Chosen (Second Sight)

by Hunter, Hazel

  The door burst open and Maurice propelled Isabelle through.

  “Mac!” she said, as she nearly fell into his arms and he caught her.

  “Are you all right?” Mac asked, helping her to regain her balance.

  “I’m fine,” she breathed, holding on to him.

  Maurice slammed the door closed, making Geoffrey jump.

  “Wait outside,” he ordered the guards.

  They hesitated for a moment and looked at Geoffrey.

  He nodded and tried to produce a knowing smile for them–the one that said everything was under control and he knew exactly what he was doing. Except, at the moment, he had no idea what was going on and he was sure of only one thing: he didn’t want to be in a room with Isabelle’s boyfriend and no guards. Even so, the practiced expression had its desired effect and the two men left without a word.

  Maurice had impressed on him many times that punishment served many purposes. Not only was a swift correction to improper behavior the best way to stop it but it was also a test. New members who willingly submitted were often well on their way to becoming full-fledged members. The two security guards who just left had probably once been in this room–though Geoffrey couldn’t remember them specifically. Going through punishment was like a rite of passage. At an emotional and psychological low, it was an excellent time for Geoffrey to bond with the punished, particularly the women.

  But how is that going to work here?

  “I’m not going to ask you what you were doing,” Maurice said.

  “I told you,” said Isabelle. “I was lost.”

  Bad move, thought Geoffrey. The upstairs was strictly off-limits. He told everyone that–always.

  Maurice pointedly turned from her and strolled slowly down the line of punishment tools.

  Geoffrey could hardly believe it. Maurice didn’t actually think that Mac was going to submit or let Isabelle be punished either. Did he want a fight? Suddenly he wished he hadn’t let the security guards leave. He glanced at the door. They were just outside.

  “Let’s cut through the crap,” Mac said and Maurice turned to him. “I wanted to have a look around. That’s really why I’m here.”

  Geoffrey could only stare at him.

  “I’m listening,” Maurice said slowly.

  Mac hugged Isabelle to his side.

  “We may not have much,” he said. “But we’ve worked hard for it. I’m not about to give it all to someone or something that I don’t know anything about.”

  “But you only had to ask,” Geoffrey said, glad for the opportunity to play his role. He spread his hands and pitched his voice to sound like reasonableness itself. “Maurice and I can tell you anything you want to know. Anybody here can.”

  “Let’s just say I’m not the…trusting kind,” Mac said and Isabelle smiled nervously, looking between him and Maurice.

  “Fine,” Maurice said. “Let’s just call it a mistake.” He turned back to the instruments on the wall and took down the shock wand. He turned back to them. “But the rules are clear.” He paused. “Isabelle?” he said, looking at her. “Put out your hands.”

  • • • • •

  Mac’s shoulders tensed and he had to be careful not to grip Isabelle too hard. She’d instinctively clutched both her hands to her chest.

  “That’s not going to happen,” he said.

  “Really?” replied Maurice, as though he were enjoying the moment. “Then maybe you don’t really want to be members.”

  “Maurice,” Geoffrey said. “Maybe–”

  “The rules,” Maurice said loudly, talking over him. “Are there for a reason, Geoffrey. I know you agree.”

  Geoffrey looked as though he were swallowing his tongue but he eventually nodded.

  Mac observed the two of them. They had to be brothers. The sounds of their voices were nearly identical. But where Geoffrey’s face was like a model’s and his tanned skin perfect, Maurice’s face sagged around a bulbous nose and his skin was grayish, especially compared to the white lab coat.

  Was he a doctor?

  No doubt Geoffrey’s hair was dyed blonde because Maurice was dark-haired and graying at the temples. Stooped and thin, his physical resemblance to his younger brother was mostly around the mouth. And, as Mac watched, Maurice’s mouth curved into a cruel smile.

  Maurice thumbed on the red power switch.

  “Isabelle?” he said again.

