by Dara Girard
It had been a wonderful day. She was so glad she was having such a good time with her sisters. Lorna had forgiven her—after not speaking to her for days after Greg broke up with her—and was actually being nice! She’d even treated her to a sweet, ripe mango! She planned to buy them all something really special. But she wasn’t sure what. She didn’t know how to barter the prices as she’d seen her father and Joscelyn do with many of the market sellers, but she’d try.
She thought it was strange that her sister Joscelyn wanted to go to a place outside of the marketplace. It didn’t look as friendly as the other place. There wasn’t as many people either, but maybe it was a secret place few tourists knew about. Joscelyn always liked to be adventurous. Catherine saw a man with things inside the back of his van, which had been painted a bright assortment of green and orange with the words ‘God is Good’ scrawled on the side.
“Go and choose something inside,” Joscelyn said.
Catherine frowned as she peered at the assortment of items sitting on either side of the hollowed out van. “But I don’t like it.”
The man held up a pretty necklace. “I have more of these. Wouldn’t your mummy like it?”
Catherine touched the necklace with hesitation. It did look nice. She could just see her mother wearing it and the smile it would bring to her face. Maybe there was something else there she could get. She looked up at the man. He was of medium height with a big forehead and fat lips, but a very warm, smiley face. However, something about him bothered her.
“Go on,” Lorna said. “Mom would love that.”
“Here, you’ll get special things no one else can find,” the man continued.
She did want to get her sisters something special. She walked towards the van.
“Go on, get in,” Joscelyn urged her.
Catherine stopped at the back of the van then turned to her. “Come in with me.”
“I will once you get in. Stop being a baby.”
Catherine hesitated then did. She crawled inside and looked around unimpressed. It was just as she’d thought, only the necklace he’d shown her was of any value. The rest of the items looked cheap and ugly. She turned to her sisters to tell them that, but when she turned she saw them all staring at her. None had entered. She started to crawl back to them when Joscelyn looked at the man and said, “We’re done here,” and the two doors closed.
“What are you doing!” Catherine cried, pounding on the door. She tried the handle, but it didn’t open. What was going on? “This isn’t funny. Open up.”
She went to the side window and saw Joscelyn getting—or was she giving?—something from the man. She looked at Marie, who was looking away at something in the sky. Lorna stood with her arms folded and a smirk on her face. Why weren’t they helping her? Who was that man? She saw the man leave, then felt the van start. No, no. This can’t be real! She screamed and pounded harder. She looked at Joscelyn and her sister looked back at her as if she didn’t see her at all.
As the van bounced along, she crawled into a corner, curled herself up and cried. Where was he taking her? How would she get back home? She didn’t know how long she was like that before the van stopped and the back doors opened.
She squinted against the light, the man a silhouette in the doorway. He held out his hand. “Come.”
“No.”
“I said come.”
“No.”
He crawled inside the van and grabbed her arm. She gripped the back leg of the seat in front of her. She held on tight and he pulled her. He said something in a foreign tongue and another man appeared. She struggled to fight them both, but they overpowered her and dragged her out. She went limp, causing one of the men to stumble. He swore and used his other hand to get her to move. She bit his hand. He released her and swore again, startling the other man, who loosened his grip. She slipped out of his grasp and ran.
She didn’t know where she was going. The landscape was so unfamiliar. Large trees and a long dirt road and one large house. She ran towards the stone fence then stopped when she saw the shards of glass that lined the top of it. ‘To keep burglars out’ her father had told her, but now they kept her in.
She turned and saw the two men following her and when she turned to her other side she saw more men had appeared. She had to get free. She ran towards the fields. Her skin scratched in the bushes. Then something fastened around her arm. She looked up and saw the face of the man from the van. His hand covered her mouth, stopping her scream.
They took her to a room where another man looked her over. A man with small eyes, a flat wide nose and bushy beard. He wore a shiny gray suit, black shoes and a tilted black hat and large gold rings on three of his fingers. The man she’d bitten whispered something in his ear and he nodded.
“You’re a fighter,” he said.
“I don’t belong here. Take me home.”
“This is your home now.”
“My father is--”
“Of no importance to me.”
“You’re going to be in so much trouble when he finds me.”
“No one will look for you.” He sat down. “Because you belong to me now.”
She gripped her hands into fists. “Take me home now.”
“You will do as I say if you want your family to stay safe.”
She stiffened. “What?”
“I will kill them if you disobey me.”
He was a kidnapper. That was it. He wanted money. That’s why Joscelyn was talking to that man. But then why did it look like he was giving her something instead of the other way around? Maybe they were instructions. That’s why her sister didn’t do anything to help her. They were scared. Maybe the men had guns, although she didn’t see them. But maybe they were out of sight. She’d heard about kidnappers taking kids for money. Her parents would come up with enough to get her back. She wouldn’t have to stay here long.
“You want a randsom?”
“Ransom,” he corrected then laughed. “There is no ransom for you.”
