The Devil's Gate

by Malcolm Richards

  Lindsay thought about it. If she stayed in this cell, she was going to die. She knew it with unfettered clarity. But if she stepped outside... She didn’t understand half of the things this boy was saying to her. She didn’t know who the Dawn Children were, except maybe kids like him. How did she know that she would be safe if she agreed to forget her family? Which she could never do. Not if she tried.

  Heath was still watching her, his unnerving, predatory gaze making her skin crawl.

  If she got out of this room, she could try to escape. If she could escape, she could go to the police.

  Slowly, Lindsay pushed herself away from the wall and placed her feet on the floor. Her brother’s terrified face flashed in her mind, begging for his life.

  Lindsay nodded.

  “I need to hear you say it. Do you accept the Dawn Children as your new family?”

  Lindsay stared at him, unblinking. “Yes.”

  Heath slipped the key into the lock and twisted it to the left. The gate swung open on creaking hinges.

  “Welcome Lindsay, daughter of the Dawn.” Heath bowed dramatically, flourishing a hand, as if he were greeting royalty. When Lindsay didn’t move, he glanced up and started laughing. “Well come on then, silly. You’re acting like a big baby.”

  Lindsay stood in the centre of the cell, staring at the open door and the corridor beyond. Her legs were shaking and she was sure her heart was going to burst right through her chest, just like the alien in that stupid old film Todd had let her watch one evening, when their parents had been out.

  Slowly, carefully, she forced one foot forward, then the other. She drew closer to the open door. To Heath, who laughed and clapped.

  “That's it! You’re one of us now.”

  He held out a hand as Lindsay reached the threshold. She stared at his outstretched fingers, felt them wrap around her own tiny hand.

  “This way, my lady,” he said, flashing her a smile, as if they were friends and she hadn’t been locked up in a dark, filthy prison cell for god knows how long. As if he hadn’t slaughtered her family right in front of her eyes.

  Lindsay stepped out of the cell. Together, they walked along a long corridor, until they reached the front door. Heath told her to cover her eyes, which she did with her free hand. Heath opened the door and all the light in the world flooded in.

  Lindsay gasped and squeezed her eyes shut. A cold breeze teased her skin and whipped her hair. She could smell salt and the sea.

  She allowed herself to be led blindly along a path, its concrete hard and cold beneath her bare feet as she was pulled and turned and twisted, as the sound of ocean waves crashing on rocks roared in her ears. She wanted to open her eyes. To know where she’d been taken, but she was scared that if she dropped her hand right now the light would make her blind.

  Then it went dark and quiet. The ground changed from rough to smooth. A door slammed behind her, making her jump. She was inside again, and for a moment, she was terrified that she was still inside that fetid cell and she’d finally lost her mind.

  Lindsay lowered her hand. She was in another corridor, but this one had windows that let in squares of light high above her head. There were lockers. Coats hung on hooks. She heard voices. Heath pulled her along until they were standing outside yet another door. The voices were coming from the other side. Children’s voices.

  Heath stared down at her, his dilated pupils dark and glittering. “Are you ready to meet your new family?”

  Lindsay nodded. Not because she wanted to, but because there was no way she was going back to that prison cell.

  Still staring at her, Heath pushed open the door and a wall of noise rushed out. Lindsay sheepishly peered inside and saw children. Some were younger than her, others a year or two older. All were seated at rows of benches, eating cold food from tins. Some of them glanced up as Lindsay entered the room.

  Heath was smiling now. “You see? We are all children here. Children of the New Dawn. All innocent and all strong.”

  Lindsay stared at the children’s dirty faces and soiled clothes, hair sticking out along with their bones. Not one of them looked strong to her. If anything, they looked like those sad children she sometimes saw on TV or on posters at the bus stop; the ones that charities were always needing money for.

  A girl was strolling over. She was tall and thin with long, straggly hair, and she was about the same age as Heath. Lindsay flinched as she leaned over her and smiled.

