The Rage Colony (The Colony Book 2)

by Shanon Hunt

  THE RAGE COLONY

  THE COLONY BOOK 2

  SHANON HUNT

  First published by Narrow Ledge Publishing 2020

  Copyright © 2020 by Shanon Hunt

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.

  This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

  First edition

  ISBNs

  978-1-7338212-5-4 (Hardback)

  978-1-7338212-4-7 (Paperback)

  978-1-7338212-3-0 (Ebook)

  Power is in tearing human minds to pieces and putting them together again in new shapes of your own choosing.

  George Orwell, 1984

  Remains of missing fugitive found outside Black Canyon City

  March 6, 2024

  By Nicholas Slater

  Phoenix, Arizona—Phoenix police say authorities have found the remains of a body uncovered by a flash flood 40 miles east of Black Canyon City, Arizona. DNA analysis has reportedly identified the body as Dr. Austin Harris, ex-CEO of biotech company Quandary Therapeutics. Harris, then 42, had turned fugitive after being charged with identity fraud and conspiracy to commit securities fraud in August 2019. He was never found.

  Because decomposition of the body was limited by the relatively arid conditions of the environment, the medical examiner was able to establish that the approximate timeframe of death was near the time of Harris’s disappearance. Phoenix police declined to comment on the possibility of reopening Harris’s case or its relationship to the now permanently closed Vitapura Wellness Center, where the remains were found.

  Connected to the Harris case is the disappearance of Allison Stevens, Harris’s colleague and alleged lover. Stevens, then 29, vanished three weeks after Harris went missing, the same night a DEA agent was killed near her apartment in Paramus, New Jersey. Stevens, the primary suspect in the death of the agent, is still at large.

  1

  October 2022, Mexico

  Layla had a keen eye for insidious poison, and right now it was glaring back at her.

  She eased into the chair next to Isaac, careful not to bang her protruding belly into the edge of the glossy cherrywood table, her gaze locked onto Keisha Marx, the fourth recruit—fifth? she’d already lost count—of today’s busload to arrive at the Colony.

  Keisha was over six feet tall and muscular with a smoothly shaved head and heavy eye makeup that was too excessive for her dark skin. But that’s not why Layla couldn’t stop staring. It was the woman’s piercing gray eyes that drew her in, and the seething resentment in her expression—no, more than that, outright hatred.

  Layla was good at intakes. She’d been interviewing recruits for two years now, and she’d mastered the skills necessary to establish trust and encourage openness. She could quickly evaluate recruit’s suitability, and most that came through her found a home somewhere on the extensive campus, even if it wasn’t in her purification program. But this woman made her wary. That burning stare was unnerving, a bit intimidating even, but there was something else. If she had to give it a name, she might even call it something evil.

  Layla broke eye contact and nodded to Isaac, who she’d asked to lead the interviews today. She was ready to get this one over with.

  Isaac didn’t seem affected by Keisha’s penetrating stare as he opened the folder and pushed it toward Layla so she could see it. “Keisha, it’s a pleasure to meet you. Welcome to the Colony. I hope Michael and his team made your trip from the States comfortable. My name is Brother Isaac. This is Sister Layla.”

  His eyes lit up with compassion and genuine tenderness. That was Isaac.

  Keisha’s eyes darted to her and back to Isaac. She didn’t speak or even move.

  “Keisha, I understand from our recruiting team that you’ve expressed an interest in joining us here at the Colony. Is that right?”

  “Yes.” Her voice was a growl.

  “Can you tell us a bit about your background?”

  Keisha recounted her background with the tone of a bored teenager. “I was born in Tampa, Florida. Grew up in various cities across the US. My dad was in the military, and we lived on base. We moved around every couple of years. I left home when I was sixteen.”

  “Why did you leave home at such a young age?”

  “I wasn’t a big fan of military discipline.”

  It was an interesting answer and Layla wanted to hear more about that, but Isaac simply noted the response and moved on. “And why are you interested in the Colony?”

  “I need a change.”

  “A change from what?”

  “My old life.”

  “What was it about your old life you feel you need to change now?”

  Her gaze shifted to Layla.

  “Keisha?”

  “I’d rather not say.”

  The woman’s posture had changed. She sat up straighter and looked tense. Layla held her stare and tried to relax. God, there was something about this woman that chilled her. She flexed her fingers under the table.

  Isaac’s tone was far too empathetic for this recruit. “Well, I’m afraid this isn’t going to be a very fruitful interview if you don’t want to discuss your situation.”

  Keisha looked back at Isaac. “I don’t want to say in front of her.”

  “And why is that?”

  She didn’t answer.

  Layla remained silent out of respect for Isaac. Maybe it was the pregnancy hormones, but she was growing ever more irritated at him. He was so conflict averse that he tended to ignore signs of a poor fit. If he couldn’t recognize the obvious hostility pouring from this woman, perhaps this wasn’t the best assignment for him. The Colony had high standards of excellence, and this recruit was far from meeting them. She couldn’t afford mistakes like this woman just because Isaac didn’t have the guts to say no.

