Planet-H: The End of the Beginning

by J. T. Winterlord

  PLANET-H

  J.T. Winterlord

  The science fiction journey towards the truth

  Volume 1–The end of the beginning

  www.planet-h.org

  Literary rights reserved

  Copyright©2011-2014 by J.T. Winterlord

  All rights reserved

  No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner or method, electronic or manual, including photo–copying, registration, or any archiving system or data retrieval method without the express permission of the holder of the copyrights.

  Hi. I want to tell you my story.

  It’s an incredible story, it’s got nothing to do with kidnapping by aliens or suchlike but it’s still beyond anything you could ever imagine. But let’s go forward one step at a time, starting more or less with my twenty-sixth birthday.

  I was born in one of the many East European countries considered almost third world. It was the promise and the illusion of a decent job that brought me to this place.

  It’s the same old story, seen time and time again - instead of working as a waitress I found myself despite everything forced into prostitution. Instead of friends I found men and women interested only in making money out of my body. I have always been a rebellious soul, a lion inside a lamb. And the violence and segregation to which I was forced have not softened my nature, to the point that my clients were always complaining about my reluctance to play the game. My dear friend and protector Kurl had the brilliant idea oforganizing an auction in which I was offered for sale - a useless object, annoying and awkward but an object that can make quite a lot of money.

  It’s pointless to try to explain my state of mind because there are no words to cover it. No, there are none to convey what I felt - just listen to what happened to me.

  ----------------

  I found myself in the port area of an unfamiliar city, inside a container with seven other girls "for sale," all awaiting a buyer. Hungry, angry and afraid, my mind was still clouded by the sedative they gave me to keep me compliant and quiet. Chills ran through my muscles, making them visibly vibrate and tremble.

  That pig had dressed me only in a pair of black panties and a tight top. To be honest, had it not been for my absurd situation, I would have said I looked damn sexy.

  A dazzling white light from a halogen spotlight poorly anchored to the ceiling cast a blinding cone into the center of the iron prison. The atmosphere was chilling and surreal.

  "We must show the goods! Cheer up, come on ... don’t be so shy, move, let me see how good you are at wiggling your assets," grunted that grinning asshole Kurl.

  I was thinking the whole thing was of course just a bad dream - I was about to awake soon….. yes, one, two three! Wake up!

  But it wasn’t a dream and I had a hard time with the reality.

  Fear squashed me into a corner of the container while the other girls clung to each other. I heard one of them singing an unending ditty to herself, a mantra against the fear, all of them desperately looking for the power to react to a terrifying situation. The trepidation was so palpable it was like a ceaseless vibration that strikes to the soul and immobilizes mercilessly.

  A penetrating, grating noise came from the container door as it opened. Everyone present was transfixed. The harbour lights outlined on the ground the silhouettes of three men whose details could not yet be made out. Three dark lengthening shadows stretched towards us - the feeling that it was just a bad dream vanished instantly, as did any last glimmer of hope.

  They came into the light and I saw them better. I was able to distinguish two beefy black guys, powerful, each about six feet tall. Dressed in dark clothing, only their white shirts stood out. They were good replicas of the classic movie bodyguard.

  They moved silently forward before a slightly shorter figure dressed in a long brown hooded tunic. The face was semi-hidden, the gaze directed downwards. It was him! The buyer! This strange figure was followed by another three, all equally mysterious and muscular, each wearing dark glasses.

  “At night?”I wondered. All very strange, too scenographic. There was something untoward, almost film - like.

  The‘Buyer’moved silently among the girls, observing each for an instant before gazing downwards once more. His movements seemed furtive, excessively reserved.

  Kurl switched to slave-selling mode, the reason for him being there. He said,

  “This one is young, she works well. A real bargain at only fifty thousand.”He squeezed a breast.

  “Or take a look at this slut, a thirty two year old expert for fifteen thousand. You can try them if you want. My merchandise is the best there is on the market."

  “Shut it”whispered the hooded man. He turned towards the darkest and rustiest corner of the container. Exactly where I was. My spine was rigid with terror, my legs jellied to the point where I thought they would no longer keep me standing. As hard as I tried to swallow I managed only a strange sort of hiccup. I wanted to get away from this strange person and scream“No!”from the bottom of my lungs. But I was paralysed.

  “How much for this one?”whispered the hooded one. Without turning he gestured to me.

  I nearly passed out, maybe just for the sound of his voice or perhaps from having been chosen. I held my breath for what seemed an age, in the vain and foolish hope of perhaps expiring on the spot and not having to suffer a fate that was gradually becoming clearer.

  Kurl scratched his chin to take some time and then, skillful actor that he was, flashed his most slippery smile straight from the‘Dealer’s manual.’

  "Mmmm, I'd say you choose well mister Hood. This is my best girl, a rare pearl, a woman that will earn you a lot. I did not want to sell her, but business is business."