  “I'm Alison,” she said, her dull eyes huge and round. “I’m your big sister.”

  Lindsay stared at her. She didn't have a big sister and she didn’t want one. She wanted her brother. She stepped back. A dark, empty chasm opened up inside her.

  “You don’t need to be afraid,” Alison said, still smiling. “We’re all family here. We all love you.”

  “Get her cleaned up and fed,” Heath said. “She can sleep with you and the others tonight.”

  He let go of Lindsay’s hand, who rubbed her fingers as she eyed the other children. Why were they all eating out of tins? Couldn’t they afford a microwave? No wonder they were all thin as rakes.

  “Come on,” Alison said, taking Lindsay gently by the arm. “Let’s get you some fresh clothes and something to eat. Then you can meet your new brothers and sisters.”

  But Lindsay wouldn’t move. She was transfixed by the other children in the room. She wondered if their families had been taken away from them, too. She wondered if they had all been made orphans. Because that’s what she was now, wasn’t it? It didn’t matter if Alison called these kids her brothers and sisters. Lindsay was all alone and no one from her old life knew where to find her.

  “Where’s Luke?” Heath said.

  Lindsay stared up at him and it was like watching a storm roll in over a blue sky. His smile was gone, replaced by something else. Something much darker.

  Alison hesitated, avoiding his gaze. She nodded uncertainly to the far corner. “He’s over there with...” Her face turned the colour of sour milk. Lindsay followed her gaze towards the empty corner.

  Heath’s eyes flashed and he seemed to grow taller as he turned on Alison.

  “Where is she?” he hissed. “Where is Cynthia?”

  Frightened now, Lindsay returned her gaze to Heath. She thought it would be a good idea to keep watching him whenever he was around.

  “Alison, I asked you a question. Where are Cynthia and Luke?”

  “I don’t know!” Alison whined. “They were here a few minutes ago, I swear to you!”

  “Fuck!” Heath curled his hand into a fist and smashed it into the open door. The door slammed against the wall and bounced back. The room fell deathly silent, all eyes frozen on him, mouths hanging open.

  Alison’s grip on Lindsay’s arm grew unbearably tight.

  Then Heath was storming out of the room and screaming at the top of his lungs, calling people’s names. Her breaths coming thin and fast, Lindsay stared at the space he’d left behind and she realised that she’d been transported from her tiny prison cell to a much bigger one.

  17

  THIS WAS THE END. THE end of everything. Cynthia stood at the cliff edge, teetering in the wind. The sky was a maelstrom of burnt orange and blood red, the ocean seething and grey, smashing down onto rocks below. This world; it was full of poison. It had sought to make Cynthia sick since the day she was born. It had hurt her, manipulated her, forced her to do terrible things and have terrible things done to her. Jacob had saved her and then he had let her go. He had abandoned her and she had abandoned all hope. It was such a precious thing, hope. Precious and surprisingly fragile. Jacob had stolen hers. Reached into her heart and ripped it from her very soul.

  Well, no more.

  Cynthia inched closer to the edge. She was terrified, chilled to the bone. Could she do it? Could she keep her eyes shut all the way down? She didn't know where suicide would take her. She’d never believed in Heaven or Hell. But she had believed in Jacob and the New Dawn. It was gone. Nothing mat
tered. All Cynthia wanted was for the pain to leave her. All she wanted was to be in peace.

  Movement caught her eye. A gull was hovering in the distance, wings spread wide as it cruised the winds. If only she could be like that bird now, free and unbound. She leaned forward, the wind snatching away her tears, making her eyes sting.

  “Goodbye,” she whimpered.

  Commotion behind her. Panicked voices and footsteps. Chain-link fence clanging as bodies pushed through the hole.

  Cynthia turned around. She heaved in cold, biting air. Her teeth chattered.

  Heath, Morwenna, and a gaggle of teenagers were all gathered together in front of the fence, frightened and confused eyes fixed on hers. All except Heath’s, which were dark and angry like the ocean below.

  “What have you done?” he snarled. “Where’s Luke?”

