An Exclusive Club

Content warning: graphic violence, gore, abuse, and mention of non-consensual medical experiments.

June 17, 2020

For three long weeks, I’d been waiting for this day - the new writing club I’d been anticipating was finally meeting. My first. Having a true passion for writing, this group sounded so intriguing. For one thing, we couldn’t simply join - we had to be accepted; so not just anyone could belong to this exclusive club. I shivered with delight just thinking about my luck - I still couldn’t quite believe I’d been chosen.

Our group was to consist of five men and five women. I wondered what they’d be like; how old they’d be. First, I supposed I should focus on what to wear.

Nearly 45 minutes later, I emerged from my walk-in closet, donning a flattering cream colored blouse with a thin navy tie and a dark pencil skirt. Smooth nylons, a pair of matching pumps and a low ponytail tied neatly with a ribbon would complete the look. I really hoped I’d make the right impression.

Stepping out, I felt pretty good about my wardrobe choices. I had to feel confident because thinking about all that could potentially go wrong was making my stomach queasy. Gathering my three ring binder filled with articles and stories, I gave myself a final once over in the full-length mirror and headed for my 2016 white Mazda Miata convertible.

It was an unusually lovely day, so I’d chosen to drive with the top down. Driving slowly down the side streets, the mild wind felt so good through my hair. I felt like a part of nature as I listened to the birds chirping and breathed in the aroma of the June flowers, lush bushes of green breezing by. I was in my element, although still a little nervous.

Finally, I drove up to what had to be our meeting place. I didn’t necessarily trust my GPS, but the building was properly numbered. And it wasn’t at all what I’d expected. It looked like a massive old warehouse and a deserted one at that. I decided to get out of my car and look around, so I quickly found a space and pulled in.

As I was searching for an entrance that wasn’t locked, I saw someone else wandering around. She looked as lost as I felt and I asked her if she was part of the group.

She smiled at me and said that she was. “Hi, my name is Mary Levinson.” To my relief, she was dressed as modestly as I was.

“I’m Lizzie, uh, I mean Elizabeth.” I didn’t want to ruin my sophisticated act before I’d even gotten through the door.

“This is the right place, isn’t it?” I asked nervously. “I mean, it isn’t what I expected.”

“Me neither,” said Mary, “but the address says we’re here.” Walking up to a glass door, she tried it. It opened up into a lobby. The place looked absolutely empty. We tried the second door and it also gave way.

“Hello? Anybody here?” We both called out into the large, echoey room which was about as far from the intimate setting I’d pictured as it could have been. I turned to Mary and said with conviction, “This must be wrong.”

Before she could answer, a man’s voice rang out from beyond (okay, it seemed like it came from some mysterious, unknown place). In fact, there was a body attached to it.

Somewhat stocky and in sweats from head to toe, he looked to be maybe mid- to late thirties. “You ladies look…a little overdressed,” he observed. And you look downright sloppy, I wanted to say, but didn’t.

“Anyway,” the man continued, “you’re early.” Looking at my traditional, yet reliable watch, I told him that the meeting started in seven minutes.

“Right,” he told me now. “That’s early.”

Stifling a growing irritation, I tried to remain friendly and cheerful. “I’m Elizabeth and this is Mary,” I gestured toward my new acquaintance. He didn’t say anything, so I went on, “Who might you be?”

“I’m Jack McDougall,” boy did he radiate arrogance.

“Are you part of the group?” My voice got drowned out as three more people entered the cavernous room that, on second glance, appeared to be a defunct gymnasium.

“Billy!” Jack was patting one of the newcomers on the back. “How’ve ya been, man?” Then, “Hey Greta! Hi Rachel!” How did he know so many of the members already?

“Guys, these two lovely ladies are the newest members of our org - group.”

Before I could inquire further, two more members waltzed in. Heathcliff, who preferred to be called simply Heath, and Carrie, a short blond with a long ponytail.

Immediately following this pair, a skinny, dark haired guy who looked very unsure of himself walked in. Nobody greeted him and he didn’t offer his name. He simply hunched over as he stared at the vast springboard floor.

Loudmouth Jack was saying, “Now we just need one more and we can start!” His uppity demeanor was really getting to me.

Looking over at Heath, I tried to size him up. He was one huge hunk of man, bulky, blond and towering over the rest of us. I stifled a laugh seeing his magnitude next to Carrie’s tiny form.

No one was seated and, in fact, there was no place to sit. Nothing related to writing was mentioned at all. Everyone was just making small talk and seemed to be well-acquainted.

This was getting weird. Feeling incredibly stupid, I stood silently with Mary, waiting for something to happen.

“Helloooo, friends!” a new voice joined the others and it had to have belonged to our final member. My mouth dropped open when I saw what our final member looked like.

