The Father
The three men approached the old concrete silo, which sat in the field adjacent to the compound. The tall stone wall around the compound would obscure any view the church members might have of the farmland outside the refuge. The bottom of the silo was further hidden by the tall and thick red tip photinia bushes the Father had strategically ordered his men to plant around the tower. The structure leaned a degree or two to the left, like a leaning tower of Pisa on the Texas plains. The roof and the attached ladder were rusted, generating copper-colored streaks that ran like veins down the long sides, as if the aging silo were a marble tower. Of course the silo wasn’t the only thing around here that bore a deceptive façade.
The Father hadn’t seen any value in the edifice when he’d bought the fifty-acre spread over three decades ago. He’d had no intentions of storing mass quantities of grain. But when he’d needed a place to safely and secretly stash someone, a place where sins could be contemplated and cries could be stifled, he’d soon realized the old structure provided the perfect spot. With the addition of a five-gallon water jug, a canvas cot, and a portable camping toilet, a person could be contained there for quite some time. For as long as it takes …
“Careful, now,” he told Zeke and Jeb. “That girl’s likely to be unpredictable.”
The men nodded. The Father stepped back as Zeke put the key in the padlock and popped it open. Before Zeke removed the lock, he put his mouth to the frame of the heavy metal door. “No funny business. Sit down on the cot and don’t get up until Jeb’s set your lunch down. Understand?”
A meek voice came from the other side of the door. “I understand.”
Zeke removed the lock and pulled the door open, the hinges emitting creaks of protest. As the opening widened, allowing sunlight into the dark space, the Father could make out the girl sitting on the cot inside. Her cheeks were streaked with tears, the front of her dress wet with milk that had leaked from her breasts. She blinked as her pretty blue eyes adjusted to the light.
Jeb stepped forward with the metal bucket that contained her meal. A hard roll. A boiled egg. A small navel orange. Enough to keep her alive, but not enough to keep her strong. The Father knew from experience that her will would be easier to break if she were also feeling physically weak.
As Jeb set the bucket down on the ground just inside the door, the girl sprang from the bed like a rabid jack-in-the-box and emitted a roar worthy of a caged tiger. She rushed the man, knocking him backward into the doorway. She tripped over his body as she attempted to escape, landing with one knee in Jeb’s gut, the other in his groin. As Jeb turned his head sideways and retched, the Father fought the urge to laugh. Good thing that moron hasn’t had his lunch yet.
As Zeke grabbed the girl’s left arm, she screeched like a banshee, reached up with her right hand, and raked her nails over his face, leaving four deep, red gouges all the way from his temple to his mouth.
She’s got even more fight in her than I thought.
Still, he’d break her eventually. He’d always managed to break the others before, make them see the error of their ways, repent their sins. Well, most of them, anyway. The ones who hadn’t broken he’d had to handle in other ways. He hoped it wouldn’t come to that. It was too messy.
Blood oozing from the claw marks, Zeke yanked the girl up from the ground and flung her back into the silo like a rag doll. She crashed into the cot, knocking it over, her hand-quilted blanket falling to the dusty floor. As the Father pulled Zeke out of the way, the girl scrambled to get to her feet. Just as the girl launched herself at it again, the Father slammed the door shut. Her body impacted the door with a dull thud.
The Father pulled Jeb to his feet. Jeb put one hand on the silo and cupped the other around his crotch, still coughing and gagging.
The Father gave his best men a simultaneous pat on the back. “The Lord appreciates your sacrifice.” As for himself, well, he appreciated both their loyalty and gullibility.