“Eli, this is what I need you for.” Her eyes are hard as stone. “You were right to yell at me the other day about the wedding. Beneath this stunning exterior, I’m a seething ball of rage and hate. You remind me what I’m fighting for. That’s why you’re the perfect person to take care of these girls.”
Right. Sure. Okay.I swallow down the panic. My brain starts to spin with ideas, lists, items we need to procure. This is what I do – I solve problems. This is the biggest problem I’ve ever been handed, but I can do this.
I have to do this.
I can’t save Casper and the other animals. I can’t save Claudia from her fate. But I can save these girls.
I drop the gun from my shoulder and step forward. The girls closest to me shy away. I kneel down, not wanting to tower over them. Some of them are so young. Too young. “Hi there. My name is Eli.”
Blank stares meet me.
“I know everything is scary right now, but I’m here to help you.” I know many of them won’t understand me, so I focus on keeping my voice calm and even. I open my palms, so they see I’m not carrying a weapon. “Does anyone speak English?”
Blank eyes stare back at me. I know many of them understand, but they’re too afraid to speak. A woman steps out of the crowd, her chin firm. “I do.”
“Will you be able to help me translate for those who don’t understand?”
“In Arabic, yes. But some of these women are from Southeast Asia and I don’t know their languages.”
“What’s your name?”
“Yara.” She doesn’t give a last name and I don’t ask for one. She deserves to keep some secrets.
I gesture for her to follow me to the edge of the arena. She’s young, close to our age, with a round chin and a cute turned-up nose and the most soulful eyes – the eyes of someone who’s been aged by cruelty. She speaks English with an Arabic accent, and her voice is like music.
“You do not need to pretend to me,” she says. “I know all about why we are here.”
I shake my head. “I don’t expect you to trust me, but I want to speak the truth. You’re victims of human trafficking. That woman up there,” I point to Claudia, “was supposed to deliver you to another man in this city. But she won’t do that. She wants you to be free.”
“You’re right.” Yara folds her arms. “I don’t believe it.”
“I understand. Words are cheap. What’s your most urgent need?”
“We haven’t eaten in three days. The water they gave us was rancid.” She points to one of the youngest girls. “She needs a doctor.”
Tiberius hovers behind us. I gesture for him to come over. Yara studies his scarred, misshapen face, but she doesn’t shrink away. After the horrors she’s experienced, Tiberius probably barely registers. I give him a list of supplies we’ll need, tell him to get it done as soon as possible, and send him away. Galen arrives a moment later, and I send him to tend to the small girl.
Someone brings chairs for us, and I gesture for Yara to sit. She tells me her story in a bored tone, as though she doesn’t believe it will make a difference, even as it moves me nearly to tears.
“I’m a refugee from Syria. I was an architecture student in Damascus, but now to most people, I’m little more than a vermin. I’ve been living in Greece, trying to get to the EU. Men came to our camp one day – friendly men with American accents. They gave us food, sat with the women, listened to our stories. They told me I could have a job as a secretary in America. I even took exams they gave me – typing and English language certifications. I had to pay a fee for my passage. But as soon as I boarded the ship I knew something was wrong. I was herded into the brig with hundreds of other women. Many of them have been drugged. We were given rotting food, little water. Three died on the journey here. The men come down into the hold only to beat us or to have their way with us.”
As Yara talks, I’m drawn into her story. That space between us shrinks to nothing as I see myself in her. She’s intelligent, observant, with a dry humor that’s infectious. She’s a girl I can imagine meeting at college. She’d join me and Claudia for after-class drinks. I see her arguing over quiz night answers and holding Claudia’s hair while she throws up after a wild frat party. Yara’s life should have been full of these moments – it should have been everything she dreamed.
Although we spend hours sitting on pillows in the arena, she never lets the kind smile drop from her face. She greets each woman by name and makes sure they’re comfortable. She pours water for them, wraps blankets around their filthy, shivering shoulders, knits her tiny fingers in theirs, and talks to them in her quiet, soothing voice. For those she can speak for, I interview them and learn their stories.
As each woman finishes her interview, we send them up to the old locomotive sheds. Many of the engine bays have been converted into private bedrooms for Antony’s guests to continue their cavorting, and Claudia and George lead the women to these beds so they can rest. The shower drains clog up from all the filth sloughed from the girls’ bodies. We find beds for everyone, and Tiberius returns with a huge stack of pizzas. The girls fall on the food like Tasmanian devils.
Claudia appears by my side as the sun peeks over the horizon. I’m so exhausted I can’t lift my neck. Nothing I’ve done feels like enough. The weight of the horrors these women have endured hangs around my neck like a noose.
Claudia’s eyes meet mine. She takes my hand. “Come home. I know exactly what you need.”
34
Claudia
As I lead Eli through the garage, Gabriel meets us in the hallway. He cocks an eyebrow at me as I pull Eli toward the basement steps. Noah hovers behind him, his eyes dark as he unclips the magazine from his gun.
“You can all come if you want.” I frown at Gabriel.
