The Power to Live

by Thomas Porter

  “Why are we stopping?” Lozen said from the back seat.

  Without opening her eyes, Napolita said, “You're kidding, right?”

  Lozen, sitting up, said, “No, not kidding. Why are we stopping?”

  “We're in Denver. This is where you wanted to go, right?”

  “We're in Denver? Already?”

  “Not already, Lozen. I've been driving for hours. I'm really, really tired and I'm resting now.”

  “I'm sorry, Napolita. Really I am,” Lozen said. The sincerity in her voice soothed Napolita.

  “Why don't you go inside and get us something to eat? See if they have a bathroom?” Napolita asked. The edge in her voice was gone.

  “Ok. How long was I asleep?” Lozen asked as she slid over to the door.

  “As long as I was driving. You were really out. A couple times I was scared, like maybe you stopped breathing.”

  Lozen laughed and pulled the door handle. “No, sorry. Still breathing. Ok, I'll get us something to eat. Hopefully they have a bathroom.”

  “If they do, let me know. I really have to pee,” Napolita said.

  As soon as Lozen was out of the car, Napolita dropped off to a light sleep. What seemed like an instant later, Lozen opened the passenger door and got in.

  “Here you go. You like these things, right?” Lozen said, handing her two glazed donuts in a paper bag.

  “Do they have a bathroom?”

  “Oh, yeah. Sorry,” Lozen said. “Right in the front, after you just go in. Can't miss it.”

  Napolita glanced sideways at Lozen. “I thought I said to let me know,” she said.

  “Well, if we're going to find my sister we need to eat. That's the most important thing,” Lozen replied.

  Without a word, Napolita got out of the car and walked through the parking lot. That's the most important thing for you, Lozen, she thought as she walked. It's important to me too. I love Elizabeth like a sister. But stealing cars, almost getting killed on that road near the bus station, getting shot. That's more than I can take. When she returned to the car, Lozen was in the driver's seat of the Mercedes.

  "Where to?" Napolita asked.

  "I'm not sure. Do you mind if I just drive around some, to see if I get any feelings?"

  "As long as it doesn't involve getting shot," Napolita said. Lozen smiled at that and, even though she didn't mean it as a joke, Napolita found herself smiling back.

  So Lozen meandered through the city streets of Denver, trying to relax, trying to tense up, trying anything in order to detect some feeling, some indication that her sister was near. After 30 minutes, during which Napolita dozed, she stopped in a parking lot next to a stone church sitting on top of a hill. Along one side was a large cemetery extending down the hill. The stones nearest the church were thin, old marble. As the hill sloped away from the church, the stones grew younger and thicker. An occasional obelisk poked up higher than the surrounding stones. The church building itself was made from stone and stood two stories tall. On the front was a glass foyer and lobby, apparently added later but well blended with the rest of the older building.

  Napolita woke up. Looking out the window, the first thing she saw was the cemetery sloping away from the car.

  “Why are we stopping here?” she asked.

  “I can't feel anything. Maybe I'm trying too hard. Maybe I'm not trying hard enough. I just can't feel anything like before.”

  “Maybe Elizabeth isn't here. I mean, how can you be so sure she came to Denver?”

  “I just know. I felt her so strongly there on the highway. Something just told me that's where she's going. That's where they were taking you and me and Samantha. It just makes sense. It has to,” Lozen said.

  Napolita said, “I didn't tell you this but I had a dream, when we were sleeping in that car the first time. It was like a mushroom cloud and I knew it was over Denver. Don't ask me how I knew it was Denver. Maybe I imagined that because that's where we were sold to. But you know dreams. Who knows what it meant.”

  “Well, I don't feel anything now,” Lozen said.

  “Me neither, except tired. Can't we just stop? Or get away from here? The whole idea of being here after getting away creeps me. Really. We were tied up and packed in that van like cargo. Then we drive here ourselves?” Napolita looked out the window at the cemetery. As she spoke, she moved her gaze to the church sign near the road. It read:

  Tonight at 7

  Guest Speaker Asheley Woodruff, Destiny Rescue

  Speak up. Be a voice for trafficked children

  We can't be alone, Napolita thought. Why are we doing this alone? I know Lozen is afraid the police will just lock us up, put us in jail or put us in some home. But there has to be some help somewhere.