  She stared wide-eyed at the rod and pressed even closer into Mac’s side. No doubt members submitted regularly to these sorts of tests, Mac thought. It would be a measure of their commitment. They wouldn’t even realize how each test became more compelling and how much of their free will they’d let go.

  But the real cult members would eventually submit. They had to. And though it went against everything in Mac, he knew that in order to find Kayla or anything that could be used against the Green Earth Commune, they’d need to do the same thing.

  “Here,” Mac said, letting Isabelle go. He reached out one of his hands.

  Maurice grinned at the little victory but shook his head.

  “Isabelle also lied,” he said. “She’ll go first. You’ll both have your turn.”

  Geoffrey opened his mouth as though he were going to say something but Maurice swung a steel-melting glare on him.

  Mac felt Isabelle stand taller and separate from him.

  “No,” he said, pulling her back.

  “It’s okay, Mac,” she said, her voice sounding anything but okay. She looked up into his eyes, searching, her eyebrows knit together. “Maybe I’ll learn something. I mean, maybe I’ll learn something from my mistake.” He cocked his head at her. “Maybe I’ll see things…in a different way.”

  Isabelle was going to attempt a reading. He glanced at the shock wand. But a reading on something like that would be nothing short of excruciating.

  “It’s really not bad,” Geoffrey said, encouragingly. “We use it on the kids.”

  Mac clenched his jaw.

  On kids. Isn’t that lovely.

  “Let’s just get it over with,” Isabelle said quietly.

  Isabelle wanted to find Kayla. Mac understood that and his mind raced to find another way. But, as Isabelle unfastened the small, pearl clasp at the wrist of one of her gloves, he knew there wasn’t a good alternative. With a last squeeze, he let her go.

  Slowly, she peeled the gray glove off, sliding it up her palm as he’d watched her do before. One by one, she tugged at the snug fingers, loosening them. The soft, smooth skin of her hand emerged and with a last pull, the glove came free. She handed it to him.

  As he took it, though, he glanced at Geoffrey and Maurice and realized they were as riveted as he’d been. Though they had no idea why she wore the gloves, the room had become charged with anticipation. They stared at her hands, as he had once done. Geoffrey even wet his lips and, for an instant, Mac wanted to sink his fist into the man’s mouth. Finally, though, the second glove came off and Isabelle laid it in his hand on top of the other.

  She turned to Maurice and extended both hands, palms up.

  “I’m ready,” she whispered.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Isabelle couldn’t stop the trembling of her hands. But, as though Maurice enjoyed it, he moved the wand closer very slowly. He stared as hard at her hands as she did, maneuvering the length of the short, black stick, about an inch in diameter, horizontally over both palms. As he lowered it, she could hear the tiny whine of electricity and smelled something that might have been burning plastic. Something clicked loudly under his thumb and her hands twitched in response. As the gap slowly narrowed, Isabelle couldn’t see how far there was to go. Instead of look at it, she took in a deep breath and stared at the ground.

  Without warning, the wand slapped down into her hands.

  A sizzling, painful jolt spread across both palms and the reading began immediately.

  Isabelle hissed at the stinging as her vision went gray.

  Hands of all sizes flashed i
n front of her. Whimpers and cries filled her ears. Maurice’s voice said their names. His grip was firm, without emotion, even tinged with boredom, over and over. Some of the tortured hands were so tiny. Some of the children had been punished repeatedly. She squeezed her eyes shut as their pain compounded hers. Terror welled up inside, constricting her throat. They screamed. They wailed. They pleaded, cried, and begged. Tears welled up, fell down their faces, her face. Please! they screamed. She couldn’t breathe. The gray was fading to black.

  “Stop!” Mac yelled.

  • • • • •

  Maurice jerked the wand back just as Isabelle began to crumple.

  Though Mac caught her before she could hit the floor, she was unconscious.

  “What did you do?” Geoffrey screamed.

  “I lowered the voltage,” Maurice said, staring at the wand.

  He turned it off.

  The door flew open and the two security guards charged in, brought up short by what they saw.

