder bumped a tree and she resisted the urge to cry out.
Rising and falling voices made her stop dead. Both quiet and angry. It was hard to tell but she thought they were coming her way. Clinging to the tree, she held her breath and turned her ear towards the voices to work out if they were coming closer or veering off. It was unmistakably Clive and Carla, arguing with muted volume. Lightly suppressed rage in Carla's voice and confusion and pleading in Clive's. Sophie could only garner scraps of conversation but they argued as if they were lovers. Sophie still couldn't tell if they were moving or staying still. They could have been a mere four metres away; it was hard to tell without the advantage of sight.
'We have to do it now. There's no point in putting it off any longer,' Clive begged.
'I'm telling you, she is not ready. I've been probing her every session that we've had and she is clueless.'
'That doesn't mean that we can't do it.'
'It absolutely means we cannot do it. It means that it didn't work at all or, worse, we've got the wrong person.'
The silence after Carla's declaration stretched through the air like a thick rubber band. And Sophie gulped as she realised who they were talking about. What are they going to do to me? Sophie screamed internally.
'What about her nightmares?' Clive asked hopefully.
My nightmares, Sophie thought. Why do they want to know about them?
'There are those. They are a fair indication that she is the right one. Unless it's a wild coincidence and, look, stranger things have happened. As we know.'
'Well, surely we have to try? It's been such a long time coming.'
'Fine. Let me think about it. I mean, we can't very well let her go alive now, can we?'
Sophie heard Clive sigh so loudly and despondently that it shocked her out of her eavesdropping. An icy chill, like a caterpillar crawling up her spine, hit her as she felt them coming closer. They were planning to kill her.
Still on all fours, she scrambled away and found herself at the opening of the big shed. A light ringed the entrance, so she continued her awkward crawl towards it. The pain relief concoction had mostly worn off the top half of her body, she realised, as the palms of her hands retracted into themselves with every sharp rock underneath. Slowly pulling the door towards her, she was relieved to hear that it didn't squeak. Pushing a shoulder through, she lay her torso across the doorway, searching for whoever was inside. But it was empty of people.
Once inside, she combed the entire shed for any kind of vehicle or weapon, she would have even been grateful for a bicycle at that point. But what she saw inside, under the dull light of hurricane lamps, was just the rows and rows of amber jars, atop chocolate wood shelving and grated metal steps that housed even bigger jars, caramel coloured ceramic canisters, blue glass bottles and small wooden boxes and larger wooden crates filled with dried and fresh herbs. Interspersed throughout the containers were chunks of peacock green rocks. The burnt wreath and table had been removed since the dinner but the same smell waited. There were coils of copper wire stocked up behind a small canning machine and a kiln as well as a stripy bag filled with the horrible jumpers that everyone wore. More heaped piles of the same rocks were in almost every corner.
Sophie noticed more things that weren't obvious during the dinner party. Earth coloured pottery filled her eyeline and a handful of torso sized ceramic tanks were lined up like people. Each with a single symbol drawn on them in marker. And behind those tanks was a shelf as long as a car. It was hard to see, almost invisible against the shed wall, but Sophie spotted what the shelf was boasting: a row of books, all the same in their brown skins, pressed against one another. The same book that Sophie was drawn to in Carla's office. The same book that Abigail carried with her that she mistakenly thought was The Bible.
Stretching over the top of the tanks, Sophie slid one of the books off the shelf and into her hand, tucking it into the waistband of her pants. Now that feeling was beginning to slowly return to the lower half of her body, she felt the book's coolness press on her. The buzz it gave her washed away the fugue that she had been drowning in. Evidence, she thought as she tapped the book through her clothes.
'What are you doing?' A mouse whisper blew in behind her.
Sophie turned around to see Abigail looking at her, her eyes shiny and wide with concern.
'Oh Abigail… ' Sophie clasped Abigail's wrist and she angrily shook it free.
'You're not allowed to be in here.'
'Oh, aren't I?' Sophie feigned her dumbness.
'I'm going to get Clive.'
'No, Abigail, please don't do that. Please. Let's just talk a bit?' Sophie had no idea how she was going to get away from Abigail but she felt compelled to talk to her, connect with her. The way she reacted to the big fire told Sophie that Abigail wasn't really like the rest of them. Maybe she had been kept here against her will too.
'I'm already in so much trouble with the others.' As Abigail swung her face more into the light, Sophie noticed she was paler and her eyes had sunken, as if they were retreating from the horror that she saw.
'You shouldn't be in trouble Abigail! You've done nothing wrong. Can't you see that?'
