Rebekka Franck - 03 - Five, Six ... Grab Your Crucifix Page 9

  Yvonne left on that last sentence and I looked at Sune. We tried hard not to laugh. I ate with butterflies in my stomach. I wanted so badly to write the story about this place, about this sect. I wanted so badly to be the one, the first journalist to actually get in there and talk to some of the members. It would be a hard article to write because it would be a lot of speculation and rumors like the ones Yvonne had just presented for me. A closed community like this sect would always be surrounded by mystery and rumors. It would be hard to decipher what was actually the truth and what was just talk and gossip from the townspeople. If only I could get them to talk. I couldn’t present a story based on rumors and talk, but if I could get some of them to talk to me - even just one person - then I could at least have their side of the story and I would have an article to write. Two people had died at that camp in the last two days, somewhere in there was a story hidden, one that was important and needed to be told.

  After finishing my food I went to the bar and talked to Yvonne.

  “Do you know anyone who has actually seen these things? Who has actually seen them run around naked or drive out devils or something like that?”

  Yvonne stared at me with slight disbelief. Then she nodded.

  “I might know someone who would talk to you,” she said.

  Chapter 22

  Mette Grithfeldt sat down at her bed feeling the anxiety grow strongly inside of her. She was looking at the crucifix above her bed in her small room which contained only a bed, a dresser and a lamp under the ceiling. There were no mirrors at the camp since the Priest believed mirrors were made for vanity and none of his disciples should ever care about what they looked like. He wanted to drive all these fleshly thoughts out of them that kept them in bondage. Vanity was one thing, greed another. Mette Grithfeldt hated greed more than anything. That was why she had donated all of her money to “The Way” when her parents died in a car accident in Southern France a couple of years ago. The Priest had told her that the money she inherited would only end up devouring her, leaving her always wanting more, never being satisfied.

  “Aren’t you happy here?” he had asked lying naked in his bed with her under him, tied to the bed with rope, while entered her with the same wildness and passion that he always did, slapping her across the face, holding her throat till she would almost suffocate.

  Mette liked not having to look in the mirror ever again. The Priest was so right. They didn’t need all this stuff and she certainly didn’t need the money.

  “Blood money,” the Priest had called it while he beat the greed out of Mette till she broke down and cried for God to forgive her sin, her lust for money while the Priest entered her from behind and humiliated her by letting his semen wash all those sinful thoughts off her face afterwards. The night after she met with the lawyer, who told her about the millions and millions of dollars her parents had left her, the Priest punished her for hours for her impure thoughts. He smelled it on her skin, he said. She wanted that money for herself, and even worse she wanted to make more. She desired the money and let greed devour her.

  “It will eat you alive, this desire,” he yelled again and again while the strokes from the whip burned her back and blood started running down her legs. “The devil has taken a stronghold on you. These are impure thoughts coming from the devil. You must repent! Repent child before it is too late!”

  “I repent! Please forgive me, please I don’t want to be like this,” she had cried almost falling unconscious from the pain.

  Yet he hadn’t stopped. He had continued for hours and hours, making her take his sex in her mouth, beating her with his belt, with a stick and then the whip again. Hanging her from the ceiling by her arms while he took her as he pleased and punished her as he willed.

  Mette Grithfeldt didn’t want to admit it but she had liked it. And she had liked the Priest. In fact she loved him. A lot. She enjoyed serving him and coming to his room when he told her to. She enjoyed the humiliation, the pain, the lust. She could even lie awake some nights thinking about it, craving it, lusting for the touch of his hands. But she never told him that. What if he thought it was a sin. What if it was a sin? Would she go to hell for this? For wanting to be with him? Even if she knew she had to share him with the other women in the camp it was all worth it. Was that why the Priest had died? Was that why she was going to be next? Were they in fact being punished? If so then by whom? God or the devil? Did it matter?

  Mette Grithfeldt stood up and walked to her window. The sun was about to set behind the black pine forest. In an hour it would be pitch dark. She shivered in fear. She hadn’t been this scared since the morning she first woke up in Hungary, in that filthy bed that she had to share with six other girls from countries all over Europe.

