Dissonance Rising: Dawn of the Cult Breaker

By Joshua Smith

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 . . .

• Language: English
• Publisher: Cratefires Publishing
• Release date: Mar 18, 2023
• ISBN: 9781977263735

Joshua Smith

Joshua Smith is the product of a childhood home where the art of storytelling was the lifeblood of conversation and humor. He was educated at Purdue University and is a published author. He lives with his wife, Tiffany, and their children in Connecticut. 

Book preview

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 © 2023 www.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 to 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 the 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 wrung 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 ached, 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 devils 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 this 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 reality, 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 himself 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 of 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 books 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 several 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 accidentally 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 day!

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 Pines 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 the voice of a local morning radio personality introducing his first guest.

"First up this morning, we’ll be talking with Darin Westbrook, author of Melonccoli: Overcoming Depression through Mindfulness 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 meaningful 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 the Divine Light cult. 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 Father’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 borders. 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 out 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 afraid 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 just 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 understand 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 business 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 means you, 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 Josiah Jo for short, a practice that had gained in popularity 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. Customers 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 means every aisle. I don’t need OSHA in here 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 intention of ever joining them. Though no longer a believer in The Path as 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 home 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, probably 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 exterior 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 from the main highway and about five miles out of town headed north from Pines Ridge. Its secluded location 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 people 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 worry he might think of me differently if he knew the complete story.

I left the community, but mentally I feel like it never left me… I don’t know. Maybe it never will.

Dr. Thornburg gave a warm, sympathetic half-smile and a thoughtful pause after Josiah had unearthed his frustrations before responding slowly, but firmly.

"Josiah, the feelings you are experiencing are quite natural, I assure you, and you’re doing fantastic! I am so proud of your progress. I don’t say that lightly or to make you feel better. No, I’ve been working with ex-cult members for over four decades now and some of these poor people, I can tell you, have suffered in unimaginable ways.

The apprehension you feel about revealing your past is very common and normal. Remember, you were born and raised in a rigid, controlled environment. They conditioned your mind to filter information and thoughts based on The Father’s system of rewards and punishments. That ultimately led you to not question teachings, even when what was being taught or actions you witnessed felt wrong.

After observing some recoil of contemplation, he paused. Dr. Thornburg searched his expressions, trying to get a feel for his comprehension.

You told me previously that you’ve been reading some books on psychology. Have you, by chance, come across the theory of cognitive dissonance in your studies?

Josiah shook his head ‘no’ before Dr. Thornburg continued.

"Cognitive dissonance is a term coined and theory developed by a famous American social psychologist by the name of Leon Festinger. He did a lot of experiments back in the 50s that gave shape to the idea, including how it applies to cults. He even wrote a book on it called When Prophesy Fails…

"Now, the key part of his general theory describes how we perceive and deal with contradictory pieces of information. That is, information we encounter in the real world that contradicts our actions, feelings, core beliefs and values, and so on. So, when our core beliefs and actions we accept as truth get challenged, now dissonance, or mental discomfort, occurs for the person holding that view or performing that action. This new exposure threatens our core understanding of who we are with its psychological inconsistency. And this contradiction makes us feel uncomfortable, ah… almost disoriented. And that motivates us to reduce the magnitude of the dissonance, or discomfort, by doing one of three things… You can change the behavior or thinking based on this new information, you can justify your beliefs or actions, or you can ignore or deny information that conflicts with existing beliefs or actions.

"Think of a smoker who has just received credible information that smoking is unhealthy. That person now has a few options. They can reduce the dissonance caused by that report by changing the behavior where they quit smoking, they can justify it by telling themselves smoking prevents weight gain and therefore has some positive value as well, or they can deny it by claiming that smoking is not as bad for your health as others claim, or simply avoid the warnings altogether—filter them out completely…

So, change… justify… deny or ignore. Does that make sense?

Josiah nodded but pondered how this might apply to his prior tolerance, and even acceptance, of bizarre cult beliefs and practices.

Does this mean I simply justified, denied, or ignored the abuse I witnessed to prop up a world that I hated? How does that not make me an idiot like the smoker who avoids warnings or makes bizarre claims?

That’s easier to answer than you might think, Josiah… You tolerated and ignored abuse because you were a good person. And even a good person has to make tough decisions when higher moral concerns are at stake.

Josiah was confused. I don’t understand. What does that mean?

