The woman glanced at Honor as if judging whether the younger woman believed such a fantastic story. But Honor stared back at her in earnest, absorbing every word. Still, the woman must have felt she needed to back up her wild claims.
“If you wonder how I could possibly know of such things in a group that is so secretive, my son kept a journal of every detail of his experience as a member of A New Era. He had it sent to me right after he confronted the leaders. Maybe he knew what was going to happen. Maybe he sensed they were lying and wanted someone to know what they truly are. And as for my knowing what happened after—the last journal entry was of his confrontation with the leaders—one of his friends in the organization, one who like my son, didn’t like the actions of the group, came to me and told me what they did to my son.”
This time, the mournful sound poured from the woman’s mouth, soaring from the very depths of her soul. Tears ran freely down her face and her features were so stricken with grief that Honor couldn’t even look at her without responding in kind, without remembering the horror of that day when every one of her friends and coworkers had been killed. She knew exactly how this woman felt. They were bound by a bond that no two people should ever have to share.
“They came in the middle of the night. My son had packed his belongings and had planned to leave at dawn to come home to me and his father. They pulled him from his bed and dragged him outside where all the others were already gathered. They gagged him so he couldn’t speak, couldn’t defend himself, couldn’t denounce the organization and their agenda and possibly strike a chord with other followers.
“They told the others that he was a traitor to his brethren. That he’d committed an unpardonable sin by giving their location to an opposing military faction. He’d been bought off and had betrayed every single one of his brothers for money. He was an abomination not only to Allah but to their cause—Allah’s cause. By the time they were finished denouncing him, the others were only too happy to participate in his torture. They were angry—furious—that he could do such a thing. They called him evil. Possessed by evil spirits.
“They tortured him endlessly for an entire week,” the woman whispered, tears still spilling in endless trails down her cheeks. “And in this instance, they didn’t behead him at the very end just before he’d die on his own as is their custom. They said that a traitor such as he didn’t deserve the mercy of a quick and painless death. He was left there to slowly succumb to the torture they’d inflicted on him. He had no food or water in all that time. It took three more days!”
The woman put a fist to her mouth, biting down hard, her grief a terrible, tangible thing in the tiny dwelling. Honor couldn’t help it. It was her nature to comfort others. To help them. No matter the cost to her. It was why even now she was fleeing for her life. Because she’d chosen a dangerous place to render aid. But it was also the area that was most in need because so many others didn’t dare come here to help.
Honor wrapped her arms around the other woman and simply held on as they both shed tears for so many horrible, senseless deaths.
“I am sorry for your loss,” Honor whispered next to the woman’s ear. “He sounded like a good man and not at all like the mindless puppets these monsters command who embrace the promise of riches and power. He tried to right the wrongs. He is safe with Allah now. You must know that.”
The woman pulled back a wan smile. She wiped at the tears with the back of her hand, and it shook as she lowered it to her lap once more.
“Thank you for saying that. I admit at times I’ve feared for his soul. I’ve prayed that he finds peace in the arms of Allah. But yes, he was a good man.” Her chin notched upward, her gaze more determined. “When he learned of the true goals of A New Era, he fought back. And I admire him for that. But in my heart I wish he’d simply walked away.”