  Mette sighed as she pictured Nadja. Nadja was from Russia and she was the only one who had taken care of Mette in that place where men came and took the girls as they pleased. Hundreds of men a day entered that door and chose one of them to have sex with on the filthy bed where roaches lived under the mattress. Nadja had taught her to close her eyes and think about being in another place, about leaving your body mentally to keep the mind sane. She had taught Mette to only accept the pure drugs, those they were certain weren’t filled with all kinds of shit that every now and then killed one of the girls in the room. The next day a new girl would arrive and the body would be dumped somewhere.

  “You don’t want to end up like any of those girls,” Nadja had told her. “When they give you drugs you take them and give them to me. I know how to see if it’s pure or not. Never take anything without having me check it first, okay?”

  Mette had nodded and done exactly what Nadja had told her. Nadja had kept most of the drugs to herself once she checked it, but Mette had gotten just enough to keep her from thinking too much about what was happening to her, just enough to be able to separate the body from the mind.

  “They can have your body but they can never have your mind,” Nadja had taught her. “It’s the only way to survive.”

  So Mette had survived. While most of the other girls in the room eventually died and were replaced, she stayed alive. Three years she spent in the dark room in Hungary with the help from a Russian girl named Nadja.

  Until one day when Nadja had told her it was time to leave. “We escape tomorrow,” were her only words.

  Those were the last Mette ever heard her speak.

  Chapter 23

  Sune stayed with the kids while I drove out to meet with the source Yvonne had arranged for me to talk to. He lived on a farm on the south side of Arnakke about five minutes by car from our rented cabin.

  The farm was old yet well maintained. The man who opened the front door was probably in his sixties. He was wearing overalls and clogs. I noticed a smell of wet dog in the hall as I entered the front door and took off my heavy coat.

  The hall was decorated with heads and skins of deer and foxes. As was the rest of the house. Antlers and rifles hung on all the walls along with hunting trophies. I took off my boots as well since they were filled with snow. I walked on my socks into his living room where he asked me to sit on the couch in front of the fireplace. He smiled a little shyly when he brought cups and coffee in a pot. His hand holding the tray shook slightly.

  “Let me help you,” I said and grabbed the cups before they fell off the tray to the ground.

  “Sorry,” he said. “The wife is out visiting her sister, so I feel a little lost here.”

  “It’s okay. You really don’t need to serve coffee,” I said even if I could really go for a shot of caffeine right at that moment.

  I grabbed a cup and poured some coffee in it from the pot. The man named Bjarne Larsen sat in a big chair in front of me. I handed him the first cup and then poured another for myself. Bjarne nodded and sipped his coffee.

  “So Yvonne tells me you like to hunt?” I began in order to break the ice.

  Bjarne nodded slowly. He was a man of few words, I thought. Maybe he just needed to be warm
ed up a little.

  “Did you shoot all these yourself?” I asked and pointed at all the antlers and heads hanging on the walls. It felt creepy, like the black empty eyes were all staring at me.

  “Every single one,” he replied.

  I sipped my coffee. It tasted horrible. Way too strong for my taste. I spotted milk on the table and poured some in. It helped a little. Not much, though. It was almost undrinkable.

  “So I guess you must hear and see a lot of stuff in the woods when you’re out there hunting?” I said.

  “I have and I do. Lots of stuff through the years,” he said.

  “Well I’m interested in doing an article about the sect living up at the camp a little north of here. You know, where the members of ’The Way’ live. The Ranters I believe you call them?”

  “That’s what we call them, yes.”

  “Why is that?”

  Bjarne smiled widely and leaned over in his chair. “Because they like to run around naked, like they were a freaking nudist camp.”

  “Have you actually seen them?”

  “I haven’t but my son has. I never go on the other side of their fence, but the young boy likes to do it. It is private property so technically he is not allowed to go in there. I have told him a hundred times to not go in there, but you know how boys are.”

