by Penny Lam
Maple watched her then portion out her food to each of the girls, giving them the choicest bites and whispering apologies.
It was startling, but the other three seemed content to accept her gifts, popping the bites into their mouths and eating with gusto.
Because Brie walked by her, looking, Maple took a bite of the empanada and smiled. She’d come back to the dessert after digging into the corn, which smelled like joy, fair rides, and childhood.
As they ate, Maple began to feel her eyelids weighing down. It had been such a long journey, she thought. One with more trials than she ever could have anticipated. Had she grown as much as she wanted?
She hoped so. Brie’s gift sat on her tray.
In truth, Maple didn’t think she could eat two desserts. Her happiness filled her more than food could, and she wanted to sleep and dream of J.B. It was hard to accept the olive branch, too. Brie had been nothing short of a terror. The woman had purposefully tortured her, had manipulated and hounded her. She still had the phone somewhere.
Maple guessed that tonight she’d be calling in a taxi or ride, because Brie wasn’t the kind of girl to get sold. Like she’d said all along-- she got what she wanted, and she’d have no control over the auction. It was impossible for Maple to believe Brie would relinquish that kind of power over her life.
But it was almost over. She took a deep breath, feeling more sated and content than she had in awhile. Let Brie think she could smooth things over with a pastry. Let her call whomever she called and disappear in the night.
Just let her disappear, so Maple could run to J.B.
Speaking of which, the brunette was leaning on the side of Maple’s stall, looking expectantly.
“Sorry,” Maple mumbled through a mouthful of food. “I’ll get to it, I promise.”
“Just another bite. That’s it. It would make me feel so much better.” Brie’s eyes never left the empanada.
This is weird.
Maple nodded and took the sugary-sweet pastry in hand. It was then that the silence registered. No chewing or shuffling from the other three girls, or quiet chatter. This group had been talkers all along. Wouldn’t they be excited or nervous about the auction? Gossipping about potential owners? Futures?
But the stable was silent. Brie was frowning now.
Guts churning, Maple wondered if she could scream loud enough to be heard. J.B. had said to just scream, but that had to have been a figure of speech. An endearment. Just call my name and I’ll be there. Maple didn’t think so.
Thinking quickly, she took a huge bite of the empanada and smiled, chewing slowly. Then, carefully, she made a huge show of swallowing. Most of the bite she managed to keep tucked into the roof of her mouth, but a little escaped down her throat.
Brie’s smile reappeared, but it was her true smile. The nasty one. “Thank goodness, you dumb bitch. You’re about to get what you deserve.”
A wave of lethargy passed through Maple’s system and what she’d suspected was validated. They’d all been drugged. Hoping to God that she was a good enough actress, Maple sank to her knees, batted her eyelids angrily, as if trying hard to stay awake, then let her body slump to the ground.
Brie’s footsteps padded close. Maple’s insides were twisting, racing. The bite of food rested at the top of her mouth and it was so difficult not to swallow any more. With her eyes shut, she could feel the effects of the drugs more strongly. Her mind danced and waved behind her shut eyelids; it reminded her of one of the few times Tony had made her drink to excess.
The room had spun and even her thoughts had seemed to slip through her fingers.
That was what she felt now, but with enough--just enough-- cognisance to stay conscious. A wad of cold hit her back, and she knew Brie had spit on her. Stifling the chill that threatened, she waited. Brie waited. Each trying to see if the other would do something.
Maple must have been convincing enough, because Brie finally stormed out.
She desperately wanted to sleep, the drugs coursing through her system. Biting her lip hard enough to taste copper, Maple forced herself to stay awake. Brie’s voice rang through the stable.
“Okay, everyone’s out. You’d better have held up on your end, or I’m in big shit,” she hissed. There was a pause as whoever her partner was answered. “So you saw them? J.B.’s gone?”
Oh, fuck. Maple remembered. J.B. was going to catch Gus and Tony at the rendezvous point for their sale. The coincidence of that, the phone call--
“Gus, I’ve done all the work here, so don’t get that tone with me--”
Maple thought she might throw up.
“Fine. Yes, I know. She’s out, too, dumb whore. It took some prodding. I thought I was going to have to cram it down her throat. I’ll jimmy the lock--” Brie paused, frustrated, her foot tapping. “Give me ten minutes, and I’ll have the front gate open. Then we can load all these bitches and get out of here. And bring some clothes. I’m sick of being naked.”
The phone call must have ended. It was so difficult to maintain the appearance of being knocked out. Maple’s heart was racing. Her mind hurt.
Gus. Which had to mean Tony, too. They were coming here. They were coming here, and they were coming for her.
The lock clicked, and she heard Brie leave.
Maple was alone, with three unconscious girls. She had ten minutes to do something. Except that doing anything suddenly seemed monumentally hard. Her limbs felt as if they were weighted down. The urge to sink into sleep was close to overwhelming.
