by Penelope Sky
I was already dressed, my boots on over my pants, my heavy jacket on in bed so it would warm up before I went outside into the cold. My hair was pulled back out of my eyes in a ponytail. I hadn’t even combed it because they gave me nothing. It was probably one of the things women asked for in exchange for obedience, because some of the women had nice hair, even wore makeup.
My guard stood there in the open doorway, watching me sitting on the bed.
I sighed before I got to my feet, exhausted and cold. I turned to the door and didn’t look at him at all before I stepped outside into the frigid wind, the trees blowing along with the harsh howls. My arms immediately crossed over my chest. “Are we working inside today?” The coke would blow away, and they wouldn’t want to lose an ounce of their precious product that they were willing to kill for.
“No. We’ve got a pickup.” He took the lead, going a different direction than last time.
I followed behind him, watching some of the women walking along the usual path to the clearing, but a few women went in my direction. “A pickup?”
“You’ll see.” He walked to the edge of camp, where there were a few wagons and guards on horses. Bows were on their backs along with quivers of arrows. Bethany was there, giving me a glance before quickly looking away so as to not draw attention to our friendship. The guard turned around again, facing me with his back to the others, coming close to me so more of his features were visible under his hood. “Don’t run. They’ll shoot you on sight.” He stepped away and disappeared. He never seemed to participate in anything in the camp. His only job was to retrieve me in the mornings and in the evenings. He must have another position at the camp, but whatever that was was a mystery.
The girls huddled together, waiting for the last few girls to join us.
Bethany came closer to me, her hair blowing in the icy wind. “You okay?”
It was such a stupid question that I didn’t know what to say. All I did was shake my head.
“You get used to it…at some point.”
I would never get used to that. “I’m going to kill him.”
She watched me with her bright blue eyes, her gaze shifting back and forth as she read the sincerity in my expression.
“I will.” If I could never escape, then I would at least put him in the ground with me. He would pay for what he did to those women, for the years of corpses he’d created, the women he would continue to butcher until I shoved a knife in his gut.
Another woman joined us, one with jet-black hair and brown eyes. Her arms were tight over her body, and the vapor consistently rose from her nostrils. “You’re the new girl?”
“Unfortunately.” I didn’t bother with a handshake. I’d only been here a week, but I’d already disregarded basic courtesies because they didn’t apply in this hell.
“Cindy.” The skin on her face was cracked in places, especially on the bridge of her nose, because her skin was so dry in this wintry weather. Her complexion seemed destined for warm and exotic places with lots of heat and humidity.
“She’s the one who gave me the pill,” Bethany explained.
“Oh…thank you.” Now, I had a second friend, and that made me feel a little less alone.
Cindy nodded.
The guard escorted a few more girls to the group, and then we started to walk forward, leaving the safety of the tree line and heading into the open landscape before us. It was acres of snow, like a meadow replaced it in the spring. The wind pressed against us, making our jackets flap open like the canopy of a parachute. Two wagons were in the lead, while two other men rode on strong steeds, walking in line with us to keep us in their sights.
My guard told me not to run because it was pointless. In the wide open, there was nowhere for me to hide, no forest to escape into.
I’d never been so cold in my life. “Where are we going?” It was much easier to talk out here, with the wind blowing snow past us, making visibility poor, our voices trailing behind us and out of earshot.
“Pick up the next shipment.” Bethany walked beside me, Cindy on her other side.
“Of coke?” I noticed the group was made up of women who were young and strong, mostly those who were on the line in the clearing, picking up heavy forty-pound boxes over and over.
“Yeah.”
“That means we’re meeting a crew out here?”
“No.”
“Then where are the drugs coming from?” What was I missing?
Just then, the sound of a plane was audible, approaching us somewhere through the clouds. It couldn’t be seen in the storm because a flake of snow would land in your eye if you looked up too long, but the powerful engines were unmistakable.
Three hundred yards ahead of us, crates fell from the sky and crashed into the mounds of powered snow that had built up over the night. The farther out we went, the deeper into snow our legs sank, making it harder to move forward, making us sweat despite the frigid temperatures.
These guys truly operated in complete stealth…so no one was coming to rescue us.
No one knew about this place.
No one.
It was so disheartening, I nearly collapsed in the snow and gave up.
And I might have given up—if I didn’t have someone to protect.
If I gave up, Melanie would never be free.
So, I kept going.
It took a long time to cross the distance, to get the horses to pull the wagons over the snowy terrain, to fight against the wind. The more into the open we trudged, the more vulnerable we became to the wind that slapped across our faces and burned our skin. My lips were so dry they started to crack in real time. My eyes watered from the sting of the wind, only to dry up a second later. The cycle repeated over and over, getting more and more difficult the closer we came to our destination.
Then we finally stopped.
“Get to it.” One of the guards barked at us to grab everything in the snow and place it on the wagons.
“Just watch me,” Bethany said.
We moved into the snow and scavenged for the coke.
