Messiahs, Matt Rogers [best 7 inch ereader TXT] 📗

trying to find salvation now? You changing your mind about everything?’

Dane sat there for a beat, his face ghost white, his eyes unblinking. It took a long moment for his internal computer to process what Slater had said. Then he said, ‘I’m not my wife. I know it’s a lie.’

Slater said, ‘I don’t understand why you’re even talking.’

Or how you’re capable of talking, Slater thought. Dane was losing blood at a harrowing rate. His grip on reality was slipping as it drained out of him, but he still talked like he was perfectly lucid.

An odd thought struck Slater.

Is this the first time he’s saying what he really thinks? Is this the first time he sees clearly? When he knows it’s the end of the road.

Possessed by the urge to know, Slater said, ‘Go on.’

Dane said, ‘She believes her own delusions. She thinks she’s a god.’

‘Was she always this way?’

Dane smiled and shook his head. It was a ghastly sight. ‘No. She was a small-town sweetheart when I met her. You know, the girl next door. I was fucked up back then. Still am. Psychopathic personality disorder. I … had a bad childhood. I won’t go into it. Anyway, I corrupted her. Changed her brain over the course of a few years, feeding her all sorts of sick ideas about the world and what the people in it deserve. This is all my fault. Because she listened to me…’

He trailed off, searching for the energy to continue. Slater didn’t interrupt.

Dane let out a guttural sigh, which made him wince, then he composed himself. ‘She … uh … she became a narcissist. She had empathy where I didn’t, and she couldn’t shed it easily, so I guess she turned all that empathy on herself. It finally clicked for her. She started thinking everyone besides her and I were subhuman. I was the reason for that, so I guess if there’s a hell, I’m going there.’

Slater said, ‘I’d put money on it.’

Dane said, ‘All that empathy she started with made her a people pleaser. She was charismatic and extroverted. She could convince anyone of anything. I was paranoid and internal. I couldn’t make small talk to save my life. So she started … I guess you could call it brainwashing people … to get her way in life, to create something for ourselves. I was like … the director. I called the shots behind the scenes, guided her to the targets, to the easily exploitable. We came up with this thing together. But you know how it goes…’

Slater realised Dane wanted him to fill in the blanks. ‘It caught momentum? Took on a life of its own?’

Dane shook his head. There was no colour left in his face. He had no energy to talk, but something was keeping his lips moving, something Slater couldn’t comprehend.

Dane said, ‘The movement never did anything on its own. Maeve caught momentum. She went from understanding it was all a ruse to believing the words that came out of her mouth. I mean, why wouldn’t she? It was working too well. We hit the perfect storm of Maeve’s charisma and my concoction of Bodhi. She—’

‘Bodhi was yours?’

‘Mostly. The benefit of being a psychotic paranoid is that when you put your mind to something and convince yourself it’s important, it gets done. Nothing stands in your way. I absorbed every piece of scientific literature I could get my hands on and put a few chimeras together.’

‘Chimeras?’

‘Combination of compounds. I thought I’d stumbled upon the perfect dosage. It was—’

‘Dextroamphetamine, MDMA, and Benzos.’

Dane paused, but nothing fazed him. Not now.

‘Yeah,’ he said, not bothering to spend what little time he had left asking how Slater knew. ‘I had a few formulas for different dosages. I paid a buddy of mine from college who’d gone on to get his PhD and worked in a reputable lab. It was all my money at the time, but I knew to bet big on myself, and that was the amount I needed to corrupt him. He put them together, and we tried them together. The third iteration hit like nothing I’d ever experienced. Then I knew we had something unstoppable.’

‘Did Maeve use it?’ Slater said. ‘Is that why she went off the deep end?’

‘Never. Not once. She … got her high from manipulating people. She didn’t need anything else. But she used it on everyone, and suddenly she had control of them all, and she became messianic. Which made her prone to losing her temper, but it never happened outwardly. Only in private, with me.’

Slater grimaced. ‘Sounds like the perfect dichotomy.’

Dane nodded — or, at least, he tried. He lowered his chin but it hung there, resting against his chest. He didn’t have the cognisance to lift it back up.

‘Yeah,’ he mumbled at the ground. ‘She was … an ice queen in front of the disciples. But … a monster behind closed doors. Everyone trusted her, worshipped her. I wasn’t working with her anymore. I was serving her. I had no choice.’

‘You could have walked away.’

Dane let out a grunt that sounded like an affirmation. ‘And yet, no one ever walks away. I wonder why…’

Slater said, ‘I wonder too.’

Dane said, ‘Don’t … trust a word she says. That’s if you want to make it out of here alive.’

‘I don’t think that’ll be a problem,’ Slater said. ‘You gave me a mammoth dose of Bodhi and I never trusted you.’

Dane’s face twisted. ‘You know...’

He couldn’t talk anymore. He sucked in air, trying to muster the energy.

Slater could see whatever came next would be his final words.

He said, ‘What?’

Dane said, ‘In all my years … all the things I’ve experienced … that was the greatest feat of willpower I’ve seen.’

Slater didn’t respond.

Dane croaked, ‘Whatever you do … wherever you go … don’t stop doing this. You were … born for it.’

Slater said, ‘Wouldn’t have to if people like you didn’t exist.’

Dane used everything he had left to shrug. ‘But we do.’

He settled against the cabin wall, his