“It’s okay. I’m here to help. I won’t hurt any of you.” Holy fucking hell. “I’m going to help you.” He slid back, still surprised.
“Was Evie right?” Wyatt asked.
“Oh yeah. Take him into custody,” Atlas said flatly. Few things shook him, but seeing those people huddled together, barricaded in there, was enough to make his knees weak. Shit, how in the hell could someone do that to someone else?
“I didn’t do anything. I’m just the driver,” the man said as Wyatt read him his rights. Then, as other cars arrived, they got the suspect into one of the vehicles to transport him to the station.
“What do we have?” Wyatt asked when he returned. “Drugs?”
Atlas shook his head. “People. The front half of the trailer is open, and there are half a dozen people barricaded in there. One man, five women. They seem to be of Eastern European descent, but I’m not sure. We need to get the truck unloaded enough toget them out. I don’t know how long they’ve been in there, but it’s been a while, judging by the scent of unwashed bodies.”
“Jesus,” Wyatt whispered.
“Let me call Social Services. There are local folks who can help them.” Atlas pulled out his phone. He knew just the person to call. Chris Joy was amazing and would know exactly how to help these people. “Hey, lady,” he said when she answered. “It’s Atlas, and I need some of your expertise.”
“How so?”
“We have five women and a man barricaded in a truck on the highway. I believe they were being trafficked north, most likely to New York or Philadelphia as domestics, but….” He left the rest unsaid. Chris had seen it all and knew more about the implications than he did. “We are working to get them out, but it would be best if there were women here to help them.”
“I got you. Where do you want us?”
“The truck is northbound on 81 just before the York Road exit. But be careful when you get out.” He scratched his head slightly as cars whizzed by.
“I’ll be there in ten minutes. At least I can try to reassure them that going with you is safe.” She hung up, and Atlas knew she would be there in record time. That was how she was.
He joined the others in moving some of the load off to the side, and soon they had a path to the people behind the load. Atlas climbed into the truck and used his flashlight to make his way back.
“It’s okay,” he said gently as he reached where the group was. “We aren’t going to hurt you.”
He shone his light on the floor, but it was enough to illuminate the people huddled together. “Promise?” the man asked. “We are hungry. Need water.” Atlas relayed the message, and water bottles were passed to him. He handed them to everyone along with granola bars. They seemed to calmsomewhat after that, and Atlas helped them get down. The man, in clothes that a thrift store might throw away, watched him warily, helping each of the women, dressed in dirty dresses and worn shoes, climb out before he followed.
Chris was already there, doing her best to reassure them and helping three of the women to her car and then helping the other two into Atlas’s back seat, along with the man, who thankfully was able to translate. Then Atlas followed her as she pulled out.
“How long were you in there?” Atlas asked as he drove. All three of the people kept turning toward Evie as though she was going to eat them. “Evie is the one who found you.”
“We were in truck for days. We start in Florida,” the man said, his eyes huge. “It very hot and no water and only a bucket they empty when we stop.” They had all drunk what Atlas had given them, and by the time he pulled in at Chris’s building and got them inside in the air conditioning, she had already gotten more water out as well as more food.
“I believe they’re speaking Russian, but they could be from anywhere in that region,” Chris said as she did her best to reassure them that they were safe. He didn’t understand a word of what they were saying, but thankfulness was almost universal. The women sat together talking softly.
“What happen to us?” the young man asked, eyeing Evie warily as she sat next to his feet.
“We will find you a place to stay,” Chris said. “I’m trying to see if I can find a halfway house that can take them. We have a few who speak some of the Cyrillic languages. It could be Russian or maybe Georgian. I know of at least one place that can help them, but I don’t know if they have room.” She lowered her voice. “But they will only take the women.”
Atlas nodded slowly. He knew a lot of these shelters were for the victims of domestic violence, and a man in those placescould be disruptive for women who were trying to put the pieces of their lives back together.
“Do what you can,” Atlas told her and took a step back so he didn’t make everyone else more nervous. The women tended to eye him warily, while the young man stood between them and him like he was the guardian of their virtue. And maybe he was, in a way. They had all been packed in the back of a truck like cargo, and who knew what all of them had been through. Chris hurried away, and Atlas heard her talking on the phone. She made as number of calls and then returned.
“I found a place for the women. The home with a Russian speaker had four openings, but someone is leaving tomorrow, so the fifth room will be available, and I was able to give them dispensation for a night.” She seemed a little worn out and wired at the same time. “But I have no place for him.”
“They speak Russian and Georgian and I stay with them. Keep them safe,” he said, standing as tall and proud as a man a little over five feet could.
“They are going to a safe place for women only,” Chris said gently. “They will be fine and no one will hurt them. The woman who runs the shelter speaks Russian. She will try to help them.”
He sighed and relaxed slightly. “Okay. I sleep in park or wherever. I be okay. I be okay. You no worry.”
Atlas sat down and watched as Chris aided the women, and with the man’s help, she was able to get some basic information about each of them. Then she got them together and led them out to a van, where another woman drove them away.
“You can’t stay in the park or camp out somewhere,” Atlas said.
