Abducted

by Tikiri

  “Why are you always in a rush, Bibi? Relax, will you?” the redhead said, but a flicker in her eyes made me wonder if she feared the other woman.

  The redhead turned to me with a curious look in her eyes. “Hey, are you American?”

  “Canadian,” I said.

  She gave me a blank look.

  “Tell me,” I said, looking at her and ignoring the impatient robed woman beside us. “Do you know a businessman called Dick from Toronto?”

  The redhead shook her head.

  “What about Jose from Detroit? Ever heard of that name?”

  “No. Why I should know these people?”

  “Because I think they kidnapped my friend.”

  The redhead laughed. I looked at her in shock. How can she laugh about something so serious?

  Then, a worried look came over her face. “Wait a minute. This friend of yours. Am I going to have competition?”

  Competition? I felt sick to my stomach thinking of where Katy might have ended up. “No!” I shook my head. “Of course not! I lost her at the airport. She’s supposed to come with me to India. Not here!”

  “Come!” The robed woman had had enough. She tugged at the redhead’s elbow and motioned her to come with her. The redhead didn’t budge.

  “Hey, Bibi. I said friggin’ relax, will you?”

  “No time!” The robe had become more animated now. “No time. Come! Now!”

  I couldn’t see the woman’s face, but I could feel a mix of fear and anger emanating from underneath that cloth.

  The woman grabbed the redhead by the elbow again. With a curse, the redhead pushed the woman’s hand away, and sashayed up the stairs like she was born in those stilettos. She banged the door open and disappeared inside.

  The robed woman was still standing in front of me. I didn’t know what to say. Without a warning and with a quick twist of her wrist, the woman slid off her face veil.

  I gasped.

  It was a strange face that looked back at me, one with beautiful full lips and dark eyes rimmed with long eyelashes, but the entire left side was a grotesque pink scar, like her skin had been scalded by boiling water. I looked at her in horror.

  “Wha…are you ok?” I barely managed to whisper.

  “Same thing will happen if you ask too many questions,” she whispered hoarsely.

  Without another word, she pulled down her veil, scurried up the steps, and walked inside the doorway. The door slammed shut.

  Chapter Eleven

  It took a while to shake myself out of my stupor. I stood in front of the door wondering if I was in the middle of a crazy nightmare. I pinched my left arm. No, I felt that. I was fully awake.

  The sound of a car’s honk made me look up.

  A black cab was inching its way through a narrow alleyway on the side of the square, a path made to fit a medieval horse, not a modern-day car. A troupe of young boys who’d been playing football at that end picked up their ball and moved to let the car pass.

  This cab was just like the one that took Katy from the airport. My heart beat faster. I quickly stepped to the side of the building and flattened myself against the brick wall. Next to my head was a small window. I crouched below it as much as possible and peeked around the corner, hoping to see Katy soon.

  From my hiding spot, I saw the car stop twenty feet from the house. The back door opened and out stepped a beautiful Chinese girl in super-high black heels and a micro-skirt that barely covered anything. She looked fourteen at most. A tattoo of Chinese characters circled its way up her slender thighs. Her hair was cut in a sharp bob style and her lips were smeared with the same blood-red lipstick as the redhead had worn.

  She stood next to the opened cab door for a second as if uncertain of her surroundings. Then, wobbling in those heels like a newly born doe, she took her first step.

  A man jumped out of the cab from behind her and grabbed her by the elbow. He was tall and thin and wore a black suit. I gasped out loud. He looked exactly like the man who’d pulled Katy from the airport. He wore the same badly fitted black suit. He had the same heavy beard that made it look like he was hiding something.

  The girl stepped over the cobble stones, swaying dangerously. The man steered her roughly toward the door, the same door the redhead and the robed woman had walked into, moments earlier. Neither the girl nor the man noticed me.