“My father will pay.”
“Take her away.”
Once she was out of sight, Valentine Ejo walked into another exquisitely decorated room where four men sat in overstuffed chairs, looking through the one-way mirror. “Did you see that?”
“Yes,” Michael Ayodeji said, a dark, bald man with brown eyes that seemed to shine like gold. He made money easily and made decisions with the same facility, which was why Valentine enjoyed doing business with him. It always proved profitable.
“It was a risk getting an American,” Edwin Agboola said, removing lint from his sleeve. He wore a crushed blue velvet suit and matching shoes. No matter how high the temperature, he was never bothered by the heat. “She may take longer to break.”
“American-born,” Valentine assured him. “Her father is one of us. So she’ll know enough of our ways.”
“Plus she’s young and she’s strong and will fetch a good price,” Ayodeji added.
Adam Rich, an English name he’d given himself, pressed a handkerchief to his small, brown forehead. He was a man constantly sweating, although he’d spent most of his sixty years on the continent, he should have been born in a cooler climate. “She’ll scare my clients.”
“Drug her enough and she’ll be compliant.”
“Too much of a risk.”
“I’ll take her,” Ayodeji said. “She’s got a lot of good years in her.”
“She’s yours.”
One of Valentine’s handlers rushed in before the men could shake hands and seal the deal. “I’m sorry, sah.”
“What is it?” he snapped.
“She’s escaped again.”
“Do you think that’s news I want to hear! Get her!” Valentine sat back in his seat.
The man nodded, then disappeared.
Rich pressed his soggy handkerchief to his neck. “You don’t look worried.”
“I’m not. She can’t get far and the running will tire her out and make her more amenable.” He s
ent a nervous look to Ayodeji. “Have you changed your mind?”
“No,” he said, his golden gaze seeming to be brighter than before. “I like a challenge.”
Part II
Captivity
8
“Stop running, sista, and de beatings dey will stop too.”
Catherine didn’t reply. The sun sat high in the cloudless blue sky, but fortunately she found some reprieve under a tree. A lizard scurried past along the red dust path of the property and a bird landed on a tree branch. She envied them. Both were small enough to escape the metal cage where she’d been kept the past few days since trying to escape the second place she’d been sent to. The square cage gave her enough room to sit, but not to stand or lie down. She didn’t know how long she’d been in there. She also didn’t know how long it had been since she’d last seen her family. She glanced at the cage next to her, filled with puppies who ate and pooped in the same place--much like her, but at least she was let out to use the toilet. But that didn’t stop her from feeling like an animal—dirty, discarded. How could this girl ask her to stop running? Why hadn’t her ransom been paid? What was she still doing here?
“It’s best to accept what life hands you,” the girl continued.
Catherine didn’t reply, but she was glad the girl was there. She was one of the few girls she liked. She’d learned her name was Helen. “But you don’t use names here,” the girl had warned her in a soft voice.
Catherine knew names didn’t mean anything here. A place where they toiled the land from sun up to sun down and lived in a shack with bunk beds. No one spoke in sentences. There were just shouts and orders. Demands and commands.
The girl held out a bowl of pounded yam and greens. “You have to eat. If you don’t, I’ll get into trouble. Do you want to eat or drink?”
Catherine was too tired to speak. She hesitated, then twisted her hand once. It was the gesture that Helen had taught her—twist your hand twice if you want something to drink, once if you want to eat.
She took the food and ate letting her gaze study Helen.
She was the fattest girl she’d ever seen. Catherine tried not to stare, but couldn’t help herself. She’d never seen a girl who looked so strange with such skinny arms and legs and such a big belly as if she’d swallowed a beach ball. Catherine wondered if Helen was somehow deformed, the way she waddled around when she walked, but she was a good worker and one of the few who managed to smile at her. She had a pretty brown face with round cheeks, braided hair and lashes so long they didn’t look real.
There wasn’t much to smile about as they worked day and night digging a tunnel, to where she didn’t know. She’d tried to escape her handlers twice but had gotten caught. It was this strange girl who’d first approached her with food when she was first kept in a cage for three days as punishment. Catherine wondered if Helen was a little person, but she didn’t seem to be.
“I won’t be able to see you soon,” Helen said.
Catherine paused with a handful of food to her mouth. “Why not?”
“Dey say dey’re going to confine me.”
“Con-what?”
“Put me away.”
“But why? What did you do? Is it because of me.”
“No, it’s because of this.” She pointed to her belly.
Catherine hesitated then said, “What’s wrong with you?”
“Nothing, silly. I’m going to have a baby.”
“But you can’t. You’re too small. I’m bigger than you are.”
“I’m eleven.”
“See, that proves it. You can’t have a baby. Only women have babies.”
“You get a baby if it comes.”
Catherine frowned. “If what comes?”
“You not learn how babies come, sista?”
“Of course,” Catherine said, offended. “ But kids don’t have babies.”
