Commodity

by Shay Savage

  “Feel free to get the fuck out, then. You wanna try to live out there on your own again? You’re welcome to it.”

  “Caesar thinks he can order everyone around.”

  “Caesar controls the pussy. You want pussy? Do your damn work.”

  My hands start to shake. I close my eyes and resist the urge to leap over the crates and beat both of them to death. Collecting myself isn’t easy, and it takes me several moments to calm myself enough to focus again.

  “There’s a whole skid of canned goods out by the main entrance. Let’s go get it.”

  The two of them leave, and I shove against the crate in front of me until the opening is large enough to squeeze myself through it. The large room is full of shelves, all stacked high with supplies. I look around briefly before heading to the door and peering out.

  The storehouse opens up into a large green area. There’s a fountain in the middle of it and small stations set up all around the fountain. There are water jugs at one of them, and two men stand there, refilling water bottles from the jugs. To the left of the water, there’s a table full of canned goods. A man stands behind the table and collects something from each person who comes up to him—I can’t tell from here what it is—and then hands them a variety of cans.

  There are other stations—one for batteries and propane, another for paper goods. They circle the fountain and look much like the marketplaces I recall seeing in many small villages when I was overseas.

  And there are men.

  Dozens and dozens of them.

  I’ve seen plenty of small packs of people as I’ve searched for Hannah but nothing even close to the number of people here. There have to be at least a hundred of them out in the open and who knows how many sheltered away in the surrounding structures. All men.

  I still haven’t seen any women. I look back and forth, but I still see nothing but men in the area.

  Enough that I might not be noticed.

  I step out of the door and into the common area, turn to the left, and walk with purpose. I look around with my eyes, but keep my head forward and my pace steady. I pass several people, but no one takes notice of me. There are several small buildings, made mostly of plywood, but they’re well constructed and even have gutters with barrels to collect the rain.

  “Right this way, gentlemen. The stable is just over here.”

  I know the voice immediately and have to resist the urge to draw my weapon. I slow my pace and glance sideways to see Brett walking with the two men I’d followed to the entrance. Changing my course slightly, I keep behind him as he approaches one of the small structures and opens the door.

  “We have a couple options for you guys, so there’s no need to wait.” Brett leads them out of my sight through a door guarded by two armed men.

  The front of the plywood building looks much like a house with no windows. The guards out front are the only thing that sets it apart from other, similar structures. I pass them by without a look and then glance around to make sure no one is looking in my direction before I veer off and head around the back of the building. I have to turn sideways to make it past the rubble wall behind me. I can’t see or hear anything from the back, so I move slowly to the corner.

  Around the side of the structure, there’s light coming from a crack in the wall where two pieces of plywood don’t quite line up. I check again to make sure no one is watching me and then duck behind a rain barrel and crouch low.

  Looking inside, I can see the entrance and most of the main room. There’s a large couch against the wall and an opening on the far side that leads into another room I can’t see. There are two women inside in short, tattered dresses. One has long, dark hair and the other has closely-cropped brown hair.

  Not Hannah.

  Brett grabs one of the girls by the arm and pulls her close to the older man.

  “How does this one strike ya?”

  “She’s fine…real fine.” He makes a show of walking around her, running his hand over her backside and then up her arm. “Can I take her back to the barracks?”

  “No, sir,” Brett says as he shakes his head. “There’s a couple of rooms right here. You can use one of those. Just remember there’s always someone out front, so don’t get too rough with them. You aren’t the only customers tonight!”

  He hauls the other woman over to the tall, lanky man, and both pairs head off behind the wall and into separate rooms. Brett follows. After a minute, he comes out dragging another woman.

  He pulls her roughly over to the far side of the main room, giving her a shove toward a chair where she sits with her back toward me. She shifts uncomfortably. Her dress is longer but just as tattered as those of the other women. Her hair is long and unkempt.

  I can barely see through the crack, but I know it’s her. Everything about her is etched into my memory. I know the tilt of her head, the curve of her neck, and the shape of her shoulders all too well.

  Hannah.

  I reach out and press my fingers to the plywood wall. She’s no more that fifteen feet away from me. Brett stands in front of her with his arms crossed.

  “Next time we have visitors, I expect you to present yourself with the other girls, you hear me?”

  Hannah’s head bobs up and down in a silent reply. Brett pulls his arm back and smacks her across the face.

  My legs straighten reflexively as my hands ball into fists. As Chuck’s words scream in my head, I squeeze my eyes shut and force myself back down to a crouch. I can’t give myself away, not yet.

  “Fucking answer me!”

  “I’m sorry.” The voice doesn’t even sound like her, not really. It’s the same, but the tone is all off. “I wasn’t feeling well, and Mandi said—”

  “Mandi isn’t in charge here, is she?”

  “No.”

  “Then I don’t give a shit what she says, and I certainly don’t care how you’re feeling!”

  Brett pulls a bottle out of a cabinet on the wall and holds it up to his lips. He takes a long drink, staring at her the whole time.

  “You’re hardly worth it now, you know?” Brett says with a sneer. “Fat, ugly bitch. It’s only watching you cry that makes it worth the effort.”

