It was a snowy Sunday morning in Chicago. Claire’s luxurious apartment was rooted in the dead center of the city. She got out of her bed, stretching loudly, then proceeded to happily skip to her kitchen and begin making some coffee as she called for her cat. After she put a scoop of catnip into the bowl, she laid it on the floor.
She continued calling for her cat, but he never came. He always did, especially when the sound of the bowl rattling on the floor reached his little ears. She started looking around her house and couldn’t find him. Her mood changed in an instant.
“Benny!” she called out nervously. She walked into the hallway and looked around—nothing. She felt afraid, but she couldn’t stay and look for him, as she was meeting her sister for a coffee at a café close by. Claire got dressed and left her apartment after one more quick trip around the apartment to see if she could find Benny. And again, nothing.
“Damn it,” she said before leaving her apartment.
As she walked out of her building, she noticed a few police cars and an ambulance cutting off her path to the café. It seemed to be a single car that had slid into the other lane and crashed into the median because of the ice.
Claire decided to find another route to the café, so she walked down the alley next to her building. She typically didn’t like alleyways, but the sun was up, even if it was hidden behind a thick white sheet of clouds.
As she walked further down the alley, she felt a chill rise through her spine. She felt as though somebody was watching her. Claire looked up at the two buildings that surrounded her and noticed a person was looking down at her from a window. She got a little freaked out but realized she was close to the end of the alley. She started walking at a faster pace, but before she could get to the end, a horrible smell hit her nostrils and made her instantly queasy. She was afraid to look anywhere, as she thought there would be human waste from a homeless man.
She couldn’t help herself, however, as she slowed her pace and looked at where the smell was coming from. In the corner of the alley, she saw her cat. He was ripped in two. She wanted to scream loudly, but before she could, a large hand wrapped around her mouth, keeping it shut. She felt the hot breath of a person behind her. He put his disfigured mouth next to her ear, and, after a small silence, he moaned an otherworldly sound then proceeded to snap her neck.
*
That Monday morning, Agent Phil was looking at the multiple files and papers he had spread across his desk. His eyes widened as he noticed something.
“Holy shit…” Agent Phil said. He emerged from his office quickly, ran to the FBI director’s office, and barged in. “I’ve figured it out!”
“Okay, get Bolton on the phone,” the director said, showing signs of intrigue.
*
On that crisp Monday morning, Bolton was at the police station trying to put all the pieces together. He had photos and information posted on a large board in his office. He was cursing to himself at all the information he didn’t have. Little did he know, he was going to get what he asked for.
The phone in his office rang.
“Detective Bolton.”
“Bolton, I’m here with the director,” Phil said, sounding excited.
“Hello, sir.”
“Hello, Detective Bolton. Agent Phil seems to have some information for you about this…I believe we are calling it a cult,” the director said, his voice raspy. He wanted to hear this as well.
“Okay, Bolton, I’ve figured it out.”
“Figured what out, the symbol?”
“The cult in general. Hear me out, a spiral can symbolize harmony, or a new beginning. It can also symbolize the connection of god with his followers and the energy of space.”
“Wait, space?”
“Well, I don’t believe these tall guys who keep showing up and this Calvin fella have anything to do with space but…”
“Wait, what about Heaven’s Gate? They believed a spaceship was following a comet. They worshiped some weird space idea like that; why couldn’t these guys do the same?” Bolton asked, surprised at himself as he remembered the details of what Lewis had told him.
“Could be, but a spiral means more. If you drew a spiral on paper, you’d start with a central dot, correct? You’d then continue the line until it becomes a spiral, and you can make it however big you wish. So, the spiral itself shows that there is one person, most likely this Calvin, who started this. My theory is that he’s the dot. He was able to grow this cult around whatever idea he created, and boom! Now they could be anywhere.”
“Okay,” Bolton said, trying to gather all the info.
“The questions is,” Agent Phil continued, “what is the idea that this Calvin is making all of these people believe? What is their end goal? Well, I did some digging, and I think that they carry out whatever wish this Calvin guy has—and by that, I mean kill, in very specific ways. I’m talking, like, kill to please whoever is in charge or maybe who they’re worshiping, if they are worshipping anyone, that is.”