Helen’s gaze fell away and Catherine felt guilty, knowing she’d said something wrong. She was always saying the wrong thing when she didn’t mean to. But it didn’t make sense. She didn’t know that little boys could make little girls pregnant. She thought only adults did that. But she wasn’t smart and there was so much she didn’t know. Maybe Helen was one of those child brides she’d read about in the third grade when she’d learned about pioneer women. Women in the past married young and had babies, but all those girls were at least teenagers. Not a year older than her. And why was she here?
“Your cycle come yet?” Helen said in a quiet voice.
Catherine knew what she was talking about since her stepmother had explained. “No.”
“Den you’re lucky. You betta hope it doesn’t come for a long-long time.”
Catherine licked her lip. “Is your husband looking for you? Were you snatched too?”
Helen shook her head. “No husband. I nah snatched. I was sold just like you.”
Catherine stiffened. “I wasn’t sold, this is a mistake.”
“You get used to it.”
“I’ll never get used to this. I will escape--”
“You’re dumber dan you look. Nah talk dat way. You can think it but never say it.” She moved a little closer. “You wan’ feel it?”
“No.” Catherine clenched her hand and briefly thought of her stepmother. She was going to have a baby and she wouldn’t be there. She wondered if they were still looking for her or if they’d given up.
Helen suddenly gripped the bars. “I’m scared. I’m scared of what will happen to me.”
The look on the girl’s face frightened her too. She’d been good to her and she would help her too. “When I get out, I’ll look after you.”
And Catherine did her best to take the extra load that Helen couldn’t. No matter her state, they treated her without care, but Catherine slipped Helen her ration of water and food.
Then one day they were awoken in the middle of the night. “Come, we’re leaving.” When Helen stood the man said, “Not you.”
“I’ll look after her,” Catherine said. “She’s strong.”
The man paused and stared at Catherine, clearly not used to a child speaking without permission, but it was too late to pretend she hadn’t said anything. She’d seen him about, not one of her handlers, always watching. He had fine features, thin, almost non-existence brows, and calloused hands.
“Fine,” he said.
But to her horror, everything wouldn’t be fine. They were loaded into the back of a windowless van along with a group of other girls with their legs and wrists chained to the floor. In the dark, they bumped along on the road. Some of the girls felt sick as if they’d been tossed into a boat on a raging sea, others fainting in the stifling, dark confinement.
“Catherine,” Helen said in a panicked voice.
“Yes, I’m here.”
“I wet myself.”
“That’s okay. It happens.”
“You daft?” another girl said. “She means the baby’s coming.”
She didn’t understand how that could be the same thing. “Helen?”
“Yes, she’s right.”
Catherine couldn’t see Helen in the darkness, but knew she had to do something. She pounded on the back of the cab, using all her strength to make as much noise as possible.
“Stop that,” the other girl said. “It won’t work.”
“We have to do something. She needs help.” Catherine ignored the other girls’ warnings and kept making noise until the van stopped and the back doors opened. “She needs help!” Catherine said with a feeling of relief. “The baby is coming.”
The light from the moonlight swept into the back of the van. The man looked at Helen for a long moment. Catherine couldn’t understand his behavior. Her friend was clearly in pain, her shirt soaked with sweat, her body twisted in agony, she was about to ask him what was wrong when he left. “It’s going to be okay,” she said pulling against her restraints wishing she could be by her friend’s side. She was about to say more when she heard the man’s footsteps again.
He appeared at the opening with a thick rope. He wrapped Helen’s legs together then tied her hands behind her. Once he was through, he looked at Catherine and said, “Now the baby won’t come.” He closed the door and moments later started the van.
Horror filled the air.
“I told you not to say anything!” the girl said.
Catherine’s voice turned hoarse. “I didn’t think he’d—”
“She shouldn’t have come with us anyway.”
This was all her fault. She shouldn’t have forced her to come, she shouldn’t have expected them to help her. She’d been stupid and now her friend could die. She struggled, fought against her restraints. She had to reach her. She had to set her free, set the baby free. But she couldn’t. She screamed. Her screams mingling with Helen’s.
“Hold on, Helen, please.”
“I’m meant to die. It’s my fate. Don’t blame yourself.”
“No, you can’t die. Please!”
But the sound of her pleas were drowned out by the sound of Helen’s screams. And in that sound she heard her friend’s fear and agony and could do nothing. An agony that lasted hours until a silence fell. A silence so loud it made her ears ring, pounding against her eardrums.
Finally the van stopped again and the doors opened. Catherine looked at the man who’d opened them. He had a face she’d remember and hate for the rest of her life. Such a pretty face on such an awful man. He stepped in and undid Helen’s chains, dragging her limp, bloodied body along the floor of the van before lifting her in his arms. She saw her friend’s eyes flicker, a relief touched her heart. She was still alive, although barely.
“Where are you taking her?” Catherine asked, unable to stop herself.
“You ask too many questions,” an older girl spat out.
