by Skye Warren
They were talking about something in a garbled mixture of Spanish and English. I couldn’t follow the words exactly, just snippets.
“…already checked out la escuela…”
“…el nuevo jefe…”
“…this time…explosiόn…”
My Spanish was rusty at best, but I knew this wasn’t good. It sounded like they were going to make another attempt at the bombing. That definitely complicated things for Zachary. He’d be obliged to help prevent it in some way. He would still help me, right?
He hadn’t even looked my way, so far, although I knew he must have noticed me. The room wasn’t so large that a poor white girl wasn’t conspicuous in a room full of dangerous gangsters. I’d already gotten a few sideways—and a few more obvious—glances from the other men.
I accidentally caught the eye of one of them. A black man seated near the back with me. He’d been relatively quiet throughout the whole exchange, maybe a lackey, even though he was pretty old. Very old, considering the crowd he ran with. Usually gangsters didn’t live that long, not where I was from. He reached over and stroked a gnarled finger down my cheek. I flinched, but didn’t draw away, only to avoid bringing attention to myself in this room. The man still holding me noticed his attention but only chuckled.
“La puta le gusta la atenciόn,” he said, giving me a small shove towards the black man.
The black man smiled at me, showing several gold teeth among his yellowed ones.
“She likes it, does she?” he said, his voice slightly hoarse. “Well, now, I have a few things I could teach a young whore like this one.”
I didn’t respond. Instead I focused all my attention on Zachary, willing him to look at me, to protect me. He was resolutely looking away from me. Had he truly not noticed me here? He was still speaking rapidly at them, pointing at large sheets of paper spread out on the table.
I stiffened as I felt bony fingers grab my breast from the side. The grip wasn’t too tight, but my breasts were incredibly tender from their earlier beating. I bit my lip to keep from crying out.
“Does she give good head?” the black man asked.
“Oh, yes, negro. She takes it deep.”
“How much?”
“I don’t know. She’s a prime piece. Just used her once.”
“I’ll give her back after, you know that. I don’t rough them up like you.”
My rapist chuckled again. “Two hundred.”
The black man scoffed. “For two hundred I could get any whore. She cost you nothing.”
I felt a panic rise in my chest, manifesting itself as bile in my throat. They were negotiating over me. I needed Zachary to get me out of here now. I had to restrain myself from standing up and calling to him. I knew he was here undercover, and it would only blow his cover to beg him openly, helping neither of us. This was going bad quickly.
I focused back on the conversation taking place above my head to hear the two of them agree on a price.
“Fine. One hundred dollars. One hour.”
“Done.”
The black man stood up and started pulling me with him towards the door. A few of the gang members glanced up, but, of course, no one made a move to stop him. I couldn’t leave the room with him. I’d only get raped again, and Zachary was here, for God’s sake.
I resisted, struggling and fighting as he dragged me towards the door.
“Wait,” a voice called. I slumped in relief.
A man next to Zachary had spoken. The black man and I both ceased our struggles, turning towards the cluster of men around the table. We both stood still, awaiting our sentences.
“I bought her fair and square,” the black man said.
Zachary looked up from the table and his eyes met mine. They were cold. His lack of expression chilled me to my bones. I couldn’t read anything in his eyes, not any emotion, not any memories of what we shared. It was like looking at a stranger. A stranger who looked exactly like my lover.
“Please,” I said. Maybe everyone else thought it was a plea for mercy, and in a way it was, but it was for Zachary. I wanted him to show me it was really him, and reassure me that I’d be okay.
His face remained completely blank, not even a twitch betrayed his thoughts or a softening to my cry.
“El jefe?” The black man asked.
My eyes widened as I realized he was talking to Zachary.
Zachary didn’t look at the black man but continued looking straight into my eyes.
“We’re busy. Take her and get out,” Zachary said.
I couldn’t help it. My mouth gaped open in shock, then horror.
