Solomon's Ring

by Mary Jennifer Payne

  Noni moves up to the fence, pushes the wire apart, and slips through, pausing for a moment as the rough edge of the cut metal catches on her shirt.

  Eva pulls her hood back up. “You need to prepare yourself for this,” she says. “It’s not pretty.”

  I move with her to the fence. Noni holds it open for both of us. We run forward and press as flat as possible against the back of the cabin, which I assume is Cabin Five, then move in unison from there to the side of the building. Here the light reaches us more. We’ll be completely exposed if anyone looks this way. My heart thumps heavily in my chest. This is dangerous. There’s nowhere to run and nowhere to hide.

  Eva moves in front of Noni and peeks around the front of the cabin. She motions us to follow with a wave of her hand as she disappears around the corner.

  Bright light shines on us as we race toward the front door. Eva throws it open, and we run inside.

  The stench hits me before my eyes have the chance to adjust to the murky darkness, causing me to tear up. Smells of shit, bad breath, and general body odour ­mingle together in the air like a toxic stew. I look around. Columns of bunks beds from floor to ceiling occupy the length of two of the walls. These beds are filled with ­children and women. Two worn sofas line a third wall, and an open doorway on the fourth leads to what seems to be multiple toilet stalls and showers, judging by the fact that the horrific smell is originating from that end of the cabin.

  Several of the women get off the bunk beds and cross the room to embrace Noni and Eva. They’re handing the video watches they were given to Noni, who then puts them into a nylon bag that she secures tightly with a drawstring. I can’t stop staring at the children. They’re bone-thin, and nearly all of them have a ­haunted look in their eyes that makes me shiver. The women whisper with Noni and Eva, keeping their voices low and heads bowed so I can’t make out what’s being said.

  There’s a tap on my right elbow, and I jump, my heart pounding as I swivel around. A little girl who can’t be more than seven or eight years old, her eyes hollow and darkly framed in the ghostly skin of her face, steps away from me and holds up her hands in self-defence.

  The metal pole. I’ve got it raised in front of me, ready to strike. It’s an automatic reaction. I slowly lower it.

  “It’s okay,” I whisper, crouching down and placing the pole at my feet. “You just scared me. That’s all. I wouldn’t hurt you.”

  She tilts her head, one tangled blond pigtail ­coming to rest on her shoulder, and regards me closely. Cautiously. I’ve made her unsure and afraid of me, and I feel sick to my stomach about that. No kid should have to live in here, behind barbed fences like a criminal.

  “I’m Jasmine,” I say, keeping my voice low. I reach out my hand, but she doesn’t take it. “What’s your name?”

  “Penelope.” A tentative smile tugs at the corners of her lips. “I’m from Australia. We came here on a ship from England because Canada is where my nanny lives, but the policemen who met us on shore put us here ­instead of letting us go to my nanny’s house. They weren’t very nice.” She pauses, her eyes dark with the memory, and bites at her lower lip. “Have you come to rescue us?”

  I’m silent for a moment, not knowing how to reply. Penelope’s sunken eyes fill with hope as she waits for my response. I want to answer her with a huge yes, but I can’t. Are we here on a rescue mission? I don’t know much other than the fact that Noni and the others want to help everyone imprisoned here, and now that I’m in this cabin, I understand why.

  She holds up one of her arms. There’s a bandage on the nearly translucent skin at the crook of her elbow.

  “Did you hurt yourself?” I ask. I have to admit I’m pretty surprised they’re even given Band-Aids here.

  She shakes her head. “They bled me today. Our cabin was on work duty. Some of us were sent to do chores like cleaning the toilets.” She wrinkles her nose in disgust. “That job is really smelly and gross. I had to do that last time we were on work duty, but today some of us were sent to be bled. It was my first time for that.” Her voice trails off. There’s a haunted quality to her last few words.

  “What do you mean you were bled?” I ask, though I’m pretty certain the answer isn’t going to be something I want to hear.

  Penelope’s eyes shine with tears. She nods her head. “We were taken to their cabin; the one the guards stay in. They stuck a needle in our arms and took blood out. A lot.” Her bottom lip quivers like an arrow about to be released from its bow. “I fainted after a while. When I woke up, I was back here in the cabin. But they give us more water when we’re bled. Sometimes people drink their pee here, because there’s not enough water to go around.”

  The force of her words hits me like a slap. These people risked their lives to try to get here, and now they’re ­barely surviving and being kept like cattle. I look around the room again. One woman is keeping guard at the window, peeking out from the side of a worn sheet that’s badly in need of washing. I assume it’s been hung to block the light from outside and to give the women and children some semblance of ­privacy. She is painfully thin, like everyone else in here. It’s clear these people are not getting enough food, on top of the disgusting living conditions and lack of ­drinking water. And if they’re being used as involuntary blood donors on top of that, the situation is ripe for diseases ­stemming from malnourishment. A part of me is ­grateful that the only light in the room is provided by a smattering of candles encased in glass lanterns. I don’t want to see how much of this place needs cleaning … or how many creepy-crawly creatures are sharing the space with us right now.

