Captive, page 4
part #2 of Populations Crumble: Resurgence Series
Our next trip to the holding area comes that evening, as promised. This time Nell is in line for a food tray, and the sight calms my nerves. We just have to stay alive long enough to either get ourselves out, or have Atlas find us. The way that man looks at Nell, there’s no way he’s not going to burn the world down to find her.
And what about you, Demy? Who’s burning the world down to get you back?
Two faces swim before my vision, wrapped up in a tangle of confusing emotions. I’d been so sure it was Fletcher, and yet . . . that kiss with Beckett had surprised me.
Granted, one kiss didn’t mean we were compatible for life, but he wasn’t going down without a fight. And I couldn’t stop seeing his fight to reach me, and then him crumpling to the floor and being dragged away.
Fletcher feels like a distant dream, his memories wrapped up in soft cotton, isolated from this hell-hole.
Maybe it’s best that they stay that way.
I shake off the pointless questions and step into line for my next meal. But this time, I watch Sherese, and the woman in blue. Sure enough, they both go straight to sit at the tables, not bothering to join the line. A few minutes later—while I’m still waiting for a tray—two of the Cabal men come out of the hallway, trays in hand. Each of them stops next to a woman and slides the tray onto the table in front of her. Sherese’s man lays a gentle stroke on her cheek, whispering something into her ear before turning to leave. The other man, however, grips her chin and lays a devouring kiss directly on her lips. I turn away when her arms curl around his neck, not interested in watching them.
My stomach turns, but it makes a twisted sort of sense. They’re both cleaner, wearing nice clothing, and receiving special food.
And pillows, I remember, thinking back to the small comforts Sherese has in our cell. She’s always taken to the same cell, and it’s also stocked with soap, toothpaste, and toothbrushes—one of which she lent me.
I finally get my tray, and then see Nell hovering off to the side, waiting for me. I nod towards Sherese, and the two of us squeeze onto the bench at her table.
The men have both gone, thankfully, so there are no more awkward displays.
Our food is much the same as this morning, but instead of a mystery fish cake, it’s a cold chicken salad. It’s a little bit gritty, but I shovel down every unpleasant bite. Nell’s picking at her food, but I shoot her a pointed look.
Keep up your strength, girl. Don’t let them win.
She puts a few more bites in her mouth, at least. I’ll take it. She can’t shut down, no matter how bad it gets, if we’re going to get out of here.
A fight breaks out before everyone’s trays are even clear—one of the new girls who received an ultrasound, and a redhead who I don’t recognize—they’re pulling each other’s hair and screaming, and in an instant our prison guards descend upon them. They’re wrenched apart unceremoniously, and Sherese sighs a few spots down. She takes one last bite of her fruit, then stands and walks to the gate.
I grab Nell’s hand and follow her. The blue-dress woman is right behind us, and she looks us up and down as she steps into line behind us.
“Got a new pet already, Sherese? That didn’t work out so well for you last time.” She flips silky blonde hair over one shoulder and levels a scathing look at Sherese.
“Why don’t you mind your own business, Emma? And quit letting that man paw you at the dinner table. The sight puts me off my food.” Sherese doesn’t turn as she delivers the cut down, and Emma huffs behind me.
“Better to keep him happy than skate on the edge, like you. Unless you like the punishment.” Emma’s voice is a pointed dagger, and I see Sherese’s shoulders tense since I’m standing a few inches from them. But she ignores the barb, instead knocking on the gate with the flat of her hand.
“Manuel!” she calls down the hall, and waves, and her man jogs toward us. He’s not bad looking, if you didn’t find his cult life utterly repulsive, which I do. Pale-olive skin and warm brown eyes are the only things that distinguish him from every man down here.
“Another fight?” He tsks and pulls a key out of his cloak. He fits it quickly into the gate and waves the four of us through. The other women are all either frozen in place or jeering at the fighters.