  The cab pulled away in reverse. The man and the girl were now at the top of the stairs. That was when I noticed a change in the girl’s behavior. One second she was barely holding up. The next second, her body straightened as if she’d just woken up, as if she’d just realized where she was.

  She stopped and turned back toward the square. A strange look crossed her face, like her mind cleared for a second. In that instant, the man grabbed her arm to push her inside. She snapped him away and took a step down. The man’s face turned red. The girl took another step down, but it was too late.

  The man whipped out his hand and walloped her on the head, making her swing back and crumble to her knees. She grabbed on to the railing but didn’t manage to hang on. I watched in horror as she tumbled down the concrete steps like a broken doll. My hands flew to my mouth to stifle a scream. Oh my god.

  The man bolted down the steps. I covered my eyes. I can’t see this. I can’t see this. I forced my hands away to see him raise his foot and kick her. Once. Twice. And something in me snapped.

  “Stop!” I screeched. I ran out of my hiding spot screaming at the top of my lungs. “Stop that! You’re gonna kill her!” I waved my arms like mad. “Help! Police! Stop this! I said stop it!”

  The man jumped back, startled. I wasn’t sure if it was the sudden sight of someone, anyone, dashing out, or if it was someone yelling in English, calling for the police no less, but that did it. He bolted up the steps and slammed the door shut.

  I looked at the girl lying motionless on the dusty ground. I fell to my knees and bent down.

  “Hey, are you okay?”

  It was a pretty, petite face I was looking at. Her eyes were half-closed, but she was alive. Her chest was heaving. Her fingers groped at the air, as if looking for something to hold on to. I gently put my hand in hers. She squeezed mine tightly.

  “You’ll be fine. Stay with me, okay?”

  She blinked. Her eyes looked glassy, like she wasn’t fully there. I knelt all the way down and put my face close to hers. “I’m here to help you.” I whispered to avoid frightening her any more than she already was. She gave me a vacant look and lowered her head back on the ground.

  There was no one else in the square except for the kids playing a hundred feet away. They weren’t paying attention or looking even slightly disturbed by what had happened. It was like they’d seen this sort of thing before. I looked around the ancient square with its ugly signs, its broken-down shops and even more broken-down people. Doesn’t anyone care?

  “Arrrgh—.”

  The girl was trying to get up. She pulled in her legs, grimacing in pain. I reached out and touched her shoulder. She didn’t pull back. “Take it easy now,” I said, as I helped her sit up. I felt her lean against me.

  “Can you breathe okay?”

  The girl nodded her head slowly.

  Thank goodness, she understands.

  I looked around and remembered my bag. I had two T-shirts and a bottle of water in there. I got up and ran to pick up my bag. I took the water bottle out, pulled off the cap, and handed it to her. I had to hold it as she drank, because her hands were trembling too much. She chugged it down like she’d not had a drink of water all day.

  “You’ll be fine. You’ll be just fine,” I said, as she was drinking. “We’ll get help for you soon. I’m going to call an ambulance and they’ll take care of you.”

  She pushed the bottle away and gave me a wild look. “No!” Her voice was hoarse.

  I looked at her, puzzled. “Your ankle may be broken. You’re bleeding. Plus, we need to call the police.”

  She reached for my shoulde
r and tried to say something. I leaned in. Her hand tightened on me.

  “No, no police,” she whispered.

  “But, but…,” I didn’t know what to say. I stared at her. She motioned for more water. I handed the nearly empty bottle back to her.

  “Thanks,” she said, when she was done.

  She closed her eyes. I sat next to her, listening to her laborious breathing. We sat at the bottom of the steps like this for several minutes in silence. I didn’t know what to think or do. I needed to find Katy, but I couldn’t leave this battered young girl by herself either.

  “I’m Asha,” I said.

  She opened her eyes and gave me a blank look.

  “My name is Asha,” I repeated. “What’s yours?”

  She pointed at her chest.

  I nodded.

  “Win.”

  “What are you doing here, Win?”

  Her eyes looked into the distance but she didn’t say anything.