“So, like sacrifices to a god basically.”
“Yes, and that’s not all. I’ve been able to connect a few murders.”
“All in Portland?” Bolton asked, concerned.
“No. All across America.”
Bolton shot up in his chair. “No way,” he said, surprised.
“Okay, so Patrick Hopkins was murdered a month ago. You found him without his limbs. Both arms and legs were torn off, absolutely mutilated. Sure, you killed the suspect, and the department there wanted to close the case and move on. But, as you dug up more of this cultlike behavior, especially with the spiral, I looked into the background of Patrick Hopkins. I wanted to see if there was any reason for a cult to go after him. I found that Patrick was involved in an affair with a much younger woman. If this cult follows a strict set of rules, then maybe these tall guys go out and find and kill those who don’t follow them. The Spokane Police Department also found two deceased elderly people in their home this morning, showing signs that they were killed by ‘a very strong person.’”
That caught Bolton off guard, and he interrupted Agent Phil. “Wait, did you say Spokane? Elderly people? What were their names?”
“Uh, Greta and Dan Armitage. Why?”
“Holy shit.” Bolton thought back to his conversation with Karissa.
“What is it, Detective?” the director asked, curious.
“It’s my next lead. Keep going.” Bolton furiously pulled out a pen and paper and started writing down everything Agent Phil was saying.
“Okay,” Phil continued, “Greta and Dan were money launderers. That’s how they could afford their house on the lake. Proverbs 15:27 says: ‘He who is greedy for gain troubles his own house, but he who hates bribes will live.’ And both of them were killed in their house. There are murders like this all over the country, Bolton. I could give you ten more examples of this shit. There’s one in Texas, one in Rhode Island…they’re everywhere.”
“Okay, but that’s assuming the cult has a Christian belief, right?”
“Not exactly,” Phil said, shaking his head. “I’m looking for murders where the victims have done bad things, in case the cult’s rules of who’s allowed to live follow that of the Bible’s and getting into Heaven, you know?”
Bolton agreed before Agent Phil continued.
“The reason I am connecting these murders is because of the victims’ backgrounds, how they died, and if any suspects have been found. All of these cases I put together share those similarities. The victim has done something in their past, they were found mutilated, and are now cold cases with no suspect.”
Bolton wrote everything down then said, “Wait, who’s the girl that Patrick was having an affair with, do we know? She’d easily be another target if the cult hasn’t gotten to her yet. If Patrick wasn’t worthy of living according to the cult, she wouldn’t be either.”
“Uh…” Phil looked at his files once more. “Claire Fox. Apparently, after Patrick died, she moved to Chicago. She lives in an apartment in the city.”
“Okay, let’s start there. We need to get people over there now,” Bolton said.
“On it,” the director said, snapping his fingers to another agent outside the office.
“Phil, thank you so much. Let me know if you find anything more!” Bolton said happily then hung up the phone.
*
Detective Bolton was in his SUV, driving quickly through downtown Portland. He was heading to the Nelsons’ house as quickly as possible. While he was driving, he picked his phone up and called Karissa.
She answered after a brief moment. “Hello, Detective,” she said calmly.
“Karissa! You need to stay on guard! I’ll be there shortly.”
“Wait, what?” She heard the panic in his voice. “What’s wrong?”
“The cult is targeting your family! Get to the dining room and stay behind the table. I’ll be there in five minutes!”
Karissa got up from her bed and quickly walked to her kitchen. It was getting dark outside. She walked to the wall by the dining room and stayed behind the large table. She understood why Bolton had told her to go there. The dining room offered complete visibility in front of her and gave her protection from behind thanks to the wall.
After about five minutes, Bolton stormed into the house. “Karissa!” he yelled, looking around for her.
“Bolton, can you tell me what the hell’s going on?” she said, revealing herself from behind the table.
“Yeah,” Bolton said while sighing in relief. “Let’s sit down.” He pulled out his gun and put it on the dining room table, just in case. He made sure all of the doors and windows were locked. “The cult is targeting you and Lewis.”
