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The farmer’shut is suffocating, filled with the mingling smell of fear and hope. As I navigate through the crowded shelter, I scan the faces of the rescued women and children. There, amidst the huddled figures, is the woman I remember from the cages. My gaze locks onto the matted curls that cascade around her shoulders, mirroring the fiery spirit that emanates from her very being.
There’s a fierce determination in her eyes, a spark that refuses to be extinguished by the darkness we endured. The memory of her defiant and strong gaze flashes in my mind, a stark contrast to the despair that consumes the others.
I’m drawn to her, compelled to uncover the source of her unbroken spirit. Heart pounding with a mix of curiosity and awe, I approach cautiously, aware of the strength and resilience she possesses. She saw Artemus drag me through the cells, and I can only imagine the thoughts that crossed her mind. But there’s a glimmer of recognition in her eyes, a recognition that surpasses mere acquaintance.
We share the same pain. The same trauma. The same indomitable will to survive.
Heart pounding with a mix of anticipation and relief, I make my way toward her. As I near her, I offer a tentative smile, hoping to bridge the gap between strangers who share a common enemy and those who may someday become friends. Her gaze meets mine, and there’s a flicker of curiosity mingled with caution.
She witnessed my connection to Artemus, his possession that both shielded me and condemned me. There’s an understanding that lingers unspoken between us. Taking a deep breath to steady myself, I extend a hand toward her, a warm smile on my face.
“Hi, I’m Barbi.”
What I want to say is:I don’t know your name, but I saw something in your eyes. Defiance. Strength. It stayed with me.But that’s not something a person says in a moment like this. All I know is I need to know who this woman is. How did she, out of all the others, maintain her defiance and her will amongst such despair?
The fiery-haired woman studies me for a moment, her gaze unwavering. There’s a cautious spark of recognition in her eyes as she absorbs my words. She hesitates for a brief moment before reaching out and shaking my hand firmly.
“Rebel.” Her voice carries a hint of defiance. “Call me Rebel.”
On a gut level, I know that’s not her real name.
“Rebel.” I lean in close, my curiosity piqued. “It suits you. How did you do it?”
“What do you mean?”
“How did you find the strength?” I gesture to the women around us, at their vacant stares and the disbelief their captivity truly is at an end.
A flicker of a smile plays on Rebel’s lips, and her eyes spark with a mix of defiance and determination. Her gaze lingers on mine, her eyes reflecting a mixture of pain and resilience. She hesitates, choosing her words carefully.
“I saw the fear in their eyes, the despair weighing them down.” Her voice is surprisingly steady. There’s more to this woman than she lets on. “Men have been victimizing women from the moment they weaned from their mother’s tits. I had a choice—succumb or fight. Like you, I chose to fight.”
“Like me?”
“Did I make a mistake? I saw the way that bastard paraded you in front of us. How he claimed you.” Her words resonate deeply within me, and I nod, acknowledging the weight of her experiences. I’m in awe of her words, the unwavering spirit that radiates from her being.
“He was using me to get to the Guardians.”
“Guardians?” A flicker of surprise passes through Rebel’s eyes, mingling with a renewed sense of strength. “Is that who…” She gestures to Alec and the others. “Are they military? FBI? CIA?”
“They’re…” How do I explain who the Guardians are? I decide to let Alec answer that weighted question. “Alec can explain better than me.” I cock my head, curious about something. “Why…How did you all get here?”
“Probably the same way you did. They herded us out of our cells, loaded us into vans, then we showed up here.”
“I’m glad they did, otherwise…” No need to finish that thought. They wouldn’t be free if Artemus hadn’t moved them.
As we stand there, a silent understanding passes between us. Though our stories may differ, we share a common thread of survival and strength. In Rebel, I see a resilient soul who weathered the storm and emerged with her spirit intact, but there’s something about Rebel that creates a dissonance within me. It’s as if I see only a part of who she is; what she wants me to see. Almost as if she’s hiding why she’s here. One thing’s certain. Her fiery presence fills me with a renewed sense of hope.
I turn my attention to Alec, Rafe, and Hayes. It’s incredible watching how they move as one. It’s as if every movement is a coordinated action. They maintain a protective stance around the rescued women and children, while scanning the surroundings for any signs of danger. It’s impressive to watch.
Then, the sound of an approaching helicopter fills the air. The distinct sound of rotor blades cutting through the air grows louder, drowning out the noise of the hushed cries and whimpers of the rescued women and children.
Relief washes over me, knowing our rescue is imminent. Alec glances at me, checking in. With a nod, I tell him I’m okay. He, along with Rafe and Hayes, head outside as the chopper comes into view.
Although beaten, battered, and bruised, Alec takes charge. He gestures to the women and children, ushering them toward the helicopter. He, along with Rafe and Hayes, help each of the rescues into the helicopter, ensuring each one finds a place to sit.
Rebel and I are the last to leave the safety of the hut. Like me, she hangs back, ensuring the others reach safety before herself.
Rafe and Hayes maintain their positions as Alec ducks his head inside and gestures for Rebel and me to move. A mixture of relief and determination fills his face. We’ve been through hell and back, and this entire ordeal is finally at an end. As Rebel runs to the helicopter, Alec wraps an arm around me as the last of the rescued women and children climb onboard.
