Say the Word(143)

I dropped into a low crouch behind a row of wooden crates, listening intently as they walked past.

“Where’s Miller? We’ve been working our asses off getting the girls loaded and he’s nowhere to be found, as usual,” one man grumbled.

I heard a responding snort from his companion. “Probably whacking off in a corner somewhere. You know how excited this shit gets him.”

“Well, I’m not picking up his slack anymore. Boss pays us all the same — not fair Miller does half the work for equal money.”

“Maybe he’s up on the bridge.”

The sound of their footsteps echoed down to me as they climbed the stairway. With a quick glance overhead at their disappearing forms, I darted from the shadows into the passage between two rows of stacked containers, praying the men wouldn’t look back as they ascended. I kept my senses alert for other guards as I hurried down the row, tucking my body so close to the metal boxes I felt the skin scrape off my bare shoulder. When I heard the sound of muffled voices echoing around an upcoming corner, I skidded to a halt so quickly I tripped over my own feet.

My toes failed to gain purchase on the deck and I sailed to the ground, my palms grating against the abrasive deck and instantly welling with blood. My glass knife flew from my hand and shattered instantly, reduced to a worthless crumble of shards, and the flare gun spun to a stop against a nearby container, thankfully not going off in a concentrated explosion of firepower. With a quiet yelp of pain, I scrambled to my feet and collected my gun, my ears straining to hear the noise that had set off my fall.

I waited thirty seconds in absolute silence, thinking perhaps I’d imagined the sound. I’d just decided to keep moving when I finally heard it again.

A quiet murmuring, emanating from the container to my left. Clenching my raw hands around the gun handle, I sidled forward. When I reached the front of the red steel box, I glanced around for guards but saw no one. Tiptoeing closer, I pressed an ear to the side of the container and listened.

Female voices, speaking in hushed whispers.

My stomach clenched as I shifted the gun into my left hand and reached out toward the metal door latch with my right. The voices inside fell silent as soon as the metal door rasped open. No amount of research, reading, or statistics, could’ve prepared me for what I saw when I pulled the hatch ajar.

There were at least fifteen girls inside the cramped space.

They stared toward the opening, their haunted eyes blinking against the sudden influx of light into their dark cell. Dirty clothes hung in rags from too-thin bodies and smudges of filth covered their exposed arms and faces. When I stepped forward, my face a mask of shock and sadness, they shrank back from me, likely fearful of the harsh treatment they’d become accustomed to whenever this door had opened in the past.

The stench of unwashed bodies was staggering — I wondered how many of these girls were sick with viral infections and malnourished from inadequate feedings. As I stepped closer, I saw past the fear in their eyes to the drug-fueled haze — their pupils were dilated, their irises glassy and unfocused.

They’d been sedated, made lethargic and compliant for easier transfer.

I thought I might vomit, turning my head to the side for a breath of fresh air and a brief reprieve from the horrors inside the container.

“Lux.”

My head whipped around and my eyes searched the enclosed space, seeking the thready voice that had whispered my name. “Miri?”

“Here,” she called, drawing my gaze to the corner on my left. When I saw her I rushed forward, careful not to step on the limbs of the near-unconscious girls scattered on the floor around me. Hurling myself to the ground, I wrapped my arms around Miri in a light embrace as soon as I reached her side.

“You came for me,” she whispered, her eyes wide.

“You’re alive,” I breathed, relief evident in my tone.

“I’m so sorry, Lux, they made me call you.” Miri’s voice was trembling with remorse. “They threatened to kill me and my family.”

“Oh, Miri, no. It’s not your fault. I’m the one who’s sorry — I dragged you into all of this. But we can’t stay here. You have to come with me, right now. We’ll go get help for the rest of them.”

“I can’t,” she whispered, her sad eyes locked on mine. “I won’t leave her.”

Miri’s body turned slightly, revealing the still form of a young girl lying directly beside her. There was a dangerous rattle in the prostrate girl’s chest — each breath she drew was a struggle, and I feared she wouldn’t last long in this dark cage without medical treatment. I felt my eyes brim with tears as I recognized the once-lustrous chestnut hair, now brittle and tangled, and the dainty features on her beautiful, bruised face.

Vera.

I reached a shaking hand out to touch her arm, my cheeks wet with traces of grief. She was clammy with fever, her skin cool to the touch. Lifting my eyes to Miri’s, I wiped my face with my free hand.

“How long has she been like this?”

Miri shrugged. “Most of them are like this. They can’t walk, they don’t talk much,” she whispered. “I’m lucky. They didn’t drug me, and I haven’t been here long.”

“I have to go, Miri.” I told her, feeling my heart tear at the prospect of leaving her and Vera now that I’d finally found them. “I’ll get help. I’ll come back for you.”