  “I won’t tell anyone. This is just research. Could I speak to your son? Is he here?” I asked.

  “Sure.” Bjarne got up and went to the stairs, before he yelled. “Ole! There is some woman here to see you! Says she is from a newspaper.”

  Bjarne came back to me. “You’ll have to excuse him. He’s not all well up here.” Bjarne pointed at his forehead. “My wife worries about him, but I tell her he is just fine. The teachers in his school think he is a little slow, but I tell them that he’s just fine. Nothing but a slow learner just like his dad. I’m not book smart either but look how well I’ve done for myself. Ole is going to take over this farm one day, no need for him to sweat over homework if you ask me. He knows what he needs to know and the rest I will teach him. He’ll work for me. That’s how my dad taught me, and that’s what I teach him. But these days everybody has to be alike, you know. Everybody must have the same education, they teach them the exact same things whether they’re going to be a plumber or a professor. As soon as someone turns out to be a little different they want to put a diagnosis on his head and give him medicine.”

  Someone entered from the corner of the room. A face of a young teenager appeared in the light. He was tall and skinny with a shy look in his eyes that kept avoiding mine. I got up and reached out my hand.

  “Rebekka Franck, Zeeland Times,” I said.

  He pulled his hand out of the pocket on his shirt and shook mine. His eyes dropped to the floor.

  “Ole,” he stuttered.

  “Hi Ole. Your dad and I were just talking about hunting and he told me you like to hunt as well. Is that true?”

  “I guess,” Ole answered and came closer.

  I signaled that he could sit down. He chose the couch opposite mine.

  “Who do you hunt with?” I asked and sipped more coffee forgetting how bad it tasted.

  Ole shrugged. “Mostly alone.”

  “And your dad tells me that you sometimes climb over the fence to the camp on the North side of the forest where the members of ‘The Way’ live?”

  Ole dropped his eyes. Then he looked at his dad. Bjarne slapped him on the back. “It’s okay son, she is not going to tell the police. She just wants to know about the things you have seen up there.”

  Ole nodded. “I do that sometimes.”

  “And what have you seen?”

  Ole looked at his dad again. Bjarne nodded. “Go ahead. Tell her while I get some cookies to sweeten up that coffee.” Then Bjarne got up and went into the kitchen.

  Ole sniffed. He lifted his head and stared into my eyes. Something in them made me draw backwards. “Sex,” he said.

  “Excuse me?”

  “I see them having sex. Orgies. They’re dancing and screaming and singing. Then they take off their clothes and everybody touches each other.”

  There was something in Ole’s voice that appalled me. It sounded almost like he enjoyed it, enjoyed talking about it. I wrote down what he was telling me.

  “What else have you seen?”

  “He is alone with them. One man and all these women,” he said like he hadn’t heard my question.

  “Who is he?”

  “The Priest.” Ole started giggling. “One time he was screwing three different women and they seemed to like it, man. They loved it. They screamed for more.”

  Ole could hardly sit still on the couch now. “Those women liked it. They liked him doing those things to them.” Ole looked down, then he lifted his head and looked at me. “I like to do things too,” he said.

  I stared at him. I wasn’t sure I wanted him to say any more. Ole leaned over while looking at me creepily. “I like to watch them when he punishes them. He whips them then leaves them outside, naked, tied up all night. I watch them.”

  Ole moved closer. I swallowed hard wanting desperately for the father to come back.

  “So how often do these orgies take place?” I asked and moved a little backwards on the couch when Ole came closer. He looked at me with a tilted head. Then he put his hand on my thigh. I jumped and pushed it away.

  “Do you like it rough like those women do?” Ole whispered. “I bet you do,” he said and giggled. “I can give it to you, if you want. Pretty, pretty girl. I can show you. They come out when it is a full moon. I see them out there every full moon. Like the vampires,” he said and snapped his teeth. I jumped again and Ole burst into a loud laughter.