“Come on, let’s get you out of there.” He waves us through, then quickly shuts and re-locks the gate behind us, before shuffling us down to our cells. Emma he puts in alone, and when he reaches Sherese’s cell, he looks at both me and Nell after she walks in. “Who’s in with Sherese?”
“Come on, fresh meat. I’m not training up another one.”
I sigh at the ridiculous nickname, and give Nell a quick nod goodbye before going in.
“Although, you showed some sense today. Maybe you’ve got a chance.”
I let her compliment hang in the air for a few beats before asking more cautiously, “So, you and Manuel . . .” I leave it to dangle, hoping she’ll fill in the blanks. I need information more than I need to offend her.
“He’s my boyfriend.” She stares me down, as if challenging me to say otherwise.
“Right, but how does that work, exactly?” I sit on the edge of my cot, trying to keep any judgment out of my voice. I don’t look down on her for the choice; she’s got her way of staying alive, and I’ve got mine. Something clicked in my mind when Manuel unlocked that gate for us.
She cocks one eyebrow, considering me. Whatever she sees on my face must pass the test, because she leans forward on her elbows. “Look, it’s not for everyone, okay? It’s hard to overlook, well, everything. But if I’m going to be down here, why would I choose to be miserable? Not all of these men are creeps. Manuel is very sweet, and he doesn’t ask a lot. In return, my time here is a lot less awful. I don’t have to go to the exams, and he brings me gifts when he can.”
She pulls a small notebook and pen from under her pillow, running her thumb lovingly over the cover.
“Are you a writer?”
She nods, but tucks them carefully back away instead of answering.
“And Emma?”
Her upper lip curls into a sneer. “She’s the worst kind of woman. Thinks having a man down here makes her a big deal. And she likes to toy with people. Just stay away from her.”
I nod, having no problem with that. Girl drama isn’t my cup of tea. I prefer genuine people, or no people at all. Luckily, since we’re stuck together, Sherese falls into the former category.
She seems done with the conversation, though, and starts washing up for the evening, slipping quietly into a sleep set instead of her vibrant dress. When she’s done, I also brush my teeth and drink some water from the sink. My mind is buzzing.
A boyfriend with a key might be exactly what I need to get out of here. I’ve got some small hand-to-hand skills, and if he was distracted, I might be able to incapacitate a single man, steal a key, and make a break for it. But if I fail, or end up with a guard who’s not so sweet . . .
I can’t think about that.
There are some lines I won’t cross, and when our cell door scrapes quietly open sometime late in the night, and Sherese gets up to leave with Manuel, I know that’s one of them.
Chapter eight
Ends and Beginnings
Fletcher
The chopper drops through the air, and if I hadn’t been told that Mav was an expert pilot, with tens of thousands of hours in the chair, I’d be very certain we were all going to crash and die. I grip the straps of my harness and grit my teeth through it, though. Nobody else is panicking, and I’m not about to be the wuss who freaks out.
Mav threads the chopper through a very small opening in the dense cluster of towering pines, dropping us straight to flat earth, and if I wouldn’t be mocked, I’d probably kiss the grass under my feet when we step out of the chopper.
When she sets us down, her wry voice crackles through the helmet speakers. “You’re up, boys. I don’t do nature outside the cockpit. But I’ll be ready to fly whenever you’re back.”
My stomach isn’t going to settle for a week after this.
But I know whatever Demy is going through right now is worse. And that thought steels my spine, and pushes me through it. In any other circumstance, I’d love a new adventure. But right now, it’s the last thing on my mind. I won’t lie, though—the spongy grass under my feet is welcome, as we cluster outside the door and wait for instructions.
“Okay, I’ve gotten the report from the owner. The SUVs were dropped about a mile and a half northeast of our current location. He runs pigs and goats in the area, and apparently one of them came back chewing a piece of trash. He investigated, and found the abandoned vehicles,” Peter says, reading the details off of a miniature tablet.
