The truck shakes and the world lit up in red and orange as we swerve to dodge the neverending, oncoming explosives. My skull bangs against the truck door, forcing me awake with a beating headache. The women have taken their seats, no longer hanging halfway out of the truck or sitting uneasily on a man's lap. No, they're strapped in, eyeswide as we rush into a cloud of smoke and ash, the world invisible around us as Leon works to traverse the everchanging terrain.
My ears are overcome with ringing, my internal organs vibrating, burning air and flesh and wood and metal pierce my nostrils sickeningly, iron coats my tongue as my teeth clench, bone crushing bone, and all around us, sparks fly and the thick clouds build, one managing to land several meters ahead of us, Leon manages to dodge the aftermath but ends up swerving us into crater. We scream as the glass shatters, covering ourselves as the speed builds, something hard slamming into the bed of the truck and propelling us forward.
We catch air.
Shooting so high the smoke begins to lift—a light just beyond the horizon—but not by much before we're plummeting back down. Female voices cry out, someone grabs onto me, holding on for dear life. My eyes feel as though they are seeping out from my skull, my hair being yanked by gravity, my body split clean in half by my waist between fluttering and plunging. The air escapes my lungs like my soul is being sucked from my body.
Until we just stop.
Midair, something large and metal clasps onto us, cinching the truck with fang-like grips, and carefully carries us through the haze, nothing certain beyond.
As we glide, Leon clutches his chest, breathing heavily; Shushi maneuvers Frae before him like a human shield; Cynth fainted, knocked out by my feet, arms covering her head. Callum curled into a ball, head between his knees, weeping. I remain in place, holding onto the seat beneath me as I quizzically watch my surroundings.
When the truck finally lands upon a surface, it's with a hard crash and a resounding yelp. The Earth continues to shake, an eerie, distant buzzing, a metal bang like doors shutting, and finally, ventilation that begins to clear out the smoke.
By the time we climb out of the truck, the place has been completely cleared up and we find ourselves inside a reinforced hangar, the nonstop bombing of this land no more than mild vibrations. A red light shines in the distance, followed by a gentle ding, and out comes a man in an orange suit exiting an elevator, accompanied by two tall, armoured guards. He has a sharp jawline but soft-looking skin, medium length, deep brown hair with silver tips, a brown goatee, thin, rounded eyebrows and thin eyes, a charismatic smile with red lips, small nose, is tall but not much taller than me, only about an inch or two, and dark tanned skin. He speaks in a soft, low voice, welcoming us as he insists we follow him. We do so, the others sticking to his side willingly, this must be the guy.
As we descend the elevator, Leon begins to speak, rushed and stuttering, "S-so, we have developed something new, something truly amazing."
"And I'd love to hear more," He speaks sweetly, resting a hand over his heart as he gazes down at Leon and Shushi. "But for now, I'd prefer if we'd discuss this in the meeting room."
"Oh, of course! I didn't mean to rush you or anything!" Leon proclaims, hands suddenly shaking. "Though of course we must commence our trade first-" He places a hand on my waist, gripping me tight as he pulls me in closer. "-She's ready for you whenever."
The man eyes me, not hungry, not greedy, no malice whatsoever. Instead, he smiles like I'm just an innocent child who doesn't understand the situation. He keeps his hands to himself, glued to his side until we reach a floor with lettering I do not understand. The doors open with ease, and before us is a high-end suite; a white couch large enough to seat eighteen people comfortably, a flatscreen television so large that it might as well be from a cinema, dozens of paintings that likely cost more than entire governments, three different pianos, a spiral staircase that leads to an upper floor, and a massive gold and diamond chandelier in the center of it all.
We step out and the guards immediately begin leading the others to a closed-off room to the right, while the man gently taps me, silently letting me know to follow him up the spiral stairs with red and gold carpet. As we ascend, Leon yells out to me, "Now's your chance, bitch! You better be wet like you promised." The door shuts on him, cutting him off from me.
