Knocking on the top and side, they’re a good wooden imitation, but not good enough. I walk off and suggest we get going, when out of one of the kegs comes a muffled knock.
“Jesus. Fecking. Christ.”
I slide straight into rescue mode. Ignoring his feeble explanation and his obvious distress, I search the edge of the keg for where the split is. As I run my finger over the seam, the knock from inside happens again, and then I’m the one with shaky hands. Closing my eyes, I take a couple of deep breaths, thinking, before I race out of the back of the truck and back to the cab, where I grab the keys. At the last minute, I detour to the space between the cabin and the truck, finding a small toolboxwelded in place. It’s a damn miracle a small, shitty tire lever and a wrench are inside, and I grab them both.
Walsh is exactly where I left him.
“Come and help. Someone is in here, Walsh.”
“We gotta go!” he yells, panicking.
I drop into a calmer, more professional persona but still make sure I’m the person he’s gotten to know, in case this, too, is an act. Or a test. “We’ve got to help whoever’s in here. We’ll figure out something after, but people are a bit different to moving alcohol. I won’t turn you in.”
It takes a couple of tries, and I need Walsh’s strength. We set the wrench and lever together so the both of us can press down. The top pops off, and a child’s scared face appears.
“Oh my god,” I whisper, reaching down for the small boy.
Behind me, Walsh is swearing up a storm under his breath. Going by his reactions alone, he wasn’t aware what he was moving, but I don’t have time to deal with him at the moment.
Holding the child as tight as I can, I fumble one handed with the other lids.
“Walsh!” I hiss, and he stops freaking out to help me pop the lids of the other two fake kegs.
A boy and a girl stare at us silently. Their shock and fear make them more like tiny statues than people.
“You’re okay. We’re safe,” I say, reaching down to touch them gently.
Walsh is back on the edge of the truck, appearing ready to bolt.
“Walsh, call your contact. Let them know we’ve got a flat tire.”
“What?”
“Yeah. We have to. I know some people who can take this lot, and then we’ll have to still meet whoever. Or they’ll know, and both you and me will be done for.”
Turning my back to him, I let him think over what I suggested while I set the boy down next to me. He has to be about five or six and looks fit as a fiddle and, surprisingly, he’s clean. He’s even dressed warmly.
Helping the other boy is a lot easier than helping the little girl. She’s gone into shock, and her arms and legs aren’t moving. I sit the three of them in the space where they can see me before I empty their kegs of their meagre belongings, trying to make it so they realize I’m not putting them back in there.
Walsh stands off to the side in a state of panic. I dig out my phone and risk my cover, but I’d do it over and over again to save these children.
Joe picks up after a few rings.
“Tally?”
“I need a hand. I’m in a right mess, but I’ve got three children I think are on your missing kids’ list. The local Garda are not people I want to call, and to complicate matters, I’m with someone.”
Joe’s straight down to business. He’s listening, but he’s also making calls to officers we can trust. I pick up each child, carrying them further away from the truck, to a makeshift rescue place, and I take my time wrapping them in blankets from inside the barrels and keeping them out of sight. I do it until the three of them are with me, safely away from the truck. It takes me a good ten minutes, since I refuse to rush around like a crazy person, making them even more scared.
Walsh has sunk to the ground, holding his head in his hands, allowing me to focus on rescuing children, as opposed to babysitting street-level criminals.
“I’ve got you tracked, Tally. I’ve got two cars coming in. They’ll stay back until the truck goes, but they’ll be in eyesight the whole time.”
“Right. How long?”
“A couple of more minutes. Ten, at tops.”
I sit down behind the children, touching them as best I can to confirm they’re safe. Tapping the first boy I freed to get his attention, I ask, “What’s your favorite movie?”
