Apocalypse Cult (Gray Spear Society)

Apocalypse Cult
Alex Siegel

Apocalypse Cult
All Rights Reserved. Copyright 2011-2012
Alex Siegel
ISBN: 978-0-557-65761-2

Revision 6/22/2013

For information about this book and others in the same series, please visit:

http://www.grayspearsociety.com/

The Gray Spear Society series is a long-running saga. It is recommended that the books be read in a specific order. The current list is:

1. Apocalypse Cult
2. Carnival of Mayhem
3. Psychological Damage
4. Involuntary Control
5. Deadly Weakness
6. The Price of Disrespect
7. Tricks and Traps
8. Politics of Blood
9. Grim Reflections
10. Eyes of the World (COMING SOON!)
11. Antisocial Media (COMING SOON!)

Chapter One

Aaron Glade looked across the kitchen table at Caroline Waters. Her husband, Frank, sat beside her with a tense expression on his face.

"You have to find our daughter," she cried. "The last two months have been a nightmare. We've tried everything. We talked to the police, the FBI. They barely lifted a finger. If you don't find her, I don't know what we'll do! We could lose her forever."

"I'll give it my best shot," Aaron said in a firm tone. "I promise. I never give up on a case, especially one like this."

He stood up and slowly looked around the small kitchen. Sometimes everyday objects held important clues, and he would need every possible advantage in this case. He gave himself no better than a thirty percent chance of success based on what he had heard so far. When teenagers ran away from home, they rarely came back.

His gaze settled on a speckled linoleum floor that needed a good sweeping. The odor of sour milk was slight but unmistakable. Mrs. Waters had not paid much attention to housekeeping lately, but that was understandable. A black and white tile counter ran along two walls with a small sink in the corner. Magnets held dozens of pictures of the missing girl on the fridge.

Aaron walked over for a closer look. Brittany Waters was short and blonde with a boyish figure. She had mature features, more like a young woman than a girl. Her plain face had a vacant smile in every picture, as if she were slightly stoned. He took the most recent photo and slipped it into his pocket.

"Is there any way we can help?" Frank Waters asked.

Aaron turned and looked at the worried couple. He had been a private investigator for a year and had seen that expression on the faces of many other clients. It always tugged at his heart.

Mr. Waters had short, black hair shot with strands of gray. His crisply trimmed beard didn't match his rounded face. He was a short man, even shorter than his wife, who could hardly be considered tall. Mrs. Waters had long blonde hair that needed to be trimmed at the ends. Her face was narrow, and perhaps it had been beautiful once, but now she looked drained of life. A cheap dress with a dandelion pattern hung from her bony shoulders.

"Let's go over all the facts one last time," Aaron said, "just in case you remember something new."

"She's with the Church of One Soul!" Mr. Waters said angrily. "I wouldn't look anywhere else."

"How can you be so sure?"

"That damned cult recruited some of her friends and other kids at her high school. She brought home pamphlets for weeks before she disappeared. She never stopped talking about her 'church.' We tried to be patient, but I could listen to only so much of that bullshit. The poor girl was so messed up it sounded like she was taking drugs."

Mrs. Waters wiped her eyes. "We saw the signs. We should've done something sooner. We should've intervened." She sniffled loudly.

"Not your fault," Aaron said softly. "Lots of teenagers get mixed up with cults. It's a vulnerable age."

"Brittany kept talking about angels, fire, death, and a lunatic named Simon. Crazy stuff."

"Simon?"

"The head honcho," Mr. Waters said. "They believe he's the Savior."

Aaron nodded. "What did the police say?"

"There was no ransom demand. No phone call. No evidence of a crime. According to them, they don't have time to chase down every teenage girl who runs away from home. That's why we hired you."

"You hired the right guy." Aaron stood tall and put on a confident expression. "I love tackling tough cases. You mentioned you went to the cult's compound?"

"Yes, in southern Wisconsin, a couple of miles south of Twostone. It's in a forest. I'll draw you a map."

"What happened when you went there?"

"I couldn't get in! The place is like a prison camp. Fences and barbed wire everywhere, a big steel gate, and guards all around. They
really
don't like visitors."

"Were they armed?" Aaron said.

Mr. Waters shook his head. "Not that I could see, but maybe they were hiding guns under their robes. As soon as the guards saw me, they chased me away. They didn't even ask who I was."

Mrs. Waters sniffled.

"Anything else?" Aaron said. "No? Then I'll go first thing in the morning, but to be honest, the situation is not good. Sneaking into the compound and finding her won't be easy, assuming she is there, and getting her home will be even harder. I doubt she'll cooperate. I may have to physically abduct her."

"But it's not hopeless?" Mrs. Waters said.

"Not hopeless."
But close.

* * *

Aaron rubbed his eyes and yawned. He hated mornings and preferred working at night. Today's workday had started well before dawn. He had wanted as much daylight as possible for careful observation and note taking. He intended to spend the day just performing reconnaissance. There was no need to rush into a difficult and risky situation. Brittany had been missing for months, and one more day wouldn't make a critical difference.

He was squatting between thick bushes under a huge oak tree. He had to move every few minutes to stay in the shadows, while at the same time watching for poison ivy. He expected that his knees would be wrecked by the end of the day.

The Church of One Soul compound lay before him, and it did indeed look like an old prison camp. A tall chain-link fence with thick rolls of barbed wire surrounded the complex, which had guard towers at every corner. The ground inside was just bare dirt, graded flat and swept clean. Aaron saw no sign of agriculture and wondered how the cult managed to feed itself. Wooden planks painted dull green formed plain rectangular buildings. Narrow windows were made of translucent plastic or frosted glass. The compound covered twenty or thirty acres. He estimated a few hundred people could live here.