  She could feel her blood beginning to boil and breathed slowly to calm herself.

  Finally, Keisha answered. “I don’t talk to white bitches.”

  That was it. Layla bolted up, knocking her chair over, and leaned over the table as far as her round belly would allow. “Is that so? Well unfortunately for you, the Colony is filled with white bitches. And black bitches, and Asian bitches, and Latino bitches. Our world is built on love, not hate, and certainly not on racism. So perhaps you should go back where you came from.”

  The woman didn’t flinch. “Get out of my face.”

  Layla forced her anger aside and regained her professional tone. “Tell us why you’re here.”

  “Get the fuck out of my face,” Keisha hissed again.

  She saw the fist clench and the woman’s body tense up for the swing long before it came at her. Plenty of time to reach up and catch her wrist; she didn’t even need to break eye contact. Her agile response startled Keisha, who immediately leaned back. A small sign of deference. Maybe there was hope.

  She released her grip on Keisha’s fist and carried her overturned chair to the other side of the table next to Keisha. She slowly eased herself into it, careful to avoid any sudden movements. Keisha was trembling, her adrenaline pumping, and Layla regretted her explosive reaction. The woman was acting out of fear; anger was just how it manifested.

  The psych team would have a field day with this one.

  “I’m not your
enemy,” she said gently. “I’m the same as you. I came here to escape something, too. The Colony helped me. It changed my life, actually, and it gave me purpose. Now I’m making a greater contribution to society. Is that what you’re looking for?”

  Keisha pulled away, distancing herself from Layla and regarding her with apprehension.

  “Here at the Colony, we live by a saying,” Layla continued. “A poisoned life cannot be purified until it is fully understood. As an impure, I must acknowledge, accept, and despise the poison inside me so I can be free of it.” She allowed a moment for that to sink in. “You can’t be free from your poisoned life if you can’t talk about it.”

  Keisha’s eyes shifted to the wall. A look of concentration crinkled her brow. “They told me I could start over. I could become somebody else.” Her fisted hands tapped a jittering beat on her thighs, as though she were trying to keep her anger under control. “They told me I could be free of everything I’ve done and be pure. That’s what they said.”

  Isaac finally stepped up to the plate, leaning forward and resting his forearms on the table. Layla allowed him to reclaim the reins. She had to see if he would be able to control his interview, although so far, she wasn’t impressed.

  “The Colony isn’t just a place where people can hide from their poisoned life,” he said. “It’s a gift offered to the few people who are worthy of it. If you’re not willing to accept your impure life, you’re not worthy of our gift that allows you to rise above your past and start again. Do you understand?”

  Keisha’s nod was barely perceptible.

  “Purification is earned. It takes months of sacrifice and hard work, and you have to overcome some extremely challenging obstacles. Very few people at the Colony have the necessary fortitude to achieve purification.”

  “They told me they could erase my memories of my old life.” She looked at Layla. “My poisoned life.”

  There. A little more promising; the recruit had accepted Colony jargon. That was the first step.

  “Tell us about your poisoned life,” Isaac said.

  “What does it matter?” Keisha snapped, still directed at Layla.

  Layla caught Isaac’s helpless glance. All this antagonism was baffling. Isaac needed to pull this mess together.

  “You wanted to know why I’m here?” the woman continued. “I’ve done terrible things. I don’t want to do them anymore. I want to forget everything and have a new life. That’s why I’m here.” Her body shuddered, still from the rush of adrenaline.

  Layla searched for a sign of remorse: an apology, a silent prayer, a hung head, tears. But she didn’t see anything except bitter hatred, seemingly targeted at her. She fought an impatient sigh. Over thousands of intake interviews, she’d seen the Keisha story a hundred times: angry, emotional young women who felt betrayed by a world that owed them something. Outwardly they were grown-ups, but in terms of maturity, they were nowhere near adulthood. Sometimes Layla saw opportunity in all that angst, but more often she saw selfishness and a liability to the mission of the Colony.

  They needed to make this quick so they could get on to more promising candidates, but Isaac seemed bent on digging deeper. “It’s safe here. Nothing you say will ever leave this room.”

  Silence. Layla counted slowly to five and slid her chair back. “I think we’re done here,” she said to Isaac. She addressed Keisha. “I’m sorry. I don’t believe you’re capable of purity.”

  Keisha flew up and lunged. Layla stumbled backward and hit the wall with a thud. Keisha’s long fingers wrapped around Layla’s throat, but the black painted nails didn’t yet sink into her flesh. It was an empty threat; a show of intimidation, nothing else. She’d seen worse.

  “Sister Layla, is it?” the woman bellowed. “How did you get such a virtuous title? Did you sell your soul to an imaginary god?”

  Layla’s eyes darted to Isaac, who cowered next to the table, wringing his hands, either too insecure to intervene or unsure how. That was probably best. A panicked Isaac would surely aggravate this woman to real violence. Everyone had a breaking point.

  “I’ll tell you what I’m capable of,” Keisha snarled. “I could cut that baby right out of your belly with a butter knife and not even flinch if I accidentally slipped and sliced its head right off.”

