by R. R. Banks
“Don't worry though, sweetie,” Raymond says. “My Shepherds made sure her trespasses against you didn't go unanswered. She's been – taken care of.”
Taken care of – Raymond-speak meaning that Ruth was as dead as Danny and buried in a shallow ditch somewhere.
“Don't pretend it had anything to do with me, Raymond,” I hissed. “This is all about you. There's no way you were going to let somebody like Ruth extort you like that. Your pride and your ego wouldn't tolerate it. You killed her because you have to control everybody and everything around you.”
Raymond laughs and runs a hand through his hair. He looks at me with an amused expression on his face.
“Well, look at you,” he says. “Looks like little Calee's all grown up now. Got a little townie fuck-buddy, found herself a spine and is thinking for herself these days. Color me impressed, sweetheart.”
I guess there's really no reason to hide it anymore. No reason to play the meek, demure little brainwashed girl. I'm going to be killed soon anyway. At the very least, I want to go out knowing that Raymond knows I see him for who and what he is. It's not much, but it's all I have. All I'm going to get.
“I'm not your sweetheart, you evil bastard,” I say. “I never was. And I see you, Raymond. I know exactly what you are. A predator. A child rapist. A –”
“Shut your mouth,” he says, his tone cold.
“What? That hit a little too close to home?” I taunt him. “Don't like being called out for the pedophile you are?”
He's out of the chair and standing in front of me before I even have time to think. I hear the crack of flesh meeting flesh a split-second before I feel the stinging in my cheek where he slapped me. Raymond grabs me by the hair and hauls me to my feet. Pressing me against the wall, he's standing face-to-face with me, his nose inches from mine.
His expression is dark, his face contorted with rage. His nostrils flare and there is a wild, almost insane light in his eyes that chills me to the bone.
“Don't push me, Calee,” he hisses.
“Or what? You'll kill me?” I ask. “You're going to kill me no matter what I say.”
His fingers dig into my cheeks as he holds my face close. The smell of his breath – whiskey and cigarettes – is overpowering.
“The manner of your death is still up for debate,” he says, his voice low.
“Dead is dead,” I spit. “Doesn't matter how I get there.”
He chuckles. “Sure, it does,” he says. “You can either go peacefully. Humanely. Or, you can go covered in your own blood, begging me for mercy like a coward.”
I don't know what's gotten into me. Maybe it's facing the certainty of my own death that's giving me courage – or an excessive dose of foolishness – but I spit in Raymond's face. He doesn't even flinch when the glob strikes his cheek. I watch is sliding down his face as a thin, cruel smile forms on his lips.
Raymond releases my face and takes a handkerchief out of his pocket, never taking his eyes off mine as he wipes the spit from his face. He tucks the cloth back into his pocket and smiles at me – a smile that promises retribution and pain. The air in the room is thick and saturated with tension and the expectation of violence.
And then with the speed of a coiled snake striking, Raymond's fist lashes out, rocking my head backward as it connects with my face. My head hits the wall behind me, setting off an explosion of pain unlike anything I've ever felt, and for a moment, I see stars. Darkness creeps in at the edges of my vision and I start to feel lightheaded.
Raymond just laughs and steps away from me, walking toward the door. With his hand on the knob, he turns back and looks at me.
“You know,” he says. “According to the Bible, back in the day, adulterers were often stoned to death. I think it's time to bring that tradition back – don't you?”
Chuckling to himself, Raymond opens the door and steps out, slamming it shut behind him. I listen to the sound of him locking the door from the outside followed by his footsteps as he walks away. I sink to my knees, my head still spinning, my face a live wire of pain.
The tears come and I can't hold them back as I lay down on the floor, the rough wooden planks biting into my skin. I sob until the darkness finally pulls me under.
Chapter Fourteen
I'm awakened by the sound of the door to the Reflection Room being unlocked. Scurrying to the far corner of the room, I huddle there, my stomach churning and my head spinning. This is it. This is really it. I'm going to die.
