The Taken

by Casey Kelleher

  ‘They live here?’

  Following Korab deeper into the cesspit that was the Jungle, Ramiz’s voice was full of doubt as he looked around at the makeshift tents that were little more than slums. Korab seemed genuine, convincing them that he could get him safely over the borders undetected but, if he really did have ways of doing it, why were so many people still here?

  ‘This is disgusting. In Albania, we treat dogs better than this and back home the dogs are vermin.’

  ‘Well, here at the borders it is us that are the vermin. That’s why they call this place “the Jungle”, my friend. To the authorities we are nothing more than animals. Pests. Even dogs rank much further up the food chain than us, trust me.’

  Hearing a distressed scream coming from a nearby tent, Lena turned her head, shocked to see a pregnant woman, clutching her bulging stomach, fighting with a much older man.

  Shrieking obscenities at him, the woman yelled, hitting out at the man. Pounding on his chest with her fists before the older man smacked her hard around the face and grabbed her by her hair, dragging her back inside the tent.

  ‘Should we try to help her?’ Lena asked, her eyes wide with fear.

  Korab shook his head.

  ‘Don’t get involved in other people’s business, Lena. You will only make it worse.’

  ‘But she is pregnant?’

  Korab shrugged.

  ‘Look around. Most of the women here are pregnant. It helps their journey?’

  ‘Helps? How? It must be awful to be somewhere like here, carrying a child?’ Lena was confused.

  ‘On the contrary! The journey across the borders is not an easy one for a woman on her own. So they seek out a man to help them. Having a man at your side keeps the others away; it’s the lesser of two evils. These women are desperate. To them a child isn’t seen as a blessing. It’s seen as a golden ticket. If they are lucky enough to get to England in time for the birth, they will get even more help. Citizenship perhaps? A house, money.’ Korab screwed his mouth up, distastefully. ‘These women are not victims, they are desperate, and desperate people have nothing to lose. So, while you’re here, keep your belongings and, more importantly, your child, close to you!’

  ‘My child?’ Lena felt sick at the thought of Roza being taken. Hugging her tightly to her chest she looked around the camp, suddenly suspicious of everyone they passed.

  Korab nodded his head sadly.

  ‘Trust no one.’

  ‘Except for you?’ Lena asked warily.

  ‘Of course! Except for me!’ Korab looked back at Lena and smiled, revealing a mouthful of rotten yellow teeth.

  ‘How can people live like this?’ Ramiz shook his head. He’d heard his friend was doing well, earning good money, but now he was here Ramiz didn’t know what to believe. ‘There must be another way? No?’

  ‘For some, there is no choice. They have no money to get across and the officials don’t know what to do with them. They shove us all in here and leave us to fend for ourselves like scavengers. Feeding us with empty promises of help, but the help never comes.’

  Weaving between the shoddy dens, Korab stopped. Turning to face his friend, he said seriously, ‘if we complain, or try to make our own way across, they beat us and spray us with pepper spray; sometimes they even take our food away by stopping the charity vans from coming on site. That one often works. They like to starve us; they know keeping us hungry keeps our morale down. The people here just want asylum, but the French, they make it impossible for them. There is nowhere to go so they end up stuck here.’

  Turning back to lead the way once more, Korab groaned as he looked down at his worn-looking sandals. He’d stepped in the slushy contents of an overturned slop bucket.

  ‘As the Americans say, shit happens huh!’ Korab laughed, making light of his misfortune before wiping his feet on a patch of grass. ‘Watch your step, my friends, here “shit really does happen”, and people like to dump it everywhere. Let that be your first lesson.’

  Continuing through the squalor the group soon reached Korab’s tent.

  ‘Home sweet home.’

  Lifting the blue tarpaulin, Korab indicated to his new guests to go inside.

  ‘Please, take a seat,’ he said, pointing at the grubby mattress in the middle of the floor that had been placed on top of the plastic sheeting. ‘I’ll see if I have any food. You both must be hungry.’

  Lena sat down, grateful for some rest. Placing Roza down next to her, she looked around them, taking in her new surroundings. The shelter was larger than all the others that they had passed, cluttered with mismatched furniture: a narrow camp bed set up in the far corner, and the floor space littered with boxes of knick-knacks that Korab had somehow accumulated.

