“Hello, sweet Rebecca. Welcome back,” Samuel said. “I see you’ve mended fences with your brother.” He looked to Robby. “I don’t suppose you’ve come back to us for good, Obidiah?”
Robby wasn’t looking at Samuel but at Ezra who mouthed “Obi,” as if he knew who Robby was. Had Rebecca talked about him?
Robby forced himself to stay calm, even as his blood rushed in his ears. “Yeah, no. I’m afraid not.”
Samuel had sweat through his white shirt, the thin fabric clinging to his lanky body, his hair and skin damp. His muscles twitched as if against his will, and his gaze darted around, skating over things but never landing on any one person or thing for long. It gave Robby the creeps and reminded him of the tweakers on the boulevard. When he talked, his Kentucky twang was as sharp as the knife he wielded. “That’s right. You’ve forsaken the almighty for a life of hedonism, just like your daddy.”
Robby didn’t bother to correct him. It was clear Samuel was on something. There was no point in egging him on, if anything he just needed to keep him calm until Calder could get there. Unless Calder hadn’t gotten his messages. The thought stopped him cold. What if Calder wasn’t coming? At least Robby had told him he loved him. That was something.
“Ezra!”
A cry from Rebecca pulled Robby from his thoughts, his pulse skittering as he saw the blade in Samuel’s hand had nicked his brother’s throat, causing blood to trickle along his neck. The boy trembled visibly, tears running down his dirt-stained cheeks, but he didn’t dare move or cry out. God, Robby remembered those days of punishment, where every sound only prolonged the agony.
Samuel laughed, the sound jagged and cutting like broken glass. But he wasn’t looking at Robby, he was looking at Rebecca who had leveled her gun at him. “Oh, sweet Rebecca. You forget, I’m the one who tried to teach you to shoot. How many shots would it take before you managed to hit me? You think you could get one off without hitting the boy here?”
One look at his sister and Robby knew Samuel wasn’t bluffing. Her hands wobbled and tears sprang to her eyes. “He’s your son,” she whispered, looking at Ezra.
Samuel grinned, wiping sweat from his eyes with the hand that held the knife. “Yeah, but I got tons of these critters runnin’ round. But not you. It just kills you that this one wasn’t yours. That your mama managed to pop out, what? Eight? Nine? Yet, you couldn’t manage even one, barren as that rock pit out there.”
Rebecca trembled but not with fear, with rage. “You’re a monster. A crazy, delusional monster.”
Samuel wrenched Ezra’s hair back until the boy cried out, forcing the blade tighter to his neck. “Shall I show you what a monster I am? I’ve got nothing left to lose. Can you say the same?”
Rebecca made a noise of frustration. Robby made a decision. “Rebecca, give me the gun.”
“What?” she mumbled, her brows knitting together, even as she kept her gaze on Ezra.
“You can’t shoot, but I can.”
It was true. Robby hated everything about guns. The noise. The violence. The smell. But he was a crack shot, always had been. It was the only thing that had ever made his father proud.
“Oh, I wouldn’t do that if I were you. I’ll slit this boy from ear to ear before you can even blink. Drop the gun on the ground and kick it to me.” A sob escaped from his sister’s lips, her confusion giving way to hopelessness. “Do it,” Samuel spit. “You know this mortal skin suit means nothing to me. Our people are ascending even as we speak. Soon, I’ll follow and so will you. But give me the gun and I’ll let your brother here take the boy and go.”
“What do you mean, they’ve started ascending?” Robby asked.
“Just what I said. I know the government’s been watching and I know this one”—he pointed to Rebecca with the knife—“went and ran her mouth about things that were none of her business. That’s why we had to move up our timeline. We were preparing to fight the army of demons outside. We had everything we needed. Now, we have to start over. Fight the demons as angels from heaven.”
Robby’s body grew cold as he realized Samuel believed all of this. Some part of him had always thought Samuel was a charlatan, a narcissistic pedophile following from some cultish playbook. He’d never really let himself believe that his end game was to kill a bunch of innocent people. Robby had imagined this was just a trap, Dinah, the distress call, everything. And it was, he supposed, but he hadn’t thought they’d lose everybody on the compound.
Rebecca dropped the gun, but she didn’t kick it away. “Now, give him to me.”
“Nah, not yet.” He pulled something from his back pocket. It was a flask. He tossed it in her direction. “Drink up, sweet Rebecca. Drink and I’ll give the boy to your brother.”
“No!”
They all turned to see Dinah standing there. Robby had forgotten her the second Samuel had emerged from the shadows. Now, she held the gun in her hands.
“Dinah. You put that gun down or so help me, I’ll flay the skin from your bones,” Samuel snapped, like he was used to intimidating the girl.
She sniffled. “You said it was a trick. You said I just needed to make Ezra tell me the phone number so that you could get them back here, so they could be with us again. You said there was no ascension.”
Samuel shoved Ezra, forcing him to stumble into a hay bale in the corner. As soon as the boy was on his feet, Robby snagged him by the arm and pulled the boy behind him, all of them now watching Dinah closely.
A drug-addled Samuel was nothing compared to a distraught twelve-year-old waving a gun around, a gun she clearly didn’t know how to use.
“Dinah,” Samuel crooned, clearly changing tactics. “I just didn’t want to scare you. Everything is going to be just fine. There’s no cause for worry. Just give me the gun and all’s forgiven. You know you’re my special girl. My true wife.”
Robby forced the bile in his throat back down at Samuel’s words and what that likely meant. Jesus. Dinah’s pupils were blown wide, and she was crying far too hard to make any rational decisions. If Samuel got that gun from her, it was all over.