"Well, as one example, from our prior sessions, it could mean you learned to tolerate the sexual abuse, by The Father, of your sister because your and her eternal salvation that he held the keys to was more important than her temporary discomfort. You learned to allow, even avoid, this because you’re a good person, you see. It was only when the mental discomfort of what you witnessed became so unbearably intolerable that you decided you’d rather risk your life and lose your soul than live with it any longer."

Josiah sat there speechless as he processed the implications of this theory. He began connecting it to other events and actions in his life.

Dr. Thornburg noted his contemplative state.

"You know, you ought to pick up that book When Prophesy Fails and read it if you want to learn more. There are a bunch of conditions that actually lead to increased levels of conviction when beliefs get challenged that apply to cultish environments. Often by very intelligent people, I might add." Dr. Thornburg paused.

In the end, you made the hard decision to change in an environment discouraging that. As a result, you’ve been able to shift your core values to include a vast array of new opportunities and ideas, scary as that new world might be. But this can also be a very exciting time for you! And think of the avenues that have opened up since leaving. And you are still young, Josiah! The world is your playground!

Josiah seemed motivated by this view, but still felt rudderless.

"I guess what I’ve also been struggling with is that, in the community, even though I hated it, I had this, I don’t know—this cosmic purpose, I guess, built into everything I did. Out here, I don’t know who I am. I feel like the fear is gone, but I’m left with nothing."

Josiah, some people spend their whole lives searching for their purpose, what truly gives meaning to their existence—not what someone else, or some group, tells them they should want or believe in, said Dr. Thornburg, looking momentarily lost in thought. "And that’s no simple task. The world is a very noisy place! Give it time, Josiah!

To get there, you need to be open to new people, relationships, and ideas, leaving no stone unturned. It will help you cope with your trauma and find your purpose.

There was another short inward-focused pause before Dr. Thornburg changed topics.

Why don’t you tell me more about the past couple of weeks?

Josiah relayed the details of recent interactions, which primarily comprised his contact with co-workers and the Abernathys. This occupied the rest of the session with Dr. Thornburg, who jotted down some notes in his notebook every so often.

In describing his social life, Josiah revealed clear signs of isolationist behavior. It was a pattern reaching back over the history of their sessions together. He had a hard time trusting people and didn’t feel he fit in because of a lack of social and cultural context. This was a primary source of anxiety.

It was also clear that he was protective of the vulnerable—people like Derrick—a behavior extending back to his childhood, and one of the main reasons he finally ran. His inability to relieve suffering in any meaningful way had been more than he could bear.

Typical questions surfaced at the end of their session, which Josiah understood as a gauge for adjusting his anti-anxiety medication. Based on his answers, Dr. Thornburg held him at his low daily dose, and he had enough meds to last until his next session in a couple of weeks.

Based on everything you’ve told me, Josiah, I want you to try a couple of things for me this week, if you agree.

Of course, Dr. Thornburg, anything.

Well, first, your co-workers seem to invite you out frequently, but you never accept. Why don’t you consider taking them up on their offer? They obviously like you or they wouldn’t keep asking. You don’t have to drink if that’s a concern, but interaction outside of work could be a healthy experience. And who knows, maybe you’ll meet other people you connect with better when you are out with the group.

Josiah nodded.

Second, you’re a smart kid. You’ve told me several times about how much you enjoy technology, even explaining devices at work to your co-workers, despite no previous access to it in your community of birth. Maybe think about looking into a degree in computer science or engineering, or something? Perhaps this is your calling, the purpose you’ve been looking for. And going to a technical college, when you’re ready, would connect you to other people with this same interest.

Oddly, Josiah had never seriously considered the option before, but it made perfect sense, as Dr. Thornburg’s recommendations always did. Josiah smiled and replied with a commitment to explore both proposals. He was hopeful, even excited, he might break the cycle of isolation with these first steps as an off-ramp.

Thanks, Dr. Thornburg. You always seem to know the right thing to say. Coming here has helped a lot. I didn’t think I’d ever be able to open up to anyone again after leaving.

Plus, said Josiah, glancing around the room, "I really enjoy coming to visit your office. You have a lot of really neat stuff!"

Dr. Thornburg laughed as he leaned forward.

You like neat stuff, huh? You wanna see some really cool stuff?

He gave Josiah a guided tour around the office, showcasing his memorabilia and heirlooms, possessing sentimental value. Starting with his prized vinyl record collection of vintage ‘50s, ‘60s, and ‘70s music, he put on one of his favorite albums while showing him around the office.