Even though the sun had just risen, many members of the cult were already awake. They wore green robes, which were generally dirty and frayed. They flapped around loosely in the light breeze. The robes that were in better condition had blue bands sewn on the sleeves, perhaps a sign of rank. Aaron looked through a pair of binoculars as he searched for Brittany Waters. It didn't help that all the members of the cult had shaved their heads, and most had elaborate green tattoos on their faces. Even if he saw Brittany, he might not recognize her.

He shifted his legs to a position he hoped would be more comfortable.

The rustling leaves in the oak trees provided a soothing background noise. The air was very warm, but as long as he stayed in the shade, it was tolerable. Insects buzzed continuously.

A twig snapped in the distance.

Slowly and silently, Aaron looked back. It wouldn't surprise him if the cult had patrols in the woods searching for intruders like him. The freaks were obviously obsessed with security. He had carefully chosen a spot with thick cover on all sides. As long as he stayed down, his plain dark clothing would conceal him.

After watching carefully for a few minutes, he located the source of the sound. Two people were sneaking from tree to tree about fifty yards away. Like Aaron, they were staying low and in the shadows. Their graceful movements told him they were professionals. One person was as big and wide as a football player, and the other was medium height and slender.
No green robes. Not a patrol
, Aaron thought.
Who are they?

On his elbows and knees, he crept towards the mysterious pair. His progress could be measured in inches, but he knew that patience was key. He had to approach undetected.

Dry leaves and twigs covered the forest floor. Aaron stepped over the piles of litter as best he could. He couldn't risk raising his head above the bushes, and soon his lower back ached from bending over. Every shadow was an island of safety amid dangerous shafts of sunlight. He headed away from the compound and deeper into the thick woods.

After about twenty minutes of this slow pursuit, he realized he had lost one of his targets. The large man was still directly ahead, easily visible, but the slender one had vanished from sight. Aaron looked in all directions, afraid that the missing person was hanging back to ambush him. Aaron wasn't carrying a gun, so if it came to a fight, he would have to defend himself with his fists or perhaps a large stick. He rolled his shoulders to loosen them.

The large man was still moving, and if Aaron didn't follow, he would lose him, too. Aaron clenched his jaw as he considered what to do. He really had no choice. He started forward but glanced over his shoulder every few seconds, listening carefully for the smallest unnatural noise. He kept his hands in a defensive position.

He heard the sound of a gun being cocked above his head. Slowly, he looked up. A woman was sitting on a tree branch and holding a 9mm semiautomatic. The barrel was pointed at his forehead.

"Who are you?" she said. "You're obviously not with the Church of One Soul."

She was so stunningly beautiful he almost forgot the gun in her hand. He stared at her as if hypnotized. Light freckles decorated her pale, smooth skin. Her strawberry blond hair was pulled back in a ponytail, tied with a black ribbon. Her eyes were a remarkable green color that reminded him of jade. Mottled gray and black camouflage clothing fit snugly enough to show off a trim physique and muscular legs. She hopped off the branch and landed with the softest of thumps.

She wore a gun belt around her waist with a second gun in a holster on her left hip. Knives strapped to her wrists and ankles had blades long enough to be illegal.

"Tell me who you are first," Aaron said.

Her partner tromped through the dry leaves, making plenty of noise now that the game of hunter and prey was over. From a distance, the man had looked big, but up close, he was a beast. Muscles bulged aggressively on every part of his massive body. He had dark brown hair, cut short, cinnamon-colored skin, and a distinctly Roman nose. Small scars marked his knuckles and face in many places. Clearly, the man had lived a rough life and knew how to fight. Aaron guessed his age at late thirties.

The man was also heavily armed. He carried two guns in holsters and a shotgun strapped across his back.

"No," he said in a voice that rumbled like a locomotive. "You first."

Aaron was smart enough to know when to back down, and besides, he had nothing to hide. "My name is Aaron Glade. I'm a private investigator searching for a missing girl. The parents think she might be here."

"You're in great shape for a private eye," the woman said. "I thought all you guys were fat."

"It's a relatively recent career choice. Maybe I'll fit the classic profile in a few years."

"Give me your wallet," the big man demanded.

Aaron turned to him. "You're mugging me?"

"I don't want your fucking money. I need to see your identification."

Aaron gave the man his wallet. He took out a gray metal phone that was so bulky and thick it looked like a model from twenty years ago. Aaron wondered if the oversized phone had special features that justified its size. The man walked away and made a call while he studied Aaron's wallet.

Aaron turned his attention back to the woman. She was gorgeous, but she didn't have the fragile features or undernourished body of a fashion model. No, this woman was all business. Even her arms looked taut and muscular. She watched him with a piercing gaze. She still had a gun aimed steadily at his head. He found her mesmerizing and wanted to know a lot more about her.

He noticed she had long black fingernails with pointed tips. It was an odd choice in style, although it matched all the knives she wore. He counted six edged weapons, and those were just the ones he could see.

The man waved for her to come over.

"Excuse me," she said.

She walked over to her partner. They conversed in hushed tones, facing away from Aaron, and he had time to wonder about the odd pair. Were they romantically involved? Who was in charge? The discussion dragged on for a few minutes and gradually became an argument. The woman didn't back down an inch despite the fact that the man's biceps were as big as her thighs, and he spoke directly into her face like a drill sergeant. Aaron leaned forward, hoping to pick out a few words, but they were too far away.

Finally, they returned. The man gave Aaron's wallet back to him.