Beyond Evil by Neil White Read Free Book Online Page A

narrowed.
    John pushed the bread away. He knew what that look was for. Sex was allowed, but they weren’t supposed to form bonds.
    ‘Where’s Henry?’ John said.
    ‘He’s gone out, with some of the others. There are things that have to be done.’
    ‘What like?’ John said. The rest of the group looked at one another.
    It was Gemma who spoke. ‘Don’t question, you know that,’ she said, her tone light, but John spotted the hint that he had already said too much.
    There was a moan from a room along the hallway, on the other side of the living room. Everyone ignored it, except for Dawn, who shuffled uncomfortably.
    Another moan.
    John looked at Gemma, who shook her head, almost invisibly, but John caught the warning. Don’t go in there.
    The moans were from the farmer who owned the house. A man in his seventies, he spent his time bedridden, looked after by whoever could face going into his room, provided that Henry agreed.
    More moans, except that they were more pleading this time.
    Dawn went to the table quickly and grabbed some bread, filled a cup with water, and started walking towards the door.
    There was a crash. Plates banged. People jumped. Arni held out his stick, a gnarled cane made from polished oak, a brass gargoyle for a handle.
    ‘Don’t go in there,’ he shouted at her.
    Dawn stopped. People looked at Arni, and then back at Dawn.
    ‘He’s hungry, and thirsty,’ Dawn said, her voice trembling.
    Arni pointed the stick at a chair and shook his head. ‘Sit.’
    Dawn looked back towards the doorway and then at the stick. She bowed her head and then sat down. As John looked, he saw that tears were running down Dawn’s cheeks. She pulled at some bread, but didn’t look like she was going to eat again.
    Arni put the stick under her chin, the cold metal of the gargoyle against her skin. ‘We need more food. Worry about the old man later. Understand?’
    Dawn nodded slowly.
    Arni didn’t move the stick.
    ‘Take John with you.’
    John was surprised. He had been with the group for three weeks now, and he hadn’t been allowed out of the compound. It had been that way ever since they had turned up at his house.
    His mind went back to that night, when it had seemed like just another talk. They had spoken to him a few times, but on that night they wanted him to go with them and leave everything behind.
    They had made him wear a blindfold at first, made from a torn-up hessian sack that scratched at his eyelids and made him itch. Except that he couldn’t scratch it, because his hands were tied behind him, sitting against the side of the van, his head up, trying to work out where everyone was as they prodded him, just for a bit of fun. There had been giggles all the way from the young women, and he had tried to laugh along with them, making out like it was a game, but had been worried that perhaps he had misread them.
    It had been stop and start as they made their way out of town, but then the curves and tight bends of the countryside had taken over, throwing him around the van, making everyone laugh louder. The jolts and bumps as they drove along a rutted farm track were the final part of the journey, and then he felt the rush of cool air as the van doors flew open. Gentle hands guided him out of the van, and then he was taken inside, pushed along a short corridor into what he now called home.
    The smell of cannabis had hit him straight away, sweet and strong, and he was put into a wooden chair. There were voices around him, whispers, giggles, murmurs of conversation, but all he had been able to see was the inside of the blindfold. The bindings around his wrists were loosened and then tied to the chair, so that he was exposed, vulnerable, unsure as to how many people were there.
    ‘John?’
    It was Gemma, bringing him back to the present.
    ‘So are you coming with us?’ she said.
    He smiled and nodded. ‘Yes, I will.’
    John stepped out from behind the table and went towards some hooks on the wall.