Most of the girls moved to lift the heavy crate from the ground, to pick it up and carry it to the wagon.
But one of the crates broke open, and the plastic bags wrapped in padding scattered everywhere, making holes in the blanket of snow. That was what Bethany went for, so I did the same. I was knee-deep in snow, picking up the bags as I went, holding them against my chest as I followed the bags like breadcrumbs farther out in the snow.
And then I heard it.
The sound of a bell.
I stilled at the sound, my ears numb from the cold.
Then I heard it again.
“Oh my god…”
Bethany moved to a bag nearby. “Keep moving. They’ll hit you if you’re still too long—”
“Did you hear that?”
She stilled. “Hear what?”
“The bell. I heard a fucking bell…like a church bell.” I dropped all the bags into the snow and looked into the distant tree line, the tall pines that stood miles away at the start of a forest. My heart was beating so hard, the adrenaline was rushing, hope fluttered in my heart…replacing the emptiness I’d experienced just a moment ago.
I knew I fucking heard it.
It was faint.
Quiet.
Like it was really, really far away.
But it was there…a fucking lifeline.
“Beth, did you hear it—”
“Move.” She glanced over her shoulder and kept working.
I quickly grabbed the bags and went back to work, knowing they were watching me, and I did my best to act like nothing had happened. I picked up the bags and held them against my chest as I approached the nearest wagon, feeling all of them stare at me. I added them to the cart then turned around to grab something else.
But I tripped in the snow, falling face first.
One of the guys on the horse laughed. “You can tell she’s new.”
My hands pushed throu
gh the snow to find the ground to lift myself back up, but I found an object against my hand, a piece of the crate that had come apart and fallen into the snow. I didn’t pause to look at it and discreetly slipped it into my pocket as I got to my feet.
Maybe it was something useful.
But I didn’t even care that much, because that bell continued to ring in my mind, a distant echo. It started to build louder and louder, ringing in my mind like a bell from a church in Paris, right in front of me, making me feel like I was far away from here.
7
The Count of Monte Cristo
When I woke up the next morning, it was a clear day once again.
The storm had passed, the cabins didn’t rattle, and it wasn’t nearly as icy—but cold all the same.
My guard woke me up like clockwork.
My boots were tightened, my jacket was zipped up, and then I stepped out onto the porch.
He hadn’t spoken to me about anything other than work in days. When he delivered my dinner, he left immediately. When he fetched me in the morning, he didn’t give any orders because I was always ready to go. “You’re shoveling today.”
“What?”
“Shoveling the snow at the camp.” He took the stairs then stepped into high drifts of snow. “Happens after every storm.”
At least it was a deviation from the same mindless work. And it was a break from the clearing, where that woman’s body still hung. “What’s your name?”
He walked ahead of me, handling the accumulation of snow better than I did because he was nearly a foot taller. His legs were more muscular than mine, so he cut through the snow like he had blades on his boots. “Why? I don’t know yours.”
The church bell in the distance gave me hope of escape, so now I needed to get all my ducks in a row. The more information, the better. “Raven.” There was no incentive to be difficult at this point.
He walked ahead.
“This is where you tell me yours.”
“I don’t remember agreeing to that.”
I trailed behind him, moving through the snow that reached my knees. I had to swing my arms far to get through the powder, my legs burning because they were still sore from the trek into the wild yesterday.
Then I tripped and fell right into a pile, my face hitting the slush on impact.
Now I’d be frozen all damn day.
I pushed out of the pile, losing my grip and sliding through the frictionless wetness.
A gloved hand appeared.
I stared at it and almost didn’t take it.
I was cold, achy, and exhausted. I placed my hand in his and felt his strength pull me to my feet, my tired body lifting effortlessly.
He turned away and continued to walk.
“Thank you.”
“It takes time to get used to.”
I moved behind and followed him until we reached the front of the camp where the main building was located. It faced the open landscape, the sea of whiteness until the next line of trees in the far distance. Women were already there, wielding heavy shovels as they dug into the snow and disposed of it near the trees. “Do you guys stay in that bigger cabin?”
He shook his head. “You’re still on that, huh?” He was fully aware of my desire to escape, but he never tattled on me, never punished me for it. He seemed more amused than anything else.
“Just curious…”
He stopped near the porch, where a group of guards sat in their comfy chairs and drank from mugs with steam rising to their faces, probably hot coffee. “Grab a shovel and get to it.”
“Am I doing this all day?”
“You’re doing this for several days.” He turned around and disappeared—like always. The guy was an enigma, because he seemed separate from the rest of the men even though he wore the same clothing. It was unclear if his station was lower or higher than everyone else.
I grabbed a shovel and moved into the crowd.
That was when I spotted Melanie.
She stuck the shovel into the snow, pushing down on the handle to scoop it up, and then picked it up and carried it to the pile.
I was so happy to see her that my elation chased away the cold—just for a moment.