The door opens and the darkness of the night comes rushing in. The fact that it's nighttime throws me off – Raymond won't kill me at night. No, he'll kill me by the light of day, where everybody can see.
Somebody steps into the doorway, but I can only see their silhouette. It's a woman – which adds to my confusion.
“Calee,” she says and rushes forward.
I cower in the corner, trying to press myself further into the wall as she reaches for me. My heart feels like it's going to explode in my chest and there is so much adrenaline coursing through me, I feel like my body has an electrical current running through it.
The woman drops to her knees before me and takes my hands in hers. And when she leans close, I have to blink several times. I can't believe what I'm seeing – or fathom what she's doing here. It's Raymond's newest wife – the girl I'd met earlier in the day. The girl who seemed completely enraptured by him.
“R – Rachel?” I ask.
“We need to get you out of here,” she says. “Can you stand?”
I shake my head, trying to clear out the thick cobwebs of confusion. “W – what are you doing?” I ask. “What –”
“We don't have time for that, Calee,” she says. “Please, can you stand up?”
I let her help me to my feet and then stare at her. She looks back toward the door, nervous. She's jittery and even in the gloomy shadows inside the Reflection Room, I can see the fear in her eyes.
“The gate in the south wall is unlocked,” she says. “Raymond and the Shepherds are all drunk right now. You should be able to get to it without being seen.”
“I – I don't –”
“Calee, you need to get out of here,” Rachel says, her voice urgent. “They're going to kill you. They're going to fucking stone you to death. You need to run.”
Everything is happening so fast and I'm so confused. I look at her and then at the open doorway. None of this makes sense. She's Raymond's wife. This morning, she seemed to be devoted to him. I look at her again and shake my head.
“Why are you helping me?”
She looks to the door and then back at me. And by the dim lighting coming in from outside, I can see the tears welling in her eyes.
“Because I need your help,” she says. “I need you to get help and come back. I need you to save me. I need you to get me out of here.”
The tears are falling down her face and I pull her to me, embracing her tightly. My heart goes out to this girl – I know exactly what she's going through.
“Please, promise me you'll come back,” she says. “Promise me you'll bring help and get me out of here.”
I kiss the top of her head. “I swear it,” I vow. “I'll get you out of here.”
She steps back and looks at me as she wipes the tears away from her face. “You need to get out of here, Calee,” she says. “Now.”
“What about you?” I ask.
“I'll be fine,” she says. “I'll lock the room and give them a mystery to figure out. Maybe it buys you a little more time.”
“Come with me.”
She shakes her head. “I'll slow you down,” she says. “You'll be able to move faster if you don't have to worry about me.”
I nod and give her a long look before I head to the door. Sticking my head out, I look around the compound and see that it's deserted. Stepping out, I head toward the rear wall of the compound – to the gate Rachel said was unlocked.
I tense and feel my stomach roil when I hear voices echoing around the c
ompound. Laughter and slurred words – the Shepherds are drunk, but they're out walking around. Moving from a bush to a stack of crates to anything I can use for cover, I pick my way to the gate, only breathing a sigh of relief when I finally get to it.
Reaching out, I grip the handle and have a sudden, overwhelming fear wash over me. What if Rachel is setting me up? What if this was some sort of test? Or a trap? Ruth had already screwed me over and put me in this position in the first place – can I afford to trust another of Raymond's minions?
I take a deep breath and try to calm myself down. Force myself to think clearly. Logically.
None of that makes any sense. Raymond is planning on killing me anyway, so why would he go through all of the trouble of having Rachel set me free? Either way – being stoned to death or shot outside the compound walls – I end up dead, so having Rachel free me makes absolutely no sense and would serve no purpose at all.
Not when he can kill me in front of the whole cult and use me as an example to keep the others in line and under his thumb.
