Dissonance Rising

Joshua Smith

Description

JOSIAH FLED FROM ONE CULT— NOW HE’S PURSUING ANOTHER

Josiah Knoll ran from a fringe sect called Divine Light—a world of abuse and the only reality he ever knew. He escaped with nothing but the homespun clothes on his back. Life on the outside is far from the hell they said it would be. But it certainly isn’t heaven either—it’s isolation of a different kind. In search of purpose and connection, he discovers both through a happenchance encounter.

Nora—a captivating young woman with her own peculiar past—needs his help to save her friend, who’s trapped inside The Seekers, a deadly cult. Just one problem—she has no idea where to find them.

Together, he and Nora stumble to infiltrate extremist groups reminiscent of what he risked everything to flee. Breadcrumbs leading to Nora’s friend put them on a dangerous collision course with some of society’s most despicable characters and their own conscience—as they scramble to cover the trail of collateral damage in their wake. A breach of long-held moral values leads to rising dissonance as they pursue their crusade at any cost. And the clock is ticking. With limited options, Josiah must submit himself to the unrelenting control of The Seekers holding Nora’s friend to save her. Disdain for pious duplicity and the merciless pursuits of this group will test Josiah’s mental and physical fortitude beyond anything he could have imagined. Between him and this cult, neither can bend far—one must break . . .

Sujets

• Humorous
• Thrillers
• Suspenso
• General officer
• Black comedy
• General
• Suspense
• Thriller
• Fiction

Informations

• Publié par: Cratefires Publishing
• Date de parution: 18 mars 2023
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781977263735
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 1 Mo

Extrait

Dissonance Rising Dawn of the Cult Breaker All Rights Reserved. Copyright © 2023 Joshua Smith v3.0

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

The opinions expressed in this manuscript are solely the opinions of the author and do not represent the opinions or thoughts of the publisher. The author has represented and warranted full ownership and/or legal right to publish all the materials in this book.

This book may not be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in whole or in part by any means, including graphic, electronic, or mechanical without the express written consent of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Cratefires Publishing

ISBN: 978-1-9772-6373-5

Cover Photo © 2023www.gettyimages.com. All rights reserved - used with permission.

PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

To my wife Tiffany, brother Jon, and sister Rebecca for their support and edits. May our twisted sense of humor be forever enshrined in this work.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE: INCEPTO NE DESISTAM CHAPTER TWO: FALLING HARD CHAPTER THREE: HEAVEN ON EARTH CHAPTER FOUR: BETRAYAL CHAPTER FIVE: PARTNERS IN CRIME CHAPTER SIX: POINT OF NO RETURN CHAPTER SEVEN: THE LESSER OF EVILS CHAPTER EIGHT: RICOCHET CHAPTER NINE: THE MAN AND THE MASK CHAPTER TEN: REFLECTIONS

CHAPTER ONE INCEPTO NE DESISTAM

“The mystery of human existence lies not in just staying alive, but in finding something to live for.” — Fyodor Dostoyevsky

