Another fight happened inside Pistol, but it didn’t last long. It wouldn’t surprise her one bit if this guy’s head spun completely around.
“Always question. I answer. Walter son. He here. No fight him.”
That splashed cold water down her spine. “Walter doesn’t have a son.” Oh, God. She was talking to him like it was real.
“He has son. You see. No fight.”
Tonya was handcuffed in a glorified chicken coop. She wasn’t fighting anyone like this. “I don’t understand.”
“You do. He know you. We go over many time. Please.” He grabbed the cage with both hands. It was like two people fighting inside the same body. Just like Helen had done. He talked the same way Helen had the last time Tonya had seen her.
Mike and Helen were supposed to be the only people like that in the whole world. Maybe that’s who this was.
“Helen?”
Whatever Pistol was fighting grabbed him again.
“No. No can explain. I go now. Tonya. Promise. No fight. Promise?”
She was fine with reassuring possessed people if it made them go away. “I promise.”
Spasms shot through his body and he threw himself away from the cage. Pistol left, batting his arms around his head.
She didn’t have time to get too freaked out. Other guards brushed past him and found Spencer’s empty cell. Then they came for her.
The trick wasn’t to be brave and quiet. That would get her killed. She begged and cried while they beat her instead. It made the blows easier to take and taught her a lot about how they’d fight. She let the pain drain away into a place her faith had made unbreakable. Jesus had endured far worse. She had endured far worse.
Another kick landed, and Tonya wondered if the pain would carry over to the other side. Even if they killed her, it just meant she’d see Walter sooner than she'd planned. He knew how to give a grand massage, and she definitely needed it now. But Pistol’s request intruded, threatening her concentration.
Then it all stopped.
Everyone stepped away, and it got quiet. Footsteps marched up. Tonya dug her hands in the dirt and focused on breathing. Her ribs weren’t even cracked. Amateurs.
She looked up, and there was a younger version of Walter with the guards all standing around him. There was no mistaking the resemblance. He was too young to be a brother, and too old to be a cousin.
This was not happening.
Their eyes locked, and she clearly saw the hateful recognition. It all fell into place. Insane as it was, she believed whoever was controlling Pistol. This was Walter’s son, and he knew exactly who she was. If he knew her, Walter had never cut ties with them.
A human trafficker.
Tonya was a slave now. She’d sold herself to rescue Spencer. Sold herself.
Walter’s son owned her.
The man shouted Chinese, looking around through the smoke of campfires just starting to burn.
Halfway through a repeat, a woman somewhere shouted, “I speak English!”
She was two cages down, covered in even more filth than Tonya—a short, stocky Chinese woman with a face that would probably smile easily anywhere else.
It didn’t distract much from the bigger issue standing right in front of her. This was Walter’s son.
The larger camp went about the business of waking up. Little old men tended fires while a few scrawny dogs milled about.
Walter’s son spoke more Chinese to her.
“He wants to know where the boys went.”
There was no reason to hide the truth. “They left me last night. Ran off into the woods.”
More Chinese. The girl shouted, “Why didn’t they take you with them?”
“I’m worth money; they’re not. Chasing them is expensive, no profit in it.”
They all laughed. Walter’s son, she decided to call him Junior for lack of a better name, didn’t join in. Tonya saw the kick coming and relaxed into it. It didn’t wind her, but she still landed in a pile of shit. She didn’t see his next kick coming until too late. The stars blotted out her vision, and then everything just hurt.
They left her alone after that. She tried to scrape the filth out of her hair and was mostly successful. It made her sadder than it should’ve. They’d ruined a beautiful perm.
It didn’t matter. Pistol was right, and that hurt so much more than the beating. Tonya grew up with beatings. She had to turn them inside out and use them to build her strength, but it wouldn’t work this time. She didn’t know how to fight against it.
Walter’s son was a slaver. He recognized her. If he recognized her, then Walter had been in contact with him, probably up to the day he died. But it was worse than that. It had to be. People didn’t build giant tombs for a humble trash man whose boy done good. None of this was built in a day. No.
This was a family business.
So many strange things about her days with him became clear. Walter was a garbage man but owned a house large enough that she’d had what amounted to a private apartment inside. It also had a fully-equipped gym in the basement. Old men who spoke no English but obviously deferred to him would regularly drop by, sometimes to play cards, but other times for business he wouldn’t do in front of her. And he’d never taught her Chinese, even though she’d asked once or twice. He’d spent hours on the phone late at night, shouting angrily at someone.
And now she knew who that was.
In retrospect it seemed so obvious, so humiliatingly obvious. She’d grown up watching the women around her willfully ignore dangerous, fatal flaws in their men. Tonya had vowed to never be that kind of woman and then proceeded to wrap her life around someone who sold slaves.
She’d believed in him. When everything else had failed her, when she’d been fished out of a dumpster, all she had left was a strange, kind, Chinese man. But he hadn’t been kind at all to other people, not here.
He taught her how to be a Christian.
Tonya had never been betrayed before. She’d been too tough, too smart for that. Her only miscalculation had been a man that nearly killed her as a teenager, and there was no trust involved there, no relationship.
