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He grabs a tumbler and fills it with an inch of water from the small sink before handing it to me. I drink the small amount so fast, but it’s not enough to ease my thirst.
“Do as you’re told.” Wade steps forward and roughly shoves the newspaper in my hand again. I place the tumbler on the floor beside me and look up at him. The camera snaps come quickly.
“Where are we?” I ask, not sure how long I’ve been unconscious, and trying to figure out how I can possibly escape.
We’re on a boat, in the ocean, headed to a small island. It’s all I know.
“The last place you’ll ever live.” Wade sneers, and a cruel light is in his eyes. “Make yourself at home, and don’t make trouble. Your guard’s only instruction is not to kill you. As long as you’re useful.”
My insides shudder, and I’m afraid I’ll be sick. The door opens again, and a tall man with white-blonde hair and dead blue eyes surveys me up and down.
“Zelda Wilder, Blix Ratcliffe.” Wade pushes me toward the man.
My head is still dizzy, and I have to grab the corner shelf to keep from falling. The edge digs into my hip, and I exhale a painful noise as tears burn my eyes. I will not cry. The last thing I will do is appear weak before these men.
Blix only turns and walks out into the hallway. I look in the direction he went then back to Wade Paxton.
“We have all we need for now,” he says, walking forward and pushing me out the door.
I stumble over the bottom lip, across the narrow hall, and the door slams shut in my face. I’m left standing in only the denim halter dress I put on… this morning? Yesterday? My espadrilles are gone, and only cheap rubber thongs are on my feet. My hair is matted, and my arms and legs are bare, except…
Looking down, my throat tightens, and I almost lose my battle with the tears. The tin ring is still on my finger. I lift my hand to look at it, and I see the purplish-green mark it’s already leaving on my skin. It’s the only reason they didn’t bother taking it, but they have no idea how much strength it gives me. With a shuddering breath, I hug my hand against my heart. Cal…
Blix is back, and his expression has gone from dead to livid. He grabs my upper arm in an iron grip and shoves me ahead of him in the walkway. “Stay with me,” he says, continuing on at a fast pace. I have to trot to keep up.
“No one told me what to do.” My voice is so dry, I sound like a forty-year-old smoker.
He stops so fast, I almost bump into him. “Don’t make me speak to you again.” His voice is very deep and his accent is clipped.
I don’t smile. I don’t nod or acknowledge his directive. He starts to walk, and I continue after him to the center of the boat and then down flight after flight of stairs until we’re at the bottom. I wait as he shows documentation to the men waiting at the exit. They look possibly Turkish, and I wonder how far we’ve traveled… or maybe it’s simply a foreign crew. It has to be the latter.
Outside, on the long pier, a white Jeep-truck hybrid is waiting. Blix shoves me toward the back, and I climb over the tailgate as he gets in the driver’s seat. He turns the ignition, and I barely have time to stumble forward and sit with my back against the cab before we’re moving.
The sun beats down on me strongly. It heats my skin, and I know I’ll burn quickly on this small island. I don’t have anything to pull over my shoulders. I look up and around. We pass a series of short buildings with tin roofs. They look like military housing, and they’re painted white with bright pink squares on the sides. I don’t know what it means, since I’m relatively sure there are no military personnel on this island.
I look in the opposite direction, back toward the beach, and I see a hollowed out gray structure. It’s an enormous, four-story barn of a building with rusted tin walls and a long gable roof. It’s completely deserted.
My head hurts from my injury and the sun is making me squint. I don’t want to lower my eyes. I need to see where they’re taking me, so I can try to run away. Only, I don’t see any people who I might convince to help me were I to escape.
Blix takes a sharp left turn and we drive further inland. The canopy of green on each side of the Jeep grows thicker the further we drive, and the despair twisting in my chest grows tighter.
We must still be in the Atlantic, but where? If only I could see a native, I might be able to signal to them or at least examine his or her clothes for signs of what country I’m in.
The truck bounces violently, and my head feels like it’s splitting in two. I splay my hands and feet out like a starfish trying to stay seated in an upright position.
Another sharp turn, and we’re out of the forest. We’re plunged into sunlight, and my breath catches. Blix pulls the Jeep up to park at a line of small, cinderblock buildings. They’re all painted white, and they have holes where windows and doors should be. Only, they have no glass or wood. They’re empty except for faded white curtains hanging over the spaces.
I hear the truck door slam, and a dark face appears in the window of one of the small buildings. It’s a woman with long, straight dark hair. Her brown eyes are round as she stares at me. I don’t move. I sit and stare back at her.
“Halo,” Blix says.
A male tenor voice replies. “Bon bini.”
“Mi tin un muhé a abo,” Blix replies.
“Bon, bon,” the man says.
I have no idea what language this is. I don’t move. I only sit in the bed of the truck, my eyes locked on the black ones staring back at me from the shack.