  “Guards!” the woman at the window says. Her voice is sharp, rife with panic. Noni grabs my arm and pulls me under the closest bed. Something furry scurries past me as we slide underneath the low frame, and I close my eyes as a rat’s long, worm-like tail comes within millimetres of my face. A ragged blanket falls from the bed, acting like a curtain to conceal us, just as the door swings open. The bright light from the communal yard in front of the cabin spills into the room, making the blanket translucent. I hold my breath, terrified.

  If these guards are demons, they’ll be ecstatic at finding me here. Imagine the Chosen One being stupid enough to walk right into their prison camp. A sudden thought pops into my mind. What if this is a trap? After all, I was abducted tonight trying to escape from Smith’s ­demonic workforce, and now here I am, surrounded by them once more in the middle of nowhere. How could I have been so stupid to mindlessly follow Noni and the others into the forest in the dead of night?

  Except I know exactly what caused me to do it. Or more to the point, who caused me to act so recklessly. Raphael. I wanted to leave the warehouse and join Noni and the others because he was going with us. And it is really only when I’m around him that I feel whole. I’m like a moth being drawn to a flame; that’s how crazy I feel in his presence. And though he hasn’t exactly been warm and fuzzy toward me lately, I’m still certain he wouldn’t betray me. It wouldn’t make sense after all the times he’s given me advice that’s helped me avoid ­danger, not to mention actually saving my life when I was trapped in the fire at Susan Smith’s house.

  I peer through the blanket. My breath is machine-gun rapid and shallow, making me feel like I’m teetering on the edge of a panic attack. We’re screwed if the guards decide to look down here. I don’t really like the idea of becoming as full of holes as Swiss cheese from the ­bullets in those massive rifles slung around their shoulders.

  The guards aren’t saying anything, but they are ­definitely part of Smith’s workforce. For one thing, they’re wearing the trademark sunglasses. And they ­haven’t said a word the entire time I’ve been here. They’ve basically just gestured.

  Everyone in the cabin is now standing at attention, arms stiffly at their sides, including Eva. This is good for us because the legs of the women and girls who were ­sitting on the lowest bunk are providing
some ­coverage. As the guards walk around the room, they click a small metal thing in their hands. I realize they’re doing a count.

  Seemingly satisfied, they nod at one another and turn to leave. The door was left open the entire time they inspected the cabin. I guess with sunglasses on it would be impossible to see anything by just candlelight. Relief washes over me as they depart.

  And that’s when my video watch lights up and ­begins beeping.

  The sound shatters the tense silence of the cabin. Immediately the guards stop, swivel around, and march back into the cabin. Their guns are now at chest-height and ready to be used. By the time they reach the middle of the room, I’ve turned off my phone, but it’s far too late.

  Everyone’s back on their feet, and now some of the youngest children are whimpering, burying their heads in the sides of their mothers’ bodies. The older ones cover their mouths in an attempt to muffle the sound.

  But the guards aren’t paying attention to them. After all, they did their count and everything was fine. Fine until my watch went off. One of them marches over to the bunk Noni and I are under, violently forcing the women standing in front of it aside with the butt of his gun. The other guard leads the rest of the children and women out of the cabin in two straight lines.

  I reach out, concentrating hard on the one closest to us, and try to get into his thoughts. There’s only an insect-like buzzing. White noise. Nothing. He’s one of them. A demon.

  And that’s when the ring in my pocket starts to ­pulsate again. Not only does it feel like it’s breathing now, it’s also growing warmer. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear it was alive.

  Noni grabs my upper arm just above the elbow, her fingers digging into my flesh like pincers. “We need to just go out. We’re putting all the others — the entire camp — at risk by staying under here.”

  I nod and begin to move forward on my elbows. It was so stupid of me not to turn off my video watch ­before the Seers set out tonight. Not that that matters now.

  The guard catches me by the back of my shirt as I’m emerging from the bunk. Hauling me to my feet, he ­begins to shove me toward the door. Noni screams from behind me.

  Turning, I see that the other guard has come back into the cabin and is pulling her out from under the bed by her right ear. The silver hoop earring that had just a few seconds before been dangling from her earlobe ­clatters to the ground. Drops of blood rain on top of it from the tear in the flesh of her earlobe.

  “Leave her alone!” I shout, breaking free from the guard’s grasp. My pole. It’s under the bunk. I move ­toward the bed again.

  Out of the corner of my eye, as I drop to my knees and reach for my pole, I notice something strange.

  The demon that was holding Noni has let her go. It’s moving away from her and toward the door. In fact, it’s about to walk right out of the cabin, leaving Noni ­completely alone.

  Just like I told it to.

  The ring is now burning like a flame inside my jeans pocket. It feels almost hot enough to brand itself into my flesh.

  I grab my pole just as the demon that’s after me lunges once more. The sudden motion causes the sunglasses its wearing to slip. Exposed, the demon’s flat black eyes meet mine. I seize the moment and firmly plant a kick to its chin.

  It reels backward, howling.

  And that’s when the chaos really begins. From ­outside in the yard there are screams and shouts of fear and pain. The voices are both female and male, adult and child.