  “I saw what happened to you,” I said. “He hit you. He kicked you. We have to do something about it. This is serious.”

  “Nothing,” she whispered, her eyes still closed.

  “Nothing?”

  A small shrug. Then, as if she’d remembered something, she opened her eyes and looked up at the door. She put a hand on my shoulder to steady herself, and holding on to me and the wall, got up painfully.

  “Hey, where are you going?”

  With one hand on the rail, she started to climb the stairs, dragging one foot behind her.

  “Win!” I whispered as loudly as I dared. “You can’t go back in there!”

  “Shhh—” She turned and put her finger to her lips.

  “But, that man. He’s in there—”

  She continued her walk up, with that twisted foot dragging over each step.

  “Win!” I watched her helplessly. “Don’t go in!”

  She was at the top of the steps now. I vaulted up and landed next to her just before she pulled on the doorknob.

  “Listen to me. Please. We need to tell the police what happened.”

  She opened the door, limped inside, and turned to me, while I stared at her desperately.

  “It’s okay,” she said in a slight sing-song accent, “This is my home.”

  Before I knew it, the door shut behind her, and I heard the click of a key from the other side.

  Chapter Twelve

  The morning breeze had turned into a blustery wind, blowing leaves all over the square and strands of hair across my face.

  I swept my hair back and looked up to the sky. Gray clouds were gathering above. A flash of lightning streaked the sky from afar. I could smell the rain coming.

  The wind picked up newspaper shreds and empty plastic bags and swirled them across the square. The neon lights on top of the shops flashed on and off, buzzing intermittently, like they knew a storm was on its way. No one was standing in the square chatting or smoking next to doorways anymore. The place was empty. Even strip joints had to get ready for a thunderstorm.

  I stepped up to the battered door where everyone had disappeared through and rattled the ancient knob. The door may have been old, but the deadbolt was surely new and secure.

  I surveyed the building and its facade of dirty brown brick. There weren’t any windows on the first floor on this side of the house. There were two on the second floor covered by dark curtains, but they were high and barred like jail cells. My eyes wandered farther up. And I almost screamed.

  On the third floor, tied to a black metal bar of a window, Katy’s red scarf fluttered in the wind. I stared at it open-mouthed. This time, it wasn’t mocking me. It was calling out to me.

  “Katy!” I heard myself whisper. For a moment, I felt faint. I leaned against the railing to steady myself and swallowed hard. Katy’s here. Oh my god, Katy’s here.

  I felt my breath come fast and shallow. I looked up again. The window was too high for me to climb, or throw anything, even a stone. How to get her attention? Think girl, think!

  I stepped down the steps and walked around the corner to where I’d hidden earlier. There. I thought I’d noticed a window under the shadows of the awning. I walked up to it, my heart beating fast now. Like the rest of the building, this window was in need of repair. From where I stood, I could see a solitary black bar across the window and a ledge large enough to fit a pixie. The curtains were drawn and it was hard to see what or who was inside.

  I glanced around to see if anyone was watching me, but there was not a soul outside. Up above, the sky looked heavier, darker and closer to the ground. I could hear the thunderclaps rolling closer. I peered at the window. If I used my bag as a footstool and pulled myself up using the iron bar, I’d be able to get on the ledge.

  With another quick look around, I placed my bag carefully at the foot of the wall, right under the window, and stepped on it. It gave me five inches of extra height. Getting on my tiptoes and using all the strength I could muster, I hooked my hands around the iron bar and pulled up onto the tiny ledge. For once, my small size worked to my advantage.

  I leaned against the sill, so as to not fall out, and inspected the window. I noticed a latch at the bottom. With one hand holding on to the rusty bar for stability, I reached with my other and pulled the latch. To my surprise, it clicked open. This window must have been centuries old and may never have been locked. Or maybe, it had been unlocked recently by someone trying to get in. Or out.