What is the absolute magnitude of loss one can suffer before being irreparably broken? Certainly, it is beyond the dissolution of mere wealth. Perhaps it is found in the anguish felt when the cruel finger of death touches a loved one, a piece of one’s soul laid irretrievably to rest in the dust beside their dearly departed. Conceivably, it is the outward rejection of one’s genuine identity, or the perceived loss of one’s eternal salvation, as the deafening silence of those closest cast a divine indictment of everlasting condemnation. For the seed of any such blunt or insidious event t o take permanent root in the mind of the tormented, a long and silent inner debate must first be lost before a final verdict is decreed. And a life sentence ruling in this corporal court signifies th e utter smashing of self—the annihilation of personal identity and purpose. Josiah Knoll had suffered all these afflictions. He had lost everything he’d ever known from birth —at least all the parts he’d been told truly mattered. He had given up the world as he knew it to cease any further disregard of a then tiny echo resonating deep within his consciousness, lest it become so faint he could no longer hear it. Before life had w rung it from his soul entirely. Such a forfeiture would have certainly obliterated any remaining individuality. But before surrendering to that bleak and lifeless outcome, he advanced the one card he had left: He ran as fast as his legs could carry him. He ran like hell! For nearly two days, Josiah raced through the woods as far and as fast as he could from the isolated community of his birth, without sustenance and barely enough water to stave off dehydration. His throat was on fire, his stomach ac hed, and he was weary from exhaustion, not knowing where he was going or what horrors lay beyond the boundaries of those woods. Bone-chilling stories about the fate of those who dared leave the community rattled around inside his head. Thoughts evoking horrific imagery of devi ls and demons reinforced deep-seated fears branded into the mind of a child as young as he’d been when first introduced to these hellish tales. Constant warnings had strengthened the force of thi s message: only death and suffering awaited outside the physical and spiritual haven defined by the borders of Divine Light. Many whispered that those who attempted a worldly exodus lived abbreviated lives filled with sorrow, pain, and regret; doomed by extension to eternal torment in fire when their sinful life had come to an unhappy end. They had painted the outside as a world filled with unspeakable horrors, a realm where everyone lay in wait to torment and deceive. A year and a half of living outside had taught him those beliefs were mere myths—lies fabricated to maintain control over its misled believers. In r eality, had it not been for the kindness and generosity of an outsider, Josiah felt he wouldn’t be alive today. Indeed, he felt he owed everything to George Abernathy. After his escape, and train-hopping, cross-country trek from Ohio, this man had furnished him with a car, a job, and an apartment. He had explained how the real world worked, helped Josiah gain personal identification, get a bank account set up— you name it. Mr. Abernathy had done all this at his own expense to help him learn to stand on his own, without expectation of return. This man’s kindness began the day he found Josiah, sitting on the shoulder of the highway miles outside of town. Josiah’s disheveled, odd-looking clothing caught his eye as he drove past. It seemed outdated by a century. The young man sat slumped over, barely clinging to life. George Abernathy was not in the habit of picking up strangers, but as Josiah glanced up, something in his countenance—a vague flicker of familiarity—made Mr. Abernathy turn back that day. And it was a good thing he did. Josiah never disclosed his resolve in that moment to anyone, but he was preparing to die. He was finally giving into mental defeat and the physical pains of starvation, suffering from dehydration so badly that there was barely enough water in his system to form tears.I could just end it right here, he thought.Perhaps they were right about the outside. Maybe I deserve this. In retrospect, when he thought about how those machinations had manipulated him, it angered

him. Never was this truer than when he found himsel f in daily circumstances that punctuated just how severely his upbringing had stunted his potential.

1. THE NEW NORM

Ecstatic as he was to be free of the warped dogma o f his youth, Josiah felt an enduring isolation. His mind was now free to explore his new world, but he barred himself from emotional intimacy. A reluctance, even fear, to speak of his past had helped build this cage. He just wanted to fit in. Aside from the Abernathys and his therapist, nobody on the outside knew anything about his history. It was a secret he kept hidden away under emotional lock and key. This led to difficulties in forming close relationships, guarded as he was. To make matters worse, he missed common social cues because of a lack of familiarity with pop culture, a formal education, and fundamental disparities in cultural humor and customs. Sure, he had read books growing up, a lot of them, mostly classical novels and the Bible. But even after a year and a half of playing catch up, he continued to feel that a large and treacherous social chasm remained between himself and others. Josiah attempted to bridge this divide by devouring books from the Pines Ridge Public Library. He read books on psychology and philosophy, and boo ks on science, mathematics, and history. Even a romantic novel or two. This had helped somewhat, and his small, one-bedroom apartment reflected his commitment to learning, with neatly stacked piles of books decorating the kitchen and coffee tables and nightstand in his bedroom. He even had notebooks filled with information and points of interest extracted from these texts. This new knowledge fascinated and delighted a yearning he’d had since childhood for unbridled education about the world around him. Despite his cultural deficiencies, Josiah had sever al things going for him. He was smart and picked up new tasks and information quickly, and he had a solid work ethic. Beyond that, he was adept at navigating conversations with authoritarian figures to gain their favor, though he often despised them. Survival in his cultish upbringing partially rested on his ability to manipulate and steer the decision-making of these character types. Given his unassuming nature and eagerness to learn, people felt at ease around him and spoke with him openly. His desire to better understand this outside, alien world inspired him to listen to people about their thoughts, perspectives, and interests, all to better sketch a more complete picture of his new reality. Physically, he was a six-foot two attractive male in his early twenties with dark features and a well-proportioned, medium-framed physique, toned from the hard physical labor required throughout his life. His physical characteristics alone made him popular, particularly with young women. He found the attention flattering, but felt too emotionally restrained to pursue a meaningful relationship. Any intimate contact with females growing up was sinful, or at least that’s what they had brought him to believe, so he felt uncomfortable around women, particularly when he found them attractive, when they showed interest, or both. He had never developed the skill set necessary to cultivate a romantic relationship, making him feel awkward in these circumstances. Instead, maladaptation had won out, marked by his avoidance of social gatherings that increased the likelihood of these, for him, uncomfortable interactions. His apartment was devoid of personality. The walls were white and almost blank. The bedroom contained only a bed, a nightstand, and an alarm clock. The main living area and open kitchen were meagerly occupied by a couch, coffee table, a TV/TV stand, small kitchen table and chairs, landline phone, and some basic kitchen appliances. Aside from this, only a few motivational posters decorated the walls here and there that he’d put up to stimulate his ambition. A lonely grocery store apron hung on a makeshift coat rack by the front door. Josiah’s six o’clock alarm rang as it always did on workdays, giving off its annoying buzz. Today, he lay there more hesitant to wake than normal, manifest by his slower-than-usual reaction. His hand stumbled to find the snooze button, and he accident ally knocked the alarm clock onto the floor, forcing him to move to shut it off.So much for a few extra minutes of sleep, he thought. He rubbed his face before crawling out of bed and shuffling his way to the bathroom. There he began drudging through his morning routine, preparing for his shift at the local supermarket. While showering and brushing his teeth, he listened to a positive reinforcement audiobook on CD, playing on an old CD player that Mr. Abernathy had given to him—a relic from the 90s. Repetitive affirmations rose from the speaker:I love and respect myself! Today will be a great da y! Josiah spat out his toothpaste in the tiny bathroom sink as he gazed up at himself in the mirror, parroting back the hollow assertions. “Today will be a great day.” After a plain breakfast of dry toast and bargain-brand cereal, he took his anxiety meds, grabbed his

