Chosen (Second Sight) (11 page)

He raced back to the door and opened it, just as two security guards passed. Mac froze and immediately narrowed the gap but didn’t risk making a sound by closing the door.

“Johnson isn’t enough,” one of them said. “The team needs a three-point threat.”

“Oh
right
,” the other said. “They need another
center
, not a guard.”

Mac allowed the door to open a few inches to see where they were headed but, as he did, they rounded a corner into a hallway. He swung the door open, silently shut it, flattened himself against the wall and crept toward the corner. Slowly, he poked the edge of his head around it just in time to see them disappear through a doorway, the door shutting loudly behind them.

As Mac approached and then passed their room, he heard muffled voices inside. He tried the next door–open as well. He slipped inside. Though the room was dark, he didn’t need the light from his cell phone to see what was inside–computers, lots of them. Circular blue lights, maybe a dozen in a row, cast their pale, cool glow over the many towers. Routers and hubs flashed various color combinations of yellow, red, and green. One small, square table held a monitor, keyboard and mouse.
 

It had to be the center of their computer network, their connection to the internet.
 

The room was warm and the whirring fans of the machines hummed at various pitches as he approached the table. Mac nudged the mouse and the monitor flared to life, too bright in the relative darkness. A small message in the center of the screen prompted him for a password.

No doubt the right password would unlock exactly the kind of data he needed. But there was a reason nothing was locked. The rooms were either devoid of anything important or, like this, they were secure. He glanced at the myriad towers and networking equipment. Nor could be just take hard drives. That would no doubt send people running here. Plus, it wouldn’t lead them to Kayla. He checked the time on his phone.

Though he hoped that Isabelle was having more luck, he doubted that was the case.
 

“How long?” Maurice asked, watching the wall of monitors.
 

“Fifteen minutes,” said the security guard.

Maurice had left Geoffrey in the living room with his vodka. Normally they caught kids on video, sneaking up the stairs, playing in the rooms–hide and seek about the worst of it. It always came as a shock to them when they were confronted. Swift punishment ensured that they didn’t have repeat offenders.
 

But these weren’t kids.

Isabelle and her boyfriend, in separate rooms, looking for something. Neither of them had detected the hidden cameras–placed in fake fire detectors and wall clocks, co-located within thermostats. There was no part of the operation that wasn’t under scrutiny, except for the rooms
he
used. Even Geoffrey was under surveillance, though he didn’t know it.

Isabelle’s boyfriend was methodical. The man was quickly discovering what Maurice already knew. There was nothing to find, not in this building. Maurice peered at the monitor. Geoffrey was right. The boyfriend was intimidating, even from above. Isabelle, on the other hand–he watched her opening desk drawers–kept glancing at the door and was making far less progress.

“Bring him,” Maurice said.

“What about the girl?” asked the other guard.

“I’ll handle her,” Maurice replied.

• • • • •

Despite the fact that there were two security guards flanking Isabelle’s boyfriend, Geoffrey went to the opposite corner of the small, windowless room. Maurice had said there was to be a punishment. But as he watched Mac’s glare follow him, he couldn’t believe Maurice meant to punish Mac.
 

The room was barren, designed that way by Maurice. Sometimes people were left in here for hours before their punishment. By the time Maurice and Geoffrey showed up, the punishment itself was anti-climatic. The children had invariably already melted down and often the adults as well. Nevertheless, Maurice always followed through. He would mete out the punishment and Geoffrey would console the offender. It was a system that never failed.

Somehow, though, Geoffrey didn’t picture Mac needing consolation.

Or sitting still for punishment.

The only ‘decorations’ in the room were hung on the wall next to the door: a wooden paddle, a rattan cane, a leather strap, a yardstick, and the shock wand. Just the sight of them had children crying. A single, wooden chair was pushed into a corner. Geoffrey sat in it when he put the kids over his knee.

The door burst open and Maurice propelled Isabelle through.

“Mac!” she said, as she nearly fell into his arms and he caught her.

“Are you all right?” Mac asked, helping her to regain her balance.