  I have always been told I am indeed a real beauty, one of those females that does not go unnoticed when you see me walking the pavement in a crowded city. You would not be able to say why; perhaps the light sinuous ballerina walk reminds you of a dancer up on her points or perhaps it was the dark curious eyes that captured everything around me. Long smooth dark hair framed the face, contrasting with pearl - like skin, the only feature that would remind you of my East European origins.

  But I digress. I could have throttled Kurl. He well knew that I had been beaten up several times by customers because of my lack of co-operation, and he knew even better that in the previous two months I had been the worst deal of his life. Customers only paid me out of pity because most of the time I simply wept.

  I was the reason for the auction. He had to rid himself of me and in the process pocket as much as possible. But strange thoughts were swirling around in my head. Why should I open my mouth and reveal to this strange hooded person that Kurl was lying? And who was that guy? Was he part of a cult?

  He is surely going to treat me as a slave for the rest of my life, so…. he might as well pay for it.

  "A hundred thousand may be enough to deprive me of the rarest jewel of my collection," said Kurl carelessly, while carefully watching the reaction of the buyer. With furtive glances he eyed the source of such a tempting deal without appearing to show interest in the unexpected sale. The pig was silently gloating–I even felt it myself, tucked away in the corner where I was hiding.

  “Not a cent more than twenty!” said the hooded man. I felt his eyes on me. If I had the courage to raise my glance I would certainly have encountered his.

  "Come on friend," said Kurl "You are not being serious! I mean, look at her! She’s a real beauty, high, firm breasts, young and provocative, "

  "Twenty thousand, not a penny more," repeated the buyer, this time turning abruptly toward Kurl with a tone so hard I felt the air chill.

  Kur
l became more serious,

  "Eighty is my last price. I don’t grant discounts my friend. Do you realize how much money you can pull in with a girl like that?"

  "Fine," said the buyer, "We're leaving, no deal. But first ... " he turned to the giant on his left, "Sammy, shoot him in the legs!"

  As if by magic, semi - automatics appeared in the hands of the two thugs. I almost passed out with surprise - where the hell did they come from? They’re going to kill everyone!

  The other girls were just as open-mouthed, the action was so swift that no one had time to make a sound. Kurl reacted.

  "Wait, I accept, I accept! Come on my friend, twenty thousand is more than enough ... tell your boys to put those weapons away, please, it was a joke," he whined. Kurl was really a dirty coward. I gave him a look so full of hatred it could have fallen like a blow to the neck. In fact he turned fearfully to look at me, either because of the weapons or my furious reaction. I said nothing, just carried on looking at him like a person you would enjoy seeing killed by lightning strike at that precise moment. And he felt my emotions. I saw him swallow with difficulty and his eyes lowered.

  The hooded man said,

  "Sammy, give him thirty thousand because he’s been reasonable and take her to the car."

  The buyer’s tone switched to that of someone who had achieved the purpose of his visit. It was calmer, still determined and inflexible, but more relaxed.

  I began breathing normally again as I realised I could expect to live a little longer.

  I walked away, hearing again that cold voice in a tone that brooked no indecision, of one who is accustomed to command. He said,

  "Never look for her. If you see her in the street change direction and pretend not to know her. Do not threaten her or any of her loved ones. Do you understand me well? Remember that if you do otherwise I will find you. I will not kill you but I will chop off hands, feet and testicles. Have I been clear enough?"

  I didn’t catch Kurl’s answer but given the cowardly bastard that he certainly was he must have vented a terrified whimper. He cruelly mistreated the girls, but he would always back off if someone stood up to him.

  THE JOURNEY

  Sammy took me not unkindly by the arm and accompanied me to the car. He opened the driver’s door and made a gesture towards the front seat.

  Strange, I thought. Really weird.

  I would have expected some jostling and cursing but that unexpected gentleness calmed me a little, although I could still have thrown up after the surging swirl of emotions and thoughts of the last minutes. I was shaking with terror, my back was criss-crossed by icy chills so strong that I seemed to have continual hiccupps. But the slight and sudden change of attitude towards me gave me a breather so I sat down on the car seat. I even managed to recline the seat slightly in an attempt to release some tension.I wondered exactly what the hell was happening, re-playing in my mind what had just happened, like a spectator of a tragic movie in slow motion.

  The hooded man slipped into the driving seat, I heard the door click shut and from the corner of my eye I saw him slip off the hood and cloak.

  So, the masked man shows his face. I turned towards him. I wanted to see the face of the man who had made the worst deal of his life.

  Kurl was most certainly laughing like a crazy man. Thirty thousand for the worst prostitute in history! Just that thought made me smile in my head. I wanted to catch the look of the driver and at the same time observe him, certain that I would have dropped my gaze as soon as he saw me looking. I stared - he could have been any age between thirty five and fifty. He didn’t seem especially old but there was a grizzled look to the hair which was thick, soft and rich. He didn’t seem such a bad guy.

