Chapter 37
Kate
These assholes have me doing physical labor.
I’m carrying wood over to their massive fire, back and forth, until the pile next to the fire is nearly as tall as me. I tried to refuse, but the cult members are all eagle-eyed on each of my movements, so when they demanded I move their firewood, I couldn’t decline.
Seems pretty inconsiderate to make their next sacrifice do chores for them.
Jordan is being restrained by her neck, a collar fastened around her throat with a leash keeping her close to the cave wall, which has cracks spider-webbing upward from the force of hammering into the stone. My stomach spasmed at the sight.
Jeremiah stands just beyond her reach, his rifle in hand. I hear people walk over to her, inspecting her, asking questions about why she seems so normal. The name Helena keeps bouncing around, making me more confused than before.
When I told one of the women I wanted to speak with her, they gave me a nasty look and told me to keep moving.
“Good,” one of the women grunts at me as I place a new log down.
Her pale skin nearly glows from the raging fire, her dark hair cascading down her back in clumps of knots. She appears malnourished—her cheeks are sunken in, her collarbones jutting out.
These people may not have the virus, but they’re sick. I’m still struggling to get over the initial shock that they’ve managed to live this long, away from the city and any protection it provides.
I look around the cave again, my eyes snagging on different cracks and holes in the rock. Is the roof over us even secure?
“How long have you been here?” I ask, my voice sounding gravelly.
She doesn’t answer, doesn’t even flinch at the sound of my voice. “Come, we must prepare you.”
I try again, not wanting to know what she means by that. “What’s going to happen to me?”
“The infected will bite you,” she states, her voice cold. “If you don’t become sick, you will stay with us until we are taken to paradise.”
“And if I do get sick?”
“Then you’ll die.”
Great. I scan the cave. “Who is Helena?”
She gives me a look of disdain before crossing her arms. “Helena was one of us until she was deemed unworthy. She acted much like the current demon does.” She jerks her chin to Jordan.
My eyes widen. “You mean an infected was here that could talk?”
“She was bitten and transformed, speaking with the devil’s tongue—speaking to us as if she was normal.” The woman spits on the floor.
“Where is she now?” I demand.
“She got loose, nearly taking the whole cave down with her.” My mind starts racing. If an infected could pull free of the leash, maybe Jordan could— “What other symptoms did she have?”
“You should stop talking now. We need to prepare you.” She turns from me and walks further into the cave.
Without much choice, I shuffle behind her, thoughts swirling, trying to figure out how to tell Jordan.
“You’ll need to change,” the woman interrupts my pondering by tossing a white dress that looks like a sleeping gown at me.
I look down at it, not entirely thrilled at the idea of putting this on. I open my mouth to argue, but she continues, “We will bathe you first.”
“Oh, that’s a hard pass,” I tell her.
The idea of these people touching me, especially since the last time I bathed was with Jordan, makes my skin crawl.
“You have no choice,” she grunts, lip curling.
I feel a presence at my back. When I turn, three other women have approached. Apparently, they’re prepared for a fight.
I throw each of them dirty looks before I turn to the first woman. “Fine,” I bite out, throwing the dress back at her with more force than necessary.
As a group, the women lead me to a small wooden tub, water already filled to the brim.
“Strip.”
This is so humiliating, I think to myself as I step out of my clothes. Luckily, none of the women stare at me or give me the sense that they even care what I look like. I climb into the tub and nearly go into shock.
“It’s freezing!” I yelp, trying to climb back over the side, but their hands are grabbing me, forcing me back into the water.
They tug at my hair, scrubbing my body roughly with something—it’s hard to keep track as they move around me, the water so cold that it’s shutting my brain off.
I’m dunked underwater and I kick my limbs, fighting to get to the surface. These bitches are going to drown me—
As I’m pulled up, I sputter and cough out water that went up my nose and down my throat. “What the fuck!” I shriek, but they ignore me as they grip me by the arms and haul me out, roughly drying me off with mismatched pieces of fabric.
I shiver, freezing and exposed as the sleeping dress is tugged over my head, and someone starts roughly finger-combing my hair back into a braid. My teeth clatter together, my body still damp, as most of them step away without a word.
The dark-haired woman comes around to face me and gives what I’m assuming is an approving nod. “You are ready.”