Deep Redemption

  I froze, energy draining from me as he began to walk away. “What do you mean by that? What have you got prepared?” I asked to his retreating back, panic lacing my words. His guards followed. “Judah! What do you fucking mean by that?”

  But Judah and the guards simply walked away. I sat back on the hard floor, looking at my friends. “What is he doing? What the fuck is he doing? The Hangmen will be here soon. They’ll open fire. They’ll kill everyone.”

  My friends said nothing; they were as clueless as I. But as minutes passed in silence, I could a feel a shift in the air. An ominous feeling built and built in my stomach until it became a tidal wave of dread. I couldn’t get Judah’s too-calm eyes from my head. I had never seen that from him before. Something had snapped in him.

  He was going to do something terrible . . . I just knew it.

  The crackling sounds of the speakers coming to life echoed around the empty plain. Judah’s voice came powering through, and my heart dropped to the floor. “People of The Order! Drop what you are doing and gather in the Great Plain. Move quickly! Gather all the children; send word to your friends. I repeat, all are to gather in the Great Plain. I have received a new revelation from the Lord. And we must hurry, our very salvation depends on it!” Tinny prayer music began drifting from the speakers.

  In seconds, people began filtering into the grassy field. They were on the other side of the land from us. I tried to shout, to get their attention, but my voice could not be heard over the music. My hand gripped onto the bars as I watched the guards and the elders of the commune approach the plain, dragging carts in their wake. My eyes narrowed. The carts were loaded with large barrels.

  Stephen, Ruth, Solomon and Samson joined me at the gates. “What the hell are they?” I asked, as more carts were wheeled in. More barrels, then boxes of something that I couldn’t see.

  “I have no idea,” Stephen said. “They look like barrels of wine.”

  “He is holding a communion?” Samson asked. “He is breaking bread and wine?”

  I shook my head. I had no idea why he would hold a communion with the Hangmen attack so close.

  Dozens upon dozens of people began to fill the vast space. The guards swarmed around them like vultures, shouting at them to sit down. Children began crying; fear, like a perfect storm, swept among the masses. The guards aimed their guns at the people who showed too much panic or questioned what was happening.

  I didn’t know how much time passed. It felt like only minutes before the entire commune was sitting on the grass before us. The heat was stifling. Babies cried and children wailed. The adults were praying in earnest, rocking back and forth, as the guards, dressed all in black, fired warning shots into the air. The fear was palpable . . . and all I could do was sit and watch.

  Judah walked to the platform that was permanently in the field. He held a microphone in his hand. As before, a creepy stillness fell over him . . . then he began to preach . . .

  “People of The Order,” Judah began. He held a hand up in the air, and like they always did, the people fell silent. It was eerie to watch as they all stared at him, hanging on his every word. Their gazes were fixed upon him . . . and I saw it. I saw, in full technicolor, the absolute power he had over them that I had never owned. His tone of voice was magnetizing, and the way his eyes ran over each and every row of believers seemed to connect with them all on a personal level.

  Up on that stage, he was their messiah.

  “They will do anything he wants them to,” I whispered. I watched my twin step to the side of the stage, hundreds of eager eyes following his every movement.

  “The Lord had, many weeks ago, revealed to us that we were to take on the devil’s men in a holy war. It was a task we have prepared for for weeks . . . ” He paused, then said, “But today I received a new message. An important one . . . one that will save all our souls without facing down the demons.”

  My eyes narrowed as he dropped his head. When he raised it again, he motioned to the guards and elders. My stomach dropped when I saw them remove the tops of the barrels and open the sealed boxes.

  “Can you see what is in them?” Stephen asked. I craned my neck to see.

  “Syringes,” I said in confusion. I looked to Ruth and Stephen. “Why would they have syringes and wine?”

  No one spoke. So we kept watching. We watched as the most dedicated women and men were gathered and sent to the carts. They began to fill the syringes with the deep red wine that was in the barrels. The men and women gathered the syringes in baskets and began handing them out to the adults sitting on the grass. The children watched on in curiosity, reaching for the syringes.