  Mac scooped Isabelle up into his arms. She lay completely limp across them, her head fallen backwards.

  “Are you a doctor?” Mac yelled. Maurice stared at him, stunned. He’d lowered the voltage. Mac turned to Geoffrey. “Where is your doctor?”

  “We…we…don’t have one here,” he said.

  “What?” Mac yelled. “What happened to your excellent medical care?”

  “It’s not here,” Geoffrey said, his voice high.

  “Then where is it?” Mac yelled. “Do you want to see her die?”

  “No!” Geoffrey screamed.

  “Geoffrey,” Maurice said, the warning tone clear.

  These two weren’t even members. For them to see the inner workings–

  “Follow me!” Geoffrey yelled and bolted toward the door.

  Both security guards leapt out of the way as Geoffrey dashed past them and Mac charged after him.

  The guards stood, confused, looking after them.

  “Don’t just stand there,” Maurice yelled. “Go with them!”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Though Mac was sure that Isabelle wasn’t in danger of dying, the ruse had worked on Geoffrey. Even so, as he quickly descended the staircase, he couldn’t help but look down at her. She’d gone completely pale and, with all the jostling and movement, he couldn’t tell how fast she was breathing. Upstairs, he’d only had time to make sure she was breathing at all.

  But when the situation had presented itself, he’d decided to take advantage of it. None of them would know what had really happened–that the reading had completely drained her. For all they knew, Isabelle had suffered a heart attack.

  Mac could hear the security guards on the steps behind him as he followed Geoffrey into the lobby under the stares of a few shocked onlookers. Geoffrey threw the front doors open and Mac trotted after him.

  Though she hadn’t made a sound, Isabelle slowly tried to raise her head.

  “Stay still,” Mac whispered. “They think you’re unconscious.” Geoffrey glanced back. “Right behind you!” Mac yelled as Geoffrey turned sharply and headed down a path that looked like it led into a stand of oaks. “If you can hear me, Isabelle,” Mac tried again. “Don’t move. Keep your eyes closed.”

  Though she didn’t acknowledge him, she must have heard. Her head lolled back again, just in time. The security guards had thankfully brought flashlights and one ran past him to join Geoffrey while the other ran next to him. The young man cast a couple of worried looks at Isabelle.

  Up ahead, a small, white, two-story building with a green roof was just visible through the thick trees. In another few minutes they were at the front door. Geoffrey had apparently expected it to be open, turning the knob but then nearly hitting it with his face when it didn’t open. He snatched a key ring from his pocket and opened it. Inside, all was dark. As he stepped through and hit the light switch, he motioned for Mac to follow him.

  “Go get the doctor!” he said to the guard who’d run with Mac. The young man sprinted out the front door and continued down the path. “This way,” Geoffrey gasped at Mac.

  Geoffrey ran down the short hallway and made a quick left through an open door. As the light came on, Mac was surprised to see an examination room, fully equipped. As Geoffrey held the door, Mac strode to the table and gently laid Isabelle down on it, easing her head down on the little, white pillow. Her lips were no longer parted and some of her color had come back but she didn’t move an inch.

  Good girl, he thought.

  Mac adjusted the hem of her dress and was about to ask Geoffrey for some privacy. By the time he looked up, though, Geoffrey had already disappeared from the cramped room and the door was closing.

  Quickly, Mac leaned down to Isabelle’s ear.

  “Are you all right?” he whispered.

  “Yeah,” she whispered in return, starting to get up.

  “No,” he said quietly, backing up to look down into her face. “Just lie there. The doctor will be here soon.”

  “I don’t need a doctor,” she said, gazing up at him from tired eyes.

  “I know,” Mac said. “But I need you to need a doctor for a little bit. I’m going to look around.”

  He gave her a quick peck on the forehead and then spun toward the little cabinet with table and drawers. One after another he opened and rummaged through each storage area. Typical medical supplies. Seemingly nothing out of the ordinary and no records. Outside there were hurried footsteps. There was a quick knock on the door and then it opened. An older man with thick glasses and a grey mustache was tugging on a white lab coat as he entered.