Josiah looked around in admiration. He had degrees from prestigious universities, including a Ph.D. from Harvard. He was an American Psychological Association (APA) Fellow and had an associated APA International Humanitarian Award for his ground-breaking work helping ex-cult members. Some of the unique old antiques and personal effects that adorned his office also mesmerized him, including an ornate bird on his desk he had carved out of stone. Is there anything he can’t do? thought Josiah.

Dr. Thornburg opened the doors to a massive walnut wardrobe off to one side of the office. It looked about a hundred years old. Inside there were some old coats hanging on the right-hand side and a waist-high stack of built-in shelves off to the left, with a pile of sweaters stacked on top. From in between the sweater stack, Dr. Thornburg withdrew a very curious-looking gun. Josiah had seen nothing quite like it before.

I saved the best for last! he said, holding the gun out for Josiah to try his grip.

"Now careful, it’s loaded! … It’s an Ithaca Auto & Burglar Gun, manufactured in the 1920s and ‘30s and carried by some policemen back in those days before they outlawed it. It’s essentially a hand-held double barrel, 20-gauge shotgun, as you can see. Aside from being rare, it has a great deal of sentimental value to me… It was my daddy’s gun. He carried it for a brief period during his service as a police officer. Even saved someone’s life on a couple of occasions."

It intrigued Josiah as he examined it, but he worried he might damage such a precious object by dropping or blemishing it somehow.

Your father was a policeman? asked Josiah, handing the gun back to Dr. Thornburg.

Yes, sir! He ran the county jail right here! Dr. Thornburg said as he recalled the stories his dad used to share.

Josiah glanced around with a puzzled look. It doesn’t look much like a jail.

Dr. Thornburg laughed. … That was a long time ago, Josiah. Now, it’s just home. The old jail is just a shadowy relic of a bygone period, but it’s not forgotten.

He pointed to a framed glass case hanging on the wall that housed an antique cast iron jail key.

Dr. Thornburg stared down at the gun in his hands and then back up at Josiah. You know, in a way, you remind me of this old gun, Josiah—unique and given a second chance. Dedicated to what you commit to, and you have the potential to pack quite a punch. You’ve unloaded one barrel in life, but still have another shot left. So, aim carefully. You don’t need to squeeze the second trigger too fast. You’ll find your target.

Josiah appreciated the metaphor as Dr. Thornburg’s way of telling him he didn’t need to figure everything out today, and corny as it was, it helped him feel better.

And when I figure that out, what will you do with nobody left to fix?

Ha! … I’m already doing it!

He pointed to a couple of Bankers Boxes stacked over in the corner.

"In those boxes are my journals and an almost finished manuscript to my latest book—my magnum opus. That manuscript is a compendium of all cult practices from my work with ex-cult members over the past 40 years. Actual names changed, of course, and I’ve added my analysis and summaries. Some of these cults are even so far undocumented. Like I said, it’s almost done.

You’ll be famous Josiah Knoll, or at least I hope that your alias and story will be… My dream is that my work can continue to have an impact long after I’ve turned to ash.

I’m sure it will, said Josiah.

With that, Dr. Thornburg walked him to the front door and shook his hand.

I’ll see you in a couple of weeks, Josiah. I can write a new prescription then. If you need to talk before that, just remember to call first.

He pointed to the Must have an appointment sign by the door.

I will Dr. Thornburg. I plan on getting a smartphone soon, which will make that easier.

That’s great… Now, go out and have some fun! Life is short and you are way too young to be alone!

Josiah grinned and gave a thumbs up over his shoulder as he walked toward his car to leave.

3. FORWARD WITH HOPE

Encouraged by his session, Josiah took his co-workers up on their offer, surprising them on Friday night by showing up at the Watering Hole. He even purchased some new clothes for the occasion, including some trendy jeans and a designer button-up shirt. He wanted to make a good impression. It was important to him this went well.

He entered the bar and could see they’d decorated it like an old western pub. It had brick interior walls with wooden beams and rafters salvaged from an old barn. There was live music, featuring a local Pines Ridge band, creating a youthful, energetic vibe. The owners filled the walls with early twentieth-century farm antiques.

Pictures of residents who frequented the establishment covered one of them. Josiah recognized several people in the pictures as regular patrons at the grocery store, although a few looked much younger in the photographs. It appeared as though they had gotten together to celebrate the holidays and special occasions over decades.

A surprised Lance looked over noticing Josiah.

J-Dog is here, everyone! No way!

He rushed over to Josiah, putting his arm around his shoulder, and ushered him over to a small party gathered at a table near the performing band. The group included Lance, Derrick, Mia, and Addy from work, Lance’s girlfriend Jenna, and a couple of Mia’s girlfriends, whom Josiah had never met. His presence seemed to intrigue one person in Mia’s party in particular.