'Oh, but I have! The rules of living here, under Venus, is that I must not disrespect the leader and I must do as they wish. Plus, I failed the trial.'
'When you ran away, they ended up burning me. But you weren't to know, Abigail.' Sophie threw in a little bit of guilt to knock Abigail's sensibilities about. The innocence of the young girl was almost unbearable to witness. It must be hell for her to live, especially in a camp that is governed by weird rules and rituals.
'Abigail, what did they want you to do to that baby?'
She pressed her lips together and inhaled, silent tears already dripping down her cheeks.
'You can tell me, Abigail. I'm not going to judge you. In fact, you're the only one here that I trust. I've wanted to be friends with you since the moment I met you.'
Abigail dipped her chin lower and nodded.
'Tell me.' Sophie slowly reached her outstretched palm out to land on Abigail's arm. This time she let it stay.
; 'They wanted me to...' She shook her head, looking at her feet, overcome with emotion. 'It's part of the heat initiation ritual, you see.'
'Did they want you to hurt the baby?'
'They wanted me to do what happened to you with the fire.'
Sophie couldn't help herself, she threw her hands to her mouth and stared at Abigail in horror.
Immediately defensive, she lifted her chin and sniffed her tears away. 'I wasn't going to do it! And anyway, just like you, it heals quickly.'
'Oh, Abigail. They should never have asked you to do that. That's abuse, can't you see that?'
'You don't understand. You don't know what it's all for. Even though you should.'
'What do you mean?'
'Nothing. Forget it. You haven't grown up here like I have.'
'Have you been in this camp since you were a kid?'
'Since I was born, yes.'
It was then that Sophie realised that Abigail was a lot younger than she had first noticed, which explained her fragility and the yearning that had been growing inside of Sophie to take care of her.
'Where are your parents?'
Abigail shrugged and said, 'People here are my parents. They are my family.'
Sophie felt a pang; they were both parentless daughters. 'Have you ever been outside the camp? Into the city?'
'A few times. Briefly. I didn't like it. It was noisy and brash. Full of heathens.'
'Oh, sweetheart. That doesn't mean you should have to stay here. Especially, when they are forcing abuse on you.'
'I have nowhere else to go. There's no other way I know how to live.'
Sophie made a rapid, dangerous decision at that moment. 'Come with me. I'm going to leave and go back home. You can stay with me and I will keep you safe.'
Abigail looked dubious and Sophie instantly knew she said the wrong thing.
'I ca-ca-can't do that. You can't do that.'
Sophie felt like an idiot. Of course, she wouldn't leave her family and the only life she had ever known for a stranger. And she'd just revealed her attempt to leave.
'Look forget I said that. I'm just going to go back to my tent now and get some sleep. I don't need to leave, really. But you know what it's like to be in trouble with Clive and Carla and I really don't want to agitate them any more than I have, since I'm new here and all. Could we make a deal to keep this meeting just between us? And I won't tell them what you've said to me?'
Abigail looked at Sophie with hesitation. 'Fine.'
Sophie slipped out the door she came, leaving Abigail to contemplate the interaction. As she stepped backwards out into the night, she watched Abigail's face as she realised there was a hole on the shelf of books.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Sophie barely made it more than a few steps when she heard a wail that seemed to lift the shed up from the ground. 'Shit. Abigail!' Sophie screamed back at the shed.
But it was too late. Two sets of vice-like hands encircled her arms. The lacey floral smell of Carla eddied around her. Clive yanked her other arm forward, his hands smaller than Carla's but just as unforgiving. 'Carla please!' Sophie begged and let her legs go limp and drag along the ground. Carla remained stoically silent whilst Clive kept glancing at her for instructions. They dragged her back into the shed, kicking her legs to get her over the threshold of the door and discarding her on the floor. Whilst Clive held her down, Sophie wriggled and aimlessly punched at them, which had no effect. Carla looked up and saw Abigail, who had turned grey watching the scene unfold.
'Figures,' Carla sneered. 'Clive,' she summoned.
The leaders left the shed together, Sophie trying desperately to scramble after them but her heavy legs wouldn't hurtle her in time before the door slammed shut with a tinging sound. Elbowing at the door, Sophie knew that it was locked and her efforts futile. A quick scan of the shed told her there were no other escape routes and she locked eyes on Abigail who had melted to her knees, crying silently. 'I'm so sorry Sophie. I didn't know they would lock us in here.'
