Page 32 of Broken Highway (Cult Boys #1)

SEVEN

I take shelter in the shadows behind a thick tree, close enough to the ceremony that I can hear Silas’ words over the stillness of the crowd.

“Ascension is upon us. The wicked march forth, armed with desperation. For years, we believed we had more time. More time to cherish the ones we love, to hold them, to guide them, to protect them from the tentacles of the wicked who hide on the outskirts.”

I peer up at the stars and try to steady my breathing.

I think about how long it took me to work up the courage to run.

To flee this place in the death of night.

Out there, on the open road, I became someone else.

Someone stronger, but being back in this place threatens to tear me back in time, back to the scared kid I used to be.

“We, the Sinless Children, have strived for perfection,” Silas continues.

“All of us, at times, have faltered. We have been tested and we have failed. There is not one amongst us who has not been lured into the darkness. Not one of us who has not been tempted by the forbidden fruits. Not one of us who has not taken a bite at some point in our lives.”

Flames climb the curtains in Silas’ bedroom. Soon, the house and everything in it will be burned to the ground.

“Our God is merciful!” Silas screams and is met with cheers from about half the crowd.

“It’s why he calls us home. We have proven our dedication to the tenants he has laid before us and we still fall, over and over again.

We are the best we can be when the outside world has all the ammo in the world to destroy our souls. ”

I peek around the tree, sweat trailing down my back.

My breath is ragged and sharp, even as I try my best to steady myself.

It does nothing to calm my racing heart.

Does nothing to relieve the tension in my gut.

My chest tightens, even as my breathing accelerates.

I place my hand over my heart and apply pressure while I feel the waterworks coming.

I was a fool for thinking I could do this on my own, without Noah.

I glance in the general direction of the parking lot and pray he comes back for me. Pray he storms in and saves the day like he always does. Every moment that passes without him showing his face is another moment I drown in my own self-doubt.

“Make no mistake,” Silas continues his sermon.

“They are coming. They will take this place from us, and poison us with their wicked ways. They will contaminate the dirt we grow our crops on. They will stain the walls with the cries of the damned. They will, with them, bring the wrath of an endless swarm of demons. Tonight, God will come for us and save us from damnation.”

For the entirety of my time in this place, I was always a part of the inner circle. I was privy to knowledge others weren’t. Most of these people know they’ve been invited here to die, but they truly believe god is coming for them—when really they’re just lining up for slaughter at Silas’ hand.

“Pay no heed to the fires, for God has stoked them with his almighty reach. To rid the wicked the opportunity to take what is not theirs as we usher into the heavenly gates.”

Fires? As in plural? Sure enough, Silas’ house isn’t the only one ablaze.

Flames creep across the windows in each house.

Silas is one crazy sonofabitch. Not only is he about to commit mass ritual suicide, but he’s also hellbent on making sure there’s nothing left.

That, or he’s sending smoke signals because he wants the world to know what happened here sooner rather than later.

Those who crave power desire for their names to be remembered.

I peek back around the tree to see the congregation drinking from tin cups in unison.

Setting Silas’ house on fire was supposed to be a distraction for him, but I’m the one who ended up distracted. I step out from behind the tree and approach, passing through the fiery glow of the torches.

“Tell them the truth!” I scream, my lips trembling.

A cascade of eyes turns to me in a wave that crests at the podium.

Silas meets my gaze with a half-cocked grin.

Beside him, a cup falls from Senya’s hand. Her upper lip is stained in red from the punch.

I hold my hands before me, gesturing that I’m not a threat.

These people are so brainwashed, though.

There’s a good chance Noah will find my dead body with a hole in my skull.

“Silas is lying to you. There is no such thing as Ascension.” I point to him, standing on that fucking stage with that fucking smirk of his.

“He is not a man of god any more than I am. Any more than Magnus was.”

“You’ve been lost since I met you.” He steps to the edge of the stage and squats with his knees bowed outward. “You know what I think? The devil sent you here himself. You taint everything you touch.” He slaps his hands on his knees and rises back to his feet. “Hold him down.”

A hand lands on each of my shoulders, pushing me to the ground. I grit my teeth and strain as I attempt to free myself, but I’m no match for the two brutes holding me down. My knees dig into the mud .

“I tried to save you so many times, and what did I ever get in return?”

“You always wanted more, didn’t you?”

“No more questions, Seven.” He wags his finger toward someone in the crowd, but I can’t make out who. “I wish things were different, but you’ve left me an impossible choice. You’re not coming with us. You will rot in this material world, but my family is coming with me.”

Nany, Magnus’ mother, guides Silas Jr. down the torch-lit path.