The words kept replaying in my mind like some sick joke. Maybe in my delirium of pain and shock I had forgotten how to understand English. Maybe he was talking about someone else, or meant something else. Of course, there was no other explanation. Zachary had sent me to be raped.
I barely noticed as the black man pulled me from the room.
The physical pain was bad, but this was worse. I hadn’t realized exactly how much hope I had been pinning on Zachary. Not just that he would physically rescue me from this place, but also that he was there for me, that he was one of the good guys, and that he wanted me.
Now it appeared that he was the new boss. Was he still undercover, or was he actually working for the gang?
But that was really a theoretical question for me, because it didn’t change the reality that I was being towed down the hallway with my new rapist. He shoved me into the room I had been before. Was this the rape room? They should make an office placard so anyone getting lost would know where to go. “Rape Room,” it would say.
The irony was that I actually felt safer in this room. Here there was only one man, and I knew pretty much what would happen. The exact order and orifices might vary, but it was sex. I could survive it, better than out there in that larger room with all those men, exposed. Then Zachary, my would-be savior, had acted like he didn’t know me and unceremoniously sent me here to be raped.
My body hurt from my earlier beating, but that was nothing compared to the hole in my heart. I didn’t even want to believe it, because it made my current predicament that much more pathetic, but I knew the searing pain I felt at every breath wasn’t caused by my earlier beating, but by Zachary’s callousness. I blinked as tears came to my eyes, and felt them track slowly down my face. I turned to face my new captor, determined to face this with whatever dignity I had left. I had nothing left to lose.
The black man closed the door behind us. “Get on the bed,” he said to me.
Chapter Eight
“My God, Rachel. Jesus,” Zachary whispered, his face a mask of horror. His hands traced over me as he knelt down in front of me, over my face and my body, but didn’t touch. “Which one of them did this to you?”
I shook my head, though I wasn’t sure it was discernible from my violent trembling. The pain and the fear and, most of all, the relief when Zachary had come for me exploded inside me, leaving me weak and disoriented. The man had only moved me to the bed, had only touched me, when Zachary had burst in here, knocking the other man away from me.
One look at Zachary’s face, and I knew that I hadn’t misjudged him. He was on my side. I still didn’t know the details of why he was running with the gang, maybe he was still undercover. The horror on his face at seeing me hurt was unmistakable. Thank God.
“It had to be José,” said the black man. “That’s who brung her to the room when Alan was busy with the explosives.”
Zachary shut his eyes tightly, but his voice was quiet. “Thank you.”
“Yeah, that’s right. Consider us even now, you hear? I brung her here and didn’t fuck her when I could have. So we’re square, you and me.”
“All right,” Zachary said, his voice so low I could barely make it out. “But not a word.”
“Nah. I ain’t no tattle.” I didn’t think his word on that was very reliable, seeing as he’d ratted out José. He seemed to be on our side, sort of,
The black man left, leaving Zachary and I alone. Zachary didn’t turn back to me right away, but instead hung his head with his eyes closed. I was still shaky and, even though he’d rescued me, still nervous about Zachary’s true colors, so I stayed silent. Then he took a deep breath, opened his eyes, and turned to me.
“How?” The softness of his voice contrasted sharply with his flashing eyes and labored breathing.
“They came to my apartment.” My voice shook, as if I were shivering, cold. But I felt nothing. The numbness, no matter how temporary, was welcomed. “You said not to open the door, but they were…they were cops. I thought you’d sent them.”
His eyes burned with intensity, and I longed to step back, but I could hardly move from my spot on the floor. He must have seen my fear, though, because he gentled his expression. “It’s okay. It’ll be okay. Let me see how bad it is.”
He reached his hand out to my torn clothing, but I shrunk back into the floor, clutching the pieces together. His hand froze in the air. “I won’t hurt you. Please.”
But I couldn’t. It wasn’t about fearing him, or maybe it was, just a little. Mostly I couldn’t be seen like this.
