Diana tried to understand what Karina was telling her. Was she saying that Nataliya liked her? No, that wasn’t it. Then Diana figured it out, or thought she did. Karina was telling her that Nataliya was in her same situation.
“Nataliya is also a slave?” asked Diana.
Just saying that word felt wrong. It made her feel unclean.
“Dalk!”
Karina’s response was immediate and emphatic, and Diana made another entry on the pad. Unsure of the spelling, she wrote down what she had heard.
“Nataliya work at club I work. Vicky call her to office. She never come back.”
“When did this happen, Karina?”
“Three month, maybe?”
“Do you want us to look into this? Are you asking to see if Mr. Deketomis might be able to help you? And help Nataliya as well?”
“I want him to lawyer for me. And for Nataliya.”
Diana tried to soothe the frightened woman. “Can you meet with Mr. Deketomis for a consultation, dear?”
Panicked breathing was all Diana could hear. She quickly added, “If you can’t meet in person, Nataliya, I could schedule a phone interview.”
“Phone hard, but I try again. Must go on strip trip.”
“Strip trip?” Diana asked.
“Booze cruise. We soon to go on boat.”
“Do you have a number where Mr. Deketomis could call you tomorrow?”
“Knee. No number. I call.”
“That’s fine. I hope we can talk again soon.”
Karina spoke hurriedly, clearly pressed for time. “Amerikanski also need help.”
“I don’t understand,” Diana said.
“Amerikanski who look like Nataliya prisoner where we live.”
Diana didn’t get a chance to ask any more questions.
“Can’t talk,” Karina said. “Must go.”
There was a click, and the line went dead. Diana found herself shaking the phone in frustration before reluctantly returning it to its cradle. Then she looked down at her pad. There was one other thing she needed to write down.
Emerald Hideaway.
That was the name displayed on Diana’s phone. Curious, she typed the name into a search engine. The first entry that came up showed a beautiful resort hotel located on the Emerald Coast on the outskirts of Destin, about an hour’s drive away.
Karina must have been calling from the hotel, thought Diana. But if the woman was a slave, as she said, what was she doing there? The property looked posh, but maybe that was just a veneer.
Diana consulted the pad where she’d made all of her entries. Then she used a search engine to try variations of the foreign words she’d written down. Making sense of most of her phonetic translations didn’t take long. Karina hadn’t said jock-o-u and dalk and knee. What she had said were dyakuyu and tak and ni. Thank you and yes and no. Although she couldn’t translate everything Karina had said, Diana was sure of one thing.
Karina was Ukrainian.
XIII
“Hurry it up!” Danylo was standing outside the van, scowling at her. “We’ve all been waiting for you.”
Karina hustled up to the white van and took an open seat. Her heart was still racing, and she dared not talk for fear of her excitement giving her away. Luckily for her, the others were talking among themselves and seemed to take little notice of her presence. Most of them looked happy to be going on an outing that was different from their usual routine. It wasn’t as if they had any choice but to go along with whatever Vicky told them to do. By this time most of them had been in America for almost a year. Disillusionment had come early in their stay.
“It’s a perfect night for going out on the water,” Valentyna said. “Hot, but not too hot.”
“Good thing we sail tonight and not tomorrow,” Yana said. “A customer at the club said a big storm was coming our way.”
“Storm?” Oksana made a dismissive sound. “There was barely a breath of wind all day.”
Yana said, “Haven’t you heard about the calm before the storm?”
As the others kept talking, Karina closed her eyes and pretended to rest, but what she was really doing was thinking about her conversation with Diana. She tried to remember every word the two of them had exchanged. In retrospect, there was so much more she should have said but didn’t. When her call actually went through, it had felt like her heart was jumping out of her chest. If only Nataliya had been there with her. Without her friend showing her the way, she never could have made the call.
Next time she would be more organized, Karina vowed. She would plan better, and try to make things as safe as possible. During her talk with Diana, she had only been able to listen to her with one ear, so fearful was she of being discovered.
The girls were still chattering. “Tonight, we get to eat party food,” Valentyna said. “It will be nice to have something other than borscht. I hope they have salmon.”
“I hope they have blow,” Oksana said.
Everyone except for Karina laughed. Naturally, Oksana noticed. “What is the matter, rusalka?”
As Oksana reached to touch her red locks, Karina pulled her head back and said, “I’m afraid of where those hands have been.”
“Always so high and mighty, rusalka. You and Nataliya. But where is she now?”
“I don’t know where she is. Do you?”
Oksana’s answer was a smug smile.
The van pulled into the marina’s parking lot, and Danylo hustled them over to the Seacreto. “Move it! Move it!”
“Why?” Karina asked. “I don’t see the passengers.”
“Why do you always ask questions?”
Instead of hurrying with the others, Karina slowed her pace. Everything felt wrong. Danylo came back to her. “Come along!” When that didn’t get her moving, Danylo said in a voice the others couldn’t hear, “The clients will be meeting up with the ship later.”
“Where?”
“I don’t know.”
“That makes no sense.”
“You think Vicky tells me her business? Now, come along. Don’t make me have to drag you to the boat.”