I turn the latch and as the gate opens, I let out a silent sigh of relief. But then, I grimace as the hinges squeal as I push it open wide enough for me to slip through. My heart is pounding as I let the shadows swallow me whole as I run off into the night, putting as much distance between me and the Ark as I can.
Although I don't have a plan, my feet seem to lead me in the direction I need to go. It's not too long before I find myself at the door of Danny's cabin. Taking the key from underneath the rock beside the door, I let myself in. I stand in the doorway, staring at the darkened interior for a moment, letting the full impact of what's happened wash over me.
Grief for Danny hits me like a hammer and I feel my knees weaken. Tears well in my eyes and there is a physical pain in my heart. No, I didn't love him, but I cared for Danny. And he didn't deserve to die. Because of me.
I double over and sink to my knees, burying my face in my hands as I sob. I'm on my hands and knees, my tears splashing onto the wooden floor of Danny's cabin. And what makes me hate myself even more is that not all of my tears are for him. I feel the weight of all the years I spent under Raymond's thumb pressing down on me. Smothering me. Threatening to choke the very life out of me.
And my first few steps away from that, out of Raymond's grip – the emotion I feel is overwhelming.
I bite back the sobs and try to force myself to stop crying. Now is not the time. For all I know, Raymond and the Shepherds have already found out I'm gone and are out here somewhere looking for me. I have no idea how much time I have before they find me, so I can't afford to waste a single minute.
“Get it together,” I say as I get to my feet. “Get it together, Calee.”
I came to Danny's cabin for a reason. Not because I wanted to hide out – it won't be too hard for them to find out about the place and find me here. And I didn't come here to grieve for him – I don't have time for that right now.
“Think, Calee,” I say.
And then it hits me. I rush to the closet and throw open the door, grabbing the box Danny had showed me earlier. I take off the lid and throw it to the side, grabbing the smaller box inside. Opening it, I pull out the roll of money and set it on the table. Next, I pull out the clothes – jeans and a long-sleeved gray shirt.
Stripping off my dress, I throw it to the floor. Next, I take off my boots and then put the clothes Danny got for me on. They're a little loose, but the fit isn't bad. Putting my boots back on, I pocket the cash and then grab one of his leather jackets out of the closet and slip it on – and am absolutely swimming in it. But it's cold outside, so I'm not going to complain.
I tie my hair back into a ponytail, grab the cell phone he keeps for me there and a couple of other things I think I may need, throw everything into a backpack and quickly head out the door, making sure to close and lock it behind me.
Sticking to the woods and avoiding the road as much as I can, I follow the familiar path I take to town. My path takes me close to the road and I freeze when I hear the sound of a car approaching. The roar of the engine echoes through the darkness around me. I quickly duck down behind a bush and hold my breath as the glow of the headlights cuts through the shadows.
I let out a sigh of relief as a car I don't recognize rockets by me, kicking up a cloud of dust and gravel in its wake. Still staying close to the side of the road, I jog the last half-mile into town. And in the distance, when I see the bright lights of the bus terminal, I feel like crying as I run toward it.
When I pull the door open and step into the lobby, I look around, half-expecting to see Raymond or one of his men sitting there waiting for me. The rush of relief when I find the lobby empty is powerful. I step to the counter and give a small smile to the older woman behind the counter. She has gray hair put up in a bun, tired, dull eyes, and heavy wrinkles creasing her skin. She looks like a woman who's been worn down by life.
“Help ya?” she asks, looking up from a book, her voice hoarse and gravelly.
“Yes, please,” I say. “I need a bus ticket.”
“To where?”
“Anywhere?” I reply. “I just need a ticket on the very next bus.”
The woman looks at me like I'm an idiot and then sighs as she turns to the computer next to her and taps a few keys.
“There's a bus to Fort Collins, Colorado,” she says. “Half an hour from now.”
“Fine. Great,” I say. “I'll take that.”