  I close my eyes and shake. I can take the two guys at the door, guns or not. Once I get inside and get my hands on Brett, I’d rip his dick off and shove it down his throat. I could grab Hannah, and then…

  …and then I’d be surrounded by a hundred other men.

  I squeeze my eyes shut and grind down on my teeth. I can’t go after her—not now. There are too many of them, and they’d be on me in a heartbeat. I’d never get her out alive. I’d be dead, and she would be dragged right back and likely punished for the effort.

  I have to wait.

  Brett places the bottle back in the cabinet, steps up to Hannah, and runs his hand over her shoulder. She sits stiffly, looking off to the side until he grabs her chin and turns her to face him.

  “I’ve got a couple more things to get done,” he says, “but I’m gonna be back for ya later, darling. You just hang out, bent over that table with your legs spread until I get back.”

  He gives her chin a twist, laughs, and struts out.

  I can’t see straight.

  I want nothing more than to yell out, letting Hannah know that I’m here and that I’m coming back for her, but I can’t. I know I can’t do that. Anything she said or did later could alert Brett to my presence, and I’d never get her out.

  I have to wait.

  I have to wait while they keep fucking her.

  Pushing away from the wall, I stumble slightly before shoving myself back behind the building, next to the rubble. I make my way back to the other side, check around me quickly, and then head back to the storehouse.

  There’s someone inside, and I have to loiter around the outside for a few minutes, trying not to look conspicuous at all. No one seems to pay any attention to me, though. As far as they know, I’m just another of the many men at the camp.


  As soon as the man exits the storehouse, I duck inside and head straight for the opening behind the crates. Shoving myself into the space behind them, I crawl into the tunnel and pull my knees up to keep myself hidden. I tuck my forehead down against my thighs and wrap my arms around my head. I can’t keep the images out of my brain.

  She’s been here all this time. The guys here clean out latrines and divvy up cans of beans for a chance to rape her. How many times? How many times over the last seven months have they taken her? How is she even still alive?

  My vision blurs, and the pressure behind my eyes becomes pain. I can’t stop the tears. It’s all my fault she’s here. If I had insisted she stay with me, they never would have gotten her. She wouldn’t be here now, preparing for another night of abuse.

  I feel like I’m choking. I wipe my nose with the back of my hand and try to get my thoughts composed. I have to push all this aside. I can’t think about it. If I do, I’m going to rush in there and seal her fate. If I can keep myself together, I can make a plan that will work, a plan that will get her far away from here.

  When I look up, another man has entered the storehouse. He’s an older man with a bit of a gut hanging over his jeans, a bald head, and a long, grey goatee. I hold my breath, waiting for him to get whatever he’s come for and get out, but he takes a seat at a small table and opens up a large ledger book. I can see him fairly clearly through the cracks, but I don’t recognize him. He jots down a few lines in the book, and then the door opens again, and two others approach him.

  “Got a newbie for ya, Gary.”

  The man looks up from his ledger and eyes the scrawny, wide-eyed kid in front of him.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Mike.”

  “Let me explain to you how our system works around here,” Gary says. “Every three days, we get together at Kessler—”

  “Kessler?” Mike asks.

  “It’s the fountain in the middle,” Gary explains. “It used to be a big bell tower called Kessler Campanile, but that collapsed in the attacks. There’s only the fountain now.”

  “Got it.”

  “We meet at Kessler, and everyone chooses a bracelet out of the pot.” He holds up his wrist for Mike to see.

  I have to shift to one side to get a look at it, but he’s wearing one of those rubber bracelets around his wrist—the same kind people used to wear for various causes. The one on his wrist is red.

  “People with red bracelets are the bosses, and we always have the same jobs.” He speaks fluidly, as if he’s made the same speech many times. “I’m in charge of work details and any labor disputes. Wayne and Ryan are responsible for supplies; Brian takes care of the kitchen; Brett’s in charge of the whores, and Caesar’s in charge of everything.”

  “Tomorrow is choosing day,” Gary continues. “If you get a yellow bracelet, you work for Wayne and help get everything inventoried and figure out what we’re getting low on. That info goes to Ryan, and he figures out what we’re willing to trade. Black means border patrol and guard duty; green bracelets are camp cleanup, and brown ones mean you’re on the latrines. There ain’t no trading, either. You get whatever you get.”

  “Okay.” Mike nods. “And then after I do the work?”

  “Every day, you’ll get a voucher from your boss, based on what you get done. If you do your work, it’s enough to keep you fed and provide you with whatever other necessities. If you do really well at your job—go the extra mile—you’ll have enough left over at the end of the week. You can spend that on whiskey and whores or whatever else floats your boat.”

  “Okay,” Mike says, “I’ll be there. Where do I sleep?”

  “There’s a barracks set up on the northeast side,” Gary says. “There are always a few cots available. If you do well, you move up in the ranks, and you could end up with a better place. Just put some effort into it.”

  “I will,” Mike says. “Anything’s better than being out there.”

  “Good attitude.” Gary shakes Mike’s hand and closes his ledger. “Meet by the fountain first thing in the morning. You’ll meet Caesar and the other bosses then. Be patient—drawing the bracelets can take a little while. Some people like to complain, but don’t be one of them. It takes long enough to get everyone their assignments anyway.”

