I walk past the guard with my Bible still in my hand and don’t hesitate when I get a surprised “Hey.” I’m walking deeper into Bethany House rather than for the escape tunnels; so he shrugs and follows me. I also don’t hesitate when I reach the command center and make a straight line for Martha.
“Get your knife ready, team leader. I have another question you’re not going to like.”
Two staff members stand to block me, but Martha motions for them to sit. She says nothing - but does brush her knife handle with her finger tips.
“The Four Council didn’t send you onto Henry’s tube car to rescue me. They sent you to kill me and I want to know why. Why, after I converted to Christianity on a worldwide stage, would they want me dead? It’s clear you’re all angry and I’m a convenient target for years of frustration; but there’s more to it than that. The Four Council was desperate to kill me; so desperate they ordered you on a suicide mission. Why?”
All eyes in the room turn to Martha.
They didn’t know.
“How do you know that? I haven’t told anyone here.”
“I’m very good at puzzles. Now answer the question.”
“This isn’t the time to -”
“Not the time? The world is out of time and so am I. Your friend, Zipporah is proposing starting a war by killing cult hunters and my name is on the top of her list.”
I find that I’m yelling and as I meet eyes around the room, they look like mirrors, reflecting my anger.
I am sending you out like a sheep among wolves. Therefore be as shrewd as a snake and as innocent as a dove.
I bow my head and calm myself before speaking again. I hold up the Bible in my hand.
“Ever since I read this book, I’ve dreamed about living with Christians. I’ve wanted to live my life for Him. I’ve wanted to love like you love. But I was afraid and I used what I found in His book to break the final code. I read the words, but I didn’t understand them. Now that I do, what I want most of all is to find forgiveness for what I’ve done. I thought I’d find it here with you, but I was wrong. There’s no forgiveness in your hearts for me; so let’s just get it over with.”
I slowly turn to make eye contact with everyone in the room.
“I’ve hurt every one of you, and I’m sorry.”
I stop when I reach the place where I want to find forgiveness most of all: Martha’s eyes.
“Take out your knife, Martha. The last time you had your knife in your hand, you said you were under standing orders to kill me. If you think I’m still the monster, then throw your knife, but do it with me standing like this. This is how I want to die.”
I raise my arms into a cross.
“If that’s what you all think, then end me as a real Christian and go back to being whatever it is that you are.”
She takes her knife into her hand and stands in a perfect throwing position. I’ve seen her throw. She can easily sink it into my chest at any spot she chooses.
I take a step towards her and her hand goes even further back.
“Throw your knife, Martha. Start the war.”
I take another step.
“If you think I’m still The Cult Hunter, then you know I’m coming to take that knife and slit your throat without remorse. What’s another dead Christian to me, after all I’ve killed? Throw it now.”
She looks like a coiled spring as I inch closer, my arms still wide in a cross. She takes that extra inch of tension that signals everyone she’s about to throw.
“I forgive you,” Amelia yells. “My cousin Eric disappeared after you broke the final code. Everyone said you killed him. I don’t know if that’s true anymore, but even if it is, I forgive you.”
As I sink to my knees, I see the corner of Martha’s mouth curl ever so slightly, while her throwing arm relaxes.
“Don’t do this, Martha,” Amelia says.
“Get him out of my command center and get Austin on the line.”
She walks over to me.
“You’re right about one thing. Your work hurt all Christians; so all Christians should have a say in what happens to you, not just the Four Council. The Elders suffered the most. We’ll see if they have any more forgiveness than you’ve found here.”
“The Elders? Your parent’s generation? The ones you criticized for hiding in the shadows?”
She leans down and whispers into my ear.
“Dark things hide in the shadows.”
****
Thanks to my work as a cult hunter, the older generation of Christians has learned to mistrust technology; so it may take weeks to organize a meeting as messages are couriered on paper. I expect Martha to return me to Capon Springs; but she decides it’s easier to guard me at Bethany House and reduces the risk of me being seen by the public. She splits the entire staff into teams of two and they take turns at guard duty. The only member of the house who’s never allowed to guard me is Amelia. On several occasions, I catch Martha watching as I talk with Amelia, but she gives no hint of what she’s thinking.
The rules of my confinement are simple. I’m escorted everywhere and I’m given no access to computers; but despite the protests of the staff, I’m still to be trained and can go for runs. Again I feel like I have nothing to do but exercise in the prison yard under the watchful eyes of the warden, Martha.
I run so far and so fast that I tire out even four-person teams; so Martha ends up forcing me to run laps on a set course with guards posted on the perimeter. I veer slightly off course often to secretly practice leaving no trail; then check my tracks on the next lap. In just a few days, it’s virtually impossible to see where I’ve been.
The fact that I can outrun everyone in the house makes Martha nervous; so she increases her own training schedule. One morning she invites me out for a run early, while most of the staff is still asleep. I’d love to believe she wants to get me alone; but I’m sure she just wants to assess me.
She stops near a path I’ve never been down and I go into my usual act of wheezing and holding my side.
