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I shake my head. “I don’t know.”
We sit in silence for several minutes. The days of solitude have left me even more awkward than normal. I want to ask questions. I want to talk, but I can’t find the right words. I’m just about to blurt out the first thing that comes to mind when she finally breaks the silence.
“Where are you from?” she asks.
“Liberty,” I reply, hoping to hell I don’t have to elaborate on that.
“Liberty?” she questions, and my hope begins to sink. It is a small town; perhaps she’s just not familiar with that part of the state.
“Yeah, you know,” I begin, voice shaky. “Small town Ohio.”
She sucks in a deep breath. “I’m from Santa Fe.”
My stomach drops at her words. Despite my worry, I’ve been hoping I was wrong.
“New Mexico?”
She nods.
Oh God, we could be anywhere.
“Do you know any of the other girls?” I ask, hoping we can piece something together.
“No. After I was taken, I woke up in the back of a van. There were two other girls with me. One of them was asking a lot of questions and causing a stir. They killed her.” She hangs her head sadly. “The other girl isn’t here, from what I can tell.”
“They killed the girl that was previously in your cell too.”
The girl sucks in another breath and I realize I should’ve kept that information to myself. There was no need for her to know the horror I witnessed.
“We’re going to die, aren’t we?”
I want to lie to her. Tell her that we’re going to be all right. That we’ll get out of here alive. I can’t.
“I don’t know, but it’s not looking good for us,” I admit reluctantly.
Despite the earlier edge to the girl next door, she eventually breaks. Her weeping helps me to sleep.
* * *
One. Two. Three. Four. Five.
Craning my head, I count the number of girls I’m currently chained to.Five girls.At some point the two ghastly men dragged us each out of our cells one by one, chaining us together single file. My cell was the last one, so I’m at the back, able to take in the other girls in various stages of distress.
At the front of the line is a petite Asian girl with a short black stacked bob. Her head is held high, looking straight ahead. Behind her, a frail, mousy brown-haired girl is looking from side to side frantically. If I didn’t know better, I’d think she were searching for an escape.She won’t find one.
Chained to the mousy girl’s back is a willowy redhead who stands about six feet tall. Her head turns, and my eyes meet hers. I see fear in them that has to match my own.
Following her is a stout girl with a blond bob who shuffles along, periodically tripping over the chains that bind her feet. Directly in front of me is the Black girl from the cell next to mine. She doesn’t say a word, head hung in defeat. We’re being herded like cattle through a dark maze, the air thick with tension. The morose energy that each of us is emitting makes the feeling of doom intensify. I can imagine that all the girls have the same fear I do—we are being led to our death...or worse.
The concrete walls that surround us twist and turn in a never-ending labyrinth of connected hallways. No doors. No windows. Just empty grey walls that feel like they’re getting narrower by the minute.
“W-where are we going?” The mousy girl asks our captors.
“Quiet, girl,” Sarcos growls through his teeth.
“W-w-why us?” she continues.
“Stop talking,” the redheaded girl hisses.