“I’m fine,” she breathed, holding on to him.

Maurice slammed the door closed, making Geoffrey jump.
 

“Wait outside,” he ordered the guards.

They hesitated for a moment and looked at Geoffrey.

He nodded and tried to produce a knowing smile for them–the one that said everything was under control and he knew exactly what he was doing. Except, at the moment, he had
no
idea what was going on and he was sure of only one thing: he didn’t want to be in a room with Isabelle’s boyfriend and no guards. Even so, the practiced expression had its desired effect and the two men left without a word.

Maurice had impressed on him many times that punishment served many purposes. Not only was a swift correction to improper behavior the best way to stop it but it was also a test. New members who willingly submitted were often well on their way to becoming full-fledged members. The two security guards who just left had probably once been in this room–though Geoffrey couldn’t remember them specifically. Going through punishment was like a rite of passage. At an emotional and psychological low, it was an excellent time for Geoffrey to bond with the punished, particularly the women.

But how is that going to work here?

“I’m not going to ask you what you were doing,” Maurice said.

“I told you,” said Isabelle. “I was lost.”

Bad move
, thought Geoffrey. The upstairs was strictly off-limits. He told everyone that–
always
.

Maurice pointedly turned from her and strolled slowly down the line of punishment tools.

Geoffrey could hardly believe it. Maurice didn’t actually think that Mac was going to submit or let Isabelle be punished either. Did he
want
a fight? Suddenly he wished he hadn’t let the security guards leave. He glanced at the door. They were just outside.

“Let’s cut through the crap,” Mac said and Maurice turned to him. “I wanted to have a look around. That’s really why I’m here.”

Geoffrey could only stare at him.

“I’m listening,” Maurice said slowly.

Mac hugged Isabelle to his side.

“We may not have much,” he said. “But we’ve worked hard for it. I’m not about to give it all to someone or something that I don’t know anything about.”

“But you only had to ask,” Geoffrey said, glad for the opportunity to play his role. He spread his hands and pitched his voice to sound like reasonableness itself. “Maurice and I can tell you anything you want to know. Anybody here can.”

“Let’s just say I’m not the…trusting kind,” Mac said and Isabelle smiled nervously, looking between him and Maurice.

“Fine,” Maurice said. “Let’s just call it a mistake.” He turned back to the instruments on the wall and took down the shock wand. He turned back to them. “But the rules are clear.” He paused. “Isabelle?” he said, looking at her. “Put out your hands.”

• • • • •

Mac’s shoulders tensed and he had to be careful not to grip Isabelle too hard. She’d instinctively clutched both her hands to her chest.

“That’s not going to happen,” he said.

“Really?” replied Maurice, as though he were enjoying the moment. “Then maybe you don’t really want to be members.”

“Maurice,” Geoffrey said. “Maybe–”

“The rules,” Maurice said loudly, talking over him. “Are there for a reason, Geoffrey. I
know
you agree.”

Geoffrey looked as though he were swallowing his tongue but he eventually nodded.

Mac observed the two of them. They had to be brothers. The sounds of their voices were nearly identical. But where Geoffrey’s face was like a model’s and his tanned skin perfect, Maurice’s face sagged around a bulbous nose and his skin was grayish, especially compared to the white lab coat.
 

Was he a doctor?

No doubt Geoffrey’s hair was dyed blonde because Maurice was dark-haired and graying at the temples. Stooped and thin, his physical resemblance to his younger brother was mostly around the mouth. And, as Mac watched, Maurice’s mouth curved into a cruel smile.

Maurice thumbed on the red power switch.

“Isabelle?” he said again.

She stared wide-eyed at the rod and pressed even closer into Mac’s side.
No doubt members submitted regularly to these sorts of tests
, Mac thought. It would be a measure of their commitment. They wouldn’t even realize how each test became more compelling and how much of their free will they’d let go.
 

But the real cult members would eventually submit. They had to. And though it went against everything in Mac, he knew that in order to find Kayla or anything that could be used against the Green Earth Commune, they’d need to do the same thing.