“Cut it out,” she says. “That wasn’t even a warm up for you.”
“Was it the bad acting?”
“You just ran six kilometers breathing only through your nose.”
“You know I could make a break for it and disappear in the woods.” I say. “Why haven’t you increased the guard?”
“Why haven’t you made a break for it?”
“I have nowhere to go.”
She leads me down a path into an area where the tree canopy is thick and shows me the Bethany House “training facility.” It’s a series of obstacle courses, throwing and shooting ranges and sparring areas hidden among the trees. The big man I call “Razor stubble” is putting on protective gear in an area that appears to be set up for boxing. Amelia sits on a makeshift bench nearby.
“I’m sorry I’m late,” Martha says to Razor Stubble; then looks at Amelia.
“I thought Blake was coming to run with Cephas while I spar.”
“He wasn’t feeling well when he woke up; so he asked if I would cover.”
“Shall we go?” I ask.
I extend my arm to Amelia with a big smile on my face and watch Martha’s reaction.
“You’ve run enough. Stay and watch us spar,” Martha says.
I sit next to Amelia on the bench as Martha puts on her gear.
“I’m glad they’re wearing gear. That guy is twice her size,” I say to Amelia.
“His name is Toby, and he’ll need the padding more than her. Bethany House was a technical team until Martha became leader. We all received basic combat training, but only a couple of us have any hope of knocking her off the top of the board.”
“The board?”
“It’s a friendly competition Martha created when she became team leader. There are scheduled matches which are computer scored and we’re ranked. There’s no disputing who owns the number one spot.”
Amelia points to a scoreboard hanging on a tree. There are about three dozen names, with Martha on top. Amelia is number twenty-three. Toby is number five.
The match begins. I thought it would be boxing, but it’s a true street fight where anything goes. Toby is very muscular, but he’s no match for Martha’s speed or precision. She makes him angry with minor kicks and jabs and then - when he commits to big swings that throw him off balance - she uses his own momentum to throw him like a doll.
This is an interesting new puzzle.
“Matches are assigned randomly. She was easy on me the first time; but I came up against her the day after you first talked to me in the command center and I thought the beating would never end,” Amelia says.
“Am I forgiven for that too?”
Amelia reaches out and pats my leg. I’m not the only one who must have taken my eye off the match when Amelia touches my leg because Toby gets in a hard punch to Martha’s midsection. She comes back at him with renewed focus and ferocity.
After ten minutes of watching Toby get flung around, they switch to fighting with sticks. Toby has a reach advantage, but Martha again patiently attacks his wrists and elbows with her superior speed until his frustration causes him to over commit on an attack. He’s sent sprawling when she uses her stick to sweep his feet.
“She fights differently against every member of the house,” Amelia says. “She’s exceptional at figuring out weaknesses and exploiting them. On the other hand, everyone in the house is a better fighter than before she arrived, including her. See the move she just made? She learned that from me.”
After another five minutes - and two more trips to the ground - Toby decides he’s had enough. Martha walks to the bench.
“Did they teach you anything like that in cult hunter school?”
“I just solved puzzles, but I’m ready to learn.”
I stand up, walk to the board and add my name at the bottom.
****
Under the rules of the house, I have two weeks to prepare before the computer will randomly place me in a combat match. I run about half the distance as I would normally, then tell the four perimeter guards that I’m done running for the day.
“Since I shortened the run, why don’t we all go down to the sparring area so I can learn some things before my first match?” I say.
Blake, who I used to call “Lightfoot,” is in charge today and he agrees.
“I’ll take you first,” says a man named Samuel, who was one of the guys who shot at me as I did the Capon Springs obstacle course.
As I put on protective gear, Blake explains that it’s called “reactive padding” because its ability to disperse the energy of an impact increases with the amount of force applied. Even so, it has its limits; so I will feel impacts and some pain, particularly from hard hits to the head.
I meet Samuel in the center of the sparring area while the others put on gear.
“What are the rules?” I ask.
“We adopted the same rules as you, Cult Hunter, with one exception. Here - if you say you concede - nobody puts a stunner to your head or slits your throat. Other than that, you can use any fighting style you like, including dirty.”
Blake says ‘begin’ and Samuel comes straight at me like a boxer. I dodge; so his first two swings connect with the padding on my arms, but the third hits me hard in the chest followed by a second to my head. Blake is right; the hits hurt through the padding, but a lot less than I thought they would. The object is to score points - not injure your teammates.
“I’ve wanted to do that to a cult hunter for a long time,” he says.
“Then I hope you meet one someday.”
He hits me two more times.
He’s good with his arms, but his legs are lazy.
“Those were for my aunt and uncle.”
“Are you sure that’s what they would have wanted?”
“No, my aunt would have done this.”
He attempts to kick me below the belt, but he’s not very good at it. I block, then hit him hard in the stomach, followed by an uppercut to the jaw. He felt it, but pretends otherwise.
“Thanks, Cult Hunter. Now I’m really going to enjoy this.”
I have greater speed in both my hands and feet.