  Cynthia trembled, the fingers of each hand clawing at her sides. “Don’t come any closer!”

  But Heath did come closer. His gaze flicked between Cynthia and the cliff edge, just inches behind. Cynthia started to cry. She didn't want to – tears were a sign of weakness – but so was leaping to her death.

  “All I ever wanted was to go with you!” she sobbed. “It was all I ever dreamt of doing. Jacob promised me – he was Father and I was Mother, and we would go together, hand in hand, crossing into the Dawn with all our beautiful children!” She took a step back, dangerously close to the edge. “Why won't you let me go?”

  Heath lowered his head but kept his gaze fixed on her. There was something violent and twisted lurking inside him. She’d always known it was there. Jacob, too. It was why he had used Heath to take care of all the obstacles that blocked their way, even those obstacles made of blood and bone. That was Heath’s role – the Path Clearer. Bringer of Justice. But he was never meant to lead. He didn't have the discipline or the understanding. He wasn’t capable of loving the children in the same way that Jacob had loved them. He was broken and brittle, a shard of glass, a serrated blade. How could he be Father when he still needed to be saved?

  “Last chance, Cynthia,” he said, stepping closer. “Where is Luke?”

  “Get away from me!” she screamed.

  Heath lunged forward. A hand pulled him back. Morwenna spoke soothing words in his ear. Gently stroked his face. Heath shook his head. His shoulders sagged. Then he took a step back.

  Cynthia stared at Morwenna, her least favourite of them all.

  “Listen,” the young woman said, addressing her now. “I know we haven't always seen eye to eye, you and me, and I know things haven't been the same for you since Jacob was lost to us. But he was our father and losing him hurt us just as much as it hurt you.”

  Cynthia glared. Lies! All lies!

  “Jacob paved the way for us all. He led us, kept us safe from harm. But Jacob could only take us so far – because Jacob is an adult. Just like you, Cynthia. Your work here is done. Now is the time of children. Now is the time for you to sit back and let us become who we were always meant to be.” Morwenna paused, clasping her hands together as if in prayer. “Please, Cynthia. I'm begging you – what have you done with Luke? Because if you set him free, if you sent him into the world, all you've done is feed him to the wolves. A little boy alone out there is a target for monsters. Paedophiles, murderers, abusers that will hurt him then leave him for dead. Is that what you wanted? What kind of mother would do that to her child?”

  Cynthia's gaze shifted nervously from Morwenna to Heath, to the other children. “No! I – I would never put a child in danger.”

  It was a trick. They were trying to confuse her. Trying to make her feel guilty. She was their mother. She would never hurt her children, not even Heath. But now she wondered if they were right. Had she set Luke into a world full of monsters? Jacob had always said that people were cruel. That, given a chance, anyone could hurt a child. Had she gone against everything that he had taught her? She slid a foot back, feeling the ground loosen beneath her shoe.

  “Please!” Morwenna said, begging now. “Tell us where he is so we can save him!”

  Cynthia shook her head violently. It was a trick. Luke was weak. Heath had made it clear – only the strong would be saved. If she told them where Luke was, that would be throwing him to the wolves. At least in the world of monsters, he could find a place to hide. Here, Heath would make sure no stone was left unturned.

  Cynthia stuck out her chin, a smile on her lips. “Luke is already saved.”

  Morwenna's hands curled into fists. Beside her, Heath clenched his jaw, flashing his teeth.

  “You will never feel the light of the New Dawn!” he screamed.

  The Dawn Children rushed forward. They were all Cynthia’s children. She had cared for each one of them. She had fed them, clothed them, healed them when they were sick and rocked them to sleep in their darkest hours.

  Now, they were coming for her.

  With a cry, Cynthia spun on her heels. The ocean swung into view. She leapt forwards. Then hands were upon her, gripping her arms, her back, her hair, pulling her away from the cliff edge, dragging her along the stony ground, back towards the compound.

  “No!” she screamed. “No! No! No!”

