by T. H. Moore
“You might as well have. What do you think is going to happen to him now that his parents are dead? Killing him would’ve been more humane than leaving him there alone to waste away from thirst and starvation.”
Charles didn’t reply. He hadn’t actually thought about that, and he decided she was probably right. As an act of mercy, he should have cut the boy’s throat. His foot eased up on the accelerator as he considered turning around, then decided it wasn’t worth the risk. They had to get out of the area before some nosy neighbor saw them driving the couple’s car and called peace keepers. He pressed down on the accelerator, and the car picked up speed.
“You’re a maniac, Charles,” Elaina said. “How can you save me one moment and kill others the next? For such a smart man, your reasoning is handicapped. We could’ve taken the child with us instead of leaving him to perish.”
Charles remained silent as he concentrated on his driving.
“What’s the purpose?” she pressed, as though she actually wanted an answer. “Why would you do that, Charles? Why?”
Charles looked over at her with self-righteous contempt. “Why not?”
Chapter 29
FIFTEEN MINUTES OF SILENCE HAD passed since the vicious killing of the young couple. As Charles steered onto a narrow, metal bridge connecting to the smaller Channel Island, Elaina spoke.
“When we get off this continent, I wish to never lay eyes on you again,” she stated in a quiet voice as she gazed at the water flowing beneath the bridge.
To Charles, it was as if she didn’t exist now that they were into the last stretch of their trip. He’d reached his destination and was now scanning the coastline for one particular boat. With his neck perched like a crane, he scanned from side to side until his eyes stopped on a specific spot.
Charles made a quick turn onto a dirt and gravel path that led onto a modest dock, where ships of various sizes and names bounced to the ocean’s rhythm.
One vessel was much larger than all the others in the dock. An older man with a thick white beard, glasses, and a ragged captain’s hat was tending to the vessel. The sound of trampled gravel grabbed the captain’s attention. He shook his head, pointed to a sign stating the dock’s hours of operation, and flagged them away.
Charles ignored him and drove as close to the vessel as the dirt road allowed. The beautiful, pearl-white vessel bore the name The Egression, its bow standing two stories high with a twenty foot-long Katingalian flag.
The captain again shooed them away. As Charles stepped from the sedan and walked toward the ship, the captain took hold of a large wrench.
“Put the wrench down,” Charles said.
“Who the hell are you to give me orders?” the captain retorted. “Either both you and your lady friend are fucking illiterates, or you’re up to no good. Either way, I suggest you turn around and be on your way before I introduce you to the business end of this here wrench.”
“I tell you, Captain Bradshaw, if I weren’t such an understanding man, I’d kill you where you stand,” Charles threatened. “Then I’d toss your worthless body into the water and just take my boat as easily as it was given to you.”
He stood resolute, still brandishing the wrench, but hearing his name had taken some of the wind out of his sails. “Do I know you?”
“Yes, you do. I was hoping our meeting one another would have been much more constructive. Maybe a, ‘Thank you, Yäbälay’ for the new boat.” Charles smirked as he kept walking. “I’m sure business for you must’ve picked up since this dandy new vessel fell into your lap.”
“Did you say Yäbälay?” the captain asked, his face taking on a confused expression.
“I did,” Charles replied before revealing the abstract tattoo on his wrist.
The man stepped closer, studying Charles’s face. The wrench fell to the deck. “Yäbälay, I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize—”
“Quiet,” Charles cut in. “I’m sure, having never met face to face but now that you do know it would behoove you to escort my friend and I onto this vessel as soon as possible. We want off this continent.” His tone had gone from cordial to deadly serious. He looked back at the car where he had left Elaina and signaled for her to join them.
As Elaina approached, Charles could see the captain sizing her up as his demeanor grew softer.
“Yäbälay?” the captain whispered as he took a few steps closer. “Is she going down below with the rest of the shales?”
“She’s not to be touched,” Charles ordered. “And you will not mention the cargo to her.”
The captain cowered. “Yes, sir, of course.”
“Also, send a message ahead for Mr. Adi so he will be expecting us.”
“Yes, Yäbälay,” the captain responded.
“So this is how we get off Katingal?” Elaina asked, looking around and clearly impressed with what she saw.
“Yes,” Charles replied. “My boat, my captain.”
The captain relieved Elaina of her bags and scurried off to take them to the master’s cabin. Charles extended his open palm at the boat, inviting Elaina aboard. She paused as she stepped onto the platform that led to the boat’s deck.
“What about our KPPs?” Elaina asked. “What’s to stop peacekeepers from greeting us at the next dock?”
“Have I failed you yet, Elaina?” Charles questioned, leaving her to ponder his interrogative.
“Failed? No. Disgusted? Yes.”
“Your disgust is not important,” he replied, unmoved by the insult. “Soon, you’ll never have to lay eyes on me again.” He couldn’t tell whether the thought bothered her.
“And where is our destination?” she asked.
He smiled. “Indonesia.”
Chapter 30
LESS THAN AN HOUR LATER, Charles, Elaina, and Captain Bradshaw departed from the docks of Channel Island. Captain Bradshaw was at the helm of the vessel, accompanied by Charles, navigating through the Indian Ocean toward Indonesia.