When he comes at me again, I feint like a boxer; then land a nice front kick to his thigh before dancing away from him.
I instinctively know if he’s going to lead with his right or left before he does it. How?
I close and let him hit me hard enough that it hurts.
It’s his head. It tilts a centimeter away from whatever hand he’s going to lead with.
I close again and block his next seven punches by predicting them. Each swing is a little harder and a little more erratic than the last.
“My turn,” a guy named Edward calls.
“I’m not done,” Samuel replies.
I’d better let him hit me a few more times or this will never end.
Samuel closes on me again, but this time I use the signals he gives off to make sure his attempts at body blows land on me. I avoid his swings at my head.
“I’m still not done,” he says, but steps aside.
Edward is small and fast; but again I find it easy to predict his moves. It doesn’t feel any different than solving a puzzle. Each of their styles is made up of pieces that can be predicted, influenced and rearranged to suit me without them realizing it. Again I make sure that a certain number of blows land.
“You still need one more good kick for what you did to my cousin Emily,” Edward says after a couple of minutes.
“It sounds like you loved her very much. I’m sorry for the part I played in your loss.”
His left foot hurts less; so I wait for him to do a left side kick and allow it to hit my stomach padding.
“Was that a good enough kick for Emily?” I ask.
I don’t hear the answer because I take a blow to the back of my head that’s so hard I stumble forward into Edward.
“It’ll never be good enough,” Samuel’s voice says behind me - just before a kick to the kidneys sends me to the ground.
Several kicks to the ribs follow. As I make it to my knees, all four voices of my guards are calling out names of people they want to avenge. They knock me flat over and over again and each time I’m able to rise to my knees, whispering prayers. I’m still praying when they finally stop.
“What are you whispering?” Samuel asks. “If you have something to say, say it out loud.”
I look at Samuel, and then at the sky.
“Thank you, Lord, for providing these men an outlet for their anger today. If it’s Your will, I pray the pain they inflict on me relieves the pain I caused them. May I serve You and them in this way until their pain is gone and their hearts have room only for Your love. Amen.”
****
I don’t mention the beating to Martha, and neither do my attackers. Each day after that, I convince different guards to shorten the run and instead go for informal sparring sessions. I don’t invite Samuel, nor do I allow anyone to get behind me again. At first they all attack me viciously and I takes some nasty lumps. Some know martial arts; some are trained in knife fighting; one specializes in kick boxing, and so forth. They don’t realize it, but sometimes I take hits just so I can watch an attack from beginning to end. Within days, I’ve learned the styles of half of the house and incorporated elements of each into my own. I’ve also learned their weaknesses; but I’m saving that information for when I need it more.
No matter how bad the beatings are, I always thank my guards for the lesson; then get down on my knees and thank God for the opportunity to learn. The first time I pray in front of them, they seem taken aback: but I want them all to know me as the person I am now rather than as The Cult Hunter. It’s not long before we all pray before and after we spar, which gives me an idea.
One afternoon, I walk to the threshold of the command center, which I’m still not allowed to enter.
“Amelia? Can I speak with you?” I call across the room.
Many heads turn, including Martha’s. Amelia crosses the room with a big smile on her face.
“Do you remember the first time I came here I told you I was lonely? I think I know something that would help. I’d like to join the staff Bible study group, but I don’t know when or where they meet.”
She frowns slightly.
“We don’t have a Bible study meeting.”
“Then how about a group prayer or fellowship meeting?” I ask.
“Nope.”
Lord, was I sent here to learn? Or to teach?
“Go back to your station, Amelia. Send a message to the entire staff that says: ‘Bible study with Cephas. Two o’clock in the sparring area.’”
That afternoon, Amelia and two others attend. The next day there are a dozen; a week later people are taking extra-long “breaks” during their shifts in the command center to attend. It’s hard to have prayer and fellowship with people named “Angry Eyebrows” or “Razor Stubble,” so I insist they all tell me their names.
They’ve all read the Bible, but as I look at their faces while speaking it seems like they’ve never really thought about the words or how they apply to their lives. Their faces light up as we discuss various passages and make sense of them together.
Martha never attends our study sessions, but she often finds excuses to visit the sparring area while they’re happening. I see her, hovering on the edge of my vision as she listens and observes.
I’m walking Amelia back to the command center after one Bible study and I have her laughing as I tell her the story of getting Roman soldiers drunk just so I could buy a toga. She reaches out and touches my arm just as Martha appears in the doorway. I’m still not good at the whole flirting thing, but I’m pretty sure Amelia doesn’t mean anything by it. Touching people as she speaks is just part of who she is. The look on Martha’s face tells me she’s reading more into the touch than I am.
“You’re late,” Martha snaps at Amelia.
“And you’re distracting my staff,” she snaps at me. “When you schedule a Bible study session, let me know. I’ll send you the duty schedule and if anyone on the list attends, you’re responsible for kicking them out. If there are any further infractions, then you’re the one who’ll be punished. Got it?”
She pushes past without waiting for a reply.