She studied his profile and watched for a shift in his stony expression. There was a subtle hint of emotion stirring just below the surface. An emotion he obviously wanted to keep to himself. Her curiosity got the better of her, so she asked, "What's Star Mother really like?"
He cleared his throat, his Adam's apple making a deep bob as he appeared to consider his next words. "For one thing, families are always separated until the parents' conditioning is complete. Adults and children are manipulated through guilt, intimidation, an appeal to their ego, fear, curiosity, and their natural desire to be liked. It's emotional torture, pure and simple. The cult's abusive ways interfere with a member's ability to digest facts because their emotions get in the way of objective thinking."
"Wow." Kelly fell silent as she considered what he'd just said. Guilt, intimidation, fear...that sounded a lot like how her father had kept his own children in line. And Jake was no stranger to being victimized by such tactics. Their dad had been a master at it. Jake had made a lateral move from one emotionally abusive parent to another. "While I was at the camp, I didn't see any fences keeping people in, and the sentries didn't stand guard over anyone. Folks could easily walk away whenever they wanted. So if it's so awful, why does everyone stay?"
Sam stared at the ribbon of highway ahead, his neck muscles tightening as he swallowed. She studied his face, his frown tempting her to reach out and smooth away the disturbing memories that seemed to torture his thoughts. "They have no choice," he said. "Star Mother, or I should say Star Mother's leaders, took that ability away from them."
"How?"
"By depersonalizing them." He gave her a quick look, his eyes so sad it broke her heart. "Their individuality was wiped away so they would no longer have to think for themselves. You have to understand that the majority of Star Mother's members had been so unhappy with their lives that they welcomed someone who would do their thinking for them. They yearned to belong somewhere, to be accepted and cared for, regardless of the cost. So Star Mother gave them what they wanted."
A disturbing chill made her wrap her arms more tightly around herself. "What does Star Mother get in return?"
"Their souls."
Sam didn't come across as the type of person to be so easily manipulated, to give up his mind and body without a fight. It was obvious to Kelly from what he’d just described that he'd witnessed his own mother's mindless transformation. Something desperate must have happened to him to make him leave his mother behind.
"You said you left when you were sixteen. Why then? If life was so horrible with Star Mother, why did you wait so long to leave?"
His hands gripped the steering wheel even tighter, the skin over his knuckles turning fish-belly white.
"I'm sorry," she said. "Really, I didn't mean to pry—"
He held up a hand, the corner of his mouth twisted in a half-grin. "It's okay. I need you to understand how harmful the Star Mother cult can be to someone unprepared to deal with its cruelty. So don't be shocked by what I'm about to tell you." He inhaled deeply. "The cult's young people are encouraged to shed all sexual repression on their sixteenth birthday. Ritual orgies are used to break down inhibitions. Star Mother believes that if you don't feel comfortable with group sex, it's a psychological hang-up that prohibits you from unifying with the group."
That was child abuse. It amazed her that he was willing to share so much personal information, but if he wanted her to understand the danger her brother was in, he'd taken the right course. "So you were subjected to—"
"No," he said calmly, though she thought she saw a ripple of revulsion pass through him. His shoulders straightened, and he held his head an inch or so higher. "I ran away before...I left with my virginity intact."
"Where did you go?"
"I lived on the streets of San Diego for a few days, just until I was sure no one from the cult had come after me. One night, my need for food made me look for a police station. That's when social services was called to pick me up."
Kelly had to admire him for surviving such a horrendous childhood. If she had known what kind of life he'd had, she might not have been such a pain in the ass when he'd snatched her from the cult's camp. On second thought, she couldn't have helped herself. Bucking authority was her claim to fame, thanks to her self-absorbed, egotistical father. The chill deepened and she rubbed her arms.
"Cold?" Sam asked, and reached into the backseat to grab an old jean jacket from underneath Sheriff Longbottoms. He tossed it in her lap.
"Thanks." She draped the jacket around her shoulders. It was flannel lined and felt soft against her skin. She sniffed the collar and smelled pine, plus a mild hint of mildew as if it had been stored in a damp place for a while. "You didn't mention what became of your mother."
