couldn’t help feeling special. He had never heard Father say such things to anyone else.
“That’s why I want you to join the ranks of my warriors. I have the feeling you will be a very special warrior.” He leaned even closer and lowered his voice. “I need your help, Justin. There are those who would like to destroy me, even here within our ranks. Are you willing to help me?”
Justin didn’t know much about Father’s warriors, except that they did get special treatment, rewards. Eric was a warrior and took great pride in the title. Justin tried to remember if anyone had ever told him they needed him before. It felt good. It felt damn good.
Father was waiting for an answer.
“Yeah,” Justin said, and found the answer came quite easily. “Yeah, I guess I could help.”
“Good. Excellent.” He smiled and slapped Justin on the knee, then sat back in the recliner. “Brandon and I are taking a group to Boston for initiation. I’d like you to go, too.”
“Sure, okay.” He had no idea what he was getting himself into, but maybe it was a good idea to be away from Alice for a while. Just to think and sort through everything Father had told him. Besides, he really was kind of excited about this. Eric would be so proud when he heard the news. “About Eric,” he said, “any idea when he’ll be back?”
“Could be any day now,” Father said. But his eyes suddenly drifted off to look out the window, as if his mind had wandered somewhere else.
CHAPTER 37
John F. Kennedy Federal Building
Boston, Massachusetts
When the guard told Eric Pratt he had a visitor, Eric knew Father had sent someone to kill him. He sat down next to the thick glass partition and stared at the door on the other side, waiting to see who his executioner would be. His best friend, Brandon, walked through the door, stopped to be patted down by a guard then waved a hello. He sat in the yellow plastic chair and scooted as close as allowed to the barrier. Brandon was clean shaven, his wild, red hair wet with some sort of gel, combed and plastered to his head. He smiled at Eric as he picked up the telephone receiver.
“Hi, buddy,” Brandon said, his voice muffled, though he sat right across from him. “They treatin’ you okay in here?” His eyes flicked everywhere except to meet Eric’s, and right then, Eric knew. It was Brandon. Brandon had come to deliver his death warrant.
After those first days of questioning when Eric refused to answer any questions, they had thrown him into solitary confinement. What they hadn’t realized was that they were giving him exactly what he wanted—to be left alone. After months of being surrounded by people, of not being able to go anywhere without a tagalong, the solitary confinement was a reward, not a punishment. But he wouldn’t dare tell Brandon. That would only give his friend more reason to want him dead.
“I’m fine,” Eric said, not caring that his tone probably didn’t back up his words.
“Heard the food in here is worse than the crap we eat every day.” Brandon laughed, but it was a manufactured one.
Had he forgotten that Eric would be able to recognize it as such? Did he really believe he could dupe him into exchanging confidences? Oh, Father was good. Of course, he would send Eric’s best friend to do the job. What sweet poetic justice, like sending Judas to betray Jesus, or rather, Cain to slaughter Abel.
“The food’s okay.”
Brandon glanced around, then leaned close to the glass. Eric stayed put, sitting straight-backed in the hard plastic chair. This was it. But how…how would he choose to destroy him?
“What the hell happened out there, Eric? Why didn’t you take the pill?” He kept his voice hushed, but there was no mistaking the anger. Eric had expected nothing less than anger. And no matter how honest he tried to be with him, Brandon would never understand, because he would not have hesitated. Brandon would have swallowed ten cyanide capsules for Father. And now he wouldn’t hesitate for a second to kill his best friend, whose only sin had been that he wanted to live.
“I did take it,” Eric offered as a weak defense.
It was the truth, or at least part of the truth. Besides, hadn’t Father taught them that it was okay to lie, cheat and steal as long as the end justified the means? Well, the end was now