The woman looks at me a long moment and something flashes through her eyes. She gives me a look like she recognizes me and it sends a bolt of fear through me. What if she's one of Raymond's eyes and ears in town? What if she calls him and tells him that I'm here? Or where I'm going?
My hands start to tremble and I start giving serious thought to turning and running out the door. She can't tell him where I am if she doesn't know.
She finally looks away from me and starts typing into her computer. “I need some identification,” she says.
I sigh and feel my heart sink. I don't have any identification. I never needed it out on the Ark.
“Is that necessary?” I ask.
“Required,” she replies.
I bite my bottom lip and look around, my mind spinning with thoughts and emotions – threatening to spin out of control. I try to come up with some options – and realize I have none. If I can't get on this bus, I'm going to have to walk – and I have no idea where I'm going or how far the next town might be. If I can't get on this bus, I might as well turn myself over to Raymond.
I look back at the doors, terrified that they are going to come through them while I'm standing there and drag me back to the Ark. I have to be on that bus. No matter what I have to say or do, I have got to make this woman sell me a ticket.
“I – I don't have any identification,” I say. “But, there has to be something I can do. Please. I really need to be on that bus. It – it's a matter of life and death. I – I can pay extra for it if needed.”
The woman looks at me, her expression dubious. But then that faint flicker of recognition crosses her face again and makes my heart stutter and skip a beat.
“Hey, I know you,” she says. “Or, I've seen you in town before. You're with them crazies out on that survivalist compound, right?”
My pulse is racing so fast and so hard that a headache is forming behind my eyes. I'm more terrified than I've ever been. And that includes the day my parents abandoned me, leaving me with Raymond. But I know this is my only chance at escape. If I don't get out of town now, I may never get out at all. I don't know this woman. Don't know if I can trust her. But it seems that I have no choice. She's my only chance to get out.
“I – I'm not with them,” I say, looking back at the door again. “I'm running away. Escaping.”
The woman nods, a small smile touching her lips. “Good for you,” she says gently. “Personally, I wish they'd go in there and shut that shit down. Bunch of brainwashed lunatics out there, if ya ask me. No offense.
”
I give her a rueful smile. “None taken,” I reply. “And you're right. About them. They are brainwashed lunatics.”
I look back at the door again, keenly feeling every second that ticks by – every second that could be bringing Raymond and his men closer to me. The terror running through me is deep and abiding and part of me just wants to go crawl into a hole somewhere and die. At least if I were dead, I wouldn't be living in such stark and bitter fear.
“Are they chasin' you, honey?” she asks.
At first, I don't want to answer her question out of my own fear and distrust. But then I realize that if I don't, I'm not going to get anywhere with her. And I desperately need her on my side. I have to roll the dice and hope I don't crap out.
“I don't know, maybe” I say. “But, maybe not yet. They will be though. By dawn at the latest, when they discover that I'm missing because I'm supposed to die out there today. Please, I really need your help.”
The woman looks at the door again and I can see the uncertainty in her eyes. I know that people don't like getting involved with the affairs of others. Especially when those affairs have the potential to be violent and deadly. I just have to hope that she'll do the right thing. That she'll help me. If she doesn't, I really don't know what I'm going to do.
The woman looks at the door and then back at me, nodding to herself as if she's made a decision. She turns to her computer and starts typing something into it and I feel my heart start to lift.
“Your name is Marie Wallace,” she says. “You're on the bus bound for Fort Collins, Colorado. That's going to be ninety-five dollars.”
I fumble with the roll of money, but manage to peel off the correct amount and hand it to her. The woman gives me a smile as she takes it.
“Thank you,” I say. “Thank you so much. You're literally saving my life.”
The look of sympathy and compassion in her eyes nearly reduces me to tears again. I manage to keep my composure – just barely. The woman opens her mouth to speak, but no words come out. Instead, she reaches across the counter and gives my hand a gentle squeeze.
