Page 29

I let out a soundless gasp when a large hand wraps around my face, covering my mouth and nose. Unable to speak, or breathe really, I shove against the dirt to get away from the man trying to smother me, but a grip on my shoulder hauls me against him.

"Fate Haley," says a deep American voice.

I can’t get my own voice to work to answer him.

"Are you Fate Haley?"

Trembling, I nod behind the hand still wrapped around my face.

"I'm one of the good guys and we’re here for you. Here to take you home. Now come on, let’s get you up and out. Time's short."

He stands and grips the gun strapped across his chest. Whispering to someone I can't see, he says something about Princess Poppy being found and being extraction ready.

One hand releases the massive gun and extends to me.

But I don't reach back.

My mind races overtime, trying to process the last fifteen seconds. "Why are you here?" I squeak. "It's not time."

"Are you saying you want to stay?” He sighs and looks around the shack. “Looks like a shitty resort if you ask me." The silver moonlight reflects off his teeth in what looks like a wide smile. "Let's go, Poppy. I know it’s not time, but we need to go. Now or never."

"The girls." I scoot back from his still-extended hand. "The girls go first."

That hand stays lifted, waiting. "No can do there, Princess. We’re only here for you. It's all me and the boys are prepared for."

Somewhere beneath the thick layer of fear, courage builds and pushes through, strengthening my resolve. This man doesn't understand what he's asking me to do in leaving them behind. Leaving them to a few more weeks of a miserable life before death.

"No.” I do want to leave. Desperately want to leave this shit hole and the daily terror. Screw this dumb revenge mission I sent myself on. I'm in over my head. I want out, but not without them. “I'm not leaving without them."

"We don't have—"

Gripping his still-extended hand, I haul myself up, putting my face inches from his. Not caring about my smell or my rank breath, I fist his shirt and pull him close. Anger at what he’s suggesting I do overrides my normal awkwardness. "They’ve been repeatedly raped and beaten every fucking night. The youngest one is fourteen. Fourteen. They’re as good as dead if I leave them here. It’s either all of us or none of us.”

Beneath my curled fists, his heart thunders harder. He once again scans the room, but I bet this time with more compassion and understanding for the victims he’s surrounded by.

"Get ’em up. Tell ’em not to make a sound. Fuck, I'm gonna get my ass chewed for this," he mumbles at the end.

Relief flows through my veins, and I relax my grip. My voice falters as I say, "Thank you."

I crouch to the ground and start the process of waking each girl one by one. The man watches out the cracked flimsy door to the camp, only breaking his focus to turn and monitor my progress.

Minutes later, everyone stands in line behind me, awaiting their next instructions.

"Ready," I say to the man’s broad back.

Whispering again to someone I can't see, he explains the change of plan. Without turning, he reaches a hand back to me.

Stepping out of his reach, I usher the first girl to the man’s side. “Them first."

With a grunt in obvious annoyance, he aims his gun out the door. Through the dark, a small light flickers on the other side of the camp. Hand on the first girl’s shoulder, he leans in and whispers, "Run to that light. Go." With a light shove, he urges the girl forward.

The first steps are hesitant, and I don’t blame her, but halfway across the sleeping camp, she sprints toward the dense jungle. When she's cleared the most exposed area, the man urges the next girl forward, who doesn't hesitate in bolting toward freedom.

Then another.

And another.

Only the two of us are left watching the last girl disappear into the night.