  Judah watched with a proud smile on his face. But I didn’t like the look of that smile. Nothing about this was reassuring. I was so fucking lost.

  “What’s so important about those damn syringes?” I hissed. Panic took hold of me as the guards and elders formed a barrier around the people. They made a fucking wall. My knuckles turned white as I gripped the steel bars of the door.

  Judah took the mic again. “The Lord singled each and every one of you—us—out. Only you, the truly blessed, chose the right path in this world filled with evil and sin. The Lord has seen how we have obeyed him these past few weeks, and he is proud.” Judah’s face took on a concerned expression. “But we have also battled the devil in the process. A mighty adversary. Some of our most faithful members were corrupted and pulled under Satan’s control. And the prophecy ensuring our salvation was thwarted by a demon in disguise . . . a person I trusted with my life.” My stomach fell; he was talking about me.

  “But then God spoke to me again.” Judah smiled, and the people smiled back. “God, in all his infinite wisdom and benevolence, saw how devoted we were to his cause, to his name . . . so much so that we were willing to walk through the gates of hell and sacrifice our souls for his glory . . . so that we could proudly reside with him in heaven, content in the knowledge that we served him to the utmost in this life.”

  Judah walked back to center stage. “People of The Order. The Lord called to me on this very day. He called to me as we prepared for battle. We believed that we were taking the fight to the devil’s door, but the truth is . . . they are coming for us. In fact, they are on their way.”

  The crowd burst into a terror-filled frenzy. People jumped to their feet, trying to break through the wall of guards. But the guards pushed them back, hitting them with the butts of their guns to settle them down.

  Brother Michael and Brother James fired shot after shot into the air. The people dropped to the ground. I studied Judah. My skin crawled. Judah watched from the stage with a potent hunger in his eyes. He was relishing the chaos. In this moment, he was a lord over the innocent.

  He glanced to the side and held out his hand. Sarai, his consort, walked onto the stage and took his outstretched hand. I could see that Judah loved her, in his own way. And she loved him, but it was a love that was anything but great. It was a love born of cruelty and obsession. An evil soul bound to an evil soul.

  Sarai nodded her head as he whispered something into her ear. She kissed him on his lips, and gave him her most encouraging smile.

  He faced the crowd again. The people were all completely silent now. All waiting for the next words from their prophet. “Today we shall beat the devil at his own game. We know that the devil challenges the faithful by luring their souls in this life, by tempting them with vices and greed . . . by threatening death. But we, the truly faithful, do not fear death. How could we, when we know what our pure souls will meet—paradise. God calls on us, His chosen people, to welcome death. He calls on us to thwart the devil’s plans.”

  I sat, breath held, as he shared the rest of his “revelation”. “Satan sends his men for us now. They come to wreak havoc and spread nothing but sin and pain. So we are to confront Satan with the greatest rebellion of all.” The people watched Judah with wide, trusting eyes, as he announced, “We shall place our lives into His hands. We will subm
it to His will. People of The Order! When the devil’s men arrive, we shall no longer be here in spirit. They shall mourn the loss of our captured souls when they see our lifeless bodies lying prone on this sacred ground. But we will be rejoicing with our Lord in Zion! We shall overcome their wickedness. People, be joyous for this day, for we shall soon be dining at our Lord’s table!”

  Most of the people erupted into the throes of manic happiness, holding their hands in the air and worshiping my brother and their Lord. Others sat motionless, terrified . . . trapped by the guards.

  “No!” I shouted when I realized what was about to happen. I gripped the bars harder. “The syringes . . . they’re not wine . . . they’re poison . . . fuck! He’s going to kill them . . . he’s going to kill them all!”

  “No,” Ruth cried beside me, shock coating the word.

  “Judah!” I screamed, panic and disgust surging through me. But the music drowned me out.

  “Those who are beside a child, you have been given two syringes—one is for you, the other is for them. Like the holy caretakers that we are, that we pride ourselves to be, we will send the innocent souls of the children to God first,” Judah smiled a kind, loving smile. “He will cherish them in His warmth until we arrive soon after.”