His hand dropped, and so did his head. “I’m so sorry, Rachel. You have no idea. I’ll get you out of this, I swear it.”
“Okay,” I said. I didn’t know how he’d do it, but getting out sounded good. Damn good. I wanted to get out, with him, and be back at my apartment. I wanted it to be like before this had happened. Could I ever be normal? I didn’t really see how, but that’s because I was here, in this hell. Once he got me out, I could figure it out.
Hope. It does spring eternal, apparently.
“How bad did…did he…” Zachary swallowed, unable to continue the sentence.
But I knew the question, and that made me think of the answer. My gaze fell to Zachary’s waistline—his belt. His eyes followed mine and then widened.
“He used a belt on you? Christ…” Zachary broke off. His hands tightened into fists and I flinched away. “No, baby. Don’t be afraid of me. I’m sorry. I’m angry at him. Furious. But not at you. I’ll never hurt you.”
Maybe not, but he hadn’t touched me, either. He’d tried to, to look at my bruises, but not to hold me or comfort me.
Maybe he didn’t want me anymore. I must look disgusting, all puffy from the bruises and from crying. I’d been touched by another man, beaten and made to suck him. Would Zachary want me after that? Wet tears rolled down my cheeks, stinging the open cuts.
“Ah, God, baby. I’m so sorry. God.” His voice cut off abruptly, hoarse and rough, but I couldn’t see his face through my own tears. I could hear him taking a series of rapid breaths, though. Upset. He was upset.
But still, he didn’t touch me.
“Listen, sweetheart. I want to…God, it doesn’t matter what I want. I wish it could be different right now, but we have to focus now, for us to get out of this. We’re in real deep, and it’s not going to be easy getting out. We need to act fast. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
I didn’t, not really. Zachary was a cop, so why couldn’t he get us out? Why couldn’t he call up the cops and give them our location? “Why?”
“Some really bad shit is going down right now. That’s why they sent me in. I’m supposed to be out there stopping it, but I tipped them off and they’ll have to handle it. I need to get you out of this.”
I focused on his face as my tears dried. He looked almost pleading, but for what?
“I know I let you down. I picked my job over you the first time. And then I left you today, that’s how you got into this. Now I am with you 100%. I’m getting you out of this.”
“Hey, your job involves saving people’s lives. And I haven’t lost mine, yet.” I tried for a joke, but clearly failed as his face darkened.
“You won’t,” he said sharply. “You’re going to get out of this.”
He rested his forehead against mine and breathed heavily. Then he pulled back, his face encased in an emotionless mask.
“Come.” He reached his hand down and pulled me up. I swayed gently, and he steadied me with his hand at my elbow. I longed for more, for an embrace of comfort, but that’s not what he was offering.
He pulled a gun from his waist, one I hadn’t noticed before, and glanced out of the door. Then he pulled me out and down the hallway back toward the way I had been brought in. A shout warned us that someone was coming, but we had no time to hide or to run back to the room. He grabbed me and held me in front of him, the gun pressed to my temple, just as a man rounded the corner in front of us.
The man, who I didn’t recognize, was dressed just as scarily as all the others, flicked his gaze between us. He said to Zachary, “We got to hurry, yo.”
“I know,” Zachary said. “Why do you think I’m taking her out of here?”
The other man’s looked me up and down my body, and a leer darkened his face. “I can get rid of her for you.”
“No,” Zachary said coldly. “She’s mine.”
The man put his hands up, the leer still firmly in place. “Okay, man. I get it. All yours.” And then he turned and continued down the hallway at a brisk pace.
I breathed out a sigh of relief, but cast a wary glance at Zachary, who was watching him go. I had every reason to believe that Zachary was on my side. He was law enforcement, clearly trusted by them. I’d only ever see him protect me.