The other girls were already boarding the Seacreto. With great reluctance, Karina went to join them.
From the yacht, Karina watched the retreating shore. They had never before gone out without their clients already aboard the boat. As usual, the crew of two did not communicate with them. The other girls were acting carefree, most of them leaning against the railing. Karina kept to the interior of the yacht. The open water scared her.
This whole situation scared her, even if she wasn’t sure why that was.
They were well away from shore, and away from any seacraft, when she saw a speeding Zodiac approaching them. The captain of the Seacreto idled the yacht, and a line was thrown to the other craft. One by one, five men climbed the ladder.
Hard, dangerous men. Karina knew this the moment she saw them.
“We’re here to do some deep-sea drilling!” one of the men yelled.
They thought that was funny.
* * *
The party was in full force when the anchor was finally thrown. Never before had Karina and the others ventured this far from shore for a booze cruise. The sun had just set; the lights on shore were beginning to show themselves.
Everyone else was drinking and doing drugs. Karina stayed on the periphery of where the others were gathered. In her hand was a beer. She was actually grateful that Oksana was the center of attention. When the cocaine had come out, Oksana had stripped off her clothes and offered her naked body for lines. The men and women lined up to do their snorting. All the noses were white; Oksana’s was whitest of all.
Even though the Seacreto was a large yacht, Karina knew there was no place to hide on it. That was the story of her life. She had always looked for a good hiding spot, but had never found one.
I ran from the wolf, thought Karina, but ran into a bear. The old Ukrainian saying almost made her smile, but this was not a time for
even grim humor.
“Hey, Red,” shouted the man who was clearly in charge. “Come join the party.”
Karina pretended not to hear. She leaned over and retched. By feigning seasickness, she hoped the man might turn his attention to one of the other girls.
“I’m talking to you, Red.”
His voice was louder now, and more insistent. Karina could see his look of impatience and hear the hunger in his voice. Karina knew there were those who envied her good looks, but for her it had always been more of a curse than not. Men like this one had sought her out since she was a girl. After her father had abandoned her mother and family, their advances had only gotten worse.
“Sick,” Karina said.
A few of the girls offered up scornful laughs.
“Rusalka,” shouted Oksana.
“What the hell does that mean?” the man asked.
Oksana was glad to explain: “Rusalka, red-haired kind of fairy-girls that live in water. They use long red hair to pull men under and drown them.”
“Is that so?” The man looked amused. “Always had a thing for redheads, rusalka or not. Get your ass over here, Red. We paid your boss top dollar, and she promised us VIP treatment.”
Karina covered her mouth with her hand, and made more retching sounds, but the man was unmoved. It was clear to Karina that whether she was sick or not made no difference to him.
“I’m not asking again,” he said.
Karina started forward, trying to buy time by pretending her legs were wobbly. There were no other ships around, not even any fishing boats.
One of the men began playing rock and roll music on his phone. An already naked Oksana began bumping and grinding with Sofia, eliciting whistles and cheers.
“Girl on girl,” hooted one of the men.
Unfortunately for Karina, the man who had called her over wasn’t distracted. His gaze remained fixed on her while she made her approach. Finally, she stood in front of him.
“You took your damn time,” he said.
“Big sick,” Karina said, making a waving motion with her hand. “The sea.”
“Champagne will settle your stomach.”
He extended a glass of champagne to Karina, but when she reached for it, he grabbed her arm and pulled her close. Everyone seemed to think that was funny.
“You better drink up now,” he said. “Because in another minute, your lips are going to be occupied.”
The man’s pack of followers made appreciative noises. Karina tried to pull away, but that just made the spectators that much rowdier.
Unbidden, the word came out of Karina’s mouth: “No.”
The man’s smile was even more threatening than his scowl. “Maybe I didn’t hear you right, Red.”
His arm shot out, and he grabbed Karina’s long red locks and yanked. She screamed from the pain and cried out even louder as the man began swinging her from side to side. Wherever he pulled, her body followed, until the man wrenched her down to her knees.
“Now let’s get busy,” he said.
Karina no longer had to pretend she was sick; her stomach roiled. She clawed at the man’s arm, raking his flesh, but he didn’t release his grip on her hair. His smile broadened, and with his free hand he slapped her.
As her head snapped back, she caught a glimpse of the captain and first officer seated comfortably in their helm seats. Both of them were leaning forward and enjoying the show. There would be no help from either of them, she knew, just as there would be no help from those watching.
“No,” Karina said again.
She wanted to sound defiant, but failed. She was tired. So tired. All her life she’d fought. This was not a battle she could win, but neither could she bring herself to surrender.
Her refusal was met with another slap and demand. “Mister Johnson doesn’t like to be kept waiting, Red.”
“Get screwed, asshole!” Karina screamed.
Karina expected a beating. But the man surprised her by yanking her up. His fingers locked in under her armpits, and Karina’s feet left the deck. She had always been thin. There wasn’t much weight on her.
That made it easy for him to toss her over the railing.
