A Step to Nowhere

by Natasha A. Salnikova

Inga sighed and looked at the man. She wanted to answer, but somebody knocked on the door. She shrank and closed her eyes. That was it. No hope, no escape.

  “What the hell?” the man barked and Inga opened her eyes. He looked nervous.

  “Just checking.” Inga recognized Drake’s voice.

  “I wasn’t finished yet, you moron!”

  “Sorry, brother.”

  “Kiss my ugly ass!” the man screamed but he now looked scared.

  Inga wasn’t sure if Drake left but she didn’t care. The man in front of her, with his belly hanging over his jeans, three-day-old stubble, and brown eyes wanted to help her. Inga wanted to believe it so badly.

  “How long have you been here?” the man asked. He walked to the bed and sat down on the edge.

  “About three weeks. I lost count.” The tears showed up again.

  “Shit, why did I come here? It’s my first time, you know? I didn’t even want to, but my friend pushed me. He even paid for me, because … Okay, it’s not important. We don’t have time.”

  The man stood up and started to unzip his pants, taking out his shirt he had just tucked in.

  Inga pressed to the wall. Her breath became rapid; her hands started to shake. Not again, not now. Please, not again.

  The man stretched his hand to her and Inga jerked back. He shook his head in embarrassment and then he walked to the door, unlocked it, and opened it.

  This was the end. He was going to call Eagle and that would be the end of her. She would never see her mom again, or her sister, or her home, or …

  “Mother fuckers, you ruined it! You ruined it! Mother fuckers! Try to knock again and I’ll get my money back, you stupid morons! Did you hear me?”

  “It’s okay, brother,” Drake said. “Fuck her until her eyeballs fall out.”

  “Just try to knock again, morons.”

  The man closed the door but didn’t lock it. Everyone got special instructions before entering the room. Lock the door and keep the key with you at all times. No one should leave the room but the client.

  “Listen,” the man said as he bent to Inga and whispered in her ear. “I can get in trouble but I have a daughter younger than you. Only she’s blond with blue eyes and you’re a brunette with brown … What am I talking …? It doesn’t matter … My mother ... God, help you … I’m really sorry … If it helps at all.”

  He walked inside the bathroom and closed the door behind him.

  Inga couldn’t believe what had just happened. She stared at the closed bathroom door and moved her eyes to the unlocked room door. It was blue on the inside and black on the outside. The door so hated. The door, through which you couldn’t come in or out without permission, without order, without a push in the back. Hated and alluring, simple, wooden, magical door. For a few minutes Inga couldn’t move. Her limbs got numb from the unexpectedness of the expected, from the reality of the situation she was dreaming about. It seemed that even her heart and her lungs stopped functioning. She looked at the door, waiting for it to open, waiting for Eagle to storm inside with a chain in his hands, with his face twisted in rage and excitement for the upcoming torture. No one entered. The door didn’t open; everything was quiet.

  “I can’t wait any longer,” the man said from behind the closed bathroom door, pulling Inga out of her stupor. She jumped from the bed, snatched her panties and silk see-through negligee, the only clothes she had, from the floor, and put them on, breathing heavily from rushing. She dropped the blanket on her shoulders and dashed to the door. She grabbed the handle but couldn’t turn it. Her vision clouded from fear and nervousness. Her body shook uncontrollably.

  This was her chance. Her second chance and maybe her last.

  Inga inhaled, turned the handle, and pulled the door open. One more breath and one step into the hallway. An empty hallway. Could it be? Was it her luck?

  On her right was a dining room with yellow walls and rows of tables and chairs. On her left was a lobby and there was an exit to the outside. Her room was the first from the lobby. What luck! Inga closed the door, holding her breath, and flew to the exit. Her bare feet touched the warm, wooden floor soundlessly. What would she find ahead? How far could she go in these clothes at the end of November?

  Here was the door outside, her door to freedom. It was painted black like the walls. Inga looked back and saw the eyes of Bitch. They were wide from shock and disbelief. She was sitting at her desk with a Good Home magazine. A young woman, called Bitch by the girls, took clients to the rooms, chose their fate.

