Pivot by L.C. Barlow

Author:L.C. Barlow
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Strangely, though, I cannot shake that day of our failure from my mind. Not because of the fifty grand. No. Not because of fat, shorty two-forty. Rather, I think about the forest that night close to the Blue Brick Cafe, and the smell that calls to me. Sometimes it wakens me on the outer edges of a dream.

These nights, when I do dream, it is usually of God. And He tells me that something is headed my way again. And I tell Him, "It's too soon."

Chapter 18

SCREAM

In the weeks following our being commanded to "kill the good," everything changed. For one, Cyrus was always suspicious of me. I was given no peace.

"What else did It say?" he asked countless times. I would assure him that I had given him all - the whole, complete, full circle commandment - of what the box had ordained.

Still, all he would say with his icicle eyes was, "I don't believe you. If that were all there was to know, there would be no reason to go through you. It would have told me, as it always has. But now, it is silent to me, and it speaks to you. There is more there than you say."

He was right, of course, but I still denied him. Thus, he continued evolving his questions, as well as his murders.

He began to frighten me. I did not sleep well anymore. Three hours, at most, I rested a night.

Cyrus, in both perturbation and eagerness to please the Other, had turned maniacal, religious. It made me wonder if something in him was simply waiting for permission to be born, like a latch ready to spring.

The fear culminated one evening when he brought me to a clearing in the back of his property, far within the woods.

It was night, and the grass glistened with a sweat that was sweet and stuck to the back of my tongue. When we arrived, already a crowd was gathered. There was a wooden podium, and on the podium three girls stood.

When I saw them I shivered. They were between the ages of eight and twelve. Their blonde hair streamed like silken banners and fluoresced like spider webs beneath the torches and flashlights that surrounded us.

"They must be blonde. They must be virgins," I remember Cyrus commanding just a few days earlier. I heard the voice then at the cusp of my ear as though hell was breaking loose.

"As you watch this," Cyrus said, before he stepped to the podium to stand beside those girls, "ask yourself, can you do what I do? Can you do it better?"

Cyrus enlightened the gathered group of what he meant to do. He told them outright, "Your daughters will be sacrificed," like a judge behind the bench, and without one more word, he ordered Alex and many of the other men to start taking them to their deaths.

From the left of the crowd, a hulking figure of a man leaped forward at Cyrus, and in a flash, I retrieved my gun from my pocket and dashed forward.

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