Once we reach the top, sixty-two steps later, he brings me into the first room on the right, holding the door open as I walk inside. It's a study, two massive purple and gold leather chairs placed in front of a fantastical golden fireplace designed with lions and dragons, both chairs have their own cushioned side table, and lining all the walls are towers of wooden bookcases. There are two more wooden doors, one on the right and one on the left. I follow him towards the seats, taking the left one as he takes the right. There's a bottle of whiskey on his cushion, a class with frozen bullets resting beside it; I scan the label, vaguely recognizing the brand 'JS' in complicated cursive writing and notice the age on it dating back to the mid-five hundreds. That bottle is over fifty years old.
Carefully, as though afraid of startling a wild animal, he pours himself a drink, swishing it around the class, the bullets clanging eerily as their presence bounces against the walls. But he doesn't look at me once, instead, zeroed in on the crackling of the fire, breathing deeply, contemplatively.
Finally, he takes a slow sip, proper and clean, and speaks kindly, "I hope you've been recovering well since our last meeting, how's your leg been?"
How am I supposed to react to that? How should I talk, breathe, behave? It's clear that whoever this is has had a far more intimate relationship with me, so acting like myself just won't work here. "It's fine." I mumble.
"Oh come on," He sets his drink down, and other than the bullets within the frosted, uniquely-designed glass, the action doesn't create a sound. And finally, for the first time since arriving here, he looks at me and notices me. Smiling, he says, "I know it's been a couple years, but surely you still recognize me."
Perfect.
So we haven't seen each other in years then, he doesn't have any recent memory of her.
"Alright then," He shakes his head, remaining composed as he rests his hands comfortably on his lap. "Tell me, why did you guys come all the way out here? Your next shipment is still on schedule and I of course ensure the best quality with every order. So what is it then? The new drug they had mentioned earlier?"
"Yeah, they've recently created a new blend of their existing best selling, one that truly improves a person's quality of living when taken but destroys it the moment they're sober." I explain plainly, keeping my space as I watch his movements. He so far hasn't made a move on me, so when is the transactional intercorse supposed to start? Why was I specifically brought to another room when it appears as though nothing is going to happen between us?
"They've found a way to cause absolute madness, huh?" He mumbles, rubbing at his lower lip, teeth clenched. "Well, alright then." He stands and my body tenses, but he doesn't come towards me, no, he instead perches himself over his fireplace, right hand gripping the mantle as he leans forward, staring unblinkingly at the lively fire. "I suppose they expect us to be having sex right now." I lift myself slightly, prepared to run at any moment, but ensuring I appear unmoved and unaware of what's coming. "I'd say you have a good forty-five minutes to an hour." He breathes and finally turns to look at me, but his kind and welcoming expression remains unchanged, he gestures to the left room, his right arm outstretched, palm facing out, his left resting over his heart. His words reach me slowly, like a soft, warm breeze or a flavourful, creamy soup that slides down the throat, "Feel free to wash up and have something to eat, get some rest as well if you'd like, I promise, I'll remain in my study this entire time, so you can feel comfortable to take off your headscarf and allow your skin to breathe." Finally, I stand, but I don't bolt for the exit and attempt to break down the door, hotwire the elevator and steal whatever fancy, futuristic vehicles he may be keeping hidden, no. I instead head for the left door, listening for his steps behind me, but he remains unmoved, sticking to his spot until he is sure I've entered and locked the door behind me.
The metal handle is warm, and the wooden door is far taller up close, about nine feet. It doesn't make a sound as I twist the handle and pull it open, before me being practically a whole 'nother one bedroom home—well decorated and fully stocked up on supplies. The entryway leads to a coat closet, a wall to the left and a hallway to the right, the lights glow dimly as I walk along the carpeted way and enter the living room and kitchen; the living room has a human sized, but still massive flatscreen television and a three-person sofa, the kitchen is made of marble and stocked with food and alcohol. To the right, next to the TV, is another hallway with a door on either side, the left being the bedroom and the right being the bathroom. The orange bed is made with six pillows, two blankets, a comforter, and a heated blanket folded at the foot, large enough to fit ten of me, a TV is set on the wall in front of it, the brand being one I don't recognize, and a walk-in closet beside that. The bathroom has his-her sinks, a standing shower with a rolling glass door and at least twelve different water settings, a jacuzzi bathtub, an electronic toilet, and a towel warmer. There's a wall of towels and bathrobes to choose from, with a glass shelf filled with different care products, all unopened.