  His smiling eyes struck me, in contrast with the hard and inflexible voice that I had heard in the container. What the hell does he want with me? My imagination was already projecting horrific scenes of torture and sexual violence.

  I met his eyes and as I had expected, I could not maintain the look. Shiny green eyes, a look that was deep, vibrant and safe. Full lips that hinted at a natural and constant smile. He didn’t seem to be the usual eager customer seeking adventure in the brothels. I read no malice in his eyes, but he certainlymade me uncomfortable.

  "Are you okay?" The tone was so quiet I shivered.

  "Yes ... yes," I replied trying to modulate my voice to hide the tremble.

  "We are leaving now. If you need anything during the trip ... well ... do not hesitate to let me know," he said looking me straight in the eyes.

  We drove away The vehicle was an SUV, dark grey and very comfortable. The seat was actually too comfortable. I began to feel that I could relax just a little after accumulating so much tension, although I also wanted to stay alert for any event.

  We took the ramp onto the freeway. I saw lights streaming quickly, some background music was vaguely familiar. The volume was low but I seemed to recognise Dire Straits; at least it wasn’t heavy metal so any thoughts of a dangerous satanic sect went out of my mind. A stupid thought - why should satanists only listen to metal music? It was dumb but any banal, reassuring contribution was welcome at that point.

  The lights of the city flowed past quickly - too quickly. I peered curiously at the odometer. 280kph seemed a bit excessive but who cares - I wasn’t at the wheel, it’s his license they’ll confiscate.

  The license issue didn’t seem to worry him particularly and we barreled along the fast lane hardly encountering any other vehicles. In less than two hours we came off the freeway, went through the exit toll and headed for the surrounding hills.

  I still couldn’t shake my fear but curiosity was also mounting. There was nobody in the back and I had imagined that at least Sammy and his buddy would serve as escort. So maybe there was a chance to escape?

  The roads grew narrower and we continued to head up into the hills. Twenty minutes later we went through a gate that opened automatically. The car moved along a small access road to the house. I heard the gravel crunching beneath the tyres and started to feel a rising panic. We had reached our destination.

  The house that was revealed was a gigantic villa, seemingly of no precise age, from a time when rich people’s dwellings were very generous in their spaces. The outside boasted an impressive central core accessed from two directions by a double staircase that appeared to embrace new arrivals. It was a building that breathed serenity.

  He turned off the engine and looked at me, preparing to get out.

  "We're here, out you get."

  The invitation was delivered in such a normal tone that I started to feel bad since I was aware that there was nothing at all normal in that situation. I wanted to vomit - the dazed confusion that had worn off during the journey began again to knock at the walls of my stomach. What was happening to me? Thoughts and questions were once more swirling around my mind.

  I had just been bought through the slave trade, I haven’t been treated badly and we have arrived at a house overlooking the side of a hill. Am I to be slaughtered at some sadistic gathering?

  I started to tremble once again, my mouth dried and again I felt my spine chilling.

  “Get out, you’ll be tired after such a hard day. Just relax, we’re at home.”

  With this he opened the door and with a gesture invited me to get out.

  I was feeling a breath-holding circus zombie as I walked toward the front door. He motioned for me to come in with a gentle wave of his hand, allowing me to cross the threshold first.

  A pink Liberty style lamp on a cabinet at the entrance was illuminating the room making it very hospitable. The dim light gave the impression that the inhabitants had gone to sleep but had left a light on for the guests.

  I managed to loosen the tension momentarily thinking that anything poised to occur would have been postponed to tomorrow given the late hour and the absence of guests.

  I was aware of the ghost of myself reflected in the mirror hanging next to the lamp. A pitiful state, sweaty, smelly
undoubtedly and with those hideous red toenails standing out like inappropriate drops of blood. That asshole Kurl used to say they attracted the customers.

  I removed my shoes. The high heels mademy feet an odd tangle of sore, scorched flesh. I felt the creaking of the old wooden floor beneath my feet as I walked across the carpet in the living room.

  My mysterious visitor was gone. For a moment I was alone. I checked for possible ways out. Escape! How was I to get away from that place? Damn! I didn’t know where I was and I was so tired I could just as easily pass out in any attempt to exit via the window.

  So I had to put any developing plans on hold. Let’s wait until daylight and re - assess the situation then….. goodbye friends, I’m out of here!

  That secret thought for a moment put me back into a better mood. But I soon heard footsteps approaching and tension grabbed me again in the stomach and intestines, leaving me feeling trapped. I was hungry, sleepy, and felt like crap and he was coming back. Well, it was after all his house and I was the intruder. Damn! Too many thoughts and too much confusion: Relax, relax, breathe deeply and remember that if nothing has happened to you so far then maybe there’s a chance you aren’t in the hands of a psychopath!"

  He sat on the red leather chair that seemed to be placed there in order to make guests wait while the hosts were informed of visitors.

  He motioned me to come closer. What the hell did he have in mind?