  “You see that sign, Lozen?”

  “What about it?”

  At that moment, a man wearing jeans and a brown shirt walked out of the church and picked up a broom. As he swept, Napolita answered, “That's what we are, you know. Trafficked children. Okay, maybe not children, but trafficked teenagers at least. Trafficked, that's what we are.”

  “So is my sister. So were we all in that place.”

  “So were we all,” Napolita said, taking her eyes off the man sweeping and looking at Lozen. “We were all alone. Why were we alone?”

  “What were we supposed to do? We were locked up in that place. That fat guy Bowery even watched me in the bathroom,” Lozen said as she watched the man in front of the church.

  “We can't just be alone. Look at that. Destiny Rescue. Rescue, that's what we need,” Napolita said. Her eyes stared at Lozen's eyes, who tried to meet her gaze but couldn't.

  “Are you okay, Napolita?” she asked. “You're looking at me funny.”

  “I've got to find out, Lozen.”

  “Find out what?”

  “Find out about this rescue. I want to be rescued. That's what we need, you know it? I didn't think of that word until just now. Rescue,” Napolita said, still staring intently at Lozen.

  “Maybe yeah, but maybe Elizabeth needs rescue. Did you think of that? By us.”

  “No, Lozen. I need rescue. I was put into that van two years ago and my life has been hell ever since. I hope you find your sister, I really do. But I, I need rescue,” Napolita said, pointing at her chest.

  “What are you saying?” Lozen asked, a hint of fear creeping into her eyes.

  Napolita turned her eyes to the sign, then to the man sweeping. “I don't know who that guy is but I'm going to find out.”

  Lozen suddenly sat up straight in the driver's seat. “No! Don't do it! He'll take us. Or call the police! My sister is in Denver, I know she is.”

  Napolita's right hand slowly, carefully moved to the door handle, although Lozen didn't see it.

  “If we talk to him, he'll probably call the police and they'll just lock us up someplace. Or who knows what. I've got to find, you know. I've got to find her!” Lozen said. Her voice was accented with fear. When she saw Napolita's hand resting on the door handle, she cried out loudly, “No! No!” She turned toward the steering wheel and started the engine. As she pressed the brake and pulled on the gear shifter, Napolita opened the door.

  “I have to, Lozen. I can't do this anymore.”

  “No!” Lozen cried loudly as she pressed on the accelerator. As the car jerked forward, Napolita stepped out the door. The pavement beneath her foot was moving quickly and it toppled her over. As her foot jerked violently forward, the hard metal door frame struck the right side of her head. She toppled out the door and onto the pavement, rolled once, and was still. The car turned to the left, away from Napolita, and drove onto the grass separating the parking lot from the road. When the tires caught on the road, the car was jerked forward and momentum closed the door. Lozen looked over her shoulder and watched the man drop his broom and run across the parking lot to Napolita. A car horn jerked her eyes back
to the road in front of her.

  “I'm sorry, Napolita. I'm sorry! But I'm not giving up!”

  Back in the parking lot, the man crouched down next to Napolita. “Are you hurt?”

  “No, I'm not hurt,” Napolita said. From up close, she could see he was about 50, maybe older. His hair was turning gray and his brown shirt had the church name, Mount Zion United Methodist Church, embroidered above the left pocket.

  “What do you need?” he asked.

  “I need to be rescued. Like your sign says. Rescued.”

  “Then let's get you inside where you'll be safe.”

  Chapter 27

  Dr. von Broughton had rarely seen O'Groghan's face turn red with anger. In his dealings with this man, O'Groghan was like a team of draft horses newly harnessed; very controlled but ready to explode in irresistible energy at the flick of a whip.

  Today, the blood spot on his T-shirt was the whip.

  “Get me a damn shirt here now!” O'Groghan yelled into the phone. Silence for a few seconds, then, “Do I ask you why you wake up in the morning? Because that bitch got blood on my shirt, that's why! Shirt! Now!” He slammed the phone onto its cradle and von Broughton, who had been watching with some amusement from the kitchen, said, “Hey, watch it. Break your own damn phone!”

