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“My name is Molly.”
“Hi, Molly. I’m Janel. Do you know where we are?”
“In one of those things you see on the highway, but without the truck motor.”
“She means a shipping container,” a second voice added.
“Wait, there’s someone else here besides Molly?” she asked and was sickened when more than a dozen girls called out their names.
She learned that all of them had been taken from their homes, which were all over the States, and that the oldest was seventeen and the youngest was twelve.
“How long have I been here?” she asked.
Anne, the oldest, spoke up. “Not too long. Maybe a day. We have no way of telling time. I think I’ve been here about a week.”
“How long have you all been in here?”
“Debbie has been here the longest. Probably a week and a half, maybe more. There’s a bucket in the corner for when you have to go to the bathroom, but it’s disgusting. Holding your nose helps.”
“And a man brings us food. Not every day, but we’ve learned to make whatever he brings last. I have half a slice of bread left if you’re hungry.”
After throwing up what little she did have in her stomach, she wasn’t about to take the few crumbs these children had from them. “No, I’m not hungry.”
“Did they beat you up before they brought you here?” Angela asked.
Janel searched her memory, but came up blank after being at Dozer’s truck and pain in the back of her head. “I don’t know. Why do you ask?”
“We saw your face when they brought you in. It looked like you were in a fight.”
Gently, she touched her face. She flinched when she touched her nose. It was swollen and her eyes were as well and tender to the touch. She didn’t remember anyone punching her in the face, but it could have happened. More likely she landed on her face when she fell. Who had hit her from behind?
“It’s really dark in here. Couldn’t they have left a light?”
“Your eyes get used to it after a while,” another soft voice said. Shelly, maybe?
All Janel saw was claustrophobic darkness closing in around her. Is this the way she would die? Would she ever see her family again?
Dozer.
She closed her eyes and tears stung as they fell. He would blame himself. She had a feeling her immediate future wouldn’t be death, but she’d wish it were. For the first time, she was scared.
No. She refused to give up and fall into the evil person’s agenda for herself or for the young girls with her. She didn’t know how, but she was going to fight with everything she had to get them out of here alive.
Her sister Shayla had suffered for weeks at the hands of her tormenters. Janel was made from the same strong stock that didn’t give up. Her mother had even escaped the palace and saved them all from a malicious takeover of the crown.
Her capturer had misjudged her will to live.
“When was the last time they brought you food?” she asked, starting with basic intel.
“When they carried you in here. There were two men this time.”
That would mean they were due for another food delivery. “So they should be coming soon, you think?” The next thing she needed to do was know her surroundings.
“Maybe. We never know. What are you doing?”
Janel inched to her feet, and with her hands felt her way around the rectangular box searching for something. What, she didn’t know. A weakness. A weapon. If she only had enough light to see, it would have made the task easier. But escaping wasn’t supposed to be easy.
After what seemed like hours of searching the steel walls, her fingers sore and bleeding, she lowered herself back to the blanket on the floor. The fighting spirit was still strong in her soul, but she needed to use her brain and admit there was no way to escape the metal box.