  “Are you behaving?” Bjarne had come back and was standing in front of Ole with his hand lifted in front of his face like he was ready to slap him. “Do I need to find the belt?” he asked.

  Ole crouched and moved away from me. “No, no, not the belt,” he whined covering his head with his arm like he was already protecting himself from strokes.

  Bjarne looked at me. “You’ll have to excuse him,” he growled. “I need to keep an eye on him. As I told you he is a little slow.”

  Bjarne placed a plate on the table in front of me.

  “Cookie?” he asked.

  Chapter 24

  I had a strange feeling inside as I drove back to the cabin. Furthermore I felt like I had wasted my time. Ole’s statements weren’t something I could use for my article since it wasn’t illegal to run around naked and have sex orgies on your own property. Also, Ole wasn’t exactly what I would call a reliable source, I thought to myself as I parked the car in front of the cabin and got out. The house was quiet. It was getting darker. The heavy grey clouds above my head told me that it would snow again any minute now. I sighed and walked towards the front door. I really didn’t want to be here anymore. I had a bad feeling about this place.

  “I’m back!” I yelled and threw my bag on the kitchen table.

  “We’re in here!” Julie yelled. I could hear the sound of the kid’s video games coming from the living room. I walked in and put my arms around Julie. I hugged her tightly and smelled her hair. Sune smiled at me from the couch. I sent him a finger-kiss. Tobias was concentrating on driving a car on the big screen TV. I let go of Julie and went to sit next to Sune. He had been reading the paper that was scattered all over the coffee table.

  “So how did it go?” he asked.

  I shrugged with a sigh. “It’s all just rumors and talk. I can’t seem to figure out who is more crazy, the sect members or the townspeople. These guys sure were strange. I talked to some farmer and his son.” I felt a chill on my back and snuggled up closer to Sune. “The son was really weird in a creepy way. I could never use him as a source.”

  “So you’re not going to do the article?” Sune asked.

  “Not unless something new opens up the story. I think it’s too hard. There might not even be a story there.”


  “Has Jens-Ole even contacted you about the second death?” Sune asked.

  “Come to think of it, no he hasn’t,” I said. “Do you think he knows?”

  “It was on the news on TV earlier, but just as a small note. There is a debate about early retirement pension that the government wants to abolish that has taken up all the room in the news today.”

  “Again?” I laughed. “This happens every six months. The government wants to abolish it and then the people gets angry.”

  “I know,” Sune said. “It’s a circus.”

  “It’s boring that’s what it is. I am so glad I never became a political reporter. But it certainly explains why Jens-Ole hasn’t called. It’s just not a big story anymore. So what did they say about the death?”

  Sune shrugged. “Just that there has been another death at the camp in Arnakke and then they showed pictures from the outside taken yesterday. They said the police still don’t know what caused it but that it seemed to be the same that killed the Priest. Might be food poisoning.”

  I got up, found my laptop and turned it on.

  “There is coffee in the pot,” Sune said.

  “Already ahead of you,” I said and showed him I was pouring as we spoke. “Want some?”

  “I’ve got.”

  It felt good to finally get some real coffee and not that thick stuff that mostly reminded me of tar.

  “Any news from the hospital?” Sune asked.

  I shook my head. “No, but I’m planning on going up to see him in like half an hour.”

  “Do you want us to come with you?”

  I shook my head again while burning my lip on the coffee. “I think it would be best for Julie to stay here with you and have fun. He is not awake and it is tough to see a person you love in those circumstances. I’ll bring her with me tomorrow morning if she wants to visit him.”

  Sune nodded. “Sounds good.”

  I sighed and looked at the screen. Then I Googled “Ranters.” I had never heard the name before and was curious. Four hundred and fifty-five thousand hits. I opened the first link. Wikipedia. According to that article Yvonne was correct. The article stated that the Ranters were a sect in the English Commonwealth from 1649 till 1660 that were often associated with nudity that they used as a social protest as well as religious expression as a symbol of abandoning earthly goods. They were accused of antinomianism, fanaticism and sexual immorality and were put in prison until they recanted.