  O'Groghan ignored this comment. Instead, he returned to the stairwell leading to the basement and descended to the landing where Elizabeth sat. Nancy sat on the step just above the landing and Elizabeth held the linen kitchen towel to her scalp. O'Groghan looked down at the girl for several seconds in silence.

  “You got blood on my shirt,” he finally said.

  Elizabeth glanced at Nancy, who looked back into her eyes. Nancy, almost imperceptibly, opened her eyes slightly and shook her head. Elizabeth looked back up to O'Groghan and said, “I'm sorry, Mr. O'Groghan. I didn't mean to.”

  To Nancy, O'Groghan said, “Can you get her ready?”

  “What do you mean, 'Get her ready'?” Nancy asked, her head cocked back severely so she could see him.

  “I mean get her ready. What else would I mean?” O'Groghan replied. He turned his head back up the stairs and said loudly, “Hey Broughton. Can you do another?”

  Dr. von Broughton appeared at the top of the stairs and said, “You must mean Dr. von Broughton? I could probably do another but we're gonna need some time to get ready. And I'm definitely gonna need another martini or two.”

  “You mean a couple more?”

  “Would you like me to make you one, Paddy?”

  “Just answer my question. Can you do another? Is she worth it?” O'Groghan asked.

  Von Broughton descended several steps, stopped about halfway down, and looked at Elizabeth.

  “Off hand, I'd say yes. Very healthy. Good skin tone. Eyes appear to be clear. Do you smoke or drink, sweetheart?” von Broughton asked Elizabeth, who just stared up at him in reply. “Well, no matter. At her age, even if she did, the lungs and liver will be good. Very lovely eyes. Will be a pity but they'll fetch a nice price.”

  “Shouldn't you get a closer look?” O'Groghan asked.

  “No. I can tell from here. I'd have to say yes, Paddy, she's worth it for sure.”

  Nancy, still sitting one step above Elizabeth on the landing, said to von Broughton in anger, “You wouldn't. You couldn't. You already got your pint of blood today. Why would you do that to this girl too?”

  Von Broughton answered, “Nancy, Nancy. Why the sudden remorse? Have I not been paying you enough?”

  “Oh, you pay me plenty. But what did this girl ever do to you?”

  “What have any of our patients ever done to us?” von Broughton asked.

  Elizabeth took this conversation in, heard each word of it, but didn't understand. From the stairway landing she watched these three people in the stairway speak in tongues.

  But as she listened, she felt something else. Something that started just below her sternum, migrated into her upper chest, and expanded until it felt like an overinflated balloon. Lozen! Lozen in Denver?

  Nancy stood up. Her voice took on a pleading tone when she said, “Yes, you pay me plenty. But really, Dr. von Broughton. This girl is innocent, probably never harmed anyone.” She turned to Elizabeth and asked, “You came here for your sister, honey?”

  Elizabeth lowered the kitchen towel from her scalp and asked, “You know where Lozen is?”

  O'Groghan stood on the landing, one step below Nancy, but he was 8 inches taller than her and looked straight into her face. “How much is von Broughton paying you?” he asked.

  Nancy hesitated. “4K,” she said.

  “I pay you another 4K for this extra job. You okay with that?”

  Nancy's eyes widened and she looked back up at von Broughton. “You'll pay me the usual 4K?”

  “Of course I will, Nancy. You're my most favoritest nurseth on eartheth,” von Broughton said with a smile.

  Nancy looked back into O'Groghan's eyes. “You'll pay me another 4K, over and above his? Cash?”

  “Yup,” said O'Groghan, who had returned his attention to the blood spot on his white T-shirt and was rubbing more spit onto it.

  Nancy then looked down at Elizabeth, who was rubbing her chest with her left hand and holding the kitchen towel to her scalp with her right. Elizabeth looked up at her, face still filled with confusion. What is this feeling? And what are these people talking about?

  “OK,” Nancy said, not taking her eyes off Elizabeth. “Sorry, honey, but that's a lot of money and I don't really know you. Not really.”

  At that moment, another voice from upstairs called, “Boss! Got your shirt!”

  “Finally,” O'Groghan said. He yelled up the stairs, “Down here. Toss it.”

