The Devil's Gate

by Malcolm Richards

  “Carrie?”

  “Yes?” She cleared her throat. Straightened her spine.

  “I probably shouldn’t get your hopes up,” Dr Jensen said softly. “But we’ve been running assessments in preparation for Cal’s case, and while I’m no lawyer, I think we have enough evidence that could keep him here at the hospital instead of him serving time at a young offenders institute before being moved on to prison. The fact that Cal was found unfit to plead will go strongly in his favour, just as long as the defence can prove diminished responsibility.”

  Jensen paused again, and for a moment, Carrie wondered how the doctor managed to do her job, day in and day out, dealing not just with Cal but with all those other deeply troubled patients deemed unsafe to live among society.

  “All I'm asking you to do, is to consider visiting your son. Don’t you think it’s worth trying?”

  Carrie’s gaze returned to the photographs on the mantelpiece. She thought about that day Rose had mentioned, a lifetime ago up at Briar Wood.

  “Don't you?” Dr Jensen repeated.

  But Carrie found she couldn't answer.

  13

  CYNTHIA CLOSED THE bunker door and followed the concrete path, the buildings to her left obscuring her presence from any prying eyes. It was a fine Thursday morning. The sky was pastel blue, the ocean below a sparkling green. Beads of perspiration were already forming on Cynthia’s brow and her neck.

  As the path turned, she glanced back over her shoulder at the bunker containing the holding cells. She was worried about Lindsay. She'd been locked up in that cell for a week now, without a change of clothes or soap and water to clean herself. The girl was eating what she was being given, but she was too subdued. Too quiet. Just now, she'd barely spoken a word the whole time Cynthia had been with her. Perhaps they were dosing her too much. Cynthia had always been uncomfortable about administering the cocktail that Jacob had conceived, but it was necessary and joyous, he had once told her. A rite of passage so that the child could open her eyes to the New Dawn.

  Who was Cynthia to question Jacob’s teachings? He had saved her from a life of violence and a cruel, bitter world. He had made her his wife. And even now he was gone – dead, of course, because he would have never left her – she could still feel his presence. He shone inside the children like sunlight. He spoke to her in her dreams, promising to see her again in the New Dawn. Cynthia trembled with excitement at the thought of reuniting with her one true love.

  Passing rows of green army barracks, she followed the path until she came to a stop outside the last building on the left. The coolness of the darkened hall welcomed her in. Brushing her fingers against the wall, she made her way along the corridor. Hearing the children, she slowed down; their voices always brought a smile to her face, even in troubled times.

  Opening the door to what used to be the soldier’s rec room, she stepped inside. It was a large space, once furnished with pool and tennis tables. Now all that remained were a few dog-eared chairs and peeling walls. The children were here, gathered in groups and dotted around the room, but they were not themselves. Some stood at the windows, staring at the bright day filtering in from outside, others sat around inventing games with a couple of old cardboard boxes. But they were all listless, as if the room had drained them of their youth and energy.

  Alison was sitting with two young girls with dirty faces. Patting their heads, she got up and made her way to Cynthia.

  “What is it?” she asked. Her gaunt face was all sharp angles, her eyes large and blank.

  Cynthia shook her head as she stared at the children. “I’m concerned. They’re not getting enough to eat. They need fruit and vegetables. They’re desperate to go outside. It’s sunny and warm, but they have to stay here in the dark. They’re children of light, Alison. Children of the New Dawn.”

  Cynthia’s heart grew heavy in her chest. When Jacob had been here, their angelic faces illuminated joy. Now, it was as if they had all become ghosts.

  Alison shrugged. “It's a necessary evil. We're too close to the town. It would only take some nosey parker to look in the wrong direction and then it would all be over for us. Jacob said that no matter where we go, we will always be hunted because the world is Hell and filled with monsters. Monsters who want to tear our little angels apart, to strip the flesh from their bones and suck out the marrow.”

  “But we are their protectors, Alison. I am their mother and you are their sister. We could watch over them. Keep them on the cliff side, hidden by the buildings. Even if it's for five minutes. They’ll lose their minds in here.”