But he played the bad guy so convincingly. What if he really was taking me somewhere to get rid of me? It seemed unlikely, and there’d be no need to keep up the charade if he was. After all, he had a gun. I had to do what he said regardless of whether I thought he was a good guy or not. Still, I was nervous.
I thought that maybe once we got out of here, I’d try to split from Zachary. If I could get out of this mess, out of immediate danger, then things would clear up for me. I could check out Zachary’s story, maybe talk to the police or something—not that I was looking forward to that. The first step was to get out of here, and Zachary was doing that for me.
He’d taken my hand again and pulled me down another hallway. We stopped in front of a door, and Zachary turned to me.
“Okay, listen.” He pulled out a ring of keys from his pocket. “Here’s what we’re going to do. You’re going to get in the black Explorer in there. Start the engine and get into drive, but hold the brake. When the garage door opens, you need to floor it out of there and off this land. If you follow this farm road east twenty miles and then—”
“Wait a minute,” I interrupted. “You’re not coming with me?”
“There’s guys all over this place. I’ve got to distract them so that you can get out.”
“Then how will you get out?”
He shook his head.
What did that mean? Could it possibly mean that he was on their side after all and that’s why he wanted to stay? But if they saw him fighting them, they would hardly accept him back into their folds. “Zachary?”
“It’s the only way. I’m going to try to follow if I can swing it. The important thing is that you get to the police station. They’ll keep you safe.”
“And I’m supposed to leave you here to die? Are you insane?”
“Christ, Rachael. I need to get you out of here and I’m running out of time.” When I cringed, he added. “I’ll follow after, okay? Once I see you on the road, I’m going to grab one of the other cars and go.”
With that, he pushed me into the garage. My footsteps echoed as I half-ran to the Explorer. It felt huge as I climbed in. New, too, with all sorts of controls they hadn’t had the last time I’d driven a car. Which, admittedly, had been awhile. I could hardly afford one on my pay at the bar, and I didn’t really need one with city transportation. I put the keys in the ignition and the car purred to a start. Drive, drive, where’s the gear shift? Finally, I was waiting with my foot on the brake, fingers clutching the steering wheel, staring at a closed garage door.
After what felt like an eternity but was probably only a few minutes, the garage door jerked and then rumbled upwards. It sounded abnormally loud in the previous quiet of the garage. Sunlight filled the garage, and as at it reached my eyes, I moved my foot onto the gas and pressed down hard. The driveway was long and curvy, but the car roared under my command. It went a bit too fast, even, and I almost swerved into a tree.
Even through the thick car doors, I heard shouts behind me, and then gunfire.
Shit.
Zachary was still back there. This was a horrible idea. I never should have agreed to leave without him, but it was too late now. Going back would be suicide for the both of us. I had to hope that he could find a way out, but with a sinking feeling, I remembered his words and the look in his eyes as he’d said them. I feared this was already a suicide mission. His death.
He’d known he wouldn’t be able to come after me. He’d done this anyways because it was the only way to get me out. Even knowing that, even hating myself for it, I couldn’t turn back. Not when he’d already made this sacrifice. I had to make it worth something by getting free. Maybe, I prayed for the first time in years, there was hope for him. He was resourceful and smart and he’d gotten himself out of bad scrapes before, hadn’t he? Against the odds, he could do it again. I had to believe that.
Careening through the twisted path, the giant SUV bounced over bumps. The road ahead cleared and I could see the turn-off onto the paved farm road Zachary had told me about. East, he’d said. Fuck, if only I knew which way that was. Something about the sun and it setting in the west. Or east. Shit, which way?
And as I was frantically trying to figure out the sunset patterns, I heard the rev of an engine from behind me. I glanced back to find one of the other cars gaining on me. Yes! Zachary had made it.
Reaching the end of the road, I started to make the turn left. Almost in slow motion, I glanced back to see if Zachary would follow, and saw instead a hand coming out of the passenger side window. No. No one should be with him. The glint of metal. A gun was in his hand.
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