Move, Maple!
Slowly, she was able to drag her hands under her chest and push up. The bite that had been sitting in her mouth fell out and to the ground. Stumbling, she stood. The ground shifted beneath her, and her feet were unsure, her thighs quaking to keep her upright.
Focus.
One lumbering step after the other, she made it to the edge of her stall. At this pace, there was nowhere for her to run. If she left the stable, she’d be in the open. It would take them seconds to find her trying to flee.
Mapl racked her brain, searching for something. She needed an answer now.
It came to her, lightning striking through her muddled thoughts. In the grooming area, the floor had a grate to accommodate the large amount of water used in rinsing the girls and their waste buckets. When she’d worked in the stable, it had become clogged. J.B. had made her take off the grate and shimmy in a little to pull the goop in the clog out.
The space was miniscule, but with her new diminished figure, Maple thought she might be able to squeeze in. How wonderfully ironic that Brie’s torture might be the thing that allowed her to escape.
You haven’t escaped yet, Maple. Go!
It was difficult. Twice she fell. The second time she didn’t bother standing, finding it quicker and more steady on her hands and knees. The grate’s rusted metal was soon beneath her fingertips. It was hard to tell time when her brain was riddled with dope, but she knew she didn’t have much left.
Hoisting with all her might, she tugged at the grate. It had taken J.B.’s help to lift it before. Now it rattled but refused to shift for her. Panic bloomed in her chest, and tears sprang to her eyes. There wasn’t time for any other option.
A memory flashed. The carts. Hell, she’d pulled the weight of this grate over and over for J.B. Her muscles were roped now, strong and capable. Taking a deep inhale, she heaved. Her back, shoulders, and arms screamed at her, their protest overriding the fugue. Grunting, she pulled harder, straining so much she was afraid of tearing something.
She was more afraid of getting caught by Gus and Tony.
It slid. It slid just enough that she wiggled in, the metal pinching and tugging at her skin. Once under, she was able to brace her legs, using their strength to help guide the grate back into place. The exertion taxed her remaining strength, and she collapsed just as the stable doors banged open.
“Ok,” Gus’s voice boomed. “Grab the girls and load them up. Brie, where’s my special, stupid whore
?”
There was some shuffling as shoes pounded across the floor and then a cry of disbelief from Brie. “She-- she was here! This is her stall!”
“Well, where the fuck is she now?” Gus’s voice was low and lethal.
“I don’t know!”
“Fucking find her!” He bellowed. There was a sharp crack and a cry of pain, and Maple knew Brie had been struck. She didn’t feel bad.
Tony’s voice piped in, close to the grooming area. Maple knew she couldn’t be seen. Only if someone was shining a light directly into the grate would her body be visible. But knowing that didn’t make her tremble any less at his appearance. “Maple’s not here?”
“No,” Gus growled. “Brie’s fucked it up. But there isn’t anywhere she can go. Brie is out running around, looking for her. She’ll see her and then--” there was a slap, like a hand punching a palm. “I owe her so much pain. And her bastard of a boss. Who the fuck thinks money would make someone forget almost being killed?”
“I can’t wait to watch that motherfucker go down,” Tony added gleefully. “I hope his stupid friend does, too.”
There were random bangs and crashes. Tony and Gus were overturning everything, searching for her. Wood splintered and metal clanged as things were dismantled and destroyed. These sounds increased in intensity as their frustration grew from not finding her.
“Where the fuck is she!?” Gus raged.
A foot slid near the grate. Maple held her breath. The shoe was blue, a trainer. Tony. He always favored things that hid his menace behind a sweet and loveable cover. He was limping and she knew then that Reece had permanently injured him.
Good. Tony had scarred her deeply.
“Look, I want her as much as you do. But if we don’t get out now, we’re going to miss the sale.”
“Marc’s meeting us five miles north. We’ve got time,” Gus insisted.
Tony’s foot dragged as he limped away. “No, we don’t. Brie’s come back with nothing. She’s waiting on the truck.”
“This is her fault,” Gus screeched. “She’s going to be sold with the rest of them. Fuck her for screwing up an easy task. Ok, fine. Is the outside rigged?”
“Yep. I rigged the fuse box. It’s got a little help, but it will look like an accident. This building will go up easy.”
“Fine,” Gus replied, his voice bitter. “Light this bitch up.”
Chapter Sixteen
They left and fear, multiplied by claustrophobia, locked Maple up. She’d worked so hard to hide. Her limbs protested, not wanting to push the grate. Fingers threaded through the metal holes and knees firmly planted, she pushed.
There was a whoosh.
For a moment, it felt like all of the air had been sucked from the room. Then Maple smelled it. Smoke. It’s black, smooth tendrils looped and whirled along the ceiling. In frozen horror, she watched it build rapidly, forming a cloud that began to descend as one heavy blanket from the ceiling.
