Redemption Lost

by Cindy M. Hogan

  “We need to determine the farthest point she could end up in a week and start narrowing that down with information we find over the next few days,” Ace said. “We don’t know if she’s being shipped by car, boat, or plane. Considering the number of girls, I’d venture a guess that boat or vehicle are our winners.”

  Jeremy suddenly chimed in. “We have the full support of Division, including all the man hours we need. We have the crew and support, now all we need is luck.”

  Chapter 16

  CHRISTY

  Christy woke to complete and total blackness. She was lying on a metal floor. Her hands flew out, searching for anything to orient her. They grasped only at air and the metal underneath her. She sat up and blinked, over and over again, trying to see. Her heart pounded in her chest. The blackness pressed down on her. There was nothing around her, but she heard breathing.

  “Who’s there?” she called. The smell of sweat, food, bodies, and something sharp like urine hit her nose.

  “Shhh!” a girl’s voice called. “Be quiet. They’ll hear you and then they’ll beat you.” The insistent hiss in her voice told Christy she spoke the truth.

  She felt around her, her hands slipping over the bumpy floor. “Wait. I don’t understand. Who are you? Where are we?” Sounds of metal creaking filled the air, covering up what she now knew to be several people breathing.

  “I’m Denise. You’re in hell.”

  Someone whimpered and another shifted, perhaps rolling over. Christy realized her breathing was shallow, fast, and she took a deep breath, trying to gain control. Finally, she said, “I need you to be more specific than that.” While she had someone speaking to her, she wanted to get as much as possible out of her.

  “You’ve been snatched and we’re all in a container. One of those you see on the back of trucks carrying goods to stores. We are the goods in this container.” She took a sharp breath in. It was the first sign of weakness Christy heard in the girl.

  A rock plunged into her stomach. A shipping container. She’d been locked in a shipping container once before when on a mission in New York and it had been terrible enough, and there at least they’d given her and the other captives some light. “How many of us are there?”

  “With you, and the other new girl, there’s thirty of us.”

  “Is the other new girl named Carrie?”

  “Yes. How did you know? She only got here a little while ago.”

  “She’s my friend. Where is she?”

  “She’s probably asleep. There are drugs in the food and water. It makes you sleep and feel funny. I only eat when I’m starving, and I’m ready to sleep anyway.”

  “Have you been here a long time?” A shiver snaked down Christy’s spine.

  “I was the first. I’ve met every girl as they’ve come in.”

  How had this happened? She was supposed to save Carrie, not end up imprisoned with her. “Who has us?”

  “Some guys. Some really bad guys.” Despair echoed in Denise’s voice.

  “What were you doing when you got snatched?”

  “I was living on the streets. I ran away from home, thought my parents were jerks. What I wouldn’t give to be back home now.” Christy wanted to reach out and hug her, but there was something in Denise’s voice that told her she wouldn’t appreciate that. If she was living on the streets for any length of time, she was most likely against such a show of affection from someone she didn’t know. Maybe over time she would get to trust Christy and they could work together to escape.

  Her head ached and she felt dizzy, even sick to her stomach. “I feel sick.”

  “It’s the drugs. If you don’t eat or drink anything, it will go away.”

  Her struggle with the senator and Mitch and the other guard was an ever present reminder of who put her here and how. She was drugged. He now had the upper hand. Who was she kidding? He’d always had the upper hand. She remembered Red Hook port in New York and being put into a container. There was no way out of these things. “Are we on the dock or a pier or in some container yard?”

  “I don’t know for sure, but I think we’re on a ship now.”

  “What makes you think that?”

  “It felt like the container was lifted in the air, like we were swinging, and then we hit hard into something. I bounced a couple of feet in to the air. Everyone in here is probably nice and bruised up. I know I am.”

  “How long have I been in here?” She tried to keep her voice even and not show fear.

  “I don’t know for sure, but at least a full day. I have no way of telling time. When they put you in here, it was dark. You were the last one in before they loaded us onto the ship.”

  Christy’s stomach grumbled, but she wasn’t ready to eat drugged food. As if she heard it, Denise said, “The food is in the corner behind me and the bathroom buckets are in the opposite corner. Just be quick about it.” One more reason not to eat.

  Christy had to wait almost a half hour in the complete darkness to find Carrie. It seeped into her pores and poked at her sanity. Each moment moved the walls closer in and took a bit more air from her lungs. Every time she heard someone move, she’d call out for Carrie until she finally answered. She moved close to her. “It’s me, Detective Jenner, but now I’m Suzy Q. I’m sorry this happened to you,” Christy whispered.

  “You did this to me,” she hissed. “They found out we met, so they snatched me.” Her voice was slurred, despite the anger in it. She’d definitely been drugged.

  Her comment was biting and sent a bolt of lightning through Christy. “No. The app people did not nab you. It was Senator Alvarez.”

  “Senator who?”

  “Your last date. Senator Alvarez.”

  “No. He had no idea who I was. He wouldn’t come after me.”

  “His guard took you home. That’s how he knew who you were and how to snatch you.”

  Carrie let out a puff of air in realization.