I moved to where she’d been working, near the corner of one of the cabins.
She came back to me, her eyes full of surprise when she saw my face close up. Before this, all the eye contact we had took place across the clearing, far away from each other. Emotion filled her eyes, the guilt written all over her face.
I was just thankful to see her.
I wanted to rush to her and hug her, to hold my sister in my arms again, to tell her I would solve this problem like all the others. But the guards watched on, and if I did anything out of the ordinary, they would separate us.
I carried the shovel to her area and dug it into the snow, using my foot to push down. “Do it like this. It’s easier than pushing with your arms.”
She was still beside me, like she was too upset to do anything, too overrun with emotion.
“Melanie, come on.”
She breathed a deep sigh, the vapor coming from her nostrils in a long trail like smoke from a cigar. Then she pushed her shovel into the snow and copied my movements.
“Pick it up like this. Otherwise, you’re going to hurt your back.” I showed her how to scoop it up with the least amount of work. Then we both carried our snow to the tree line to add it to the pile.
Her back was turned to the guards, so she started to break, her emotions bursting through her skin like water through cracked glass. She breathed hard, shut her lips tight to battle the sobs, and then her lips quivered. “I’m so sorry—”
“We’re going to get out of here, alright?” I whispered. “I promise.”
She shook her head, the tears dripping down her cheeks.
“Hey, look at me.”
She shook her head again.
“Melanie.”
She heaved, her chest rising and falling with the painful breaths she tried to suppress. She finally turned to look at me, her eyes wet but her skin dry.
“I promise.” I didn’t know how I was going to deliver on that promise, but I would, one way or another. “Keep your head down and do what they say in the meantime. But we will get out of here.”
She gave a hesitant nod.
“They can take our bodies, but they can’t take our minds. We will get out of here—and we’ll make them pay.”
I had never been more exhausted.
The second I got to the cabin, I went straight to bed. My fatigue overpowered my hunger, and I knocked out fully clothed, sleeping in the dark.
The door opened later and stirred me from sleep.
I sat up immediately, jolted awake because my mind was so deep asleep that the noise was startling.
A tray was placed on the chair before she darted out.
My guard came in afterward and looked at me.
I rubbed the sleep from my eyes as I sat on the edge of the bed. I didn’t look at him, still half asleep.
He moved to the nightstand next to my bed and placed a couple things there. A mug full of something warm and steamy, a plastic tube of lip moisturizer, a little bottle of body lotion, and a book. He stepped away but still looked down at me, as if he were expecting a reaction from me.
I stared at the book on the nightstand. The Count of Monte Cristo.
That was fucking ironic. “Why did you bring this?”
He grabbed the tray from the table and set it down beside me before he fell into the chair, getting comfortable as if he expected to be there for a while.
I hadn’t had a hot coffee or anything warm since I’d arrived here. The food was rarely hot because it took so long to reach me after it was finished in the kitchen. So, I grabbed the mug and looked down inside, seeing the marshmallows floating on top. “Oh my god…” It was so minor, something I would have taken for granted in my previous life, but looking into that mug made me think of a lost childhood when my mother wa
s still alive, hot cocoa in front of the Christmas tree. It made me tear up for just a moment, to think that she was looking down at me right now, rolling in her grave because of what had happened to her girls. I brought the mug to my lips and took a drink, enjoying the first taste of sugar, the warmth as it thawed my throat and stomach, the way the hot mug heated both of my palms as I held it close.
Then I grabbed the book and held it tightly. It was a book I’d already read, but I’d read it a million times just to be connected to someone going through the exact same thing as I was. He escaped…and so would I. He got his revenge.
And I would get mine.
“You tell me escape is pointless, but then you bring me this?” I held up the book and looked at him before I returned it to the nightstand.
“Coincidence.” His deep voice brought warmth to my cabin, like he was the fire in an invisible hearth. He seemed to possess power I didn’t understand, because he lingered when he shouldn’t, because he always walked away as if he could dismiss himself whenever he wished.
“Why don’t I believe you?” I grabbed the lip moisturizer next, squeezing the plastic tube to feel all the ointment inside. It was unopened—brand-new. I set it down and took another drink of the cocoa.
He stayed quiet.
I wanted to pretend these gifts meant nothing to me, but now that I had them, the cabin felt livelier, more bearable. They say the little things in life matter most…and I realized that was true. “Why did you bring these to me?”
“Why don’t you thank me instead?”
I looked down into the marshmallows before I took a drink, purposely catching one in my mouth so I could chew it and let it dissolve on my tongue. “Thank you…”
He rested his head against the back wall, the only skin visible from his ungloved hands.
“But why? You know I’m trying to find a way to get out of here.”
He didn’t speak.
He never tattled on me; he never reported me. Come to think of it, he was the only somewhat kind guard in this camp. “You’re a lot different now than you were when I arrived here.” He’d shoved my face into the snow and tried to suffocate me into submission. He’d threatened to break my face.