Chapter One
James Henry stood at the front of the room behind a pulpit which was centered on his congregation. His long hair was badly in need of a wash and was pulled back in a loose ponytail. His beard was scraggly and would be well-served by a trim. He smiled at the small crowd that was seated before him revealing crooked and yellowing teeth. As well as a hairstylist he should also make an appointment with a dentist, but these things were of no concern to him. His eyes twinkled, but it wasn’t happiness that gave them their gleam. The people before him talked amongst themselves causing an enthusiastic buzz in the room. James looked through the open door at the darkness that had slowly crept in as the sun made its way behind the hills in the distance. The sound of the night creatures were drowned out by his congregation, but soon he would silence them and the breeze would carry the various chirps and croaks that he was so accustomed to. He heard people approaching the building, drawn by the lights that shone through the windows and pierced the night’s blanket of darkness. The meeting had been planned by him and his closest advisers for months, but they had kept the congregation in the dark until just days before. The final stragglers strolled in through the open door and took their seats in the metal foldout chairs that had been placed in rows on the old, hardwood floor. James looked at the two brutes that stood in the back and indicated with a gesture that the time had come for them to close the door. They obliged and then returned to their positions one on either side of the portal.
“Ladies and gentlemen, can I have your attention please?” James asked this as he raised his hands in front of him. The crowd obliged by ceasing their own conversations. The silence that remained was only interrupted by ambient noise from the buildings own systems.
“I am sorry to have called this meeting on such short notice,” James did look genuinely sorry, but the looks on the faces of those in the know told a much different story. They did their best to hide their knowledge, however, and the congregation seemed none the wiser.
Tim sat in the converted back of a white van. He had the headphones pressed to his ear, listening to the conversation that was occurring in the converted barn where James Henry held his services. He scratched his chin and neck, where his new growth of beard was itching, with his left hand and adjusted his position in the chair. He would have thought that the FBI could afford more comfortable seats than this, but he guessed that money was tight for everyone, even the government. He turned to his partner.
“How can people fall for this shit?” he asked.
Randall only shrugged and bit into his second slice of pepperoni pizza. Randall Johnson was a big man. The first thing that Tim had thought when he’d met him was: I hope someone had the forethought to get this man on a football field when he was younger. In talking to him he found that the answer to that was yes. He’d played in high school and two years of college before an injury cut his football days short. He’d have played in the pros had he stayed healthy. Instead he’d turned his degree, and a passion for law enforcement, into a career with the FBI.
Their only mission was to sit tight and wait for the moment. They were new to this particular operation and were unsure of exactly what to expect. All they knew was that the government had a man on the inside with the cult and he was about to make his move. If he were successful they were to start the van and drive away as if nothing had happened. If he wasn’t, however, they were expected to bring the thunders of heaven down upon this seemingly quiet commune in the Nevada desert. The leader, James Henry, was in casual terms a “bad dude”. He was willing to kill without conscience and would sacrifice any of his people for what he considered the “greater good”. In reality he was a weak man with a strong personality. He had been bullied, no tormented, as a child and had grown to resent anyone that thought for even one moment they were above him. Given free reign, it was thought, he would lead a domestic terrorist attack. He was not to be allowed to do this. The FBI had every intention of ending his life before this attack could be mounted. If things went right that night would be tonight.
“It shouldn’t be long now,” Tim said, continuing to listen to the voices from the headphones.
“Good, I’m missing my favorite show,” replied Randall with a toothy grin.
“Cop drama?” Tim asked.
“No, The Bachelor.”
Randall smiled. Tim looked at him, dumbfounded.
“You’re kidding? Right?”
Randall again only shrugged.
Kyle sat in the front row of chairs. He was trying to listen intently to the words that Brother Henry was speaking, but a strange buzzing in his head kept distracting him. He’d felt odd since he’d woken that morning and was unable to shake the feeling all day, regardless of what activities he’d used in an attempt to distract himself. He’d taken a walk in the hills, listening to the sounds of nature and smelling the clean scents which were carried to him on the breeze. He’d done some of the manual labor around the compound. He’d even had sex, but nothing took away the feeling. It was a hard feeling to describe. He just felt wrong, like he’d woken that morning as a different person. The buzzing had not started at first, but when it did it had grown more intense as the day wore on. He stared at Brother Henry and shook his head, trying to rid himself of the annoying sound. It didn’t help. He placed his hand at the waistband of his pants and felt the hard bulge which was the gun he’d found hidden behind the kitchen. He’d felt the need to pick it up and tuck it away though he didn’t know what purpose he would have for it. There were weapons here of course, but those were to be used to protect the compound against interlopers. The feel of the gun gave him some comfort, but the buzzing did not abate. He tried hard to listen to Brother Henry’s words. To let their meaning wash over him and fill him with the joy and peace they had on so many other occasions, but it was different this time. The words sounded wrong. They sounded off. They sounded like the crazy stuff spouted out by cult leaders that intended to make martyrs out of their whole congregation.
So there you have it. That is the zygotic beginnings of this years NaNo novel. Stay tuned for more when I feel sane enough to post it.
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