Elaina continued sequestering herself from the two men. Charles watched as she found a place along the bow, clutching the railing and staring out at the sea as the sun descended into the darkness of the distant waters.
Since her bath in Darwin, she had let her hair out, allowing the wind to bounce off the water and whip through her long, golden mane. She threw her head back and closed her eyes, and Charles saw the water glistening on her cheeks. From this distance, he couldn’t tell whether it was salt spray or tears. The wind and salt water mist was like a baptism, he thought, but it would never absolve her of all the sins she had committed.
“That’s the loveliest criminal these old eyes have ever seen,” the captain observed, drawing Charles’s attention from the note he was scribbling on a small piece of paper he had found among the mess in the captain’s helm. “Where we’re headed, a woman like that is a rare commodity,” the captain concluded.
Charles chuckled as the captain’s choice of words reminded him of what the warden had said about women in K-City.
“Our so-called civilization is no different from Katingal,” Charles said quietly. “All of you just don’t realize how similar and interchangeable those worlds are.”
The captain nodded, though Charles knew he had no idea what Charles was talking about.
“I called ahead to Mr. Adi, as you requested,” the captain said. “I left a message with his assistant. Not sure how familiar you are with Banyuwangi, Indonesia but—”
“The Regency of Banyuwangi has an estimated population of one point six million, and is located at the easternmost end of the Indonesian island of Java.” Charles sighed without lifting his pen. “It serves as a ferry port between Java and Bali. It’s surrounded by mountains and forests to the west, and by sea to the east and south. The city of Banyuwangi is the administrative capital. The name ‘Banyuwangi’ is Japanese for ‘fragrance water.’”
> The captain was staring at him. “You memorize an encyclopedia?”
“Yes,” Charles replied with a serious face. “But that information came from a travel book, not an encyclopedia.”
The captain stared at him, mouth agape.
“So how long have you been working for Adi?” Charles asked.
The captain made a visible effort to collect himself. “Almost three years. I make his runs and drop off his cargo of shales to a few islands in Indonesia.”
“And how did you manage to accumulate a debt that usually would cost a man his life?”
The captain looked down at his hands. “On my old ship, there was a carbon dioxide leak, and I lost an entire transport of shales.”
“And you’re still alive?” Charles scoffed. “The Adi I’ve come to know was so understanding and would have had you chopped into fishing bate.” Charles said to the bitter man.
“I’m the only captain in Channel Island willing to do this type of work,” he admitted. “None of the others from my port are equipped to do what’s required in this profession.”
“Any reason you left a message instead of requesting to speak with Adi considering your special fugitive cargo?”
“Mr. Adi doesn’t speak directly to anyone anymore,” the captain explained, prompting Charles to pause from writing his note. “As of late, I’ve only communicated with his assistant.”
Charles frowned. “When did he start using this flunky as his middleman?”
“Not long ago. One or two months ago, maybe.”
Charles pondered that last bit of information for a few moments before returning to his note, jotting a few more words. When he was finished, he stole another glance at Elaina. The force of the winds blew the loose fabric of her stolen dress around her body, leaving little to the imagination. Just then, Charles squinted his eyes.
“You’re looking as if you’ve never seen her before,” the captain observed, watching him.
“It’s not Elaina I’m concerned with,” Charles said, folding the finished note into his pocket. “It’s the little girl staggering up from behind her that alarms me.”
Charles bolted out of the door, down a metal railing, and landed on the deck. One hundred feet ahead of him, Elaina was still captivated by the sea air, oblivious to the mystery girl behind her. With every step, he closed in on the wayward adolescent while Elaina rocked to the rhythm of the boat.
Then the girl made a whimpering sound, and Elaina whipped her head around to be greeted by the terror-ridden girl with auburn hair.
“Help—” the girl pleaded. Then her legs gave out and she collapsed to the deck just as Charles arrived. He took a mental inventory of her dirty, tangled hair, stained jeans, bare feet, and the small tattoo on her shoulder blade.
“Who is she, Charles?” Elaina asked while the filthy girl writhed on the floor and sobbed uncontrollably. “That tattoo is the same as yours,” She shot him an accusing glare as the significance of that hit her. “Did you know about this?”
Before Charles could reply, Elaina turned back to the young girl. The girl reached out for Elaina in desperation. The terror in her eyes was obvious as she continued to gasp and sob.
Captain Bradshaw came running toward them with a pistol in one hand and rope lassoed around his torso. “I’ll get her, Yäbälay,” the captain shouted.
“And you want me to trust you?” Elaina looked down at the young girl, and saw the terror in her eyes, the unkempt hair, the dirty clothes, and the abrasions around her ankles and wrists. They served as stark reminders for Elaina of what she, herself, had endured just a month ago.
She pulled the young girl up from the deck and held her close in defiance of Charles and the captain.
The captain rushed up to the girl, but Elaina took a stance that dared him to take one step closer.
“This is none of your concern,” the captain said as he reached to grab the girl. “Step aside.”
Elaina took hold of his arm, restrained him, and delivered a series of kicks to his ribs and face. The young redhead scampered away while the outmatched captain bore the brunt of Elaina’s attack.