“What do you mean?”
“They are killing people who they believe are not allowed to live. It’s way bigger than we thought, as it’s spread across the country. The symbol carved into these people, it doesn’t belong to any cult we’re aware of, but we are learning more about them. They’re being led by a man named Calvin. Anyway, that tall thing that showed up to your house that night…I hate to say it, but it easily could’ve killed you guys, but it didn’t. The other day, when Lewis and I were in the church, that tall man could’ve killed Lewis but didn’t. The question needs to be asked: why are they killing these other people but not Lewis?”
“Well, the tall man who came to our house could’ve killed me too.”
“That’s what I want to talk to you about, Karissa.” His eyes looked down for a second before he raised them again. “You said you were supposed to come home tomorrow, right?”
She nodded in confirmation.
“Last night, Greta and Dan Armitage were murdered in their home.”
Karissa lost her breath and began to tremble. Her eyes widened. Beads of sweat formed on her forehead.
“Listen, I believe they are after Lewis. They aren’t killing him. However…” He paused, as he knew Karissa understood. “Listen, I’m putting you under full police protection, okay? You’ll have a police car with two officers watching your house at all times.”
Karissa sat there in silence. Her eyes were staring at the table in front of her. She understood what Bolton was saying. If she didn’t leave Sunday morning, both she and Lisa might’ve been killed. She tried to breathe but couldn’t.
“Karissa, I need to know something. Is there anything you can think of about your husband’s life that might’ve been morally skewed?”
“What do you mean?”
“Okay, I need to ask these next questions. I am in no way assuming anything; I just want a little more clarity.”
Karissa nodded.
“Has Lewis ever cheated on you?”
“No. He never has and never would,” she replied with tears forming in her eyes. She was still in shock over Greta and Dan’s deaths.
“Has he ever stolen any money, perhaps from the school?”
“No. Nothing like that.”
“Has he ever killed anybody?” Bolton asked, concerned.
Then, the front door opened.
“Karissa?”
Both she and Bolton looked up.
“Lewis,” Bolton said, surprised.
“What’s going on here?” Lewis asked curiously.
“What’s going on here? How about you answer us first!” Karissa said, turning bright red. “Where the hell were you?!” she screamed.
Bolton stood up and walked toward the door. He said, “I’ll give you guys a minute.”
“Karissa, you called Bolton?”
“What else was I supposed to do? My husband didn’t return my calls for two days straight! Then I find out you were helping him with the investigation! Lewis, you told me you were moving on. I believed you. But no, you just had to figure it out, didn’t you? Now this cult is after me too.”
“Wait, what do you mean?”
“I came home early—yesterday, as I informed you in my messages. Lisa’s parents were murdered in their house last night.”
Lewis’ mouth dropped. “Are you okay?” he asked, walking over to the table and sitting in what had been Bolton’s seat.
“Lewis, I’m not going to ask again. Where the hell were you?”
“Okay, Karissa.” He turned around to make sure they were alone. “You need to trust me. I’ll tell you everything, but I can’t tell Bolton, otherwise we’re all dead—or at least, I think so.”
“What?” she said, her eyes widening.
“You need to trust me.” Lewis stared into her eyes.
“Okay.” She calmed down a bit.
Lewis stood up and walked over to the front door. He walked out and greeted Bolton.
“Hey, Bolton,” he said, putting his hands in his pockets.
“Lewis, where the hell were you?” the detective asked quietly. He was angry.
“I went for a drive in the mountains and lost my phone.”
“I’m calling bullshit.”
“I don’t care what you call it, that’s what happened.”
“So, if I checked your pocket, your phone wouldn’t be there?”
“Nope,” Lewis said, looking off into the distance.
“Take care of your wife, Lewis.”
“The hell is that supposed to mean?” Lewis said, turning bright red.
“I mean, look at her. You’re seriously just abandoning her, man.”
“Hey, my marriage is none of your concern, you son of a bitch. Get the hell off my property.”