apron, and headed out the door for work. Little pebbles crunched beneath his feet as he walked across the gravel driveway. His mood improved as the warm summer wind blew through his hair and over his face, carrying on its soothing touch the sweet scent of ponderosa pine common in P ines Ridge, Oregon. These sensory pleasures served as gentle and welcome reminders he was far from the community of his upbringing. The moment was short-lived as he climbed into his gray Honda Civic and started the ignition. The radio welcomed him at nearly full volume, blaring t he voice of a local morning radio personality introducing his first guest. “First up this morning, we’ll be talking with Darin Westbrook, author ofMelonccoli: Overcoming Depression through M indfulness and Diet. Heh, and clever. That’s Melonccoli spelled like ‘melon’, the fruit, combined with ‘ccoli’, as in broccoli. A cute little play on words telling us a bit more about the contents of this must-read for thriving in a—” Josiah immediately lowered the volume and began surfing through the channels after hearing the interview topic. He was tired of false promises and gimmicks for depression and anxiety management, none of which seemed to offer any meani ngful improvement. As he pulled out, he flipped the station to local news, hearing warnings about the dangerously dry conditions and recent forest fires. “An elderly woman died in her home last night as wildfires spread throughout the northern part of the county—” Click!Nothing dismal, he thought as he changed the station again. This time, he landed on some relaxing classical music as he drove off. Traffic was heavy at an intersection under construction on the typically short drive to work. Josiah looked over and noticed a homeless man jingling coins in a cup, making his voiceless pleas to halted drivers. Most of them peered through him as if he was transparent or avoided eye contact altogether. Frustrated commuters began honking at the flagger given the small number of cars he was letting through the construction zone at a time. Josiah’s thoughts drifted into reminiscence as he waited in the congestion. The traffic and music from the radio seemed to fade into the background as he recalled a memory. It was a warning from The Father, supreme leader of theDivine Lightcult. He dressed like a guru. It was, from his claim, the same attire Christ himself had worn during his ministry. Josiah remembered well the unforgettable fear tactics, the tribalist us-versus-them illusion this man had worked to instill and preserve. He could almost hear the warning tones in The Fathe r’s voice as he addressed his followers. ‘There is no happiness outside our little community, only temporal pleasures leading to sorrow, sin, and pain in the fallen world that lay beyond our bo rders. There the craftiness, short-sightedness, and impatience of man will work their devices daily to drag you down to Hell.’ Hoooonk! The blaring, prolonged horn of the driver behind him snapped Josiah back to reality. “Move, asshole!” yelled the man, his head hanging o ut the driver’s side window. He swerved, maneuvering around Josiah’s car onto the shoulder while rolling down the automatic window on the passenger side. He cast Josiah a fuming glare as he passed by, continuing his rant. “Learn how to fuckin’ drive, pal!” he screamed, leaning over his timid wife. She glanced over at Josiah in a slumped down position, appearing too af raid to oppose her husband’s aggression. The driver narrowly missed the homeless man, who jumped out of the way to avoid being hit. Josiah glimpsed a bumper sticker on the back of the sedan as it sped by.Forgive one another as Christ forgave you—Ephesians 4:32. Josiah took a deep breath and exhaled slowly before reaching into his pocket withdrawing a couple of bucks. He handed the money to the homeless man as he passed by before resuming his commute. Parked at his final destination in the parking lot of Abernathy’s Foodmart, he sat there motionless, a general look of malaise in his expression.There’s got to be more to life than this,he thought. As he sat there attempting to muster the energy to exit, he noticed a plastic shopping bag being blown across the parking lot. He watched it get tossed about in the wind, dancing gracefully along its forward path as this invisible force guided it. Its motion was relaxing, almost hypnotic, as it swirled and accelerated in beautiful movements and patterns. This choreography lasted right until the end, when the wind blew it into a muddy pool of water ju st off the parking lot—its final resting place.It seems this unseen force is not without a sense of irony, he thought. He shifted his gaze, staring blankly into the rearview mirror. Josiah practiced his smile a few times. This was a dress rehearsal for convincing his co-workers upon whom he wished to project an illusion of felicity. The attempt looked and felt halfhearted and robotic. It wasn’t depression; he was exhausted. He merely wanted to fit in and feel comfortable in his