Tonya couldn’t collapse this easily. She was strong. She had so much strength that she gave it to others. It’s what nurses did.
But there was no strength for her. All those hours in church learning to lean on Jesus, to believe the gospels, accept the holy spirit, had been spent because a man who owned slaves told her to do it.
The guards came to herd them out of their cages, and she was too numb to even think about doing anything other than walk with the rest of them. The morning dew hadn’t burned off yet, so it couldn’t be much later than nine. She got next to her translator while the men shackled them behind ATVs. “I’m Tonya.”
“Michelle. We’re in a lot of trouble.”
“Tell me about it.”
Michelle was able to fill her in on the basics. They were captives of the Three Gorges Triad, gathered specifically for the South Asian sex trade that made places like Saigon and Phnom Penh so popular.
Fathers had sold maybe half the girls here to the gang, victims of the poverty still found in the far reaches of rural China, those other places the old women had talked about a few nights before.
A few were here of their own free will.
“It’s either that or starve,” Michelle said. “There are villages out there so poor that people can’t work during lean times because they’re too hungry.”
A guard shouted something that didn’t need translation. Shut up was a phrase that had more to do with emotion than vocabulary.
When he’d gone Tonya asked, “Where are they taking us?”
“We’ve been going downhill for ages now. I think we might be heading toward the river. I’ve read that people get moved in barges sometimes.”
Michelle had been a nurse working with a Doctors Without Borders group when she’d been swept up in a raid through one of the villages. Some of the headmen had been forced into
a quota system, and Michelle was an easy substitute for a daughter that otherwise didn’t exist.
The forced march went on through the long day. Junior – Michelle said his name was Chan – was everywhere, inspecting the lines, checking the guards; hell, he helped clear a tree that’d fallen over the trail.
Each time he came within range, he locked eyes with Tonya. He never stared at any of the other girls, never even gave them a glance. It wasn’t attraction. Tonya knew what that looked like. This was pure hate.
Walter had told him about her.
She had to stop worrying about things she couldn’t change. Ignore the thugs. Concentrate on the people around you. They’re the only ones who can help.
The girls were tough country stock and put up with the march stoically, trudging behind the four-wheelers. She collapsed into her pen when it was over. The guards put Melissa in the cage next to hers, so she didn’t have to shout translations from across the campsite. Chan and his goons came for her about an hour later. Rolling with the punches and kicks worked better than it would with actual fighters, but what they lacked in quality, they made up for in quantity and enthusiasm.
Eventually Chan got around to the questions.
“He wants to know what you’re doing out here.”
The son of a bitch could throw a punch. “I got lost,” she gasped. “I’m a tourist.”
Smack. The slap made her ears ring.
Michelle said, “Where are your papers?”
“Those got lost, too.” Probably burned up when Kim set the fancy lab on fire.
Chan yanked her close.
“I own you.” English, whispered and crude, but clear enough to understand.
She was a slave. His slave.
He spat on her and then left with his men.
Tonya prayed. On her knees, a slave in a pen, she prayed. It was all she had left, even if the man who’d taught her how had been evil.
Something flickered to life. The sense of other was very distinct. The weight that’d been crushing her shifted, just a little, and then it fell in a rush that left her gasping. No matter what happened next, it would be all right. Tonya suddenly knew it in her bones.
Feeling it and trusting it were two different things. But that was the point of faith. It was supposed to be challenging, testing, defying explanation or understanding. She only realized it'd been lost when it came back.
*
The guards delivered the evening slop an hour later. She gingerly settled in next to Michelle. If Tonya was going to do anything, it would all have to happen tonight, because by this time tomorrow Tonya would be probably be too sore to move. That was assuming the beatings would stop, which of course they wouldn’t. There was no way to know what Chan had in store for her later, but it wasn’t going to be anything good.
“Does anyone else speak English?” she asked quietly.
Michelle leaned close. “A few, but not well. None as good as me.”
It made plotting simpler now that she didn’t have to worry about anyone else overhearing. “How do I figure out where we are?”
Michelle shook her head. “Americans. You really think you can get out of here?”
“Honey, I am getting everyone who wants to go out of here, and then I’m finding my friends and getting my black ass out of China. Do you know how they navigate?” Tonya wasn’t Spencer. She knew streets, not forests. If she was getting anyone out, she at least needed a map.
“The truck’s GPS, I think. The ATVs follow that. Do you really think you can take on the entire camp by yourself?”
“If the Lord wills it.”
“How will you get your handcuffs off?”
Chinese knew how to cut to the chase. Assuming she didn’t get shot, it would be the super-sucky part of the plan. “I’ll need your help for that. Not now. Tonight.”
She would have to thank Kim, again, for being Kim. She’d taught Tonya how to watch for patterns, lines of power, who was in charge and what that meant, all hanging out in and around DC. There were a lot of guards here, but they liked walking on trails. Only a few men were really in charge, and they lorded it over everyone else. Tonya’d been around her fair share of gangs back in the day. She knew a bad crew when she saw it.
