CHAPTER ONE
Untitled
| [Note--this was written way before I understood how the Internet, e-mail, and IMing in general worked. If I were interested in working on this story, I'd completely rewrite ALL of this.]
LYNN LEJA PUNCHED in a few words, watching them appear on the screen in front of her, then sat back and waited a moment. Then came the message: LYNN LEJA! HOW ARE YOU? Lynn smiled and typed in, "I'm fine, thank you. How long has it been now?" TOO LONG! ARE THINGS GOING GOOD AT THE CENTER? "Yes, they are. No real problems here. I see you've taken up typing rather well. Just a few weeks ago you could only do about two words a minute." DON'T YOU START GIVING ME THAT GUFF. She laughed. "Okay, just kidding. Tell me. How's Derrick doing? Have you seen him lately? Is he progressing well?" HECK, LYNN, IT'S BEEN ABOUT FOUR YEARS NOW FOR HIM. HOW LONG DOES IT TAKE? "Sometimes it takes years, Damien, just like I told you. How is he?" TO ME HE SEEMS TO BE DOING LOTS BETTER. HE DOESN'T TALK MUCH THOUGH TO ANYBODY, ME INCLUDED. "I can understand that. All his life he's been told that you and those with you are his enemies. It takes a while to revoke all that you've believed in up to the point when you finally realize that it's not the truth after all. Has he spoken to you at all?" HE HAS. NOT MUCH I HAVE TO ADMIT. BUT HE DOES SEEM The screen started going crazy. Lynn punched a few keys, then gently tapped the computer, and the words went back to normal. HOLY HECK! WHAT IN THE WORLD WAS THAT? "Just a glitch in the program, Damien. Don't worry. I don't quite have all of the bugs worked out yet." WELL, YOU BRAINIAC, YOU'VE DONE A PRETTY GOOD JOB SO FAR. ALL OF THIS HI-TECH COMPUTER MODEM STUFF JUST CONFUSES THE HECK RIGHT OUT OF ME. "Well, thank you. I do my best. But it's really not that hard to understand. You really should take some time out from all your touring to read up on it a little bit now and then." YEAH, I REALLY SHOULD. BUT LAST TIME I TRIED TO TAKE A VACATION I NEARLY GOT KILLED. OH WELL, I GUESS IT JUST WASN'T MEANT TO BE. Lynn laughed again. "I suppose so. Listen, keep a watch on Derrick and tell me how he's getting along next time we talk--or type, I should say. Keep in touch, Damien. Oh--" she added, nearly forgetting, "and keep out of trouble, too." HA HA! RIGHT. TOOTS, TOOTS. Lynn smiled and rolled her eyes, just as she imagined her correspondent--she nearly laughed at herself for thinking that, his name was Damien--was also doing. She logged out of the system and logged into another, and typed in a message. SEARCH FILES: CULTS The computer replied, ENTER CHOICE Lynn: SATANIC The computer: ANY CERTAIN ONE? Lynn: SEARCH FILES: SCORPIO PLEASE ENTER DESIRED LOCATION CHEBOYGAN, MICHIGAN The screen went blank for a moment, telling her to please wait. Then another message appeared. PLEASE ENTER WHICH INFORMATION YOU SHOULD LIKE She typed in, SEARCH FILES: INFORMATION ON GRANT, DERRICK Another pause. A file appeared, and she bent forward to read it. GRANT, Derrick--A former member of the Satanic cult Scorpio, a certain branch headed by LUTHER BRODERICK (see), cult high priest. Has been with us for about four years now; attends a small college nearby. Is making slow but steady progress. Still will not speak much of his cult experiences. Was abandoned by the cult after a car accident in 1990. Other former cult members tell of him being with the cult since birth; his mother was forcefully brought into the cult (this being before Luther Broderick was a member) by other family members and raped by several of the other members; later bore Derrick. Mother tried to escape from the cult compound; was shot down by guards and killed; Derrick raised by the others. Was, for Luther Broderick's reign in the cult, a favorite of his, often being entrusted with confidential information. It is through this that we have been able to learn more about the cult Scorpio. Progress, as said, is quite slow; Derrick is reluctant to speak of his experiences; this we can greatly understand. Still hoping, however, to make more progress ourselves as time passe, so thsi gathering of information may be able to help others escape from the cult, as Derrick's unfortunate mother tried to. END OF FILE [Note, the detail about "family members" helping kidnap Derrick's mother is incorrect.] Lynn sighed and logged out, switching off the computer. It was a tragic story to her. All of those people, so misled; nothing about it was really their fault; not even the high priest, Luther, could be put to blame as he too, somehow, must have been seduced by the cult to escape a troubled family life. It had even happened to her once, also, but she had been lucky enough to escape. Ever after she'd dedicated herself to helping others break free from cults, and not just Satanic ones, for she herself had not been in one of those. It made her sad to hear of how many were supposed to be in this cult Scorpio, which was rumored to be international, and of how very few were the numbers of those who had managed to drop out. She only knew of about half a dozen locally, and one of that half dozen was Derrick. She'd been counseling him for a long time; and though he rarely ever spoke back, she could tell he was making his way slowly but surely back into the real world. But why is it taking so long? She tried to shrug this thought off. Because it hurts, her rational mind replied. It hurts and there's no easy way to make it stop. But the process is so slow. "Yes, I know," she said to herself, "the healing process is always, always slow." She picked up several files she was working on and put them in her briefcase, then left the office. 
Winter in northern Michigan could be terrible. Everybody who attended Little Rock University in Charlevoix knew that and so was bundled up warmly against the biting wind that blew that day. It was a Friday in December, and Christmas decorations were going up all over since it was only several weeks away. Several students were negotiating either the slippery walks or the deep snow-covered lawn, trying to find out which was easiest to cross. As it turned out the answer was neither. Those who were driving had it made, at least until it started snowing again. But there were too many other things to think about besides that.
Story unfinished. END |
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