"No, I didn't," he said flatly.
An uncomfortable silence settled between them. The only sound was the whoosh of wind through the Jeep's open windows.
Okay, so he didn't want to talk about his mother. She could live with that. Sam had already made it clear why he'd gone into the cult intervention business, and she admired him for it. But she wondered what qualified him to perform such a potentially dangerous task. She knew first hand the police were helpless when it came to getting people out of the cults they joined voluntarily. Kidnapping was illegal no matter who did the napping. When she had gone to the county sheriff to ask for help with her brother, she'd been turned away, giving her no choice but to take matters into her own hands. So it made sense that someone like Sam was needed to help innocent victims of cult influence reclaim their freedom. Considering how the cult's members had turned vicious in a heartbeat, Sam's expertise probably went beyond mild-mannered counseling.
"Mr. Reed—"
"Call me Sam."
"Sam, if I'm to purchase your services to save my brother, how do I know you're qualified for the job?"
He barked a laugh. "Haven't I impressed you yet?"
She shook her head. "Not enough. You're a big boy who can throw his weight around. So what? That particular talent won't help my brother. He's sure to feel vulnerable, frightened, maybe even psychotic."
He stared at her for a second, his gray eyes narrowed as he scrutinized her. "I see you know something about ex-cultist recovery."
"Very little," she admitted, wishing she had read more than the one article in Psychology Today. But she'd had no idea Jake's situation was this serious. She suddenly realized the brother she'd known her entire life might now be a total stranger to her. She clutched her tiny pendant of lavender rhinestones, the cheap metal setting pricking her fingers. A childhood gift from Jake, it was an ugly piece of jewelry but one of her dearest possessions. "I know enough to understand that Jake may no longer be the feisty, fun-loving guy I grew up with."
Sam nodded. "And I could help him on his journey back to the real world. I'm a counselor, Kelly. I only resort to physical force when necessary."
"Just because you survived a cult yourself doesn't make you a qualified psychologist."
"But four years of graduate school does." He grinned. "Thanks to federal grants, a college football scholarship, and very generous foster parents, I was able to graduate with my doctorate from Berkeley five years ago at the age of twenty-three."
Now she was impressed. She needed Sam to rescue Jake, and it was obvious he wasn't in the cult intervention business for his health. This was a serious career for him. Could she afford him? She didn't make much as a phys ed teacher and had emptied her meager savings account before coming to California, thinking she might be able to buy Jake back from the Star Mother cult. But those negotiations never had a chance to happen, thanks to Mr. Big Shot Arrow. If he hadn't interfered, she and Jake might be on their way home to Phoenix right now.
"Maybe if I offered the cult money, they'd turn Jake loose," she said.
"Don't bet on it. I know for a fact they won't consider anything less than five figures—as a donation, of course. Do you have that kind of money?"
"No." So much for
that idea. "So what would it cost me to have you rescue Jake?"
He scowled and chewed his bottom lip. "My standard fee is eighty dollars an hour, or eight hundred dollars a day."
"No problem." Kelly squirmed in her seat, thinking of the one thousand dollars she had with her. If Jake's rescue took more than a day, she could owe Sam the rest, maybe pay him off in installments. They'd work something out.
An agitated whine came from the backseat. She peered behind her to see the coyote crane his neck to look out the back window.
"What's his problem?" she asked.
"We've got company." Sam threw a glance over his shoulder and, sure enough, three leather-clad riders mounted on motorcycles were swiftly gaining on them. Two held large hand guns aimed in their direction. "Hold on!"
****
Sam rammed his foot onto the accelerator while holding out his right arm to brace Kelly to her seat. He felt her breasts heave, her heart battering against his hand like a caged bird trying to escape. Way to cop a feel, Reed.
"Stay calm!" he shouted over Cody's yippish barks. "They only want to intimidate us."
A bullet shrieked past his left ear.
"You call that intimidation?" she yelled. "I call it attempted murder!"
He pushed her head down as another bullet winged by, this one shattering his windshield. He looked to his left to see the gun barrel aimed at his head, and ducked just before another shot was fired.