After a round of introductions to Mia’s partner, Ashley, and Ashley’s friend from school, Julianna, Lance made an announcement.

Jo, since it’s your first time here, your first round is on old Lance here. I insist dude.

Josiah wasn’t sure about drinking yet. He’d never had alcohol, but he was in a bar and didn’t want to be called out or made to feel awkward for refusing. He felt conflicted, and his indecisiveness drew an uncomfortable pause.

His hesitation caused Lance to pull him aside where he confided he’d never drank before, explaining that he’d just come to enjoy everyone’s company. Damn, this is awkward, he thought as he explained. A stunned Lance finally grabbed Josiah’s arm and led him to the bar.

Nick, a mug of your finest draft for my good friend Jo here! Gather ‘round everyone! It’s J-Man’s first drink!

Thanks a lot, Lance, said Josiah sarcastically, taking a seat on one of the open bar stools.

Everyone gathered around to cheer him on. He didn’t normally like being the center of attention, but this helped him feel welcome, displacing some of his anxiety about drinking. Josiah flashed his driver’s license, and the bartender served up a frothy mug of cold draft beer as the small crowd cheered him on.

Here goes nothing! said Josiah.

He swiveled around on his bar stool toward the group and took a large swallow. The strong flavor of hops washed over his tongue, giving off a bitter aftertaste that was less than palatable. He held down his distaste for the flavor to maintain the crowd’s momentum and raised his mug with a smile. Damn, that’s good!

Everyone cheered and, to his surprise, Mia’s friend, Julianna, a short, curvy Latina, approached him as he sat there on the bar stool.

I’ll be the judge of that, she said.

With that, she drew closer and grabbed his head in her hands, licking the beer foam from his upper lip. She pulled back, reading his pleasantly surprised shock, before moving between his legs as he sat on the bar stool and kissed him in front of the crowd. Stunned by her boldness but enjoying it, Josiah reciprocated as the crowd went wild.

Yeah, J-Dog! cried Lance, Somebody get me one of those!

It was a short, beautiful moment before the cheers subsided. After finishing with her flirtation, Julianna leaned over and whispered, Nice.

Josiah was not used to women expressing themselves so freely. They forbid this back in the community. Fuck the community! He grabbed Julianna around the waist and whispered back.

Thanks for helping make it a night to remember.

As he released her, she kissed him one last time and walked over to join Mia and Ashley. They strolled over to the live band as Julianna glanced back at him, smiling.

That night, Josiah let go as never before. When the live band wrapped up, they all sang karaoke together, played pool, and the night ended with everyone sitting around talking as they finished their last-call drinks. Most were drunk or at least buzzed, except for Josiah, who had limited himself to two beers.

So where did you get your name from, man? asked Lance. Are you like Amish or something?

Josiah looked over at Lance, wearing a serious expression.

Even worse… I was raised in an apocalyptic cult… My mom gave me that name, hoping it would remind me of my role in God’s plan and help me survive the end times.

A few seconds elapsed as everyone tried to determine if Josiah was being serious before both men erupted into laughter. Everyone else quickly joined in.

The conversation continued with a lot of small talk, much going over Josiah’s head, making him feel like an awkward outsider. With little awareness of pop culture references and no access to technology, he had a hard time following as everyone continued to drink, adding comments increasingly without context.

I really need to get that smartphone, Josiah noted. That way I can look up references in real-time.

Discussion drifted to the meaning of life later that night. Perhaps I’m not alone in my search for purpose, he thought. Contributors to the conversation chimed in with what Josiah considered small-town answers. They spoke about the importance of basic needs and friends, settling down near family, and so on. That didn’t satisfy him. Perhaps owing to his rejection by community, he didn’t find as much solace in the idea as others appeared to take.

Josiah glanced over at an older couple in the corner near the window. He overheard them reminiscing about how much the town had changed over the past 50 years. Several other groups, perhaps in their 30s scattered throughout the bar, looked as if they had frequented the establishment for the past decade.

I’m more ambitious than this crowd, he thought. He was eager to see the world his community of birth had denied him. I want to become someone important, like Dr. Thornburg, he thought, but maybe in tech. Friends and community can be lost. He didn’t want to rely on anyone as a requirement for his happiness.

The love of others was something outside of his ability to control, but regardless, Josiah’s upbringing included a belief that his life had special meaning. Even if the context had been fantasy, his desire for purpose remained. Lack