Chapter 21
Elena traced her fingers along the cold metal frame of the cot, mentally mapping everything she knew of this building. Her wrist still ached where the airbag had hit it during the car crash, but the pain sharpened her focus.
She thought about the faint buzzing sound that had caught her attention. Had to have been about thirty minutes ago. She suspected a drone. And when the gunshot sounded, hope had blossomed. They’d only shoot down a drone that didn’t belong to them. Which meant Sully and backup?
Oh, please, God, let it be Sully and other agents.
“Hey,” the teen whispered from the adjacent cell. “You still there?”
“I’m here.” Elena kept her tone calm and quiet. “What’s your name? How long have you been here?”
“Maria.” A pause. “Been here three days. My dad caught me with a radio.”
Unbelievable. “Listen, Maria. Whatever happens, remember who you are. They’ll try to make you forget.”
“Yeah, well, it might just work. I want out of here so bad. I don’t think I can stand another day of this.
” A sob ripped from the girl’s throat, and Elena had to shut down the fury at the people who thought this was okay.
But once she got out, she’d go straight to the authorities and make her report of all of it.
With so many crimes happening and her eyewitness testimony, they’d have to do something, wouldn’t they?
“It’s okay, Maria. If I can get out of here, do you want to come with me? ”
“You mean leave the mountain?”
“Yes.”
“I . . . I don’t know. I don’t really know any other place.”
“Well, I do, and I promise you, while it’s shocking at first, it’s way better than here.”
“Then, yeah, if you can get me out, I’ll go with you.”
Elena hesitated. Her escape plan might not make taking the girl possible. But leaving her here meant subjecting her to continued torture. She shuddered. “How old are you?”
“Seventeen.”
A baby. Elena paced. “If I can’t take you with me, then I’ll make sure I come back for you. You just have to promise to hang on. Understand?”
“Yeah. Sure. Okay.” She didn’t sound convinced, and Elena didn’t know how to reassure her.
She’d already worked through seven potential escape routes.
Six simply wouldn’t work. The seventh was a long shot, but it was all she had.
If she could just get past the door, she knew every hidden path through these mountains.
The problem was the getting-out part. “Do you know where the old mine is?” she asked Maria.
“Yes, I think so.”
“If you can get away, head there, okay?”
“Why?”
“I want you to have a plan. If you get free, head there and I’ll have someone come find you there.”
“Oh. Okay.”
If Elena could get free. That was a big if.
Time ticked past. The council might be meeting tomorrow, but that was just a formality. They’d be coming soon. She tried to prepare herself mentally but dreaded the confrontation. And the confrontation would happen, because she wasn’t getting out of this cell without it.
Elena returned to her cot, curling her knees to her chest. She’d sleep while she could.
The metallic clank of the outer door broke her concentration. Footsteps echoed in the corridor. The lights, previously dim, suddenly blazed to full brightness, stabbing at her closed eyes.
Music blasted through hidden speakers—discordant, atonal noise interspersed with recorded screams. The volume was punishing, designed to prevent sleep and break down resistance.
She’d never experienced it personally, just witnessed the aftermath and determined never to find herself exactly where she now found herself.
“Phase one,” Elena muttered, pressing her palms against her ears.
The sensory assault was just the beginning.
Next would come sleep deprivation, then forced readings of their doctrine, then “confessions” of her sins against the community.
And not necessarily in that order. They’d mix it up and keep her guessing what was coming next.
A shadow appeared at her door. The figure wore all black and said nothing.
Just knelt and opened the slot at the bottom of the bars.
A tray slid through—a cup of water, nothing more.
Starvation tactics. So Iris had lied to her.
Of course she had. Weaken the body to break the mind.
The music assault stopped. Now the silence was deafening.
“Who are you?” Elena asked.
The woman left without acknowledging Elena’s presence.
Silence for the next several seconds.
“Eleanor Higgins.” The voice came through the speakers and was familiar. Owen? From the firepit meeting? She thought so. “Your reeducation begins now. Meditate on your transgressions.”
Elena didn’t respond. Her mother had told her once upon a time what reeducation entailed and warned that engagement only prolonged the process.
The music blasted into the silence, then it shifted to a recording of a man reading passages from their doctrine, punctuated by those terrible screams. The lights began to strobe, alternating between blinding brightness and complete darkness.