own skin. He tried so hard to be liked and better u nderstand his new reality while simultaneously laboring to conceal his personal history that he often found himself drained by the exercise. It was a balancing act he’d not yet developed the coordination to perform without exacting significant mental strain. Josiah walked into the supermarket wearing a more practiced and convincing smile. Several of his co-workers greeted him as he passed through the employee entrance. They were happy to see him and even seemed cheered by his presence. Despite his hang-ups, he was well-liked; yet, once he passed them, his micro-expressions revealed his underlying discomfort, almost as if he was trying on shoes that didn’t fit quite right. It was 6:45 am and the store would open for busines s in 15 minutes. The store owner and manager, Mr. Abernathy, Josiah’s closest friend and mentor, gathered the team together for a morning pep talk. The topics for today: product focus and customer friendliness. “Make sure the shelves remain stocked with water and other survival supplies. Given the recent wildfire warnings, we can expect a rush on these items. I’ve put up signs that state a maximum of two flats of water per customer. This way, we don’t run out too fast. Be sure to enforce those limits at the register. That meansyou, Derrick!” Mr. Abernathy pointed to the unkempt teen standing beside Josiah, who stood staring off into space. “Now, let’s go get ‘em! And remember … customer service with a smile!” He pulled the corners of his mouth into a caricature of a happy employee. “Like Jo!” Mr. Abernathy called JosiahJo for short, a practice that had gained in popularit y among those who knew him best. Josiah was a model employee. He worked quickly and efficiently stocking shelves, showing notable attention to detail. Friendly and proactive, he was quick to help customers. He even helped other employees with their workloads. Today, he noticed Lance having trouble working the product scanner efficiently as he passed him. He looked frustrated at having to scan so many of the same item individually. Lance was a wannabee beach bum born just a little too far from the coast. He had grown up with a stepdad raising him on stories of his heyday surfing excursions. Josiah showed him the settings and mode to enter the number of items, scanning only one of each type to do the job faster. “Dang dude! I showed you how to use this scanner, and you’re already teaching me the quick tricks. Right on, man! … Maybe someday you’ll join the rest of the civilized world and get a smartphone. Then you can teach me how to clear my porn history better so my girlfriend can’t find it.” Josiah chuckled. “Or maybe you should spend more time with your girlfriend and less on your phone.” “Or just less time with your hand there, Romeo,” said Mia, another co-worker, as she passed by. Josiah hadn’t yet purchased a phone. In his cultish upbringing, they had shunned technology and were unfamiliar with modern devices, isolated as they were. He had gained some experience with electronics in his post-escape time out, but hadn’t yet purchased a phone. Instead, he had been hoarding his money, like a desperate squirrel storing food for the long, cold winter. He feared scarcity and debt and losing what he’d saved. The concept of personal ownership hadn’t existed within the cult. Everything had belonged to the community. Although the lopsided top-to-bottom distribution of resources had not escaped Josiah’s attention, even at a young age. The Father had hypocritically railed against the evils of ‘laying up for yourselves treasures on earth’. Ironically, the carnal pleasures and monetary rewards he had so often warned against seemed to be the two things he and his inner circle occupied their attention with most. For everyone else, he had dangled these as afterlife carrots with talk of mansions in heaven and such. Near the end of his shift, Josiah witnessed Derrick getting reprimanded by Mr. Abernathy for blocking aisle eight while stocking shelves. Custom ers couldn’t get through or access certain products within the aisle. Josiah overheard the rebuke and covered for him. “Sorry, Mr. Abernathy! I asked him to help me at the loading dock and distracted him,” said Josiah. It felt dishonest, but his empathy for Derrick outweighed his commitment to honesty. Mr. Abernathy paused. He thanked Josiah for being forthright and now seemed to grant Derrick a higher level of leniency given Josiah’s involvement, but with urgent admonition to both. “You can’t block the aisle. It’s a fire hazard and an OSHA violation. There must be at least 28 inches available for all exit access points. That m eanseveryI don’t need OSHA in here aisle. breathing down my neck, or worse, shutting us down! So, pick this up!”