  In the hallway, behind Inga’s back, the man screamed.

  “She got out!”

  It was Inga’s client. He screamed. He had to scream to save himself, but she had a chance.

  Before Bitch recovered from her shock, Inga pushed the door open and flew outside under piercing streams of rain and gusts of icy wind. She didn’t expect it and for a second she was lost and began to choke. A commotion started in the house.

  Inga rushed away, her feet sinking in the mud. She hadn’t even reached the first tree when she heard yelling behind her back.

  “You stop right now, bitch! Stupid whore! You’d better stop! You’re dead, bitch!”

  From the pain in her feet that were sliding over stones, stumbling on sharp branches, she wanted to cry. She was close to blacking out from fear.

  There were trees ahead. They hid an old motel, which had become a house of terror, from the road. The branches were scattered over the ground, and others caught her hair and scratched her face. Inga didn’t notice that she was crying and she didn’t stop, despite the cursing and sound of footsteps following behind her.

  She couldn’t believe it when she saw a road ahead, the asphalt shining in the rain from the lights of an approaching car.

  “You stop right now, bitch!” Eagle was breathing hard and too close.

  Inga ran onto the road, toward a car. Now she didn’t care; she didn’t have a choice. She would rather die under the wheels of the car than return to the house and die anyway. This time she was going to die for sure, and her naked body would be exposed for all to see, to teach others a lesson.

  The light blinded her and she expected an impact, but it didn’t happen. The driver slammed on the breaks, the tires skidded, and the car stopped. Before Inga understood what had happened, somebody grabbed her arm.

  “Let her go, fuck head!”

  “Who are you?”

  A strange man’s voice sounded over Inga’s head and she opened her eyes. A young man held her arm. Eagle was standing close, holding his favorite toy, a heavy metal chain, in his hands. Drake was approaching. He was bending down, trying to catch his breath.

  The young man, who held Inga’s arm, ran to the car and came back with a hunting rifle that he pointed at Eagle, who was cutting the distance.

  Eagle stopped short, his beautiful face twisted with rage.

  “It’s not your business!” he barked. “Let her go and get the fuck away!”

  The young man lifted the rifle above his shoulder, at the same time stepping forward so Inga would be behind his back. The rain was gushing mercilessly, the wind piercing her body. Inga was shaking so hard from cold and fear that she wasn’t sure how long she would be able to stand on her feet. She didn’t care what happened next; she just wanted to hide from the wind and rain.

  “I’ll give you a chance to get out of my way,” the stranger said. The tone of his voice was calm and confident.

  “You bitch. We’ll find and bury you!” Eagle screamed back.

  “One.”

  “Didn’t you hear me?” Eagle looked shocked. He couldn’t believe that somebody not only wasn’t afraid of him, but was threatening him as well.

  “Two.”

  “We’re gonna find you, motherfucker! Let her go!”

  “Three.”

  The rain muffled the shot but to Inga it sounded like an explosion and she covered her ears with her hands. Eagle stared at the stranger. His eyes were wide from shock. Inga had
never seen him so pitiful. He was wet, cold, and scared. Drake stood close to him. Somebody from their team held his shoulder and cried with pain. The rain washed the blood from his fingers. Eagle took a step and stopped.

  “Next shot will blow your head off,” the stranger said.

  Drake took a step back. His light, almost white hair was covering one eye.

  “Get in the car,” the stranger said.

  The wounded man continued screaming. He stretched out his hand covered in red, but the rain washed the blood off right away.

  Inga didn’t move and the stranger turned to her.

  “Get in the car!” he yelled.

  Inga jumped as if somebody had shot under her feet and ran to climb into the sedan. She shut the door, cutting off the sounds from outside. Only the rain hit the window. A blurry silhouette of the stranger, who had saved her life, moved back to the car. He got inside, slammed the door, and dropped his rifle on the backseat. He pushed the gas pedal and the car jerked forward. Inga’s captors could barely make it to the side of the road in time to avoid being smashed under the wheels.

