Already knowing it’s futile to try to reach him out here where there are hardly any cell towers, I pull out my phone wishing I’d got one of the big ugly satellite phones he keeps around his office for his nefarious dealings.
“Dang.” Stuffing the phone in my back pocket, I rummage through my bag, pulling out a knit cap I use when it’s cold. Needing it more to keep critters out of my hair than anything else.
Taking to the woods, I keep my focus on the house ahead, making sure I stay hidden from anyone who happens to look outside.
I’m about fifty feet away when the same girl from the shop emerges from the house, looking straight in my direction and screams. “Run.”
A familiar-looking white man rushes her, knocking her to the ground.
I don’t wait despite the horror of watching Reverie fall to the ground in a boneless heap.
“Get that nosy little bitch,” he screeches as boys of varying ages and sizes pour from the house in pursuit of me. I don’t bother looking behind me but take off in the direction of my bike. I think about going out to the main road, but that would take time I don’t have, and there hasn’t been a soul coming in this direction since I’ve been hiding in the trees.
Nearly there, I cut through the trees, ignoring the stitch in my side, when a blur sideswipes me to the ground, knocking theair from my lungs. My head smacks the hard ground, and I see stars. A sandy-haired boy, who looks like he should be a lineman on the local high school football team, grabs my neck and starts to squeeze.
Black dots dance before my eyes when I hear someone out of breath say, “No, use this.” handing him a soaked cloth.
Leaning down over me as my vision clouds, I recognize James Fitch, Senator Mathias Shelby’s disgraced former opponent, looming over me, sweating like a red-faced pig.
The first sensation I feel is the pressing need to use the bathroom. My stomach cramps, and I wonder if it’s my period that’s due any moment or if they did something to me. Quickly, I take inventory of my body. I don’t feel any different other than the cramps.
Shifting, I feel a gush between my legs. Yes, definitely my period starting at the absolute worst fucking possible time.
“Dammit,” muttering as I sit-up only to clutch my head when it swims.
“Shhh, he’ll hear you.” Comes a voice out of the darkness.
Turning, I look into the bruised, worried face of Reverie.
“Are you okay?” I ask, dropping the register of my voice to a whisper.
“This?” Touching the nasty bruise on her cheek, she shrugs. “I’ve had worse.”
It takes one cursory look around and one sniff to know we are in a root cellar. I don’t have to ask if there’s a way out, because I’m sure if there were one, she’d have left by now.
“You’ve got people who care about you? Looking for you?” Hope lights her eyes in the cellar’s dimness when I nod. “My — um, boyfriend and my best friend’s brother. Some other people who have tattoos scheduled…” I trail off, thinking of my parents, who are waiting and hoping to hear from me. My throat tightens to the point of pain. I can barely breathe thinking about howselfish I was to make them wait, and now they probably will never know what happened to me. And Snake — ohmygoodness, just up and disappearing on him like that again has to be devastating.
“Hey, hey calm down. You’re going to pass out again.” Placing a steadying hand on my shoulder, she tries to comfort me.
Knocking her hand away, I hiss. “Why are you here, Reverie, or is that even your real name?”
Lurching back as if the protect herself from an attack, her mouth quirks with a little defeated lift. “Fitch told me to lure you here. He found out from folks gossiping at church that you saw Shasta’s tattoo and figured you’d remember one day where you saw others like it. He wanted to get rid of all loose ends. I told him you didn’t recognize it — and he was good. He believed me then he saw you on the CCTV sneaking through the woods.” She shrugs as she finishes, wincing a little. That’s when I notice her arm is dislocated.
“Did he do that?” I ask, nodding to the misshapen shoulder and arm hanging at an odd angle.
“Kinda, since he knows I have brittle bones. I’m supposed to be careful, but it’s hard with all the kids about.” Looking down, she plucks at the dress she’s wearing. “I’m really sorry. I was hoping you wouldn’t follow me.”
“It’s not your fault. There is only one person who is in the wrong, and that’s Fitch.” Rising, I see that is a window. Going over to it, I see the bars are new.
“What do you think he’s going to do to us?” I ask her, looking over my shoulder where she’s still sitting on the floor.
“You? Kill you if he can’t find anyone to buy you. Me? Leave me down here to starve for about five days until I learn my lesson. He won’t kill me, though. He has to have someone totake care of the kids he brings in.” She talks as if this is the most natural thing in the world.
“Why are you helping him?” I have to know.
Her lips tremble as she gives a little listless shrug. “I don’t have no one. They sold me to him when I was little. Said I was too much trouble with my bones breaking all the time.” A deep sigh rattles her frame. “He didn’t have no use for me, so he said I could cook, clean and take care of the children. Ease the burden for him and the Rev.”
“Reverend Nathaniel Simpson?” I watch her nod astounded.