With that clear, Mr. Abernathy turned to Derrick while shaking his head, pointing at his unkept hair and untidy appearance. “And for Christ’s sake, Derrick! Would it kill you to run a comb through your hair every now and then? It looks like you just rolled out of bed! You look worse than this aisle! We’ve got a reputation to uphold!” Mr. Abernathy stormed off, leaving a defeated Derrick alone with Josiah. “Thanks, Jo. I owe you one.” Josiah patted him on the shoulder, and the two began moving supply crates to clear the aisle. At closing time, several co-workers gathered in the breakroom, excited for the coming weekend, though it was only Thursday. Derrick and Lance invited Josiah to join the crew for a drink Friday night at the Watering Hole, a local bar and popular hangout in the otherwise sleepy town of Pines Ridge in southwest Oregon. Josiah had never tried alcohol. They had labeled that practice evil as well—yet one more lever of control The Father had used to exercise power over his flock. “Maybe next time,” said Josiah, having no genuine i ntention of ever joining them. Though no longer a believer inThe Pathas a road to salvation, the vestiges of fear programmed into him from his youth remained very real. Besides, he felt concerned about the details of his past he might reveal while under the influence. He had no frame of reference for understanding how alcohol might impair his judgment. “Offer remains on the table, dude!” said Lance.

2. DR. THORNBURG

Josiah had regular scheduled appointments at the ho me and business office of Dr. Richard Thornburg, a part-time psychiatrist and registered psychotherapist in his mid-70s. Dr. Thornburg was a heavy-set, but distinguished, and highly educated man. He had a warm smile. Besides the Abernathys, he was the only other person Josiah had explored his past with. He specialized in the psychology of ex-cult members, and in fact, probabl y had the best understanding and insights of anyone regarding Josiah’s history, including perhaps Josiah himself. Dr. Thornburg’s home was an old asymmetrical, shingle-style house, built in 1895. It had unique intersecting roofs of different shapes with the ext erior walls and roof constructed entirely out of beautiful unpainted cedar shingles, giving it a natural feel. The home had a large wrap-around porch extending from the front to the right side when facing it and wild landscapes surrounded it. The architect had designed the quaint domicile built free form into the rock of a small hill in the center of the expansive property. It had spacious fields filled with wildflowers and grasses on either side that rolled in the wind. A ponderosa pine forest surrounded the fields, creating a natural border to the estate. Tucked quaintly away behind a small hill just off Old Post Road—the bumpy dirt road leading to it—the home rest only about a half mile down fro m the main highway and about five miles out of town headed north from Pines Ridge. Its secluded lo cation helped it maintain an aura of paradisiacal beauty, removed from outside distractions. His office overlooked the field to the left side of the house and had a cozy, almost cabin-style, feel with a rich collection of books, memorabilia, degrees, heirlooms, and antiques adorning the space. Josiah’s apartment felt like a blank canvas in comparison. He dreamed of having a place like Dr. Thornburg’s one day and admired him as an intellectual and counselor. He had met him during a grocery delivery run six months prior. When he learned what Dr. Thornburg did professionally, he started meeting with him on a recurrent bi-weekly basis, meaning every other week in his case. These visits had helped him cope considerably better than the year previous. As he rested on Dr. Thornburg’s couch, Josiah could feel his apprehensions to open up subside, and emotions pushed down over the past two weeks rise to the surface. “So, how have you been doing, Josiah?” asked Dr. Thornburg. Josiah’s expression revealed that his thoughts had turned inward, contemplating the question. “Not a day goes by that I’m not grateful to be far away from that hell. The fear and anxiety had become so intense that I chose, as I believed, eternal damnation, and I turned my back on the only community I ever knew. I don’t regret that decision, not even for a second. “But I still feel, I don’t know… I guess isolated, like an observer. I’m surrounded by people who probably wouldn’t look at me the same if they knew where I came from, what I believed, things I allowed to happen and even did. I’m afraid that peo ple wouldn’t understand my background, and I struggle with feeling stupid for having believed in a bunch of fairy tales. Even with Mr. Abernathy, I