  ‘I’m a hoarder,’ Korab said, catching Lena’s eye. ‘It sounds crazy, I know. The camp gets so lonely, and I miss my family so much, I guess I’ve got a bit obsessed with surrounding myself with this junk so that the place doesn’t feel so bare.’ There was a look of sorrow spreading across Korab’s face as he spoke.

  Changing the subject, he turned his attention to the child.

  ‘So, tell me, how old is your little one?’

  ‘Six weeks,’ Lena said proudly.

  ‘She is very well behaved for a new-born. She hasn’t made a sound.’ Korab smiled warmly.

  ‘She is quiet, isn’t she?’ Lena looked down at Roza, who was still sleeping, her long lashes twitching every so often.

  Dreaming peacefully. Lena ran her fingers through her daughter’s tiny auburn curls.

  She’d been lucky, as Roza had slept for most of the journey. That had worked in Lena’s favour. Ramiz didn’t suspect that Lena hadn’t given her the drugs.

  Taking the child from her Ramiz held Roza up. Checking her over, then tugging at her blanket, he recoiled to see that the nappy was saturated, covered in a watery brown leakage.

  ‘How could you not notice the smell? Lena, the child stinks worse than this place,’ Ramiz spat, wrinkling his face in disgust as the vile smell hit him.

  ‘I’m sorry, I don’t know why I didn’t notice… ’ Lena stuttered, mortified that Roza had been in a soiled nappy for such a long time.

  ‘Get her cleaned up.’

  Taking off his boots, Ramiz made himself comfortable on the edge of the mattress.

  ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t realise… ’ Lena felt her cheeks burn as she apologised to Korab then too. ‘Do you have a small bowl of water?’

  ‘Please. No need for apologies.’ Korab raised his hand dismissively before passing Lena a cup of cold water.

  Turning back to her child, Lena began cleaning Roza up; riddled with guilt as she noted Roza’s bottom was red raw. She had no idea how long Roza had been soiled. Wrapping Roza back up in her blanket, Lena took the baby over to where Ramiz was sitting.

  ‘It’s not much, but please, you need to eat.’ He handed each of them a slice of bread coated with a thick tomato sauce. Korab held out his arms. ‘May I?’ he asked, offering to take Roza while Lena ate.

  ‘Thank you.’ She smiled, passing Roza over.

  ‘What’s her name?’

  ‘Her name is Roza.’

  ‘She is beautiful, just like her mother.’

  Catching the glare from her husband, Lena blushed before she lowered her head and ate her food in silence.

  The bread was stale, but she was so hungry that she had devoured it within seconds.

  Roza started crying again. Awake now. She was probably hungry.

  ‘I need to feed her,’ Lena said, looking to her husband for permission.

  Ramiz nodded, his eyes not wavering from his bread.

  ‘Please, you can have some privacy over in the corner there. The camp bed. If you want to rest too, you are most welcome.’

  ‘Is that okay, Ramiz?’ Lena asked. Exhausted, the thought of lying down suddenly sounded extremely inviting.

  ‘Go! Sort the child out and then get some sleep,’ Ramiz dismissed her.

  Nes
tling down on the camp bed, Lena pulled the blanket up around her. Then, laying Roza down at her side, she tried to feed her. Her breasts were tender but she worried that her milk had dried up. It hadn’t helped that Drita had taken Roza away from her for a week. Worried that there wouldn’t be anything to give her child, Lena felt the rush of relief as Roza suckled on her nipple. Feeding.

  Then, closing her eyes, for the first time in days Lena slept peacefully.

  ‘So, how is everyone back home?’ Korab asked as he sat down opposite his friend.

  ‘Same as always, I guess,’ Ramiz said, disdainfully.

  ‘Drita? She is well?’

  ‘She is good, my friend. That woman only gets stronger with age.’

  Ramiz felt a stab of guilt as he thought of his mother now.