Curling blond hair that was clearly bleached, a skinny and strangely clad body, and a smile that must have cost him a fortune and yet looked like it came straight from a gumball machine. He looked - for lack of a better word - like a circus clown. An aging one, at that since he was definitely no younger than fifty-five.

“Mikey’s here, so we can all start!” the garish man dressed in all red told the group. The way he referred to himself in the third person would’ve made me instantly dislike him if I hadn’t already.

“Let’s get to it!” Mikey clasped his hands together loudly, seeming more like a gym teacher than a writer.

“I am your leader! To those who don’t know me, my name is Michael Fritz, but please call me Mikey.” He smiled showing those fake teeth again and I resisted an urge to scream in revulsion. “Let’s get down to business, guys!”

We looked around the empty gym at the folded mats, balance beams and bars pushed against the walls. Were we going to write sitting on the sprung floor?

“You!” I jumped a mile as Mikey pointed at Heath. “Get two large tables from the back room! And bring Billy and Jack with you!” He barked loudly. He didn’t include the awkward man with no name.

The women gathered together, myself included, awaiting further instructions. Two large white tables made of thick plastic were being dragged across the gym by Jack, Heath and Billy. Man, was this a strange sight.

“Ladies!” I jumped again at the loud bark coming out of Mikey’s strange form. “Get ten folding chairs and we’re in business.”

We all looked at one another right before he screamed, “What are you waiting for? Christmas?” He pointed to the same room where the men had brought the tables out of. “Go!”

We all went, practically tripping over each other in our rush to get the chairs so maybe we wouldn’t be yelled at anymore.

Once all was set up, everyone took a seat and Mikey placed a basket with white stickers in it smack in the middle of the two joined together tables. He dropped some pens near the basket and told us that these were our name tags. Taking two pens, I handed one to the quiet guy who seemed even more out of place than I did. Giving a sidelong glance, I tried to make out his name. Very messy writing revealed “Pete.” I think.

“May I start today’s proceedings?” Jack asked overconfidently.

“What do YOU think, Jack?” Mikey’s obnoxious mouth shut him up fast. “What we will do is freewrite for ten minutes. It’s a great way to help your ideas flow better.”

Grabbing my pen, I waited for the head clown (well, that’s how I silently referred to him) to signal our start time. Mikey made a gesture and uttered, “You may all begin…NOW!” He was too theatrical for words. But at least this motley crew finally began what we had come for, so I started writing. Glancing up, I saw Mikey slip something to Jack. He didn’t think anyone saw it, but I not only witnessed it, I guessed what it was. He’d slipped Jack a small packet of what looked a whole lot like drugs. I felt a prickle of fear at the back of my neck, but didn’t dare look up again. Lest Mikey see me watching. Who knows what he was capable of? I struggled to work on my writing sample.

Seven minutes later, I was engrossed in the exercise and thinking maybe this wasn’t so bad after all, when I heard several whispers. Heath, Carrie and Jack were not only not writing, they were up to something. Nudging and pointing and winking at Mikey, their behavior was extremely disturbing.

Trying hard to fight my rising panic, I heard more whispering. Suddenly, the whole table was talking in hushed tones, minus Mary and me. To my surprise, even quiet Pete was involved in whatever they were discussing.

“Group!” came the loud voice of Mikey once more. “You may conclude your samples. We have much to discuss.”

Seemingly out of nowhere, a pitcher of something dark red had appeared on one of the tables. Dixie cups, too, were placed all around and I noticed I had one in front of me. No way was I touching whatever was in that pitcher to my lips, but I stayed silent.

“We have two “virgins” in our midst, so-to-speak. Miss Mary Levinson and Miss Elizabeth Franklin. We must be very cautious around these two,” Mikey’s voice had changed from comical to menacing. His face held a most sinister expression. I froze in terror, but stole a glance in Mary’s direction. She looked as alarmed as I felt.

“Stand, Mary Levinson!” Mary could barely make it out of her chair. Even from my vantage point ten feet away, I could see her trembling violently.

“Now drink!” Ordered the terrifying Mikey person. Jack picked up the pitcher and poured some of the red liquid in Mary’s cup. He was obviously Mikey’s sidekick.

“What is this?” Mary was fighting to sound calm, but wasn’t fooling anyone.

“Drink it and see,” Jack’s level voice sounded strong and confident. And evil.

“I’m sorry. I only drink water,” Mary was becoming more frantic with each passing second and so was I. I was wondering if I could make it to the lobby door if I up and bolted while they were preoccupied with Mary. I was in full self-preservation mode now.

Mikey laughed. He sounded insane. “How is your writing going?” he taunted. “I do hope it’s an interesting story,” he laughed loudly now and the others joined him.