Think, damn it! He swerved to the left, narrowly missing the motorcycle and its rider, who had anticipated the move. Sam hoped the cyclist to his right was less prepared. He yanked the steering wheel toward the other rider and clipped the bike's fender, sending both the motorcycle and its surprised rider tumbling ass-over-tea-kettle across the highway.
Kelly struggled to sit up. "What's happening?"
He shoved her head back down. "Stay put."
The next bullet pinged the steering wheel, coming so close to his hand that his index finger stung from the impact. He wrinkled his nose at the acrid smell of burnt plastic. Eyes focused straight ahead, he jerked the Jeep to the left again, this time feeling a thunk as his fender connected with the bike. The rider yelled a curse, and Sam watched in the sideview mirror as the bike slid out from beneath him. It skidded across the asphalt in a golden spray of sparks as its rider somersaulted off the road. The third biker turned around and sped back the way he'd come, probably to report to his masters.
"Is it over?" she asked.
"Yeah," he said, breathless. "It's over." The adrenalin pumping through him felt like fire in his veins, and he couldn't deny how good it felt. He loved the rush of riding the edge, being so close to danger he could taste it. Mouth dry and heart battering his ribs, he told Kelly, "Open the glove box and get my cell phone."
She cocked her head as if she didn't understand.
"Hurry. Those guys are hurt." Or maybe even dead. "Call 911. Tell them what happened, that we're on Highway 62 near Joshua Tree."
She did what he instructed, and he slowed to make a U-turn. He had to go back and see how bad the fallen bikers were hurt.
"Don't go back, Sam. They tried to kill us."
"They couldn't help themselves," he told her dryly. "They're worker bees in the hive and just do what they're told." Memories of his days with Star Mother flashed by in a blur, making him recall the robotic sentries and how the men had stoically completed their duties as prescribed. Like zombies, they performed in a trance-like state, suddenly snapping out of it once a task was done. Poor, pathetic idiots.
Though the men who had attacked them were out of their cult uniform, there was no denying who they were. What Sam didn't understand was why the sentries had been told to kill both him and Kelly. That made no sense. The cult would want Kelly back in one piece to die with her brother, and it was possible they'd want him as well. The clock ticked as the fairytale starship made its way to Earth's atmosphere. Killing him and Kelly before the day of departure went totally against Star Mother's plan for returning the original crew to their "home planet," as ridiculous as that was. So if Star Mother's doctrine didn't justify the assassination, whose idea was it?
****
"Von?" Valya stalked toward the pale man seated on a broad wooden chair upholstered in red velvet. To keep her temper in check, she inhaled the calming scent of sandalwood incense that burned in a pewter bowl beside him.
She stood rigid before her arrogant husband of more years than he deserved, but Von's pale blue eyes stared past her to focus on empty air. He feigned blindness, pretending not to see her, as though his mind were miles away. He'd always been fond of the dramatic.
The austere space inside the tent glowed with soft yellow light from a half-dozen kerosene lamps, and paisley pillows lay in scattered heaps across the sandy floor. To get his attention, she kicked one aside. "I won't tolerate being ignored, Von. Now tell me. Why did you do it?"
"I wasn't ignoring you, Valya, dear. I was meditating." He shifted in his chair, his satin robe flowing around his feet like liquid silver. He let his ice-blue gaze settle on her, his haughty expression making her hackles rise.
His skin was so white that spidery blue veins showed through the thin flesh at his temples. He cocked his head, his alabaster hair falling forward to cast his sallow cheeks in shadow. He'd be a handsome man if he wasn't such a sanctimonious ass.
The corners of his lips twitched, but he didn't smile. He managed to look amused, nonetheless. "I assume you're talking about the ambush on the highway? I only did what had to be done. The Arrow is a danger to us, and so is the woman. They could ruin everything. Let's not forget our voyage is only four days away."
Annoyed, Valya sighed. "I don't give a damn about Sam Reed," she said, the lie bringing sudden heat to her face. "But you must realize the woman is Jake's sister, which means she's a direct descendant of the original starship crew."