  “Listen. It’s important that the rest of these girls don’t know who I am. We could all get into a lot of trouble, and they most likely will kill us all if they discover who I am.” Most slavers would dump their cargo if they thought someone was on to them. “But I think we could work together to get out of here. That’s why I’m here, to save you and all these girls.” Just saying those words made her feel more powerful than she really was.

  “So, you let yourself get kidnapped so you could save us?” Hope filled Carrie’s whisper.

  “Let’s just say that’s the plan now.” Christy grimaced, glad Carrie couldn’t see it. She took in a big breath of air. It helped with the claustrophobia.

  “Cool. It’ll be like TV,” she said, a bit too flippantly. How could Christy make her feel the gravity of the situation without freaking her out?

  Someone heaved to the left of them and the sour smell of vomit arrived.

  “Great!” Denise said. “Clean it up and get it in the waste container. It’s going to make me sick.” She heaved and a few others did too, only it didn’t sound like anyone else actually threw up.

  “Sorry. My stomach is totally queasy,” the girl said.

  “Obviously,” Denise said sharply.

  “What do I use to clean it up?”

  “I don’t care, just clean it up. You can use your shirt or something. Don’t use a blanket. We need those to stay warm.”

  “Okay.” The girl moaned.

  “And eat or drink something. It’ll make you sleep so you don’t get sea sick again.”

  “I’ll try, but I feel so sick, I don’t know if I can.”

  “Make yourself. I’m serious. And if you get sick again, get it in the bucket.”

  Denise’s words were harsh, but even Christy was having a hard time not getting sick from the smell. What if they were headed for Europe or Asia? This could be a very long journey. She steeled herself for that eventuality even while she hoped they were headed somewhere much closer. She turned her attention back to Carrie.

  “That reminds me,
don’t eat the food. It’s drugged.”

  “I know. I eat it because if I don’t, I get all freaked out. Sleep is better than being awake in here.”

  “Not now. We need to plan,” she whispered.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Plan how we’re going to get out of here.”

  “I don’t know. I’m so tired.”

  “It’s the drugs. In time that will go away.”

  “Ugh! I hate not being able to see you even though you’re only inches from me.”

  “I know. I found it’s better for me to close my eyes.”

  “I’ll definitely fall asleep if I do that.”

  “Tell me everything you’ve heard and seen.” It sounded like Carrie sat up. Christy crossed her legs in front of her, setting her hands in her lap.

  Her hand touched Christy’s knee. “Sorry,” she said. “I need to feel that you’re there and know I’m talking to your face.”

  Christy reached out with her other hand and touched her leg. She was right. It was comforting. Carrie told Christy everything she remembered, which wasn’t much. They brainstormed ideas. They slept. They started again.

  The darkness and smells ate at Christy, dug at her insides. Having someone to talk to was going to save her, even though they rehashed things over and over again. Most of the others remained in a drugged stupor the whole time, not willing to go hungry or else wanting to hide from their situation. By the second day, Christy was starving and it didn’t help that Carrie kept talking about the food and how they had to sleep anyway, why not eat right before bed?

  They could hear others eat and drink and smell the food, too. Christy was so hungry. Her mind was foggy and they started laughing a lot, irritating Denise, but if they were on a boat in the middle of the ocean in a mass of containers, no one was going to hear them. Denise did not want to calm her fears however, and Christy could imagine her glaring at them through the dark.

  She felt loose and silly. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she realized she was suffering the effects of dehydration and lack of food, and the silliness was a byproduct of that. Finally, they gave in and ate and drank. And truth be told, it was Christy that ate first. She thought about going all the way to Europe and spending several weeks in this container and her mind revolted.

  The stench continued to grow. The idea that a smell disappeared after you’d been smelling it for a while did not appear to be based in reality. The smells seemed to morph and grow and turn into living matter that invaded her every pore. She dreamed about the smells attacking her. The walls getting closer and closer until they were all piled on top of each other.

  Everyone who dealt with human trafficking knew that forty-eight hours was the lost time. The time that anyone taken had to be rescued. After that, they were considered lost for good. She didn’t want to accept the fact that her Division team had most likely given up hope of finding her after that forty-eight hours. That was protocol. It was just how it was. But if things were reversed and someone from her team was taken, she would not give up. Ever. Jeremy wouldn’t give up on her that easily. Would he?

  At some point on the day she determined was the third day, the slight rocking stopped. She’d been gone for three full days, maybe four. They heard the screeching and scraping of a boat docking and then the mind-numbing clang of the large jaws of a crane latching onto the container and lifting it into the air. They’d arrived. Those that were somewhat awake cried and screamed, afraid of what was about to happen. Denise yelled at them to shut up.

  Christy could barely think. It hadn’t been that long since she’d eaten, and she fought the drag on her body. She sat up as the container rocked wildly from side to side, causing more panic within as the container was moved off the ship and onto dry land. It was time to put their plan into action, as simple as it was.

  She knew the best opportunity to overpower their captors would be right when they opened the door. The next best would be during transit. They sat for several hours without anyone coming, and Christy used the time to try to get her mind to clear. Everything seemed dull and she felt weak and tired. She told herself she was strong and alert, over and over again, but still, when she spoke, her voice was slurred and she had trouble stringing together her thoughts. Why had she eaten anything?