  “Oh no!” Sister Ruth cried. “The children . . . he’s going to kill the children too.”

  Sickness worked its way up my throat. I screamed and I screamed as I saw Judah signal to the crowd to proceed. The women and men who were sitting beside children turned to face them. Scalding tears filled my eyes as the young children looked at the adults with such trust . . . such fucking trust that they would let them do anything.

  My hands bled as I pulled on the bars, my skin breaking apart. My shoulders screamed out in protest as I tried to wrench the door off its hinges, but it wouldn’t fucking move. I heard Solomon and Samson roaring in rage beside me, screaming at the elders to stop. Stephen was white-faced with horror. Ruth cried, slumping to her knees when no one heard our calls.

  But I couldn’t stop. Even though it was useless, I couldn’t fucking stop. “Judah!” I roared, but my voice was lost under the noise. “JUDAH!” I screamed again and again and again . . .

  Then I saw the adults start to push the syringes into the children’s mouths, encouraging them to swallow the fluid down their throats. I froze, stock still, as the adults took their turn.

  I fucking saw red. My stomach twisted with bile and vomit. Whatever was in the syringes didn’t kill the children quickly. They began to scream in agony, their tiny bodies writhing on the ground. Froth and blood poured from their mouths as they fought to breathe, scraping at their throats, their hands reaching out desperately for help . . . but nobody was there to save them.

  Nobody was fucking there to ease their pain . . .

  No one ever cared for the children here in this hell. They were always alone . . . even in fucking death, Judah ensured they were alone and in pain.

  The adults’ dose of poison began dragging them under too. One by one they went down, thrashing on the floor in torture.

  In the panic, some of the people tried to get up and run, throwing their syringes to the ground. And I watched, helpless, as the guards forced them to back to the ground and pinned them down, pouring the poison into their mouths.

  They were murdering them . . . fucking murdering them!

  A group of people broke free from Brother Luke’s section, scrambling for the trees. He lifted his gun and sent a spray of bullets into the backs of their heads. Ruth screamed out beside me as the victims crumpled to the floor.

  The elders were next; their bodies dropping down to the floor from their human wall as they willingly drank the fluid from the syringes. Screams of torment cut through the music, a cacophony of agonized death cries. Guards rushed around the mass of bodies, ensuring all the doses of poison had been taken.

  Like a rolling wave, the thrashing of the children’s bodies began to slow . . . until they grew silent and still. The adults were next, then the elders followed suit. It was like a horror movie. People rushing everywhere, chaos and hysteria blurring the scene.

  Then, suddenly, I saw a flash of red hair at the cell door. “Phebe,” I said frantically. “Open the door!”

  Phebe held the key in her hand. Her hands trembled with fear, and tears clouded her eyes as she fought to get the key into the lock. My heart was a cannon in my chest as I tried to see through the madness beyond, as I tried to detect Judah through the chaos.

  The lock snapped open. I pushed the door open, just as the sound of heavy gunfire came from the far-off trees. “The Hangmen,” I shouted. I charged out of the door and looked over the plain. The guards had turned away from the dying masses and were running, guns held high, at the Hangmen. I saw a few fleeing, running from the fray.

  Fucking cowards!

  I looked back toward the sound of bullets, and could see men in black moving from the trees. Even though there were only eleven of them, they somehow looked like a fucking army. They hit with perfect precision. The guards began dropping to the ground, bullets slicing through their heads and hearts.

  Phebe backed away into the trees. I met her terrified eyes. “Grace . . . I need to get to Grace!” Phebe ran back toward the cellblock. In the distance, to the side of the stage, I saw my brother.

  My body vibrated with rage, and I began to charge. I ran. I ran and I fucking ran. But as I approached the mass of bodies, massacred on the ground, my feet faltered. My hands lifted to my head as I looked down at the lifeless faces staring back up at me. Indescribable pain rocked through me. I forced myself to keep upright. The bodies stretched and stretched for yards and yards, as far as the eye could see. And each time I saw a small child’s frightened face—mouth open and eyes forever frozen with a look of fear—a pained roar ripped from my throat.

