Six Abel

The Cult's Restricted Zone

Restricted Zone. It was hard to miss the red sign plastered on diamond-shaped sheet metal when we passed through the first gate. The six of us and some of the guards were riding in the bed of a beat-up Chevy truck that drove deep into the woods, but still within the stretches of the cult's property. I bet we could drive for hours and we'd still be within the community's perimeter. The old pickup rattled as we navigated the worn-out dirt road, and without any seat belts to keep us in place or anything sturdy to grip on to, each pothole and uneven patch caused our sorry asses to bounce off the metal bed. My ass would be sore.

A black silo the size of a three-story building came into view. "What's over there?" I asked. The structure was tucked behind the stands of tall pine trees and was hidden from a distance. But this close, it was hard to miss.

"None of your fucking business," Napoleon said.

"You don't know either, huh," I taunted. Was that the smartest move? Maybe not, but I couldn't help myself.

Bullseye. His face turned beet red, and I knew that I'd struck a nerve.

The guys chuckled, which made him even more upset.

"Do you have a death wish?" He grabbed my tank top and yanked me off my seat. "Cuz I'll kill you," he snarled, his breath smelling like rotten flesh.

"What? With your breath?" I asked, using my hand to fan in front of my nose.

His face was inches from mine and I regretted egging him on—just a little. "I'll end you right now."

Lie. There was a reason we were chosen, and I didn't think Orcus would be pleased if he ended me right now.

"Knock it off," the other guard said. The way he shook his head and waved his hand off led me to believe this wasn't the first time Napoleon had lost his shit.

"I'm not done with you," he promised through gritted yellow teeth before releasing me.

Minutes passed and the truck slowed as we neared yet another gate. After a couple of seconds, the chain fence opened. We arrived in front of a stark old warehouse. The walls were chipped panels of old cement stained with dirt and mold. I looked up and frowned. Why are some of the windows partially boarded?

The knot in my stomach tightened as two more guards approached us. I exchanged glances with Two, who was standing to my left, his hands balled into fists. He was known for having a short fuse; his temper had gotten him into trouble on multiple occasions. I shook my head to deter him from doing anything stupid. I might be a smart ass and could get away with a little taunting, but Orcus's and the guards' tolerance to physical altercations was nonexistent. I'd witnessed it a couple of times with my dad. The first was when my sister and I were younger and he tried to escape. The other instance was a couple of years ago, after he took a swing at Orcus when he tried to snatch me away from my family at seventeen. "I think he's ready," Orcus had said. My dad was restrained by the guards, who punished him with fists and swift kicks to his ribs. But, to our surprise, Orcus listened to my mom's plea to wait until I was eighteen. The morning of my eighteenth birthday, three guards were waiting on our stoop. What a lovely present that was. I'd lived away from my family ever since, only seeing my mom and sister on Sundays.

"We'll take it from here," the new guard said, ushering us inside before Napoleon had a chance to respond.

The uneasiness among the six of us was apparent as the guards inspected our hands, pockets, and shoes. "Open up," the guard ordered, pointing at my face. He examined my open mouth with a wooden tongue depressor, probing and poking my inner cheek.

I dry-heaved when the tip of the depressor hit my tonsils. My dick perked at the reminder of the last time I was gagged by something hard hitting the back of my throat. I'm fucking horny. I couldn't wait to be left alone so I could rub one out.

"He's clear," the guard said and pushed me to the side.

We were instructed to walk through a rickety metal detector for one final check. The silence in the air was broken only by the humming of air vents, soft beeping of old security machinery, and the occasional clicking of guards' radios. My fingers twitched, my mind racing with thoughts of what might be on the other side of these checkpoints.

With each step, my heart felt heavier with dread. The moment of truth was upon us—the peak of my anxiety and anticipation. We would finally know what the guys before us had endured. What if I wasn't ready?

The corridor stretched ahead, flanked by concrete walls that seemed to close in on all sides. An expressionless guard manning the barred gate entered a code on an electronic keypad. The lock clicked then disengaged, before the gate slid sideways. We passed a couple more stations and, after the fourth and final gate, a retractable metal door dropped from the ceiling, locking us in.

"What is this place?" one of the guys whispered.

"No talking!" the guard escorting us yelled.

Unlike the creepy hallway, this room was bright; so bright I had to shield my eyes for a second. Fluorescent beams overhead cast an unforgiving glare, illuminating our tense expressions. We all breathed with a sense of foreboding, each gasping exhale a testament to our collective fear. It was hard to determine the size of this sterile room because one of the walls was all mirrored, giving the illusion of more space.

"Keep going," the guard ordered.

"Keep going where?" I asked. "There's no fu—" I paused, remembering Orcus and the guards' disdain for cursing. "There's nowhere to go."

"Hand against the mirror," he said, and before I could protest, the tip of his club hit my shoulder blade. "Just keep going."

Hesitantly, we followed his instruction and inched closer to the mirrored wall. I swallowed hard as I approached. I didn't know for sure, but I sensed there were people on the other side, watching our every move. My heartbeat quickened, the thudding rhythm pulsating in my ears as the uneasy feeling of being scrutinized washed over me. I met the eyes of the other guys; unease was written on their faces too.

The giant metal door behind us creaked open. A stern-faced older man entered and motioned to one of the guards.

"What do you think is goin' on?" I asked Two.

"I don't know," he replied, watching their reflections interact.

The guard nodded then looked back at us. "All of you. Follow me." Like a herd of sheep, we exited the room. They could be leading us for slaughter and we wouldn't know.

I was fucking tired of following orders and being herded around like mindless puppets. I wanted to protest, but I had no choice. I'm doing this for my family, I reminded myself. This will be over soon.