Apparently the guy is high up in the NAA police, but also one of Queen Sadie’s brothers, which is why he’s really here. I don’t care what motivates him, only that he’s helping me get my girl back in one piece.
Please, let her be in one piece.
We hike through the woods in near silence, each of us scanning the forest for clues. I don’t see anything significant, just animal tracks and piles of pine needles. Easton spots the vehicles first.
“Over there!” He points us toward them.
The SUVs are tucked into a deep thicket, and we spread out to assess the area. It’s a little bit scary how well thought out this hiding spot is. If a herd of hungry goats hadn’t eaten through their carefully chosen cover, it probably would never have been found. People typically stay well away from thick, thorny brambles.
But on closer inspection, there are sawn-off limbs and a hidden piece of chain link underneath some of the foliage, which they would have pulled out of the way to drive the vehicles in.
“How far do we think they got with three unconscious bodies? I don’t see any tracks going in another direction, though I suppose if it were a lighter vehicle, the vegetation could have already sprung back, now that it’s been a few days,” Peter muses aloud.
“Not far on foot without being seen, and because of the time of day they were snatched, it would have still been daylight when they ended up here. Are we sure the farmer’s not in on it?”
Peter shrugs. “I didn’t interview him, but the locals say he’s a good citizen in the community.”
“Let’s talk to him ourselves. I don’t see anything here to indicate where they went or how they traveled.”
I stare forlornly around, running my finger over the damaged pine, the rough-cut wood oozing sap. Even with all my time in the woods, I don’t see anything here that’s useful. The trucks themselves are clean, and without a fingerprinting kit, we have no way of tracing who drove them. I’m sure Peter will call that in as part of the follow up, but for now . . . we’re back to square one.
By the time night falls, Peter has spoken with the farmer and agreed he’s not involved. A larger team of searchers arrived by car and helped us canvas ten square miles of forest, and we found nothing. Not a set of tracks, not a scrap of cloth.
We have no more leads and we’re no closer to finding Demy. We start the moonlit hike back to the helicopter in tense silence, and I can’t help but feel that every day we don’t find her is a day closer to not ever finding her. And I just can’t live with that.
Peter slaps me on the back as we climb into the helicopter, face grim but determined. “The Cabal is good at covering their tracks, but eventually they’re going to slip up. And when they do, we’ll be ready.”
Chapter nine
Cat Fight
Demy
The next morning, I’m once again woken by Sherese shaking my shoulder. She doesn’t give me any guff, though, just wakes me and points to the sink. I don’t argue; if she’s willing to share her hygiene supplies, I’m grateful.
“Thanks for the toothbrush,” I say after rinsing my mouth out.
“Welcome.” She seems broodier than usual, and I can’t help but wonder if her night went badly. She’s already dressed in vibrant orange, no traces of her nighttime outing anywhere.
She stays quiet as we make our way to the holding area again, this time for breakfast. The days have a simple routine, but also a boring one. There is nothing to keep us busy in our cells, and yesterday we were out of them for less than three hours, because of the fight. I’m practically climbing the walls.
This morning I’m going to keep observing, but after breakfast and a good, hard row on the machine. I have to keep myself physically ready to escape, too. And now that the drugs are fully out of my system, I’m antsy to make a move. Any move. But moving too soon or without enough information will get me killed.
It’s a battle of two different instincts, and it’s exhausting. But as I’m handed my usual tray of rice, beans, and fish cakes, there’s nothing to do for it.
Nell sits next to me with a disgusted look on her face, prodding her mystery fish with her fork. “What is this?”
“Seafood,” I mumble around a mouthful. My childhood scrounging turned up worse food than this, but clearly hers didn’t.
She wrinkles her nose and eats the rice, at least.
“Beans too, princess, or you’ll lose muscle.” I point my fork at her until she swats it away, shaking her head at my stupid teasing.
“It’s cute that you think I have any muscles to lose. I’ve been in med school for years; I’ve got great triceps from carrying medical textbooks, and that’s it.” She shovels a bite of beans in anyways, and I smile in triumph.