"You don't give a damn about Sam Reed?" Von paused, his brows furrowed in a mock frown, as if giving the matter serious thought. "Don't lie to me, Valya. You were besotted with Sam when he was a teenager and still belonged to us. I doubt a day goes by when you don't think about him." He leaned forward, his long, pale fingers reaching out to touch her cheek. "It's best that you forget him and start thinking about our future."
She jerked from his touch then turned around so he couldn't see her frustration. Damn him! Von was pathetically jealous, hating Sam's zest for life and his courage to stand up to Star Mother. Valya had never blamed Sam for leaving their communal family before his indoctrination. After all, he had come back five years ago, if only for one night. A night she would never forget.
"Don't you think it's about time you got over your silly schoolgirl crush?" Von's pallid lips stretched in a condescending smile. "Sam never cared about you, and you know it."
She did know it. But that didn't stop her from dreaming about him. She still recalled the heat of his touch, his strong lips, his powerful hands that knew more than they had a right to. And ever since then, she'd fantasized what her life would have been like had he stayed.
She whirled on Von, hoping her alligator smile looked as menacing as she meant for it to. "My 'crush,' as you call it, is none of your business."
He slammed his fist on the arm of his makeshift throne. "I want him dead." He grimaced, his teeth bared in a snarl of pure hatred. "As for the woman, you're right. She needs to share the final journey with her brother. But Sam Reed's life is over."
How dare he speak to her this way? She deserved so much better, and it was about time he realized how unworthy he was. "You're a weak, jealous fool, Von. Too weak to rule our people and too weak to father children for our world. Sam is more of a man than you'll ever be."
Her words brought more color to Von's face than she'd seen in years. His square jaw went rigid, and his eyes glazed with fury. But his theatrics were unimpressive. When she didn't respond to the posturing meant to make her quiver with fear, he stood and wordlessly tromped across the sand-dusted floor of the tent. W
ithout looking back, he vanished through the curtained doorway. What a relief to be rid of him for the night.
Valya smiled. She'd have her way. She always did. And now that Sam had reentered her life, perhaps she would have him, too.
Chapter Three
Exhaustion made Sam's eyes feel sticky as he concentrated on driving along the narrow dirt road. Just another half mile and they would arrive at his cabin in the woods.
After the state patrol had finished with them, Sam and Kelly collapsed into the Jeep like a couple of zombies. He’d barely had the key in the ignition when he'd heard soft snores coming from the passenger seat. He didn't have the heart to dump her at a hotel with a target on her back now that he knew the kind of danger she was in. The target on his own back was just as obvious. Those men were shooting to kill.
Kelly hadn't wakened once during the hour's drive to Big Bear, and he couldn't help gazing at her sleeping face now. She looked so delicate in sleep, childlike and innocent. He doubted her true nature was anything so subtle.
He blinked to clear the grittiness from his eyes and thought back to their narrow escape on the highway. Neither of the men Sam had bumped off the road had been conscious when he’d checked on them. Their motorcycles had appeared totaled, but the Star Mother cult's sentries were very much alive. It was a good thing the paramedics had arrived within minutes of Kelly's 911 call.
They had spent nearly an hour answering the state patrol's questions. The officers balked at his insistence over who was responsible. Sure they knew about the Star Mother cult, one of the patrolmen had said. Bought a dozen brownies and a poundcake at their fundraising bake sale in Joshua Tree last Christmas. A right fine bunch of folks who wouldn't hurt a flea. This looked like a serious case of road rage, if you asked him. Have any priors, Mr. Reed?
Road rage. Yeah. Right.
A nomadic cult, Star Mother rarely moved more than once every three months, and always to somewhere in the desert of California or Nevada. They had only been in Yucca Valley three weeks, so this disruption put a real crimp in their routine. Before Sam set out tomorrow to retrieve Kelly's brother, he'd have to get a lead on the cult's new location. They wouldn't dare stay another day in Yucca Valley for fear of Sam finding them again. Locating their new camp would take time, several phone calls, and an in-depth hunt through UFO message boards and chat rooms on the Internet.
Desert Guardian Page 3