“Yäbälay, please make her stop!” the captain yelled.
Without hesitation, Charles punched Elaina from the side, which knocked her into the steel railing of the boat.
“No!” the young girl cried as she watched Elaina crumble to the deck. She raged out of her mind, lunging at Charles, kicking and punching at him until he grabbed a handful of her auburn hair with one hand and smacked her across the face with the other, bloodying her nose and subduing her rage.
“Captain, come do your job.” Charles snarled, tossing her by the hair onto the deck.
“Of course, Yäbälay,” the captain acknowledged.
Elaina remained on the deck, unconscious.
“What about your curly-haired friend?” the captain asked. “She still not for sale? She’s not young like the others, but we can still get a couple thousand for her.”
“The next time you question a decision I’ve already made,” Charles said, glaring at him as if burning a hole through his soul, “you’ll find yourself at the bottom of this ocean.”
“Yes, sir, Yäbälay.” The captain offered a slight bow of submission. “ I’m sorry, sir.”
“When you’re finished with her, tie up my friend. We’ll keep her below deck with the others for now.”
Moments later, they were each carrying one of the restrained girls through narrow corridors to the back of the vessel, where the cargo was kept. Charles wrinkled his nose in distaste. The area smelled of perspiration, urine, and feces.
Charles walked by the metal dog kennels the captain used to hold the captives. He counted ten filthy juvenile girls restrained in chains in the cages. They were all petite, and looked particularly vulnerable from their fetal positions as they struggled to remain as comfortable as possible.
While the captain adjusted the redhead onto an old, dirty mattress, Charles walked over to inspect the rope from which the redhead had escaped.
“I figured the rope would keep her, but this bitch must be half rat,” the captain reasoned, gnashing his teeth to mimic a rat. “There’s much better profit in trafficking pussy than those damn fishing tours. Especially white women like these. The redhead is the prize of the bunch. She’s the youngest, a natural redhead, and a virgin. I’ll collect five to six grand, easy, for her alone.”
“Do you typically have them wallowing in their own filth?” Charles asked.
“Oh, of course not, Y-Y-Yäbälay,” he stuttered, suddenly realizing that Charles’s mood was not as jubilant as his own. “I was about to let them shower and clean themselves up just before you showed up.”
Charles stared into the captain’s eyes, and knew the dirty old bastard was lying. He had just finished restraining Elaina to the redhead when Charles noticed that the young girls were pretending to sleep. It was a tactic he had witnessed hundreds of times from captives who wished to avoid unwanted attention.
The tears in their shirts were evidence of the captain’s frequent visits. The prettiest of the group was balled up in a kennel, shirtless and shivering. Fresh bruises and welts laced her arms and back. Charles turned toward the entrance.
“Clean them up before we continue our trip,” he ordered. “The last thing you will do is deliver disgusting product to Adi.”
“Yes, Yäbälay,” the captain responded.
He unlocked the cage of the shirtless girl and pulled her through the opening by her bruised arm. She winced, but didn’t resist. As they reached the cargo hold entrance, Charles grabbed her by the other arm and placed her face-first against the wall, exposing the Duenno tattoo on her shoulder blade.
“Once these girls were daughters and nieces that belonged to their families, even if for a short span of time,” he said softly. “But the moment their bodies b
ore the ink of my mark, they became a shale of Duenno. So long as they bare my mark, you will ensure their quality.”
“Yes, Yäbälay,” the captain responded before he dragged the girl down the corridor to shower and clean her.
Chapter 31
WITHIN A FEW HOURS, THE florescent lights of the city of Banyuwangi were visible from the captain’s helm. Charles and the captain traveled the last few minutes in silence, sharing the tranquility of the night sky, a thermos of coffee, and a sandwich.
As they neared port, the captain drew back on the ship’s throttle and navigated the shallow dock.
Waiting on the wharf with a big smile was Adi, a balding, pot-bellied gentleman with glasses. Behind him stood two much larger men who seemed to be doing their best to look dangerous.
Charles left Captain Bradshaw and made his way down to greet the entourage. He waited as the vessel drifted closer to the wooden dock. Captain Bradshaw rushed to tie off the boat and lay out the long, metal plank.
Charles stepped off first and was greeted by Adi’s open handshake.
“It’s good seeing you again,” Adi said. His smile looked painted on. He made no effort to introduce the two larger men who stood behind him. Charles knew they were Adi’s bodyguards. “When I heard of your capture and exile, I wondered if I’d ever see you again.”
“Understandably so,” Charles reassured him. “But any person with a minimal amount of common sense knows the authorities will knock down the door of every criminal. The question is, will you be prepared when that day comes?”
“This is true. Luckily for you—”
“It was not luck, Adi,” Charles corrected. “Careful, proactive planning. I cannot afford to rely on luck.”
“That’s what I meant,” Adi responded, head bobbing.
“Is this one of the surgeons?” Charles questioned, directing his attention to the nervous individual who had come up to join them.
“Peace be unto you, sir,” the doctor greeted Charles, placing his right hand over his heart. “I’m Dr. Cavalcanti, your plastic surgeon.”