There wasn’t even time to scream, not at first. She plunged into the water and then came to the surface, thrashing and flailing. Even then, her scream was muted. She grabbed one desperate breath, cried out, and then splashed frantically. But all her flailing was not enough to keep her head above the water.
No, no! She swallowed salt water and began gagging and choking. Her panicked floundering succeeded in getting her head above the water a second time, but then she went under again. In a desperate attempt to get air, she swallowed more water. As sick as Karina was, she still fought. When she broke the surface for a third time, a light from above shined down upon her.
Somehow a moment of clarity superseded her panic. Karina could see the shadows on the railing looking down at her. The music was still playing, but that wasn’t all that Karina heard. The others were laughing at her.
Laughing.
Her wet clothing began pulling her down, and Karina’s panicked attempts to breathe only filled her lungs with seawater that much faster. Her throat burned and her stomach convulsed. A lack of oxygen made her light-headed.
Karina heard Diana’s concerned voice in her head. When they’d talked, the woman had sounded as if she truly cared. Karina would not be able to call her back as she’d promised. A part of her knew that death had come for her. It felt as if invisible hands were pulling her into the depths.
Not hands, she thought, but hair. The rusalki were claiming her. But it wasn’t only the water nymphs. Nataliya was there as well. As her struggles lessened, Karina’s panic receded. The water no longer felt like her enemy; it embraced her in its warmth.
I am now a rusalka, she thought. It was the fate of women spurned by life and love. But she wasn’t alone. Nataliya and the others were with her. If the stories Karina had heard were true, their cruel deaths would make their spirits haunt these waters. They would only be able to rest in peace if someone avenged their deaths.
She swam with the rusalki.
XIV
Michael ran up the stairs to get to their apartment. It was the last leg, so to speak, of his workout. The PJ regimen alternated push-ups with a combination of sprints, and only took him half an hour to get a good sweat. For good measure, he always added another five minutes of core workout to help strengthen the broken back that had ended his military service.
It was easier talking about that than it was the traumatic brain injury sustained during the same crash. He didn’t want to come across as some kind of head case. The doctors hadn’t been able to give him a long-term prognosis for his brain injury, but they had pulled the plug on his service. When you have blurry vision, and dizziness, and difficulty concentrating, you can’t do the duties required of a PJ. The decision to leave the military hadn’t been his, but Michael had come to look at the discharge as a blessing. It had allowed him to marry Mona and start a new life. Each of them had helped the other with their injuries. Mona’s wounds had been even more serious than his.
He announced his presence at the door by rapping out “shave and a haircut—two bits,” and then unlocked the dead bolt. Mona met him at the door, where they kissed.
“It is good to have you home, husband,” she said.
Michael found himself smiling, as he usually did, at Mona’s form of address to him. He still wasn’t sure if it was a cultural thing, or Mona’s way of speaking. Mona’s father had been educated in England, but had refused to be part of the Assyrian diaspora, and had returned to his homeland in Iraq. It was her father who had taught Mona her flawless English.
“It is good to be home, wife,” he said, offering quaint for quaint. “But I know why you’re so glad to see me.”
He handed her the two takeout bags he was holding. “Cuban pica-dillo and black beans and rice.”
The Cuban picadillo was similar to one of h
er favorite Assyrian entrees. On Michael’s nights to “cook,” it was one of his go-to dishes.
“You read my mind.”
“As I’m reading it right now. That’s why I’ll shower before we eat.”
“That is not something to which I will object.”
They kissed again, and Michael went and showered. In the military he’d grown used to showering in under two minutes. Even now, his showers held to that time frame. Within five minutes he was clean, dressed, and back out in the living room. By then Mona had doctored the dishes with a few of her favorite condiments, adding a spritz of lime to the rice and some coriander seasoning to the picadillo. As she served up the dishes, each smiled at the other.
“Good day?” Michael asked.
“Busy day, mostly spent in front of the computer.”
“Sounds like we had a similar day then.”
“I doubt you were learning about scabies.”
“I don’t even know what scabies are.”
“It is a condition caused by an infestation of microscopic mites that have burrowed under the skin, and shows itself through bumps or redness.”
“If I wasn’t a hypochondriac before you started nursing school, I’ll surely be one by the time you become an RN.”
“Please wait until next semester before manifesting any symptoms, because that’s when I will be taking a class on health anxiety.”
Michael stuck his tongue out at her. Instead of responding in kind, Mona peered intently at his tongue and said, “Did you know the color of your tongue can say many things about your health? Its shape, texture, and color all tell stories.”
“And what does my tongue say?”
“It says you are incorrigible.”
Both of them tried to hide their smiles; both failed.
Fate had brought the couple together not once, but twice. Two days after Michael’s combat search and rescue team had flown a seriously injured Mona to the Air Force hospital in Belad, Michael had been brought there for his own injuries. Their unusual courtship had been conducted while both of them were convalescing. Adjusting to life after the military hadn’t been easy for Michael, but he knew his adjustment was a cakewalk compared to Mona’s. She had given up her world to join Michael in his. In many ways they were opposites in looks and temperament, but neither could now imagine life without the other.
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