  They’ll all be in one place tomorrow morning, including Caesar and Brett.

  That will be when I make my move. That’s when I will get Hannah back.

  Chapter 5

  Outside of the rubble-enclosed compound, I fight with my desire to march right back in and drag Hannah out. I have to remind myself over and over again that it won’t work—I’d be dead, and she’d be in the same situation.

  Tomorrow morning.

  One more night.

  One more night of them doing God-knows-what to her.

  My stomach heaves, and I swallow back bile. I need to focus, get my plan together, and get us both out of there alive. I only have a vague time frame—first thing in the morning. I’ll have to be prepared before then, and that doesn’t give me a lot of time.

  It physically hurts to walk away from the compound. Hannah is closer now than she has been since she was taken from me, and I don’t even want to leave the area, but I have to prepare. I need supplies, ammo, and an actual plan. I run back to the camp, formulating a plan as I go. Chuck greets me immediately.

  “Any luck?”

  “Yes,” I say, panting as I try to recover from the journey. “She’s there. They have her at Georgia Tech surrounded by walls of rubble from the buildings. They’ve built a whole fort there.”

  “Shit! How are you going to get her out?”

  “I’ve got an idea,” I tell him, “but I’m not sure if I can pull it off.”

  I explain my idea to Chuck, and he stares at me wide-eyed.

  “Dude,” he says, “that’s like, right out of The Hobbit!”

  “The what?”

  “The Hobbit! J.R.R. Tolkien. Lord of the Rings and all that shit. Didn’t you ever watch movies?”

  “Not a lot, no.”

  “Shit, bro!” Chuck scratches his chin and shakes his head at me. “It’s a classic! How could you not know about The Hobbit?”

  I shake my head. It does sound a little familiar, but I have never been one for movies. When I watched television, I tended to fall asleep in front of it.

  “You missed out on a lot,” Chuck informs me.

  “So, are you saying it will work or it won’t?”

  “It might. It worked for Bilbo, anyway.”

  “I have no idea what that means.” I’m getting more than a little frustrated. I don’t have time for this.

  “It means that I don’t have a better idea,” Chuck says. “If you already got in there once without being noticed, you should be able to do it again. As long as no one sees you leaving with her, it should work.”

  “I hope so. I’m not sure there is another option.”

  Hearing Chuck’s opinion makes me feel a little better. Maybe I have a chance of getting her out without Caesar or Brett catching on. If anything goes wrong, I’m going to be in a lot of trouble, but I can’t think that way. I have to keep my mind focused on the goal.

  “What are you going to do once you get her out?” Chuck asks.

  “I’ve been taking refuge in bomb shelters over the past few months,” I told him. “They’re underground and I can use light without worrying about the fliers going overhead. When I found the first one, there was a map of other bomb shelters in the Atlanta area. I don’t know if the original owner had a group of buddies or not, but I’ve found several of them. If you don’t know what you’re looking for, they are almost impossible to see. I actually fell over the ventilation shaft for the first one. Otherwise, I might have gone right past it. There is one less than two miles from here, and it would be the closest safe place to take Hannah.”

  “Who do you think built them?”

  “No idea,” I say. “Definitely people with some
military knowledge, but there’s no indication of who they might have been. I haven’t run into anyone else inside any of the shelters, so whoever it was either didn’t make it or wasn’t in the area at the time of the attack.”

  “Keeping Hannah underground for a while is a good idea,” Chuck says, nodding. “Safer if she’s completely out of sight.”

  “It might not be a bad idea for you guys to think about moving farther away,” I tell him. “Once they figure out she’s gone, they may come looking for you.”

  “You ain’t going at this alone,” Chuck says. “I’m in it, too.”

  “Whoa!” I call out. “Wait a minute! This is my fight, not yours.”

  “Says who?” Chuck stands up straight and crosses his arms in front of his chest.

  “Me,” I respond. “You don’t have to get involved. Hannah is my responsibility, not yours. You don’t need to give those guys a reason to come after you.”

  “You think I don’t already have a reason?” Chuck looks pointedly in Christine’s direction. “You don’t think it’s a matter of time before they come after her, not to mention this girl you found?”

  “That’s not the point.”

  “That is exactly the point.”

  I try to form some kind of valid argument in my head, but I honestly don’t have one. I hadn’t even considered the idea of help from anyone and wouldn’t dream of putting another soul in the crossfire. As I’m about to completely refuse the offer, the rest of them gather around me.

  “I want to help,” Marco says. “So does Sam.”

  Sam nods in agreement.

  “I’m going to help, too,” Katrina adds. “Don’t even try to stop me.”

  “We’re all in it,” Christine tells me. “Hannah is one of us, and we’ll all help get her out of there.”

  “I can’t ask you all to do that.”

  “Who’s asking?” Chuck claps his hand against my shoulder and gives me a big grin. “One for all and all for one!”

  I can’t come up with a viable argument. I need to save Hannah. The more help I have, the greater the chances of success. My initial plan had been me alone, but if I have help, my odds of succeeding are much better.