  The money that he had with him his mother had stashed away in a metal box under the floorboards of his kitchen. She’d told him that if he ever needed to leave in a hurry the money was for him. The condition being that, if he fled, he would say goodbye to her before he went. In his haste to flee the Bodis he hadn’t been able to keep his promise.

  Drita was his weakness. They were so alike that Ramiz knew what his mother was thinking. Sometimes it felt like they were the same person. Cold, hard. Saying goodbye would have stopped him from leaving; she was the only person that he truly cared about other than himself, and his mother wouldn’t have wanted that.

  ‘What about the city? I bet it has changed so much in the time that I have been away.’

  Ramiz shrugged, not wanting to admit to Korab that he had no idea because he’d been holed away in a farmhouse on the outskirts of the city.

  Knowing not to question Ramiz further, Korab just nodded. But the reality was that he was just testing Ramiz, seeing how straight he would be with him. Korab already knew more than he was letting on.

  Back home in their village on the outskirts of the city the vicious blood feud between the Gomez family and the Bodis family was legendary. As the last surviving male in his family, Ramiz was living on borrowed time. That was why he was running. Ramiz was desperate to escape and desperate men only meant one thing to Korab: money.

  The whole world was up in arms, not just the blood feuds, but wars, terrorism; nowhere was safe anymore and business was booming for Korab because of it.

  ‘What about you?’ Ramiz changed the subject. ‘I thought you were headed to England too? To make your fortune. That’s what they all think back home.’ Ramiz cocked his head, curiously, as he questioned his old friend. ‘Drita told me that you were doing well for yourself. That you were working in a hotel here in Calais.’

  Glancing around at the squalor his friend was living in, Korab clearly wasn’t doing as well as he had made out.

  ‘The camp can be a dangerous place sometimes, so I told my family that I work in a hotel.’ Korab grinned then. ‘But trust me, my friend, I’m doing better than it appears. I will have enough money soon to send for them all.’

  Not convinced that Korab was telling him the truth, Ramiz was starting to wonder what else Korab had lied about.

  ‘You said you can get across to England? Can you?’

  ‘Of course, my friend.’ Korab nodded. ‘You said you had money? If so, you are lucky, Ramiz. Money here buys you options.’

  ‘What options?’ Ramiz asked suspiciously.

  ‘For a fee, I can get you on a boat. Far from here, away from the main port. It’s a reliable route.’ Korab raised his arms out wide.

  ‘How much is the fee?’

  ‘It’s three thousand euros. Each.’ Seeing the doubt flash in Ramiz’s eyes, Korab added, ‘but I’m a generous man, Ramiz, and you are an old friend, so for that I will let your daughter travel for free.’

  Ramiz went quiet. Deep in thought.

  Korab took that to mean that the man needed further persuasion.

  ‘Of course, you can try and make it across yourself. I won’t lie to you, it’s possible, but it is a huge risk. Getting into a vehicle alone is no easy feat. Only last week the authorities scraped what was left of one man from the roadside. He’d jumped from the bridge in hope of landing on the roof of a moving truck. He missed.’ Korab shook his head sadly. ‘Others have been killed in transit too, slipping from where they have hidden in the undercarriages of lorries, crushed beneath their colossal tyres, and even if you did manage to stow away in someone’s car, or lorry, the hardest part would be getting past the border officials.’

  Korab could see that Ramiz looked daunted by what he was being told, but he was only speaking truthfully. It was only fair that Ramiz knew exactly what he was up against. He might be Ramiz’s best option of getting out of here, but he needed his friend to work that out for himself.

  ‘Then you have to get past sniffer dogs, heartbeat and carbon dioxide detectors, random vehicle searches. I’d say your chances of getting through are slim to nothing, even more so with the baby. It’s not impossible though. Others have made it—’

  ‘And your way?’

  ‘There is a collection point about six hours away from here in St Malo. It’s the best chance you will have of getting across the Channel. So much security is used here, at the main ports, it opens up the smaller ones for us. There’ll be a boat waiting. The crossing is not too bad. Nine or ten hours depending on the weather. When you reach England, we will have men waiting for you. They will take you to a safe place. It’s a good system. The best offer you will get around here. We do several journeys a week now. It really is foolproof, my friend.’