  I pushed the window. It slid open an inch. I tried it again, throwing all my weight against it. This time, the window slid open all the way, but the iron bar gave way. I gave a small cry before coming down with a resounding crash inside the house.

  Oh, no!

  I reeled from the pain of the fall, but looked up quickly and braced myself, imagining the bearded man come roaring in. I could see him trying to kick me senseless, like he was about to do to that girl outside. But no one came. It took me a moment to orient myself. I’d fallen onto something rough but not too hard. I felt around me, trying to figure out where I was. Is it a rug? A large sack?

  I bent down and felt my arms and legs to make sure nothing was broken. I rotated my ankles and wrists in slow circles. What hurt most was my head. It was throbbing on all sides. I sat still for several minutes to compose myself.

  The sound of a door opening made me freeze. Someone was on the other side of the room. I heard the sound of dishes and cutlery being picked up. Then, a chair being scraped back and noises of a spoon or a fork tinging on a plate. I waited, listening, not daring to breathe. My eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness. It wasn’t as pitch black as I’d thought at first. A faint yellow light came in from a streetlight outside, giving an eerie glow to the room.

  I peered around me. This wasn’t a room as much as a storage closet. There was a narrow wooden door ten feet from me, and on the other side of this door, someone was sitting and eating.

  Along the walls of this room were sacks stacked on top of each other. There was a shelf in a corner, filled with tin cans and small plastic packets of flour, or something that looked like flour. It smelled musty in here, like a rice cellar, but with a trace of a chemical stink. At my feet was the rusty iron bar from the window, which had fallen down with me. I reached down and picked it up.

  Near the shelf in the corner was a lone wooden chair. Draped casually over this was a black cloth, like a cloak or a super-sized towel. It took me a few seconds to realize it was the midnight-black robe of the woman I’d seen in the square.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “You took my cake?”

  This came so loudly, that for one frightening second, I thought someone was inside the storage room with me. It was a man’s voice speaking in English. His voice was rough and guttural, with an accent from somewhere in the Middle East, like the woman in the black robe.

  I tiptoed over to the middle of the room, making sure my anklet didn’t jingle, and crouched between the chair and the shelf. It was the only place to hide if anyone walked in, no
t that I’d stay hidden for long behind that flimsy piece of furniture.

  “Leave me alone, man. I’m hungry.” It was the voice of another man, high-pitched. I imagined a tall and skinny man, with a taut face. “I work all day. What you do?” His accent sounded like the redhead’s, from Eastern Europe or thereabouts.

  “Me?” The first man sounded astonished. “What I do today?”

  “Ya, you.” The Eastern European man sounded amused.

  “Who did important work today? Huh?” The first man sounded indignant. “Tell me that?”

  “C’mon, picking new girls super easy,” the second man said.

  New girls? I sat up.

  “Who went all way cross town, huh?” The first man asked. That was when I noticed how slurred his voice was. “Who risk life, huh? If police saw, I finished now. Cameras everywhere at airport. You t’ink I not work today? And now you took my fucking cake.”

  Airport? He’s talking about Katy!

  “Calm the fuck down, man. Look, more cake in fridge. Anyway, it’s you who’s working for American,” the other man said. “This shit is dangerous.”

  American? Does he mean Jose?

  “Bizness with American is good money. I hate their guts, I tell you, but they good for bizness. You got no head, Vlad. We lucky to get dat call.”

  I heard a fridge door open and slam shut.

  “Lucky?” the other man, Vlad, sniffed. “Jeez, you believe any shit.”

  “He pay good money. Very good money.”

  “For two girls,” the second man said. “He won’t pay till you find second. Just see how much luck you have then. Haha!”

  I felt the hair on my neck stand on end.

  “You better appreciate I found one girl,” the first man growled. “Second girl not interesting. Red hairs make lot more money than darkies.”

  A cold shiver ran through me.

  “That redhead’s enough trouble, I tell ya,” Vlad said. “Why you agree to pick this old hag?”