  Noni’s already halfway out the door. The sound of gunfire punctures the air like July fireworks. I sprint after her, but the demon grabs my right ankle. My feet slide out from under me and for a brief second I’m ­suspended in the air.

  I shout in pain as the side of my body slams to the floor. At least I’ve managed to use my right arm to stop my head from connecting with the rough wooden planks. I roll over just in time to see the demon getting ready to pounce on me, teeth bared.

  “Back off,” I shout, thrusting my pole in front of me like I’m about to do a chest press.

  The demon immediately stops, cocks its head ­sideways, and regards me carefully.

  I scuttle away, crab-like, toward the opposite end of the room without taking my eyes off it. My ribs and left hip hurt, but it’s more a throbbing burn than sharp pain, so I’m pretty sure nothing’s fractured. The ring is no longer as hot as it was, but it’s still beating like a Kenyan runner’s heart in my pocket. I reach into my jeans, fish it out, and slip it onto my ring finger. Though it looked like a large-sized man’s ring when I first got it, somehow it now fits me perfectly. Just one more strange thing to add to the list.

  Breathing hard, I lean back against one of the sofas. I need to get out of here. Though it’s gotten quieter, the air is still pierced every few moments by shouts of pain and cries that serve as a reminder that I screwed up, and people are suffering now because I wasn’t smart enough to turn off my video watch.

  The demon hasn’t moved. It’s still watching me, teeth bared, but it’s not attacking. If I didn’t know better, I’d almost think it was some kind of wax museum dummy.

  I look down at the ring again. It’s no longer ­pulsating, and the metal is room temperature. Though I have no idea what the deal is with this crazy piece of jewellery, something tells me I need to keep a hold of it, even though it’s creeping me out. Without taking my eyes off the demon, I rise to a standing position and move ­sideways toward the door. That way I can keep an eye on both it and the doorway to be sure nothing comes at me from either direction.

  But the demon doesn’t move a muscle as I leave. Instead it just sits there, watching me, head in the same cocked position the entire time, as I slip out the cabin door.

  Nothing could’ve prepared me for the scene ­unfolding outside the cabin.

  About a hundred women, children, and men are lined up, row upon row, facing each other in a square formation. Their faces are solemn. A few of the guards stand around them, guns drawn, but the majority of them — about a dozen in total — are standing firmly within the centre of the square.

  And they’re not alone.

  A handful of children are also standing in the middle of the square in a straight line, their faces frozen with terror. Large spotlights illuminate the area where they are positioned. A row of guards stands directly behind them, each with gun a pointed against the back of a child’s head. In front of the line, lying face down, arms spread like a snow angel, is a tiny, crumpled body. A pool of red-black blood fans out like a halo around its head.

  One of the demonic guards has grabbed Noni. Its arm is hooked around her neck like a noose. Every time she struggles, the guard tightens his grip.

  I’ve got to do something. Where are the others? They must’ve heard the gunshots and realized we were in trouble down here. Maybe they’ve ­decided it’s too ­dangerous to come in through the fence. Besides, what can they do against at least twenty ­machine-gun-wielding demons?

  The ring is pulsating again. It pushes against my ­finger every few seconds like a beating heart. Every cell in my body wants to take it off and throw it as far into the bushes beyond the fence as possible. There’s ­something sinister about it. Something dark. Maybe it’s just my ­imagination running wild, but something tells me I need to be careful while it’s in my possession.

  It only takes about two seconds for me to realize I’m completely exposed, standing here in the doorway of the cabin. Two of the guards have turned and are ­intently watching, like cats getting ready to pounce. In contrast, the one inside hasn’t moved and doesn’t seem like it’s planning to anytime soon. If I didn’t know better, the way it’s looking at me, head still cocked in that weird, dog-like way, I’d swear it needs permission to.

  It is waiting for permission … permission from me. This realization hits me like a punch to the stomach. The guard hasn’t moved even a fraction si
nce I commanded it to stop attacking me. And the other one has left Noni completely alone since I told it to.

  But what if I’m wrong? What if it’s just some fluke that the two guards stopped attacking us? As a Seer, my gut instinct is usually right, so I’m hoping not only that the plan I’ve just thought up will work, but also that it will guarantee the child lying in a pool of blood is the last fatality tonight.

  As I make my way down the cabin steps, I scan the crowd again, holding the pole firmly. And that’s when I spot her. It’s hard to believe I didn’t notice Penelope standing there before. She’s fifth in the row, a guard’s gun resting against the golden curls at the back of her head. Tears glisten on her cheeks.

  “Penelope!” I yell, leaping from the bottom step. She doesn’t even flinch.

  The two guards that’ve been watching me spring into action. One launches itself at me, hands outstretched, teeth bared. It stinks of fresh blood.

  I bring my pole up and swing, putting all my weight into the movement. The demon guard is decapitated smoothly. Its head lands about five feet to the left of me with a loud thud that is barely audible above the screams of a few of the prisoners. After all, they don’t know that these guards aren’t human. I must look as dangerous, if not more dangerous, than those who have marched them out here. In their eyes, I’ve just murdered someone in a really gruesome way.