  Knowing full well that Ramiz had money to spend – Drita Gomez would have made sure of that – Korab dangled his offer in the air like a piece of forbidden fruit. He knew that Ramiz would pay, whatever the cost.

  ‘It’s up to you though.’ Korab shrugged. He’d been doing this job for long enough now he knew he didn’t need a sales pitch. The deal spoke for itself.

  What was the alternative, to live here in the Jungle? Sooner or later, if people had the money, they always paid.

  ‘When does the next boat set sail?’

  Korab grinned. ‘The next one is tomorrow night, but that boat is already full to capacity. I can get you on the next one in a few days’ time.’

  Ramiz was quiet. Pulling out a bag of money from his pocket, he held up his savings.

  ‘I don’t have euros. I only have lek – seventy-thousand. It’s all I have.’

  Pausing as he narrowly eyed the bag of money, Korab roughly totted up what the exchange rate would be. It wasn’t enough.

  ‘I’m afraid I can’t do it, my friend. You’re almost a thousand euros short—’

  ‘I have nothing more to give you, this is everything I own… ’

  Korab could hear the desperation in Ramiz’s voice. He was telling the truth. Still, this wasn’t Korab’s call to make.

  ‘My boss wouldn’t be happy with that price… ’ Korab spoke honestly.

  Taking two more passengers – three if you counted the child – without enough money was a huge risk and one that Korab was not sure that he was willing to take.

  Lowering his head into his hands, Ramiz rubbed the back of his neck, frustrated.

  He couldn’t stay here. Not even for a few days. This place was disgusting, filthy.

  He’d come so far. He needed to get on that boat; he needed to get to England, and he’d do whatever it took to get there.

  ‘What about her?’ Ramiz stared over to where Lena lay sleeping peacefully on the camp bed.

  ‘Lena? What about her?’ Korab shook his head, confused.

  ‘How long has it been since you were last with a woman?’

  Unable to hide the flicker of amusement in his eyes, Ramiz watched the cogs in Korab’s head turning now as the man realised what he was suggesting. Ramiz wasn’t stupid; he’d seen the way that Korab had looked at his young wife earlier. The lust in the man’s eyes. The longing.

  ‘Too long huh?’ Ramiz smiled now. ‘Seventy-thousand lek, and you get to do as you wish with her tonight.
Lena will be my gift to you?’

  Korab reddened.

  He wondered if perhaps this was a test, some sick game Ramiz was playing, but his instinct told him that Ramiz was deadly serious. The man must be crazy to offer his wife like this, crazy or desperate. Probably both.

  ‘You like her, don’t you? I saw the way you were looking at her earlier. She’s very pretty, isn’t she?’

  Ramiz looked at Korab, his face serious. He needed to guarantee himself a place on that boat. If Korab agreed to this then it would also be a lesson learned for Lena. For all those times she had called him a coward. For mocking him.

  Lena needed reminding who was boss. This was the perfect solution.

  ‘Yes, Lena is beautiful.’ Korab sounded wary as he tried to read Ramiz’s reaction. Still not convinced of his motives.

  Ramiz was right though. He hadn’t been able to take his eyes off Lena since she’d got here.

  It had been a long time since Korab had lain with any woman, let alone one as beautiful as Lena Gomez. It shamed him to admit it but even Lena feeding her child had aroused him.

  ‘Say the word, and she is yours.’

  He wanted her. Of course he wanted her.

  ‘Yes.’ Korab nodded finally, seeing that his friend meant it.

  ‘There is one condition though… ’ Ramiz glared now. His face stern. ‘You must get us on tomorrow’s boat. That is non-negotiable. We cannot go any later than tomorrow. Seventy-thousand lek and the girl and you have yourself a deal?’

  Korab calculated mentally. The boat would be setting sail tomorrow night regardless. What were three more people? Two really: the child was too little to count. Money was money, maybe his boss wouldn’t even notice. Korab could sneak them on.

  ‘If you are sure, my friend, then you have yourself a deal.’

  Nervously Korab offered out his hand, half expecting Ramiz to roar with laughter. To mock him, or even worse, to pounce on him in disgust and beat him, but the man did neither. Instead he extended his hand too.