  The face of a skinny man, at least 50 with unhealthy gray skin and sunken cheeks, appeared at the top of the stairs. He tossed a new white T-shirt down to O'Groghan. It skipped off Ursula Andress, in her Honey Rider swimsuit, before O'Groghan caught it in his right hand. He lifted the shirt he was wearing over his head, dropped it onto Elizabeth's lap, and said, “I guess you just bought a shirt.” Nancy couldn't help but look at O'Groghan's wide, muscular chest just several inches away from her face. A 3-inch scar ran diagonally across his left pectoral muscle and Nancy nearly reached up to touch it before a new, bright white, spot free T-shirt was pulled over it.

  O'Groghan looked back up to the unhealthy gray man and said, “See that cooler on the floor?”

  “This one?” he asked between wheezing breaths.

  “That's today's haul. Take it with you. But before you do, there's a gun in a garage. Bring it in,” O'Groghan said. He started up the stairs, passed von Broughton, and stopped at the top. “We're on for another haul later today, then?”

  “Avec plaisir,” von Broughton said.

  “You mess up any of my organs and I pay you worse than nothing, Broughton,” O'Groghan said.

  “Paddy, my dear. Has Dr. von Broughton ever messed up any of your organs?”

  “When should we be back?” O'Groghan asked.

  Von Broughton looked down to Nancy but she was gone. She returned a few seconds later with a large hypodermic needle and von Broughton asked her, “Is six hours good?”

  “Six hours should do it,” Nancy said

  “Do it then,” O'Groghan said and vanished.

  Elizabeth, her face still filled with confusion, looked at Nancy. She then looked at Samantha, then at the needle. Confusion was replaced with terror when, suddenly, Elizabeth connected the dots. Do I smoke or drink? My eyes will fetch a nice price? Extra job? Organs? My organs!?!

  Nancy knelt next to Elizabeth and gently held her right wrist. Elizabeth dropped the kitchen towel and looked into Nancy's eyes, searching for some hope of escape from this horrible twist of fate. She saw it, there in Nancy's eyes. Regret. This woman regrets what she's doing. But there was something else there too. “I'm sorry, honey. You won't feel a thin
g,” Nancy told her. Nancy's eyebrows were pulled together by sorrow, by remorse over what she was doing, but her desire for money, an extra $8,000 on top of the $4,000 she had already earned that morning with Samantha, pushed even harder. The desire for money pushed the needle into Elizabeth's arm.

  “No!” Elizabeth screamed. “Lozen is here! No!” She pulled against Nancy's grip but the drug in her veins pulled back even harder.

  Chapter 28

  The Mercedes lurched to a stop on the shoulder of Santa Fe Boulevard's westbound lane and Lozen let herself sob loudly for several minutes. She wanted Napolita to be rescued, really she did. I want to be rescued too, she thought. But Elizabeth must be in Denver and she also needs to be rescued. I'm sorry, Napolita. I'm sorry for dragging you here. We should have found a church in Salt Lake City and you should have stayed there. They'll take care of you, I know. This church in Denver will take care of you and you'll be safe. I'm sorry for thinking only of myself and Elizabeth. We love you like our own sister, but you made me choose between going with you or going in search of my real sister. I'm sorry I had to choose Elizabeth over going with you. I'm sorry for making you fall out of the car. I hurt you again and I'm sorry. Lozen continued sobbing loudly inside the Mercedes. Her foot eased off the brake and the car began to roll forward and to the left, until the left wheels skipped onto the road. Three cars swerved by and honked their horn, snapping Lozen's attention back to the car. She pulled the steering wheel slightly to the right, rolled the car back to the shoulder, and stopped the engine. Still gripping the steering wheel, her sobbing dissipated and her body relaxed. Napolita will be okay. She's in a good place. I hope she can hear me now. I'm sorry Napolita, but finally you're rescued. Her body continued to relax, relax, relax, and her mind drifted back. Back past the animal bones along the highway in Wyoming, back through the shimmers above the Wasatch Range in Utah, back past the little house and the restaurant and the owner with the shotgun, back past Serio's dead body, back past The Taurus and the van that smuggled them into the United States. Back to Sinaloa, back to when her father crushed her and made her lose faith.

  Elizabeth, why are you screaming?

  "Let go of my arm you bastard!"