She had to get out of the grate.
Sweat was pouring down her body. It made it difficult for her knees to maintain purchase. The metal grate seemed to weigh so much more than before. Slowly, it began to slide, but not quick enough.
What was worse? Gus, or burning to death?
Unable to answer, Maple began to shriek. She screamed for help. Her voice went ragged and she kept screaming anyway. Each inhale after a cry was tougher and tougher, the smoke creeping in and staining her lungs with pain.
The door to the stable opened again and she regretted her cries until Mariela’s voice pierced the roaring of the fire. “Maple!”
“I’m in the back! I’m in here!” She shoved her fingers as hard as they would go through the grate holes and wiggled, hoping against hope that Mariela could see them and get to her in time.
Boots skidded to a halt next to the grate. Mariela immediately stooped and with her effort joined to Maple’s, the grate slid off. Reaching in, Mariela half yanked Maple out of the small space. In her hand was a wet t-shirt she slammed over Maple’s mouth.
The air was easier to breath. Ducking low and leaning her weight on Mariela’s supportive shoulder, they quickly clamored out of the burning stable.
Running away from the burning building, they turned as the roof began to creak and moan. The fire raged and bellowed inside. Heat licked at their skin. Their backs leaned against the other stable, whinnying and stomping hooves raging within.
J.B.’s-- Rachel’s-- stable began to collapse in on itself. All of those women that had passed through its doors. The memories of Rachel that J.B. had worked obsessively to protect. Gone in minutes, eaten away. Ash was already rising with the billowing smoke, falling like snow around them.
“There was no one else in there, right?” Mariela’s voice was so small. Maple threw her arms around the cook.
“No. It was just me. Where are J.B. and the others?”
“I called as soon as the men and the truck came through the gate. I hid and called, but I just got Raúl and J.B.’s voicemails.” Mariela was speaking in a low monotone, the night’s events still catching up to her. “I’ve called the fire department and police, but we live so far out-- they won’t be here for a while. Those men have the girls?”
This brought Maple into focus. She shook her head. The adrenaline and heat crisped away the remnants of the drugs in her system. She was tired. So tired. But there was still something that had to be done.
“Yeah, they have them. And they’re going to sell them. Do you have a gun? Clothes I can borrow?”
The wide set of the cook’s eyes let Maple know that she thought she was crazy, but she went running to her small apartment. Maple went into the stable that was still standing.
All of the horses were gone, loaded up for J.B. and the boys.
All but one.
Bane was snorting, anxiously stamping the earth. He smelled the smoke and felt the fire. Raging against his cage, he screamed at her as she entered.
It had been so long since she’d worked with him, and that had been minimal at best. But Maple needed to get to Gus and Tony, and she needed to do it as undetected as she could. That meant no cars.
“Whoa, boy,” she murmured, holding her hands up. “Easy. We’re safe in here, okay? But I’m going to need to let you out. I can’t do that while you’re rearing” She kept it up in low whispers, half-singing to the black horse.
“You’re fucking kidding me!” Mariela hissed from behind her. “You can’t!”
“I have to try,” Maple said. She kept whispering, letting Bane see her. Hoping her calm would wear off on him as she dressed in her borrowed clothing. Mariela handed her a knife and a pistol.
Maple knew nothing of guns. Mariela pointed to the side. “Safety. Click it off, then don’t point it at anyone you don’t want dead. Got it?”
No, not really. But Maple didn’t “have” anything for what she was about to do except a sour stomach and the crank of adrenaline, pushing her to go.
After she’d pulled some boots on, it was time to let Bane out. He’d either help her or he’d flee.
“Bane, I need you” she begged. “We need to be brave. We need to prove to everyone that we’re not who they think we are. Can you do that? Can you help me?”
Her hand found Raúl’s lasso, and she began to walk to his stall again, showing him the rope. “Come here, boy. Let me slip this around your neck.”
Bane was still thundering in his stall, but he wasn’t rearing. His ears were flat against his head and his eyes so wide the whites showed, stark against his obsidian coloring. “That’s it, boy.”
She tossed the lasso once and missed terribly. Again, and it bounced off his flank, infuriating him.
“Let me,” Mariela ventured, grabbing the lasso from Maple.
She landed it in one go and handed it to Maple. It was beginning to tighten, and Bane was starting to buck, so she unlocked his stall door and threw it open in one quick movement.
He crashed past her, the rope in her hands running s
o fast it burned them. Maple dropped the rope and chased after Bane, yelling his name.
Once he was out of the building, he stopped, pacing back and forth. Maple’s hands clenched and unclenched.
“I’m going to step closer,” she said, stooping for the rope that was snaking on the ground.
It took minutes. Long, precious minutes they didn’t have. But Bane slowed enough for her to grab the rope.