  Chapter 2

  Soft rock music played in the car. The young man turned on the radio and the heater right after they passed the bandits. Inga felt hot air on her skin and it was wonderful. She was soaked to the bone in her thin robe and she had lost her throw. The heat was so pleasant, so needed that she almost started to cry again, this time from happiness. Of course she was still shaking and her feet were burning, but the feeling of safety and freedom was too great to think about the pain. You are free, you are free, her mind screamed, and Inga couldn’t help herself. She began to cry. Fear, happiness, pain, triumph — all these emotions splashed out with the tears. The young man didn’t try to stop her, to calm her down, or to say unnecessary worlds like everything will be fine.

  The car moved on the road, the rain whipped against the window, the wipers dashed like crazy, and Inga shook with tears. When her throat started to burn and her stomach started to hurt, she calmed down. First she started to whimper, then took a few deep breaths, and then completely stopped.

  “I have an extra shirt on the backseat,” the guy said. “It’s not very clean but it’s dry.”

  Inga looked at her savior, her noble knight from the road. He wasn’t gorgeous. His look was so typical that he could easily get lost in a crowd, a face many people would find something familiar and darling in. The guy looked like your neighbor, or your friend, or your brother. Longer face, wider nose, narrow lips, and straight, dark blond hair. He wore jeans, a gray T-shirt, and a rain jacket. He looked at the road, not at Inga. She thought he had forgotten about her, he seemed to be somewhere else, but how could he forget about her when she was wailing so loud?

  “Thank you,” Inga said. “You saved my life.”

  The guy looked at her shortly.

  “Change, before you get a cold. I noticed you’re barefoot but I don’t have shoes here, sorry. Not even socks.”

  “It’s okay. Thank you.”

  Inga reached back and grabbed a checkered shirt. She pulled off her robe and dropped it on the floor. She was ashamed of her naked body despite the fact that she had almost never worn clothes during the three weeks she had lived in the house of terror. The stranger didn’t look at her and she didn’t have a choice. She put on the shirt (the sleeves were too long for her) and wrapped it around her without buttoning it. She immediately felt warm and comfortable, and even though she tried not to cry, she couldn’t hold her tears. She couldn’t believe that it was really over. She ran away and was saved. She was saved. It meant that soon she could go home. Oh, God, she could go home!

  “Can I use you cell phone to call police?” she asked.

  “Sorry, I don’t have one.”

  “Okay,” Inga said. Some people didn’t use cell phones for different reasons, she knew that. Too bad this guy was one of them. “I’m so grateful, you can’t even imagine. Those people would have killed me. Even if they wouldn’t kill me, I couldn’t survive. No one lives long there.”

  “There where and who are they?”

  Inga wiped her tears with her shirt sleeve.

  “The slave owners in the house of terror.”

  “Who?” The guy looked at Inga, surprised, and turned to the road again. Something knocked at the back of the car. Inga thought the noise came from the trunk.

  “Soda bottles,” the guy said when she turned toward the sound. “Who did you say they were?”

  “They kidnap girls from different cities and bring them here to make them …” Inga swallowed a lump in her throat. It was difficult for her to talk about it. It was embarrassing and hurtful, but at the same time she wanted to spill it out. She wanted to tell him everything. She wanted to throw away all the horror like rotten vegetables from a refrigerator. “They kidnap girls and sell them for sex.”

  “Are you … Against your will?”

  “They beat us and threaten to kill if we don’t have sex. They killed some.”

  “It’s …” The guy fell quiet for a few seconds. “I’ve heard about stuff like that but didn’t think it really existed. So you were kidnapped. How?”

  “Easy, like most of us. Like all of us stupid and naïve girls. I met this guy in a mall coffee shop. He said I was beautiful and he could help me get a modeling job in L.A. I didn’t really believe him but I wanted to. It sounded so good what he told me.”

  Inga stopped. She remembered everything that had happened like it was yesterday. She was not going to forget about it ever, no matter how much she wanted to. She told her story to someone for the first time. They weren’t allowed to talk in the house of terror and now she couldn’t stop. She wanted to let this guy know that she had been in the hands of very, very bad people. To those people, somebody else’s life meant nothing. She wanted him to understand what he did for her.