  She kicked and thrashed. Someone drove a foot into her stomach, knocking the air from her lungs. Then they were pulling her along again, wrenching her through the hole in the fence, sharp mesh scratching her skin.

  “Adults cannot be trusted,” Heath said. He and Morwenna followed behind, their eyes growing cold and blank.

  18

  LUKE'S FEET DRAGGED through the dust, kicking up stones, as he followed the dirt track that looped and coiled like a great snake. As he walked, his eyes stared blankly ahead. It had been a long time since he had been outside. A long time since he’d been trapped inside a dream. But now he was starting to wake up. He blinked. Once. Twice. The world pulled into focus.

  It was evening, the sun setting in swathes of tangerine and plum, a cool breeze blowing up from the ocean to make his teeth chatter and his hair dance. He inhaled and air rushed into his lungs, cold and crisp, making him feel suddenly alive. A real boy, not a puppet.

  The more he walked, the more he became aware of his surroundings. Moorland stretched out on both sides, speckled with yellow flowers and thorny spines. From somewhere to the left came the low roar of the ocean. It sounded like it was calling his name.

  Luke stumbled on, not knowing where he was going, only that Cynthia had told him to follow the path, and that the path would take him somewhere safe. Away from the compound. Away from his brothers and sisters, even though he knew they weren't really his brothers and sisters.

  Cynthia had set him free. He didn't know why. She had pushed him through the hole in the fence, had taken him roughly by the hand and led him along the perimeter, ducking down here and there, keeping silent, until they had reached the track.

  “Go!” she had hissed. “Don't look back!”

  She’d shoved him hard, sending him staggering along, almost tripping over his own feet. He'd been walking ever since, not looking back, only looking forward.

  But something strange was happening to him.

  The further Luke moved away from the compound, the more afraid he was becoming. And it wasn’t because he was scared they would come after him. It was because he was afraid of what lay ahead.

  The outside world was a cruel and dangerous place, filled with monsters who wanted to eat children alive, or worse. The outside world was a cup of poison. A knife with a sharp edge. The New Dawn was going to save them from it. He'd never known what that meant. He'd never known what any of it meant. But he knew what monsters were and he knew what they did to little children.

  What if he was walking towards one now? Stumbling towards a wide, open mouth filled with razor sharp teeth? What if he was dragged, kicking and screaming, into an empty building, or into the woods, where he would be devoured, his meat stripped from his bones? The Dawn Children were his protection, Heath had told him. Luke had believed it for a
while.

  But now that he was waking up, he wasn’t so sure.

  The landscape was changing. Becoming softer, gentler. The track turned into a road. Hedgerows appeared alongside fields and trees. Up ahead, on the edge of the road, there was a house. Luke’s father hadn't been a monster. He was sure of that. His father had been kind and caring and had always made him laugh. The day his parents had separated had been the worst day of his life. After that, his Mum sometimes cried or got angry. His Dad, too. But they never once tried to hurt him or eat him whole like Heath had said.

  He could still remember the night the Dawn Children came. His memory was fuzzy at the edges and had gaps in it, but he could still recall standing on the stairs at home, watching in horror as his father was beaten unconscious with a hammer. He could still feel Heath’s powerful hands snatching him up and throwing him over his shoulder, could still remember the smell of his father’s blood in the back of that van. Heath had tried to tell him he was remembering it wrong. Heath had tried to tell him that the Dawn Children had saved him from a world of monsters. But it hadn’t felt like being saved, not for a second. It had felt like being eaten alive.

  Above Luke’s head, the last of the day was vanishing fast and the sky was growing dark. Exhaustion had crept up on him. His spindly legs ached and complained. He closed his eyes for a second and began to stagger. His mind was trying to send him back to the dream world again. But he had to stay awake. He had to get to safety.

  Be careful of the monsters! Monsters are everywhere and they’ll gobble you up!

  His feet dragged along the ground. His breathing grew more laboured. The house was just ahead now, and further along the road even more homes. A whole village of them.