  In the far corner of the room, Luke sat on the floor with his back pressed against the wall and his legs splayed out in front of him. His eyes were empty, staring at nothing.

  Alison said, “He's not getting any better and Heath isn’t happy. He says if Luke doesn’t get stronger then he’s not following the rules. If he’s not following the rules then he’s not one of us. If he’s not one of us then he’s against us.”

  Cynthia squeezed her arm. “Let me try.”

  Making her way over to the boy, she smiled at the nearby children, then sat down with a grunt. She wasn't getting any younger and her days of floor sitting were coming to an end.

  “Hello, child,” she said, giving Luke her warmest smile. “How are you feeling?”

  It was as if Luke hadn't heard her. He remained motionless, his eyes glazed over, like a puppet whose strings had been cut.

  “Don't you want to play with the other children?” Cynthia reached out a hand and ruffled his hair, but Luke remained, unblinking. “Or perhaps you'd like to hear a story. Why don’t you tell me your favourite and I’ll see if I know it?”

  Nothing. Not even a flicker or involuntary flinch of a muscle. Cynthia glanced up at Alison, who shrugged her shoulders.

  “You see?” Alison said, when Cynthia returned. “Heath is going to –”

  Cynthia held up a hand. “Heath is not going to lay a hand on that boy. I'll take care of it. She glanced around the room, watching the children’s slow movements, noting their downcast, hungry looks. “This isn't right. This is not what Jacob would have wanted.”

  Grief flooded her veins, drowning her heart. She yearned for Jacob's touch – not that he had touched her in years before he’d disappeared – and she yearned for his words of wisdom, for the kindness that he always wrapped around the children like a blanket. She hadn't always agreed with his ways of thinking when it came to the other women in their family, and the actions he’d started taking against the outside world had left her feeling glad that being Mother meant she never had to leave the confines of their home. But the children – they had been angels in Jacob’s eyes and he’d treated them accordingly.

  With Heath in charge now, those angels were becoming little soldiers.

  “If Jacob was here, none of this would be happening,” she said, shocked by the anger in her own voice.

  But Jacob wasn’t here, was he?

  He’d left them alone and leaderless. He’d left Cynthia alone and unloved.

  How had he died?

  The only person who knew was Cal. He’d been the last person to see Jacob. But Cal had betrayed them all and now he was locked up away from the world, along with the knowledge of what had happened to Jacob, her one true saviour.

  “We have Heath now,” Alison replied in a monotone voice. “Heath will lead us into the light.”

  Cynthia frowned and decided to keep her doubts to herself.

  Giving Luke one last glance, she left the room. Out in the corridor, she picked up her stride, until she was marching along like a soldier, heading for the meeting room. Stopping outside the door, she cocked her head and listened.

  Heath was talking, addressing the others. Cynthia frowned. They had been making plans for weeks now, but she'd been kept out, not even permitted to enter the meeting room. That was something else Jacob would never have allowed. Because Cynthia was Mother – not Sister or Daughter.

  “Pu
nishing that family has kept them busy, but it’s not enough,” Heath said. “The New Dawn is two days away, and when the time comes, we don’t want the police anywhere near.”

  Cynthia gasped. Her heart sang in her chest. The New Dawn!

  Heath spoke again. “I thought I had it all planned out. How it would happen. What we needed to do to cross into the light. But now, thanks to Morwenna, the plan has changed. But we don’t have much time...”

  Cynthia threw open the door, revealing another cracked and peeling room, empty except for the desk at the centre, which the group of young people were presently crowded around. Heath stood on one side with Morwenna next to him. At least seven of the older teenagers made up the rest of the circle. They all glanced up as Cynthia entered.

  “What are you doing?” Heath said, eyes flashing dangerously. “You know you’re not to come in here.”

  Cynthia cleared her throat, held his gaze. “Lindsay is ready to come out of the cell. She’s quiet, eating all her food. The fight’s gone out of her.”