  She’d eaten and knowingly put drugs in her body that would impair function. Stupid. When she heard the clang of someone preparing to open the container, she said to Carrie, “This is it.” She moaned and rolled over. If she could escape, she would follow the caravan and bring Division down hard on them. She lay down, but even doing that seemed to take too long. How was she going to fight feeling the way she did? She had to push through it. She kept telling herself she was ready as the door inched open wider and wider.

  But it turned out that she wasn’t ready for what they did. Immediately after the door swung open, a mass of men came in. They looked like living, faceless, moving shadows against the bright light that smashed into the container. She tried to get up and fight as she’d planned, but instead wobbled into a sitting position just in time to get stabbed by a sharp needle. She fell into darkness again.

  Chapter 17

  CHRISTY

  Christy woke with a headache, unable to focus on anything. She squeezed her eyes tight. It seemed to make the spinning stop. The bed was soft beneath her, but she didn’t dare sit up. Nausea crept in. She moaned, then opened her eyes again and found herself in an unfamiliar room. Pictures of her with people she didn’t know were scattered about the room. She wore a pair of light blue medical scrubs, clothing that was completely unfamiliar to her. Before her mind could drag up recent memories, a woman came into the room with a white nurse’s uniform on. “I’m glad you’re awake. How are you feeling, Ryann?”

  “Ryann?”

  “Still a bit confused? Disoriented? I was hoping that had passed. This sure was a terrible flu, but we’re so happy you are finally coming back to us. You’ve spent the last little while thinking you were someone else.” She patted Christy’s arm and fluffed the pillow behind her head. Christy squeezed her eyes shut, wondering if she was dreaming or something.

  “Ryann? Can you tell me how you’re feeling?”

  “I don’t feel very good.” It was true. She could tell she’d had the flu. She must be in some kind of long-term care facility or something.

  “That’s understandable. It’s been a hard week for you. In and out of consciousness.”

  “A week? Is that all?” Her tongue felt fat and uncontrollable. Flashes of a dark place. Talking to a girl. A stench. Clanking and Carrie. That’s right. They were prisoners in a container on the sea. Fear thudded down over her. “I’m not Ryann. I’m…” It took a moment for her to remember the alias she’d been using when they took her. “Suzy.” Her heart kicked up its pace.

  “Oh, boy, not that again, Ryann.”

  She shook her head, “Where am I? Who are you?”

  “I’m Nurse Lanora and you’re home.”

  She glanced around the room. It was quiet and welcoming, but this was not her home. “I need to get out of here.” She tried to sit up, but with gentle hands the nurse pushed her back down. “You’re not going anywhere, young lady. You don’t even know who you are.”

  “I don’t belong here. I’m leaving.” Again, she tried to sit up and again the nurse pushed her back. The crazy thing was that she could.

  “Why won’t you let me get up?”

  “You’ve been sick with the flu, and delirium has set in the last few days because you don’t seem to know who you are.”

  “No. I know who I am, it’s you that’s delirious.” Her fat tongue fought to get the d sound out.

  “We need to get some food in you. And you need more rest. Then it will all come back.”

  Panic rose up in her, hard and fast. She pushed as hard as she good against Nurse Lanora’s gentle hand, but it was like she was jello and had no strength. Nausea took over, and she turned just in time to throw up yellow and
orange bile over the side of the bed. She heaved again. Nothing came out, but acid burned her throat.

  “Lie back down. Let us take care of you. It’s okay. I’m going to give you this little shot to help you stop throwing up. It will make you feel better.”

  Christy shook her head and protested, but before she could stop her, the nurse jammed a needle into her upper arm. The nausea did go away, but dizziness took over. It seemed a similar thing happened over and over again, like her dream was on repeat.

  “You just sleep, Ryann. You’ll see. You’ll feel better when you wake up.”

  She woke again and again. The same thing happened over and over. But it had to be a nightmare.

  That stuff in the container. That food. It made her sick. Someone brought her to a hospital. They would take care of her. She didn’t have anything to worry about. But they kept calling her the wrong name.

  She went in and out for what seemed like years. Until finally, she woke and no nausea greeted her. The world had stopped spinning.

  She looked around the room and it all seemed familiar somehow and yet foreign too. She wasn’t slick with sweat anymore, and she stood up. She got dizzy, but not nauseous. She held onto the bed post to steady herself and then that same woman from all her dreams came in. “Oh, Ryann. Look at you standing.” She grinned from ear to ear. “No more nausea?”

  “Umm. . .” Something deep down felt wrong.

  “Take a seat. You still claiming to be someone else? I swear, I’ve never seen anyone get the flu and come back thinking they were someone else. Do you think you can handle some food?” As if in answer, her stomach rumbled.

  “Starving.”

  “You’ve been out for a couple weeks. We had to feed you with an IV.” She looked down and saw the IV port in her hand. She rubbed around it as she examined it. “We were about to take you to the hospital. They told us the best place for you was home, but we had our doubts.”

  “A few weeks?” Really? A few weeks of crazy dreams. Exhaustion settled over her.