The Collective

The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window.

Now or never, I thought. Holding my head high, I strode toward the door. I took a deep breath, steadied my shaking hands, and knocked twice.

A soft voice came from the other side. “Destitutus ventis…”

“...remos adhibe,” I responded.

The door creaked open and an older woman ushered me inside.

“You used the directions we gave you?”

“Yes.”

“And you’re sure you haven’t been followed?”

“I’m pretty sure,” I said, looking over my shoulder on impulse.

The woman went over to the candle and blew it out, then took a thorough look out the window before shutting the blinds. She turned to me and smiled warmly. Her eyes were kind. The name tag pinned to her linen dress read Jude.

“Are you a nurse?” I asked, immediately embarrassed by my assumption.

“No, dear. I’m here to check you in and make you comfortable. Think of me as more of a guide.”

In spite of my heart still pounding out of my chest, I was relieved I’d made it to the cabin. The living room– or, waiting room– wasn’t what I’d imagined. With the exception of a tall filing cabinet in the corner, the place looked like any other cozy family vacation home, with heavy mahogany furniture, plush carpet, a crackling fireplace. A teddy bear sat on the overstuffed sofa.

“Have a seat,” said Jude. “Help yourself to tea.”

An antique tea set had been placed on a gilded tray on the coffee table. I sat on the edge of the sofa and poured myself a cup, the porcelain going clack-clack in my jittering hands. I gulped the whole thing down. It was cold and bitter, as if the leaves had steeped for too long.

Jude reached into the filing cabinet and pulled out a clipboard and a folder full of papers. As she made her way across the room, I noticed my name on the folder’s label.

“You’ll need to sign in.” Jude handed me the clipboard, then lowered herself into a worn Victorian armchair across from me.

I scribbled my signature, adding it to a long list. I couldn’t help but scan the names above my own. I suddenly wanted to find out if I knew anyone, if any of them were from my town. Some had left and never come back. It worried me. It worried all of us, but we didn’t dare talk about it in public. Any information we got was second hand, relayed in whispers. We’d all heard stories.

Jude reached a long arm over the coffee table and plucked the clipboard from my hands.

“Is it safe?” I blurted out.

The old woman let out a singsong chuckle and shook her head gently, giving me the look of a mother reassuring her child after a nightmare.

“Relax, dear. I’ll ask the questions.”

I nodded. Jude had the folder open in her lap and a ballpoint pen poised in her hand. I looked down at my own lap and realized I’d been clutching the teddy bear.

“Let’s begin,” said Jude. “Who have you told?”

“Nobody,” I replied.

“Nobody knows you’re here?”

“Nobody knows,” I repeated. “Except the lady I spoke with on the phone.”

That benevolent voice on the other line. She had told me all about the Collective and their mission to help people who need it. How they moved around, set up shop in abandoned buildings, skipped town before anyone caught on. She’d told me there was hope. I would’ve traveled a million miles, but as luck would have it, they’d come to me.

A mechanical whir from another room startled me. Blips and buzzes entwined with faint voices and echoed down the long hallway.

“I see that you’ve elected to decline preliminary testing,” Jude continued. “May I ask why?”

“Oh yeah, the lady on the phone said it’s optional, so…I guess I think it’s not really necessary?”

“Ah.” Jude paused to lean forward. “You really should reconsider. Many find it very beneficial. Of course, it’s up to you.”

“No thank you,” I forced a polite smile, adding, “I kinda just wanna, you know, get this over with.”

“It’s a complimentary service. Free of charge. You want to explore all your options.” She shifted her attention back to the documents in her lap. She seemed to be going down a checklist. Be patient, I thought. She’s just doing her job.

“I’ll think about it,” I said quietly.

A grimace passed over the old woman’s face before her lips twisted back into a placid smile. My own mouth felt dry.

The voices down the hall became louder, but I couldn’t make out what they were saying. It sounded like someone was whimpering.

“You asked about safety,” Jude held her pen aloft, like a conductor with a baton. “I’ll be honest, complications are more common than you think.”

I began to feel queasy. I put my palm to my forehead and realized it was damp; I’d been sweating bullets. We were sitting so close to the fire.

“I’m sorry, but would it be possible to put that out?” I asked, gesturing toward the fireplace. “I’m feeling a little hot.”

“Our bodies are gifts,” she continued. “Each of us has just one. We must treat them with respect. Tell me, do you respect your body?”

“I– I don’t understand,” I tried to stand up, but gravity seemed to be working against me. The room was spinning. I sank back into the sofa and rubbed my eyelids, trying to clear my vision, but everything was going dark. I was blind, and so very thirsty.

“I need…water…”

“No water. Only tea,” Jude’s saccharine voice swirled all around me.

I tried to rub my eyes again, but I could no longer lift my arms. I’d lost control of my limbs. All I could do was breathe and blink. When the room came back into focus, Jude was laying papers out on the coffee table, one by one. They appeared to be glossy photographs.

“You’re going to want to see these.”

Each photo was more brutal than the last, a gruesome exhibition of blood and butchery. I tried to shut them out but my eyelids had joined the rest of my body’s refusal of my will. Turning away was no use. I had to look. The images stung my eyes and seared my brain, branding themselves into my memory forever.

I could hardly make out the word. “Why?” I choked.

“Oh dear, don’t you know?” she cooed. “You chose this.”

Through the blinds, red and blue lights flashed. Thank God, I thought. Salvation.

There was pounding at the door.

Jude’s voice rattled in the distance. “Right this way.”

Everything went dark again. As I lost consciousness, I heard a clink and felt something tightening around my wrists. The scent of metal and uniform starch, a heady cologne, filled my senses and took me over completely.