She’s ancient with stringy gray hair down the length of her back.

She walks slow and steady at a pace fit for a child.

My nephew appears dazed and tired, holding Nany’s hand with an iron grip.

He’s always been a shy kid, and being the center of the attention probably makes him want to run and hide.

The two of them make their way up the steps and pass my sister. She juts forward, trying to intercept her son, but is grabbed by the last remaining enforcer on the stage. Nany releases Silas Jr.’s hand as they approach Silas.

“How are you going to do it, Silas?” I ask. “Do you have a militia of men with guns waiting to ambush? You think you can convince every person here to slit their own wrist? Are you going to lead them all into the fires you lit?”

He scoops his son into his arms and cradles him against his chest. “That’d be much too messy. Everyone here is already half dead.” He grabs a cup from the table beside him and holds it against Silas Jr.’s lips. “It’s in the punch.”

The world turns slowly as I find myself looking at the congregation.

Looking at the faces of horror, shock, confusion, and then there are a few who are painted in broad strokes of peace and acceptance.

The first cough draws my attention to a table to my left.

A middle-aged man jumps to his feet, knocking his chair to the ground.

He pounds a fist over his chest. To my right, a young mother in a flowery dress spits at the ground.

And then vomits as she falls to her hands and knees.

And then a chorus of hacking, coughing, vomiting.

Screams and wails as bodies fall like dominos.

Slow motion as I swallow the guilt of knowing I’ve failed to save anyone.

Bang!

Silas Jr. tumbles from Silas grip, landing on his feet. He takes off running behind the table and ducks down. He watches as his father tumbles forward, a hole in his head, and falls face-first off the front of the stage.

“Let him the fuck go,” Noah screams from the side.

Bang!

A ringing in my ear as the weight of one brute is released from my shoulder, his body rolling to the ground, blood spraying from the side of his throat.

Bang!

The other man falls, a bullet to his head .

Free from my captors, I fall forward and immediately scramble to the stage. Senya crawls to me, the life draining from her body. I drop onto my knees and take her into my lap, brush the hair from her face and shake my head defiantly. “Please don’t leave me.”

“Seven,” she whispers. “I need…”

“How am I supposed to—?” I’m distracted by Silas Jr. stepping out of the shadows, his feet more wobbly than usual.

He squints his eyes and rubs his belly. “Mommy, I don’t feel so good.”

Noah races for the stage, jumps on the platform, sweeps Silas Jr. onto his back so that he lies flat. He jams two fingers into the back of the kid’s throat.

“Come on,” Noah huffs. “Come on. Come on.”

Silas Jr. fights against the intrusion, clawing at Noah’s wrist. Fights it until he can’t fight anymore and regurgitates the red liquid around Noah’s fingers. Noah turns him on his side as he continues to vomit on the platform.

“You need…” Senya says, each breath taking longer than the next. “Take my son to get help.”

A tear rolls down my cheek and falls like the first raindrop of a storm onto her pale skin. “How do you expect me to leave you here?”

“I… said… no questions.”

I reposition her in my lap, hold her tighter. Years of rage swallow me whole as I let myself feel the pain and grief the way we’re meant to feel it. I brush away the tears rolling down my cheeks, not wanting the last image she has of me to be one of weakness.

“We have to go,” Noah shouts, rising to his feet with Silas Jr. cradled in his arms. “Now!”

I look into my sister’s wet eyes, swollen and red. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

She nods. The only way she has left to tell me it’s okay to go.

I pull my hands out from under her head, my fingers brushing through her beautiful hair one last time. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

And as I back away from her, I can’t stop saying those words over and over again. Say them until I’m not saying them to her anymore. Say them until I’m apologizing to myself.

I follow Noah off the platform. It begins as a slow hustle, navigating carefully around the maze of bodies littered around the courtyard. The wind, the tears, and smoke as thick as fog blurs my vision as we race through the compound.

We run past the food hall that crumbles underneath the weight of a raging fire. Run past the one-room school building where a singular gunshot can be heard from inside. Run straight to the parking lot as a car hauls ass into the night.

Noah passes Silas Jr. into my hands as we reach Silas’ car.

He opens the rear door and ushers me inside beside the cash-filled duffel bag.

Before I can even close the door, he’s in the driver's seat and speeding away.

Behind us, the world I knew burns to the ground.

Ahead of us, the moon peeks from behind storm clouds gathering on the horizon.

In the rearview mirror, I meet Noah’s gaze.

It’s the only thing in the world that calms me.

But Silas Jr. goes silent in my lap, his eyes blinking to a close.