  “He said he had a business card he wanted to give me,” she said, “in his car. It was daytime; there were people in the mall. What was there to worry about, right? He asked me about my family and things like that while we were walking to the parking lot. There was an SUV with dark windows. He smiled, opened the door, and …” Inga swallowed. “The parking lot was empty, and I didn’t even understand what was happening when I was pulled inside the car. Someone gagged my mouth and slammed the door. The car drove away. It was like in those movies. I couldn’t believe it was real. They shot something in my arm. Some drug. I woke up in the house. That’s it. They told me that now I worked for them. They told me that if I was bad with the clients or tried to run away, they’d kill me.”

  “Did you try?”

  “The room where I was held was always locked. We went out only to eat and it was always under supervision. The windows in the room were boarded. They hit us for any wrong word. I tried to talk to the clients. I told them I had been kidnapped; I wanted to go home. But they just laughed at me and mocked me. One of them set Eagle on me when I asked for help. The clients could do anything to us, anything they wanted. That’s probably why this house is so popular and I think it’s expensive too. It was horrible. I don’t know how I didn’t go crazy. I thought it was impossible to escape.”

  “Did somebody help you today?”

  “Yes. Gosh, I hope nothing happens to that guy. They could kill him for helping me. I still can’t believe it. I thought I was going to die there.”

  “What’s your name?”

  “Inga.”

  “Beautiful. I’m Alman. Like my grandpa.”

  Inga nodded. Her savior was a young man named Alman, who just happened to drive down this road and have a weapon with him. A hunting rifle as far as Inga knew. It had a wooden handle, it looked heavy, and now it was lying on the backseat. Soda bottles knocked again and Inga startled.

  “Can you take me to the police?” she asked.

  “Police?” The guy looked surprised, as though this obvious thought hadn’t occurred to him. “Ah … Sure. But there’s nothing around I can think of. I don’t even know
where to go now. It’s pouring, see? Also, I’m in a hurry. I need to be home as soon as possible. Groceries and other stuff. I can take you there tomorrow. Yeah, tomorrow we’ll go to the police. Tonight you can stay at our house, take a shower, and … stuff. I live with my parents and my little sister. You’ll be safe there and can get some rest.”

  “I don’t want to inconvenience you.”

  “Oh, don’t worry about it! We love to help people. And you … you’ve been through a lot. I don’t even know what to say. Do you have a family?”

  “Only my mom and my sister, and her husband and son. My sister is older than me. She moved to Florida to be with her husband. My dad died three years ago and my mom is all alone now.”

  Inga wiped her tears again. Every time she thought about her mother she felt incredible pain in her heart, imagining how that poor woman was suffering now. She felt guilty for everything that had happened. If she had thought with her head, naïve idiot, and listened to her mother, none of this would have happened.

  “Are you hungry?”

  “Huh?”

  “Do you want to eat?”

  “No, thanks.”

  Inga couldn’t think about food. She was trying to get used to the thought that she was free. She felt like an animal that had gotten out of a cage. She hoped she could remember where the house of terror was located so the police could go there and free all the girls. She wanted to see Eagle when they put handcuffs on him. She wanted to spit in his self-assured, cruel face. She wanted him to know what it felt like.

  “I never thought,” Alman mumbled. His eyes were on the road, his hands smashing the wheel. “I’d have never thought ... How many girls are in that place?”

  “Last time I counted nine. Yesterday. They said they have a high turnover.” Inga smirked, then sighed. “The girls kill themselves. They are killed for disobedience. Then they bring new ones and everything starts again. There are plenty of naïve idiots.”

  “Who’s the head of this business? That eagle on the road?”

  “You got that right. Eagle is actually his nickname. He’s just a maniac. He’s really cruel and I think he likes to torture. They called me Serena and never asked my real name. They said, ‘You’re so beautiful, dark hair, dark eyes. You’ll be Serena.’”