Chosen (Second Sight) by Hazel Hunter

about the same age as himself, who nodded amiably as they passed. Like the other members he’d seen, he wore what looked like home-made clothes, sandals, and his hair was tied in a pony-tail. Mac nodded back, smiling, moving at a normal speed. At each doorway and corridor, he took a long look. The scant furnishings were reminiscent of the bungalow. He passed the quilting room and laundry. From the sounds of dishes and cutlery, the dining hall must be down the branching corridor to his left, though it didn’t sound like many people remained.
    Or many pregnant women , he reminded himself.
    Two young women who looked like they were barely eighteen, emerged from the dining room–one of them very pregnant. He doubted that even Geoffrey would be foolish enough to have relations with women under eighteen. No doubt the Cyber Division had tried that angle as a way to crack the cult. If they thought they could prove wrong-doing, they’d have done it. Even so, Mac made a mental note. Having seen Geoffrey operate in person, it was clear what drove his decision process.
    Finally at the back stairs, Mac cast a quick glance in every direction. The two young women passed him as he paused. Their wide grins greeted him.
    “Good evening, ladies,” he said, smiling broadly.
    “Hi,” chirped the pregnant one.
    “Good evening,” said the other.
    As they headed to the rear entrance, they leaned their heads together and giggled, glancing back at him a couple of times before they exited.  
    Alone again in the wide corridor, Mac quickly bounded up the steps two at a time.  
    Upstairs, the layout looked identical to that of the bottom floor. He looked down the wide, main corridor. Isabelle was nowhere to be seen, probably in one of the many rooms or branching hallways–exactly where he ought to be.
    Not standing here worrying about her.
    With no knowledge of what any of the rooms might hold, he simply started with the first. The knob was unlocked. That wasn’t a good sign. If there were anything important or something that Geoffrey didn’t want discovered, the door would have been locked. Even so, Mac quickly opened it, ducked inside, and closed it behind him. Just the brief light from the corridor that had penetrated the expansive space already told Mac everything he needed to know. He’d stepped into a gym. Quickly and quietly, he opened the door a crack and peered into the corridor. It was still empty. He exited, softly shut the door, and went to the next.
    Again, he found it open and quickly entered. It was dark as well but even on the interior of the building, he didn’t chance the light. Instead, he took out his cell phone, turned it on, and aimed into the room. It looked like a storage room. Cardboard boxes with lids were neatly stacked against the wall. He trotted over, lifted a lid and peered inside. Unused reams of paper. The other boxes proved equally interesting–office supplies. Filing cabinets on the opposite wall held bundled brochures for the commune, Geoffrey’s smiling face plastered all over everything. Floor to ceiling bookshelves were filled with promotional DVDs.
    He raced back to the door and opened it, just as two security guards passed. Mac froze and immediately narrowed the gap but didn’t risk making a sound by closing the door.
    “Johnson isn’t enough,” one of them said. “The team needs a three-point threat.”
    “Oh right ,” the other said. “They need another center , not a guard.”
    Mac allowed the door to open a few inches to see where they were headed but, as he did, they rounded a corner into a hallway. He swung the door open, silently shut it, flattened himself against the wall and crept toward the corner. Slowly, he poked the edge of his head around it just in time to see them disappear through a doorway, the door shutting loudly behind them.
    As Mac approached and then passed their room, he heard muffled voices inside. He tried the next door–open as well. He slipped inside. Though