Tonya would not be angry. No. She knew her scripture. The anger of man does not work the righteousness of God. But this place was balanced on a knife edge, everyone hating everyone else. With luck and the Lord, she wouldn’t need to kill them.
Once the last of the servant boys finally went to bed, she scooted over to Michelle.
“You can’t make any noise,” Tonya whispered to her in the dark, facing her with her handcuffs against the wire. “You have to hold on really tight.”
Michelle nodded, eyes wide and white in the moonlight.
Tonya pushed her left thumb through the wire. The first time she pulled, Michelle lost her grip.
“Damn it, this is hard enough as it is. You have to hang on.”
She shook her head. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
This was no time to be squeamish, but it was also no time to shout at the only help she had. “Hey, settle down. I’ve done this before. It hurts, but I know how to do it. You just have to hold on.”
Michelle rubbed her hands across her pants a few times. Nurses were nurses. Grabbing and hanging on to people came with the territory.
“I’m ready.”
Tonya pulled again. This time her thumb gave way with a pop that could’ve woken the whole camp up. She wormed her hand free of the shackle before the numbness turned into pain.
“Hey,” Tonya whispered as her dislocated thumb started to burn, “a little help?”
Michelle nodded. “On three. One, two.”
Her thumb popped back into place with a sickening thunk. Tonya bit the inside of her cheek to keep from crying out.
“What the hell happened to three?”
“It works better if I surprise you.”
Tonya worked the joint carefully. Michelle was good at resetting them. Having another nurse on the team was more than she could’ve ever hoped for.
Tonya said, “Stay cool. I’ll be back soon. Don’t make any noise.”
The wind picked up, so she took the opportunity and sprinted toward the front wall, jumping Olympic-style over it and landing on her back.
Her thumb was really starting to throb. She could still make a fist, though. It would be awkward, but it wouldn’t slow her punches down. And Tonya would need to throw punches. She closed the free cuff over her right wrist and scuttled into the dark. It was time to ruin everyone else’s day.
The handcuffs were an issue. Tonya was alone, surrounded by slavers with guns. The slightest noise would get her killed. She tore strips off her shirt and wrapped them around the cuffs. When she was done, she shook her arm and only got a nearly silent clunk. Good enough.
Tonya needed to stay cool. She had all the time in the world now and intended to use it. People thought there was some sort of magic to moving quietly, but really it was down to relaxing and moving slowly.
Something growled, very close.
Tonya stopped and turned to her right. A set of golden eyes within arm’s reach were just as surprised as she was.
Realm therapies had finally broken traditional Chinese medicine’s need for exotic wildlife. Freed from poachers, predators had reclaimed their old territories, including this female cat. By the look of her chest and belly, she was still nursing cubs. She was as big as Tonya was, with spots on her pelt. Probably a leopard. They were much prettier this close, but Tonya had never wanted to be this close to a cat with a head as big as hers. The cat flexed her lips and showed very long teeth.
They were two predators slinking around in the dark, ready to take prey, but it was Tonya’s night, and the cat knew it. Her ears went flat and she rumbled loudly. This wasn’t a retreat. It was a professional courtesy. She vanished into the darkness.
Tonya had to very carefully let go of a breath she didn’t even kn
ow she was holding. It was okay to be scared now. She had to wait a few minutes for the shaking to stop.
Okay, maybe it was time to do a scan for animals. She realized the dogs had vanished; no wonder the guards had stew for dinner. An inconvenient mutt barking his stupid head off would no longer be a problem.
Now that Tonya knew their patrol patterns, the guards were easy to ambush as far away from the camp as possible. Luckily the first one’s knife was sharp. She cut strips of fabric from their clothes to make their bindings after that.
Their rifles were tougher to collect; the damned things were heavy, and the buckles on the straps clanked. She ended up with a nice stack of them, though.
She went back to the cage. It would be the last time if things kept going smoothly. “Michelle,” Tonya whispered.
She’d fallen dead asleep.
“Michelle!”
She snorted and rolled to face Tonya.
“Sorry to interrupt your nap,” she said in front of the open cage door. “We need to figure out a plan.”
*
Once the sky was light enough to see clearly, Tonya emptied an AK-74 into the sky. She tossed it aside and caught the new one Michelle threw at her while the rest of the camp tumbled awake.
Chan was first out of his tent; Tonya made sure to send a round right past his ear.
“Nobody moves!”
She really needed to learn more Chinese. What she caught of Michelle’s translation sounded way cooler.
There was no way the leaders were all in the same tent, or even where Tonya could see them. Sure enough, they weren’t. A man ran up behind her, not trying to sneak. She threw the rifle to Michelle just like they’d practiced, then spun and planted a kick behind his ear. He sailed straight into Chan, and the two men went down in a heap.
Michelle tossed the rifle back to her. Tonya racked a round into the chamber even though it wasn’t strictly necessary.
“Anyone else?”
The men shifted uncomfortably right as the women in the cages discovered the doors were all open. Their angry chatter rose up, and the men shifted a lot more.
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