  The door flew open, and Michael and a security guard grabbed each of Keisha’s bulging biceps and pulled her back.

  Keisha didn’t resist, but she leaned forward so that her face hovered inches from Layla’s. “I’m a monster, and I need to die.”

  “Let’s go,” the guard said as he spun Keisha away from Layla. He offered a polite nod to Layla. “Ma’am.” His gaze lingered on her belly, and his thick eyebrows drew together as if he was worried about the fetus.

  Their grip on Keisha wasn’t strong enough because she easily shook them off. But the moment was gone. She listlessly headed toward the door and without a glance back, she left.

  Isaac pressed his lips tightly together. She’d known Isaac long enough to practically read his mind: You didn’t give her enough time. You didn’t give her a chance. But she’d done the right thing. Cut out a baby with a butter knife? A monster, indeed.

  She straightened her tent-shaped white linen tunic, a maternity rendition of the Colony uniform. “Let’s go, Isaac. We have a lot of intakes today. Call in the next one.”

  But Isaac’s usual complaisance was gone. “Listen, you know I’m your biggest fan, Lay. But sometimes you’re a little too quick to judge. I’ve never seen you explode like that on a recruit, and she was just about to open up. You set her off. They’ve traveled a long way in the heat to get here, and they’re tired—”

  She held her hand out in front of her. “No. First, I’m in charge. Full stop. Second, I’ve seen hundreds, maybe thousands of recruits. I can sniff out the bad from the good within the first two minutes. You haven’t been doing this long enough to have such good judgment.”

  She leaned over and rested her hands on the table, suddenly weak from the confrontation with Keisha. “But you’ve been here long enough to realize that what we bring in from the poisoned world is what we become inside our walls.” She pointed a finger at the door. “That was not Colony material, at least not in my purification program. This isn’t a refuge, and we’re not in the business of saving individual lives. The work of the Colony is the only priority. Period.”

  Isaac scowled for a moment and moved his gaze to the door. “I don’t belong here. This isn’t the right assignment for me.”

  Thank god he said it so she wouldn’t have to. His heart of gold was an impediment to his ability to be objective. He’d need to find another role at the Colony, but that wasn’t her problem, and she had a long day ahead of her.

  “Report back to Mia. She’ll find you a new assignment.” She leaned over the conference table and pressed a button. “Michael, bring in the next candidate.”

  He stiffened. They’d been close for years, and she knew he saw her callousness as a sign of betrayal. Our little Princess of Pain, he and Jonah used to call her back when they were inductees. She repressed a sigh as nostalgia washed through her. But this was business. It wasn’t personal.

  “You’re excused.”

  His expression hardened as though she were suddenly a stranger. “Thank you, Sister Layla, I’m at your will.”

  She ignored his sarcastic remark and watched him let himself out, then picked up the next folder and readied herself to go it alone.

  2

  October 2022, Mexico

  “You’re not paying attention to me.” Layla smeared a thick layer of butter across her roll and took a bite, savoring the grease that coated her mouth. Most pregnant women craved pickles and ice cream; her baby seemed to want murdered animals. She shuddered as the image of a slaughterhouse flashed in her mind. Butter was the closest thing to meat she allowed herself.

  The dining hall was nearly empty at one o’clock except for the physician’s loft, which overlooked the main seating
area. It was reserved for the doctors, and even James refrained from dining there with them. They’ve given up a life of prestige and wealth to join the Colony, and this is the least we can do for them, he’d explained.

  “I hear you loud and clear, beautiful girl.” James probably intended his smile to appear warm and genuine, but she read it as patronizing. With him as both leader of the Colony and her life partner, they walked a fine line between their personal and professional relationships. She knew he loved her, but professionally she’d somehow become an unappreciated, disgruntled middle manager in his eyes.

  “The quality of this week’s intakes wasn’t like it used to be. You should’ve seen the woman I interviewed this morning.” She could still feel the weight of that hateful stare. “We have more addicts than ever. Michael said it’s practically impossible to find clean recruits.”

  “That’s life in the poisoned world, Lay,” he said through a mouthful of bread.

  She winced at his offhand attitude. Sure, things had been bad out there for a long time, but it was nothing to be flippant about. Crime was up, as was drug abuse and suicide. The poisoned world had become perilously toxic. But that didn’t mean there weren’t good young people who needed a clean break and someone to take a chance on them. You have to find the hidden gems, just like you were, Layla, her friend Mia had told her when she’d first started.

  He put his hand over hers, and she yanked it away.

  “I could research pockets in the States and Canada where drug abuse incidence is lower,” she said, “if I had internet access. You know—”

  “Oh, that’s what this is about.” His smile faded and he flopped back with an eye roll.

  “I’ve been appointed with an enormous responsibility. My program is the largest on this campus. It’s doubled in size since I started.” She could hear her voice rising to a whine. She paused to take a calming breath, but the baby was pressing against her diaphragm and she couldn’t fill her lungs. She arched her back and gave him a gentle nudge with her hand. Three more weeks … three more weeks.