Bolton let out a sigh and started walking to his SUV. “This is the real deal, Lewis. Your wife is in danger. I have officers on their way to watch your house. Call me when you settle down and want to talk. I have a lot I want to tell you.”
He got in his car and drove off. Lewis thought, Yeah, I do too. He walked back inside, and Karissa was standing up. She ran over to him and jumped into his arms. They kissed passionately.
“I’m so sorry, baby,” he said, putting his hand on the side of her face.
“I’m still really mad at you,” she said, getting choked up. She released a tear from her eye.
Lewis wiped it away. “I’m here. I’m here,” he said while pulling her into his arms.
The tick in his brain stopped. When he was with Karissa, he was reminded of home. He loved her. As he held her in his arms, he thought to himself, If I love her this much, why the hell did I put her through this? Why didn’t I return her calls? Why the hell did I go to that stupid cabin? Why won’t I tell Bolton about the letter or Reggie? I have all of the answers but…something is stopping me.
*
That night, Lewis told Karissa everything. He told her about the cabin and the cult. The only thing he told her that wasn’t the truth was that he wasn’t considering leaving for Iceland.
He was definitely considering it.
He made her dinner, and they watched a movie. Afterward, they were lying in their bed. Karissa was wrapped in Lewis’ arms. She made him swear that he would be completely honest from there on out. However, she still didn’t tell him about his sleepwalking incidents. She knew he had enough on his plate, especially with everything he had just told her.
They locked eyes and said nothing for a while. Then Karissa suddenly spoke.
“You need to tell Bolton about what happened. Tell him everything about the cabin.”
Lewis pulled away. “I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“If he finds out, the old man, Reggie, said that the cult would send those ‘Angels.’”
“He already did, Lewis. I told you.”
“Why haven’t you told Lisa?” Before she could answer, he continued, “It’s to protect her, right? You’re letting the police tell her so you don’t have to be the one to hurt her. It’s the same reasoning, except instead of mentally hurting the people I’m close to, the cult will physically hurt them…including you.”
Karissa thought that was a bunch of BS. She thought that the only way to stop the cult was to get the FBI involved. Thanks to Lewis telling her everything, she knew it all too. Now she had to decide: tell Bolton and piss off her husband, or not say a word, which would keep her husband happy but allow the cult to keep killing people.
She knew what she had to do.
The only problem was, Lewis knew what she was thinking. They couldn’t lie to each other. He saw the truth all over her face. That didn’t worry him, however, because deep down he knew it was the right call. But something was holding him back. A certain itch in his brain told him not to. It told him to do something more drastic.
He was with Karissa, and yet he felt as though he wasn’t in control of his body. It was like he was in the back seat letting someone else drive. His mind drifted off. Karissa kept calling his name. It took about four times for him to come back to reality.
“Lewis?”
“My bad,” he said, shaking his head. “Long day.”
He turned off the lights and began to kiss her. His lips met her neck, and she moaned softly.
He whispered, “I love you.” She repeated those words back to him.
He put his hands under her shirt and began unbuttoning her bra. They laughed as the midnight sun shined brightly in the sky.
*
At around 2:00 a.m., Lewis awoke in a cold sweat. He let out a strange sound, as if he had to say “ah” at the dentist’s office. The itch was stronger than it had ever been. It forced him to make strange noises he couldn’t control. His eyes widened as he sprung out of bed and walked into the kitchen. He opened the refrigerator and pulled out some orange juice. He started chugging out of the bottle as if he had been stuck in the desert for a week. Juice leaked out of his mouth onto his shoulders. He put the bottle down, but he still felt thirsty.
Dripping sweat, he cursed and walked to the bathroom. Sweat poured off his head, and his skin was bright red.
Something entered his mind.
He saw images of a black church on a hill.
Of a large tree.
A cliffside.
Blood-soaked snow.
“No. No. No.” He spoke to himself quietly. He dropped his head.
“Shit,” he said out loud.
Quickly walking into his bedroom, Lewis opened up his laptop, which lay on the desk next to their bed. He dimmed its brightness to make sure the light wouldn’t wake Karissa. He opened up the internet browser and typed in, “Flights to Iceland.”