She closed her eyes, focusing on her breathing. In her mind, she recited every Bible verse she’d ever memorized, then mentally redecorated her small apartment—anything to anchor her thoughts against the assault.
“You okay?” Maria’s voice barely carried over the chaos.
“Been through worse,” Elena called back, though she wasn’t sure that was true. “Cover your ears.”
She shifted position, and her aches and pains from the car wreck protested. But those were minor compared to what was coming. She stood to pace the cell. Six steps. Turn. Eight steps. Turn. The movement helped her think.
Everything stopped and a new sound cut through the ringing in her ears—the outer door opening again. Elena returned to her cot and assumed a defeated posture. Footsteps approached, heavier than before.
“Time for your first confession session,” Iris said.
Elena looked up at her sister, searching for any trace of the little girl she’d once known. There was none.
“Not interested,” Elena said.
Iris smiled. “You misunderstand. This isn’t optional.”
Two men appeared behind her. One held a stun gun.
Elena’s muscles tensed, preparing for a fight she knew she couldn’t win. Not yet. Not here.
“Take her to the confession room,” Iris said.
The key turned in the lock and Elena held still. Fighting now would only get her beaten. Better to appear compliant, look for opportunities along the way.
The door swung open. Elena stood slowly, favoring her injured knee more than necessary. Let them think she was weaker than she was.
“Move,” one of the men grunted, gesturing with the stun gun.
Elena stepped forward, scanning her surroundings. The hallway had no windows. The confession room would be at the end of the corridor.
But between here and there was the office. A desk. Papers. Maybe keys. Maybe weapons. And her coat and shoes?
Elena focused on each step, each breath. Her plan had changed, but the goal remained the same.
Get free. Get out. Get help.
“You’ve caused quite a stir, Eleanor,” Iris said, walking behind her. “LaVoy’s business partners are particularly upset about their losses.”
Elena kept her eyes forward, cataloging everything and going by memory of the way this situation worked.
Two guards outside the entrance. One at the desk with a soundproof room that cut out all the noise and lights.
Three exits: the main door, a side door that likely led to storage, and the back hallway to the confession room.
“Nothing to say?” Iris prodded. “The silent treatment won’t work here.”
The office came into view, and Elena noticed a ring of keys on a hook behind the desk. She caught sight of her coat hanging on the wall, her boots tied together and looped over the coat. Good. Still there.
A radio sat next to a half-eaten sandwich. The guard, a young man she didn’t recognize, watched her warily.
Elena stumbled, buckling her injured knee on purpose. She fell forward, catching herself on the edge of the desk.
“Watch her!” Iris snapped.
Elena’s fingers closed around a pencil lying on the desk. She palmed it as the guard yanked her upright.
“I’m sorry,” Elena said. “My knee is injured. A gift from the car wreck you helped make happen.”
“That wasn’t me.”
“Right. Okay. Your friends then.”
Iris smiled, but it was an empty cold curve of her lips. “They have been good friends, that’s true.”
The guard with the stun gun jabbed her in the back. “Keep moving.”
It had to be programmed to a low setting, but pain still arced from the contact point.
She bit her lip. She wouldn’t cry out. She wouldn’t.
The pencil dug into her palm, much like the key had just a few days ago.
She wasn’t sure how she would use the crude little weapon, but it was better than nothing—and an idea was forming.
She continued her walk. The confession room would have restraints. Once she was strapped in, escape would be impossible.
“In here,” Iris said, opening a door at the end of the corridor.
The room held a metal chair bolted to the floor, harsh lights overhead, a video camera in the corner.
The walls were painted a sickly green that made her stomach turn.
All of it was exactly what her mother had described after one trip.
She hadn’t wanted her girls to wind up there, so she’d been quite descriptive in her story and her adamant orders to obey at all costs in order to avoid the experience.
“Sit.” Iris’s command made her head hurt.
Elena hesitated, calculating her odds. Two men, both armed. Iris, whose fighting abilities were unknown but probably similar to Elena’s. The hallway behind her, with at least one more guard at the desk.
Not good odds.
But the alternative was worse. She had to get out now.
As one guard stepped forward to force her into the chair, Elena drove the pencil into his thigh with all her strength.
A scream came from the deepest part of him and he stumbled backward. Elena pivoted to slam her elbow into the second guard’s throat. He gagged, and the stun gun fell from his grip.