  “How would you know that?”

  “Because I’ve been to see her. Someone had to.”

  A vein began to throb at the centre of Heath’s forehead. He shot a glance at Morwenna, who shrugged.

  Irritation burned in Cynthia’s gut. She had always despised the young woman. Ever since the day Jacob had found her sleeping rough and had welcomed her into their family, Morwenna had been nothing but trouble. She’d seemed kind and grateful at first, but Cynthia had not fallen for her act – unlike Jacob. Like a Siren, Morwenna had tempted him away from Cynthia. He had stopped touching her. Then he’d stopped sleeping in the same bed, instead disappearing into his office for hours at a time with Morwenna. Now, here she was by Heath’s side, doing it all over again. Men were fools, Cynthia thought, and Morwenna was cleverer than any one of the boys in this room. Which made her dangerous.

  “Fine. I’ll see the girl myself later,” Heath said. “What about Luke?”

  Cynthia still hovered in the doorway, an invisible barrier preventing her from getting closer. She stared at Heath, then at the others, whose eyes were all fixed on her, smirks on their lips, making her feel like a moth pinned to a display cushion. Perspiration trickled down her temple. Her hands dropped to her sides. Luke's catatonic expression flashed in her mind.

  “The boy’s fine,” she said. “Getting stronger every day.”

  Heath’s eyes were blank and unreadable. “Good. I’m happy to hear it. Because the New Dawn is upon us and every child must be ready to play their part.”

  “Oh, praise be!” Cynthia cried.

  She had heard right. Laughter spilled from her throat as she clasped her hands together and stared up at the ceiling. Tears rained from her eyes.

  She had been waiting for so long. Jacob had told her all those years ago, when he’d first saved her, and although she’d never known entirely what would happen, she knew the New Dawn would mean a new beginning. Freedom from all the cruelty in the world. And she had experienced so much cruelty.

  “How will I know what to do?” she asked, vibrating with childish glee.

  Heath shook his head. “No, Cynthia. You’ve misunderstood. Only the children will be saved. They are the ones who will be led into the light. They are the ones who will be set free from the tyranny of adults.”

  The joy drained from Cynthia’s body. Confusion and fear poisoned her veins. “But it’s my duty to go with them! Jacob told me. He promised me! He said the children will need their mother to guide them!”

  “You’ve been a good mother to us, and we thank you for it. But in the New Dawn, there are no monsters. Children will be safe from harm. Which means we’ll no longer need parenting. Jacob knew that. He told me himself.”

  “No. He would never... He promised me!”

  “Are you calling me a liar, Cynthia?” Heath’s voice was like a butcher’s knife, cutting her down. “Because Jacob made it quite clear that if anything should happen to him, I would be in charge. Are you questioning his wisdom?”

  Cynthia licked her lips. Around the table, eyes narrowed in disappointment and disgust.

  “As I remember it, Jacob chose Cal to lead,” she whispered.

  Silence. Pressing down on her. Crushing the breath from her lungs.

  Heath’s face turned a violent shade of red. “Cal didn’t follow the rules. Jacob warned him, time and time again, not to leave the farm, but Cal didn’t listen. He led that writer straight to us and then our children’s faces were all over the news. When we needed Cal the most, he chose his old family and left us to rot.” Heath’s voice grew louder with each word, until he was shouting. “Jacob is dead because of him! Now I’m the only one who can lead the children into the New Dawn! I’m the only one who can bring salvation! Me! Not you or anyone else! Are you with me, Cynthia? Or are you against us all?”

  Cynthia’s eyes dropped to the floor. She tried to speak but only managed a whisper. “I’m... of course, I’m with you. The children are my life.”

  Some of the colour left Heath’s complexion. He was quiet for a moment. Then he nodded to the door. “So go and tend to them while they still need you.”

  Now it was as if Cynthia were invisible to him. He returned his attention to the table. One by one, the others followed; all except Morwenna, who watched her closely, a smile etched on her lips – a snake eyeing its prey.