Having nothing to lose, Mary asked him what this group really was. “You’ll find out soon enough, young lady,” said sidekick Jack without a smile. “Now drink this, Mary. It will relax you.”

Mikey had brought in rope from the other room. I had to get the hell out of there. He looked at me and smiled with those putrid false teeth. “Someone didn’t read the small print before joking this group.” Looking over at Mary, he laughed and said, “Make that two someones.”

Like everything else these days, the agreement we’d had to sign to be part of this cult (I can call it that now) had been about fifty pages long. No one was about to read all that. Which meant maybe we actually signed up for this.

Mary leapt from her chair toward the door, but bulky Heath beat her to it and blocked her way. Seizing the terrified girl and forcing her back in her seat, Mikey nodded his approval and proceeded to lock the door to prevent another attempted escape.

As Heath held Mary down by her shoulders, she shrieked in pain from the pressure of his large and presumably strong, hands as Mikey forced her to drink the red liquid that was in the Dixie cup in front of her. Mary twisted her head and pursed her lips, so Billy and Jack came over, one steadying her head, the other forcing her mother open. I was frozen in my chair during all this, not knowing what to expect.

* * * * * * * * *

Fifteen Minutes Later

As Mary was calming down, her eyes looked greener than before and her pupils were mere pin points. She was answering all questions very slowly and with slurred speech. At one point, she vomited, but Billy quickly wiped it off the table without prompting. The part that dribbled in her shirt was simply left there.

“Mary, we help each other here,” Billy smiled and I saw that he had no teeth. “We do experiments to see what works and what doesn’t. This time around, we disguised ourselves as a writers’ group because we’ve been following you and Elizabeth very closely. You both have something we need.” Mary no longer looked frightened. She seemed to be nearing trance-like state.

“What have I got?” Mary slurred. “How will I be helping you?”

Heath grabbed Pete and sat him down next to Mary. “Pete here isn’t too emotionally intelligent, Mary. We tried to fix him, but it didn’t work.”

“How’d you do that?” The words slipped out of my mouth. I needed information.

Surprisingly, Mikey seemed to have no qualms about telling me. “Maybe we should tell you ladies what our club is really for. You see, we are actually good people trying to help the public,” Mikey sounded out of his mind. “Our experiments will either help or hinder someone and the Giver will receive in a future gathering. Today, you and Mary are the Givers, Elizabeth. Two months ago, it was Billy’s turn: he forfeited his teeth to enhance my smile. And last month, Pete was the sole receptor of one of our biggest experiments,” he said with a flourish. He paused dramatically and lowered his voice. Looking directly into my eyes, he whispered in a sinister voice, “A lobotomy.”

I swallowed hard and suppressed a scream.

“As you can see, it didn’t go well,” Mikey was actually smiling as he said this. “We took turns hammering a pick into his nose so we could alter his personality, but it appears we hit his brain a little too hard.” He stifled a laugh, “And a little too long.” I saw Carrie and Heath smile. Mikey kept talking, “He was highly academic and now he’s dumb as a box of rocks.”

“Mary, we need you to help him become clever again.”

“How?” Mary seemed willing enough, but so very out of it.

“By giving us something of yours,” Mikey said.

“What?” Mary shrugged.

“Your brain,” Mikey smiled with those hideous teeth again and I couldn’t believe this was real. “Oh, not to worry,” he laughed softly, taking out the rope. “It’s just a little piece of it that we need.”

Even in her drug-induced euphoria, the blood drained from Mary’s face.

Suddenly, the four mobile men were on her and the three women wheeled out a pair of cots. I knew the second one must be for me. Mary couldn’t fight off four men, even if her reflexes had been working properly, but I could still try to escape.

* * * * * * * * *

July 11, 2025 (Five Years Later)

Bridgette McDonald checked the time. She was feeling unsure of herself despite her excitement about having been chosen for an exclusive writing club. What would the others members be like? Was she as good a writer as they expected? How did she ever make it into this group when thousands of others had likely applied?

Taking a breath to calm herself down, Bridgette headed to her car and drove to the location. It looked like an old warehouse of some kind, but this was the correct address.

Walking up to the door, her uncertainty grew, but she opened it and called out, “Hello?” The large, echoey chamber seemed empty when suddenly a woman with a bizarre-looking wig emerged from a side room.

“Hi, you must be our newest member, Bridgette,” the woman was wearing a garish yellow-and-green suit that was as tacky as the rest of her. Even so, her smile was welcoming and warm, putting the new girl immediately at ease. “The others will be here soon. We have much to do today,” the lady went on. “Today, you will learn what a Giver is.”

“Does that have to do with writing?” Bridgette asked curiously.

“You’ll see,” the woman’s smile turned menacing as she adjusted her hideous wig. “My name’s Lizzie. And I am the group’s leader.