  I made myself turn my face away, move away from the dead. I searched the plain. Judah was still crouching low by the platform, like a fucking rat. I didn’t even look toward the Hangmen. The red mist in my eyes and the rage burning in my heart had one target.

  The fucking murdering bastard that shared my face.

  My breath echoed in my ears as I pushed my legs to run as fast as they would go. Seeing a dead guard on the ground, I picked up the gun hanging limply in his hand and took the knife from his belt. Suddenly, I heard a female scream behind me. I whipped around, fearing it was Sister Ruth. But I smiled a fucking bloodthirsty smile when I saw Ky with his hand around Sarai’s throat. The brother lifted her off the floor as she clawed at his arms. He plunged his knife directly through the top of her skull and dropped her to the ground. Ky stood beside her dead body and spat at the corpse. I saw the Hangmen slaying the guards, massacring the pricks.

  Then I turned my head.

  A flash of white scurried from the side of the stage and made for the safety of the trees. But my determined legs propelled me forward. They didn’t stop until I halted at the end of the platform . . . where my twin froze and met my eyes.

  His nostrils flared as I glared at him, my gun held out, fixed on his heart. And even now, in amongst all this fucking death and destruction, he didn’t look sorry.

  The fucker was proud.

  Always filled with so much fucking pride. I never knew it was possible to harbor such simultaneous intense hate and love for a person before that moment. The hate I understood, but the love . . . it fucking incensed me. I wanted to rip my traitorous heart from my chest and throw it onto the dead bodies stacked up around us.

  “Brother,” Judah’s voice ripped me from my inner fury, and our identical gazes clashed. I realized the entire commune was silent. Not even a fucking bird sang in the distance— the heavy curtain of death, such senseless fucking death, chasing all life away from its polluted air.

  It was why I still stood, still stared down my twin. Because I too felt dead. Fucking dead inside. Only rage was keeping me standing . . . rage and the knowledge that, in a matter of minutes, I would throw Judah’s lif
eless body to the ground so he could join his sadistic little whore in hell.

  “Brother,” Judah said again and held up his hands.

  “Don’t!” I roared. “Don’t you fucking dare call me that!”

  Judah glanced around him, roving his eyes over the bodies. “It had to be done, brother. I could not let us be taken down by the sinners. I always knew this may be our path. I had to be prepared. Our people, they understood. They wanted this too.” He spoke with such a calmness, such a detachment from the fucking mass murder he’d just ordered, that shards of ice darted down my spine. “The devil will never triumph over us.” He smiled and closed his eyes. “Tonight our people will dine with the Lord at His table; they will join our uncle, our founder, by the celestial river of eternal life.”

  “You’re fucking crazy,” I whispered as I watched him bask in his glory, his slain victims just a step away from our feet.

  Judah opened his eyes and looked directly at me. “No, brother. I have always been strong in my faith. It was always you who could not control your sinful actions and thoughts. It was you who could not just adhere to the teachings and follow the scriptures and creeds. You had it all, salvation at your fingertips, yet you threw it all away.”

  “They were false. Everything is false,” I said through gritted teeth. I pointed to the tiny foot of a child directly to my left. “You took lives for fucking lies! You could have saved them! You could have let them go!”

  “No,” he shook his head. “They had to die. They had to sacrifice their lives for the good of their souls.” And that was the moment I knew for sure . . . I had to kill him myself.

  He had to be taken by my hands. Like a rabid dog, he had to be put down.

  Without taking my eyes off my brother, I threw the gun and knife to the ground. Judah’s eyes narrowed on mine, then I walked toward him. I knew he saw the intent in my gaze when he lifted up his hands and backed away. “Brother,” he said cautiously as I approached. “You cannot do this. You have tried in the past and you could not go through with it, remember? I am your twin. I am your only blood . . . you will not take my life . . . we need each other. We always have.”