“Well, we can’t lose those, now, can we?” Sherese cuts in, amusement coloring her voice.
“Exactly,” I agree, still shoveling down my food.
“How’d you manage to get into med school?” Sherese asks, suddenly interested in my far-too-quiet friend.
I’m done in minutes while they discuss Nell’s special school waiver, and after a quick word to Nell, I’m on a rower, sinking blissfully into the familiar motion.
Some people meditate, some people pray. I lose myself in hard physical activity. And lose myself, I do. Until I stop with a yelp when my elbow cracks painfully against something solid.
“Are you kidding me? You just ran right into me!” an outraged feminine voice shrieks from right behind me.
“What? Why would you walk directly into the track?” I loosen the stirrups, and slip my feet out of them. Before I can stand and turn, though, the woman grabs a handful of my hair and yanks. White-hot pain lights up my scalp, and I fling an intentional elbow back toward her ribs to break her grip. My attacker screeches in rage.
“You’re going to regret that, you little priss!”
I’m on my feet and in a fighting stance before she can make good on the threat.
It’s the same redhead who got into it yesterday and cut our afternoon outing short. And here she is, trying to start something again.
“I don’t want to fight with you, lady—I’m just trying to use the machine. We can drop this right now,” I say, but don’t drop my defensive stance.
Burn me once, shame on you. Burn me twice? Never going to happen.
“It’s Erin,” she snaps as she lunges for me, hands curled into angry claws. I half leap to the side, but it’s hard to completely dodge around the workout equipment. One of my heels clips a kettlebell, and her nails catch and rake down my forearm, leaving angry red trails through my skin.
I swear like a sailor and swing, landing a solid punch to her shoulder. It knocks her back a step, but she screeches like a banshee the whole time, drawing far too much attention. Guards are swarming toward us, and Nell is running from the picnic tables, trying to back me up. But Erin is already flying at me again. This time she’s aiming those damnable claws at my face.
I throw up a forearm to block her wild attack, and use a leg sweep that Peter taught me to take her legs out from under her.
She lands flat on her back with a grunt of pain, the screams cutting off as all her breath is knocked out of her. I take several big steps back, trying to distance myself from the pointless attack. I hold my hands up as the guards swarm us, shaking my head to ward Nell off. There’s no point in her getting wrapped up in this stupid mess, too.
Her face is stricken as two guards wrestle my bleeding arms behind my back and start dragging me from the area. I’m satisfied to say it takes three guards to get Erin up on her feet. Her face is red with humiliation when they drag her towards the gate behind me, and somehow, even though I don’t know what precipitated the attack, I know it’s not over.
To my surprise, I’m taken through the twisting halls toward the medical exam room again. I have better luck counting the hallways this time, and even see a few people walking in and out of doors in the side hall. The few glimpses I catch look like bedrooms, though, and not escape options. It’s okay though. If I had to be attacked out of the blue, at least I’m getting some information out of it.
When they shove me through the door into the exam room, the nurse startles at the abrupt intrusion.
“What’s happened now?” she asks, irritation quickly replacing her surprise. She has a sandwich in her hand as she points to the nearest exam table.
“Another fight,” one of the guards answers her. I take a closer look at him and realize it’s not our usual hallway guard. It’s Manuel, Sherese’s “boyfriend.”
“Is this the troublemaker?”
“Not this time. The redhead apparently wants a week in solitary—attacked her out of the blue and scratched her arms all up.”
“It’s never out of the blue, Manuel.” She gives the man a scathing look, as if she knows he’s involved with one of the women, and doesn’t approve. More than one, maybe? “I’ll call Franz and see what he wants us to do with her. She’s well past three strikes.”
I eye Manuel skeptically when he releases my wrists and nods for me to get on the table. It’s ridiculous of me to be protective of Sherese, but she’s been good to me in her own way, and I don’t want to see her hurt any worse.