  “Doctor,” Mac said, trying to sound relieved. “She fainted.”

  The doctor removed his stethoscope from a coat pocket as he approached the table.

  “Are you her husband?” he asked.

  “No,” Mac said.

  “Wait outside,” the doctor ordered, not even bothering to look at him.

  It was exactly what Mac had been expecting.

  “Your name?” he was asking Isabelle as Mac exited and let the door close behind him.

  Geoffrey and one of the security guards was waiting.

  “She’s going to be fine,” Mac said gruffly. “No thanks to your brother.” Geoffrey backed up a step in the narrow corridor, his face rapidly cycling from worried to relieved to worried again. “Maybe you want to let him know.”

  Without a word, Geoffrey backpedaled and then turned and headed toward the front door. No sooner was he gone than Mac turned to the young security guard.

  “Thanks for getting us here,” he said, the gratitude in his voice real. Mac glanced up and down the narrow corridor. “You wouldn’t happen to know where the bathroom is, would you?” Rather than wait for an answer, Mac walked to the end of the corridor where it dead-ended in another hallway. He checked left and then right. A single bathroom with a men’s and women’s sign was two doors down but an open door lay between him and the bathroom. “Here we go,” he said pointing to the right.

  He strode quickly into an office and shut the door behind him. There was a cell phone and set of keys on the desk and one of the drawers was open. Apparently the doctor had stopped here first and been in a hurry.

  Finally a break.

  Mac ignored the doctor’s desk and went straight to the horizontal filing cabinet behind the chair as the seconds ticked by in his head. He yanked the long, heavy drawer sideways. There, as he’d thought, were patient records–maybe a hundred of them. Even though he went directly to the M’s and looked for Kayla, she wasn’t there. In fact, as he let his fingers run quickly across the tops of the color-coded, manila files, he realized there weren’t enough. Not for the number of people who were here. Not even for the number of pregnant women and their children.

  Mac quickly closed it, scanned the room, and felt a little timer go off in the back of his head. Quietly, he opened the office door. The hallway was empty. He stepped out, rounded the corner, and joined the security guard.

  The majority
of the medical records had to be elsewhere. He glanced toward the front door. Given the size of this little infirmary, there had to be another facility. It just wasn’t big enough to deal with the population he’d seen or the types of emergencies that had to be happening–broken bones, stitches. He’d had no idea this place existed. How many more might there be? The guard had sprinted further down the path to find the doctor. What was in that direction?

  The door to the exam room opened and the doctor exited, closing the door behind him. He passed Mac and was about to disappear around the corner.

  “Doctor?” Mac called after him.

  The man stopped and turned.

  “Oh,” he said, tiredly. “I took a blood sample and we’ll run some tests. Go ahead and take her home.”

  Then the doctor was gone.

  “Nice bedside manner,” Mac muttered.

  The guard made no reaction.

  Mac knocked on the exam room door.

  “Come in,” Isabelle said.

  She was standing just beyond the door, holding a couple of large tissues.

  “I was just about to open it,” she said quietly, looking past Mac to the corridor. Then she whispered. “Do you have my gloves?”

  • • • • •

  Maurice crushed out his cigarette on the veranda railing. In the darkness, the bright red glow of ashes flared, spread, and died out. Two years of nail-biting, gum-chewing and nicotine patches down the tubes.

  “At least wait for the results of the blood test,” Geoffrey pleaded from behind. “You don’t know that anything’s wrong.”

  Maurice shook his head and turned back to the bright light of the house.

  “I know what I know,” he said. “And I know something’s not right.”

  “You saw her, didn’t you?” Geoffrey asked. “Can you imagine what her children would look like?”

  “Of course, I can imagine,” Maurice said. “Who’s the geneticist?”

  It didn’t take DNA to know her children would be striking. And her boyfriend obviously had a good set of genes as well.