Sophie slumped down at the shed's door. And for the first time since she arrived at the camp, felt utterly helpless. The defeat of being at the mercy of others was compounded by the fragile sparrow of a girl before her. Which, despite raising alarm and getting her trapped in here, she felt sorry for.
Sophie crawled over to Abigail and put her arms around her, which only served to make Abigail weep more. Her nurturing instinct took over and she swept part of her straw-coloured hair back from her temple and whispered that everything was going to be alright. 'They're not going to keep you in here for long. You're one of them!'
'I'm not really. I never live up to their expectations. I'm weak.'
She searched for something more reassuring to say. 'You know, even if they keep us in here, my husband would surely be looking for me by now and you just never know. The police are bound to find my car.' Sophie didn't believe any of what she was saying, especially the part about her husband. There was no way that Alex would be looking for her or even have noticed that her desperate communication had petered off. Especially if he had found the arms of another, which was as clear as day now, definitely not Carla.
It worked though, because Abigail stopped her crying instantly and pulled back from Sophie, looking directly in her face. Something about the way that Abigail looked at her made Sophie's stomach tighten on itself. 'What Abigail? Why are you looking at me like that?' Sophie leant forward on her hands to get closer to her face.
'You don't know, do you?' Abigail looked more worried than Sophie had seen her the night of the fire ritual.
'Abigail, you're scaring me. What do you mean?'
'Alex, your husband?'
'How do you know his name?'
'He's one of us. He's one of our group— The Tens.'
'Bullshit. Absolute bullshit.'
'It's true, I swear on Venus.' Abigail held her hands in a prayer.
'You're just making that up so I give up hope of being found and embrace this place,' Sophie swiped her arm around the room.
'Oh no. You truly didn't know.'
Sophie slapped Abigail across the face. Abigail rubbed both hands on the cheek she'd slapped.
'Don't you fucking spread shit about my husband Abigail. You really are one of them!' She pointed towards the door.
'Sophie, I swear it's true! He's been part of us since before I can remember! I swear, I swear.' Abigail's eyes bulged, rimmed with aubergine.
The women stared at each other in silence, a heat building between them and scorching both their faces.
'Get the fuck away from me,' Sophie spat at her. She pushed her feet into the ground and crab-walked backwards to the other side of the shed, where she didn't have to look at Abigail. Abigail stopped begging and became silent, standing up and trying the door again. Which was still locked. Sophie watched her with hatred seething through her and she wondered why she had pitied her at all. This girl was not the delicate sylph that she had pretended to be, but rather, just as manipulative as the rest of the group. A group who lived in tents in the middle of a field and shared some kind of mass delusion that they could not be talked out of.
Sophie let images flick through her mind— people on the news that lived this way, sharing the same dangerous and unfounded beliefs, performed harmful rituals... none of it ended well. People always ended up abused or dead.
Her chest started to smart as it occurred to her that she was likely to die here, in this camp surrounded by these asinine people who didn't care about her. And she thought of the people that did care about her. It was excruciating to face such a tiny list of people. A list of no one. Carla never cared for her. What’s worse is that up until a few days ago, Sophie faithfully assumed she cared about her the most. But, what she could deduce from the conversation she overheard, was that it was all some kind of hatched plan to extract information out of her. Bree cared about her, albeit briefly. But Sophie had put her off with her odd behaviour and she would have happily left her life as if she had
never entered at all. Alex, well he clearly didn't care about her if he could just vanish and never contact her. And so, Sophie cried. Heart-wrenching sobs that hurt her throat. She cried for the fact that she would die as alone as she had lived.
Sophie lifted her head when she heard the sound of tumbling metal: Abigail was fumbling through some of the small wooden carved boxes. Abigail pulled something small and round out of one of the boxes. It was a key! Sophie wiped her face and stood up to ready herself. She was determined not to let Abigail get out without tagging along also, even if she had to hurt Abigail to do so.
But Abigail didn't walk to the door, instead, she strode over to Sophie and placed the key in her hand. Speechless, she looked at the key. As she looked at it and felt the cool sharpness of it, she realised it wasn’t a key at all. Instead, it was a solitary keyring. A keyring that she kept seeing. The same sort of keyring that both Carla and Alex had. 'Sophie...' Abigail couldn't finish her sentence. She didn't know how. She didn't have to though because Sophie knew when she felt the stony metal oblong press into the palm of her hand and when she ran her thumb over the etching of the cross. Which was never a cross at all. But an “X”. Abigail gingerly lifted Sophie's elbow and placed her forefinger on her new burn scar, slowly touching it in a circle. It was the same "X".
The Tens: A captivating psychological thriller about a cult Page 13