“Here,” Mac said, letting Isabelle go. He reached out one of his hands.

Maurice grinned at the little victory but shook his head.
 

“Isabelle also
lied
,” he said. “She’ll go first. You’ll both have your turn.”

Geoffrey opened his mouth as though he were going to say something but Maurice swung a steel-melting glare on him.

Mac felt Isabelle stand taller and separate from him.

“No,” he said, pulling her back.

“It’s okay, Mac,” she said, her voice sounding anything but okay. She looked up into his eyes, searching, her eyebrows knit together. “Maybe I’ll
learn
something. I mean, maybe I’ll learn something from my mistake.” He cocked his head at her. “Maybe I’ll
see
things…in a different way.”
 

Isabelle was going to attempt a reading.
He glanced at the shock wand.
But a reading on something like
that
would be nothing short of excruciating.

“It’s really not bad,” Geoffrey said, encouragingly. “We use it on the kids.”

Mac clenched his jaw.

On
kids
. Isn’t
that
lovely.
 

“Let’s just get it over with,” Isabelle said quietly.

Isabelle wanted to find Kayla. Mac understood that and his mind raced to find another way. But, as Isabelle unfastened the small, pearl clasp at the wrist of one of her gloves, he knew there wasn’t a good alternative. With a last squeeze, he let her go.

Slowly, she peeled the gray glove off, sliding it up her palm as he’d watched her do before. One by one, she tugged at the snug fingers, loosening them. The soft, smooth skin of her hand emerged and with a last pull, the glove came free. She handed it to him.

As he took it, though, he glanced at Geoffrey and Maurice and realized they were as riveted as he’d been. Though they had no idea why she wore the gloves, the room had become charged with anticipation. They stared at her hands, as he had once done. Geoffrey even wet his lips and, for an instant, Mac wanted to sink his fist into the man’s mouth. Finally, though, the second glove came off and Isabelle laid it in his hand on top of the other.

She turned to Maurice and extended both hands, palms up.
 

“I’m ready,” she whispered.

Isabelle couldn’t stop the trembling of her hands. But, as though Maurice enjoyed it, he moved the wand closer very slowly. He stared as hard at her hands as she did, maneuvering the length of the short, black stick, about an inch in diameter, horizontally over both palms. As he lowered it, she could hear the tiny whine of electricity and smelled something that might have been burning plastic. Something clicked loudly under his thumb and her hands twitched in response. As the gap slowly narrowed, Isabelle couldn’t see how far there was to go. Instead of look at it, she took in a deep breath and stared at the ground.

Without warning, the wand slapped down into her hands.

A sizzling, painful jolt spread across both palms and the reading began immediately.

Isabelle hissed at the stinging as her vision went gray.
 

Hands of all sizes flashed in front of her. Whimpers and cries filled her ears. Maurice’s voice said their names. His grip was firm, without emotion, even tinged with boredom, over and over. Some of the tortured hands were so tiny. Some of the children had been punished repeatedly. She squeezed her eyes shut as their pain compounded hers. Terror welled up inside, constricting her throat. They screamed. They wailed. They pleaded, cried, and begged. Tears welled up, fell down their faces, her face.
Please
! they screamed. She couldn’t breathe. The gray was fading to black.

“Stop!” Mac yelled.

• • • • •

Maurice jerked the wand back just as Isabelle began to crumple.
 

Though Mac caught her before she could hit the floor, she was unconscious.
 

“What did you do?” Geoffrey screamed.

“I
lowered
the voltage,” Maurice said, staring at the wand.

He turned it off.

The door flew open and the two security guards charged in, brought up short by what they saw.

Mac scooped Isabelle up into his arms. She lay completely limp across them, her head fallen backwards.

“Are you a doctor?” Mac yelled. Maurice stared at him, stunned. He’d
lowered
the voltage. Mac turned to Geoffrey. “Where is your
doctor
?”

“We…we…don’t have one here,” he said.

“
What?
” Mac yelled. “What happened to your excellent medical care?”