  Cynthia hovered from foot to foot. Her fingers jerked and twitched. Her stomach twisted in knots. Her heart smashed up and down in her chest, crashing like cymbals.

  She left the room, plunging into the darkness of the corridor.

  This is not how it’s supposed to be! I’m not meant to be left behind! I am Mother of the Dawn!

  She staggered along the corridor, nauseous and dizzy, swaying on her feet, until she reached the rec room. Alison and the children were still inside. They all turned towards her as she entered, all eyes filled with hope, except for Alison’s, which remained apathetic and blank.

  My babies! My beautiful children!

  Over in the corner, Luke looked sick and ghostly, as if he were fading into thin air, right before her eyes. It would only be a matter of time before Heath discovered Cynthia’s lie, and then the child would also be denied passage into the New Dawn.

  Alison was approaching. “What is it? Did you talk to him?”

  “It’s nothing,” Cynthia managed to say at last. “Everything’s going to be fine. I’ll – I’ll see if I can find something more to eat.”

  She stumbled from the room, leaving Alison with her mouth half open and the children staring, except for Luke, who hadn’t even acknowledged her presence. By the time Cynthia had reached the storeroom, her face was wet and her lungs were heaving and her heart felt like someone had set it on fire.

  “Oh, Jacob!” she cried. “Oh, my children!”

  She couldn’t be left behind.

  She would rather die than be tossed to the vultures in this terrifying, rancid world!

  She couldn’t allow Luke to suffer, either. He was a child of the Dawn. He had earned his place in the light just as much as Heath or Morwenna.

  As Cynthia scoured the empty shelves and boxes, as she sobbed and shuddered, she vowed to set Luke free.

  14

  NAT STOOD INSIDE THE caravan bedroom trying not to gag at the dirty underwear lying on the floor. She stripped the bed quickly and changed the sheets, making sure to flatten out the creases when she was done. She hated every second of her soul sucking job, but the perfectionist in her forced her to carry out her duties flawlessly. Today, she was even wearing the vomit-inducing apron. If only Rose could see me now, she thought. But this morning, Rose had barely looked at her. She was still angry at Nat for taking off last Saturday, and for not answering her questions about the girl she’d run off with. Who was she? Where had she come from? What made her more important than Nat’s commitments to the Devil’s Day festival? All good questions. Not that she would ever admit that to Rose.

  The
truth was, Nat wasn’t sure why she’d taken off like that. It was the sight of Carrie, she supposed. But it was more than that. Rachel turning up out of the blue had thrilled Nat. It had made her feel special. Even though now she felt like shit.

  Because yet again, Nat had screwed up, exposing the freak she was within hours of meeting Rachel. What had she been thinking, taking her to the crime scene like that? Normal people didn’t act that way. Normal people went for coffee or ice cream or lifted a couple of beers and went down to the beach. But Nat wasn’t normal, was she? She was a freak and a loser. A killer.

  She hadn’t seen Rachel in days. Nat didn’t even know which caravan she was staying in. If she did, she could go over and apologise. Not that she ever would. She’d only end up looking like a stalker as well as a psychopath. Besides, finding out which caravan Rachel was staying in would involve talking to the other cleaners, who all thought she was weird, or talking to Dennis Penpol, and she would rather drink her own puke than do that.

  Picking up the dirty sheets, Nat shot a final, repulsed look at the used underwear on the floor, then stepped outside. As she dumped the bed linen into the basket of her cleaning trolley, she saw Dennis Penpol strolling past the caravan row. He stopped to leer at her. Satisfied that Nat was wearing her apron, he sloped off towards his office.

  “You can fuck off, too,” she growled.

  Pushing the trolley along to the next caravan, she felt the weight in her chest grow heavier. Why did she always do this? Why did she take something good and tear it all apart? Why hadn’t Rose thrown her out on the streets a long time ago? Everyone else had. Was Rose really that blind to the kind of person she had staying under her roof?

  And now all this business with the murders. Everything was getting stirred up again. All those dark thoughts she’d been trying to lay to rest.

  The Dawn Children.