I waste no time, locking the door and searching for bugs, finding none. As if being rushed, I rip off my clothes, tossing them to the floor to block the door, carefully peel off my mask, resting the skin face on the countertop before I toss the nearest towel into the heater, grab a variety of care products and set them in the shower and turning it on, ensuring every setting is glowing white, water pours down from every direction and I adjust the temperature to a comfortable fifty degrees. When steam begins to rise, I return to the locked door and place my ear against the wood, but no sounds play out. Finally, once the bathroom has turned into a sauna, I step inside and watch with baited breath as various reds, browns, and blacks pour off of me.
I exit the bathroom dressed in a long, orange robe with my hair tied up in a towel, carrying my now hardened clothes. I've lost quite a lot of hair during that wash, but refused to risk it going down the drain, instead, I used the heat of the shower to destroy the DNA and then proceeded to flush the clumps.
Now smelling like mint, apples, roses, citrus, and something called 'paradise' I head back into the bedroom and search the walk-in closet, finding a washer-dryer inside. Before continuing, I listen for steps or breathing, but the place is still empty. Good.
I toss the clothes in the washer, rip off the towel and robe, and toss them all inside, selecting the quick wash-option, soaking everything with a nearby, unopened jug of detergent, and allow the cleaning to begin. They'll be done in half an hour. Excellent. That will give me five to ten minutes to get dressed and question whoever that man is.
Naked, I step into the large kitchen carefully keeping an eye on every surface I touch while searching for food and end up settling on something easy and gentle on the stomach—soup.
By the time I've finished eating and have cleansed the area of my presence, a distant chime rings and I flinch, staring off towards the hallway, prepared to grab one of the kitchen knives at any moment.
Right, the machines in Ulea played music as well.
Holding my breath, I return to the machines and get dressed, and now that all is said and done and I've erased my presence aside from the now opened cleanliness supplies, I head back down the hallway. Clean. Fed. Rejuvenated.
And the man kept his promise as well, still in his seat, a few sips remaining in his whiskey glass as he stares admiringly at the fire, content. He doesn't acknowledge me even as I take the seat next to him, now wanting to speak.
"Who are you?"
He laughs, lightheartedly, soft eyes finally meeting mine, they're red. Have they always been red? I'm not sure. "I understand, it has been a while so I should probably reintroduce myself, Eriq Plaq, founder and owner of Journey Enterprises, largest manufacturer and supplier of well, everything."
I see. That explains his wealth.
"On the way here-" I breathe, keeping a close eye on his mannerisms, but his smile never wavers. "-I was told that I would be forced to sleep with you, that the women always have to and that's why they must prepare us on the journey here." Shut up. Shut up. Timber, this man is an enemy, no kind grin and hour of relaxation will fix that. You still have ten minutes, he can do anything to you in that ten minutes. Hell, some men don't even need to be inside a woman for a second before they cum. And yet, I can't seem to stop divulging. Perhaps I've been poisoned.
I should kill myself.
And fast.
"But so far you've seemed disinterested in sleeping together, so why do they think it's a standard practice?"
I wait for the malicious smirk to appear, prepared for him to lunge at me, for these chairs to have a mechanism that holds me down and tears my clothes apart. Prepared for him to take control and use me, just like all the other men.
But he doesn't, he remains seated and composed, the bullet clinks against the glass but no battle commences.
Instead, he explains matter-of-factly, "I've been telling them for so long that I'm not interested in sexual exchanges, that I have a loving wife and little cousin to care for. But as you know men, they just don't listen." I can't help but smile a little, a gentle laugh managing to escape me as he continues. "So, whenever they bring me someone, I let them have some time to recuperate and regain their sanity, then, we rejoin the others and I give them a 'discount' which is actually higher than the normal price because it costs money to feed and care for people. But they never once not offered me a sex slave so they have never known what the normal pricing would be."
"But why don't you indulge? So many men have wives yet they continue to rape and sleep with any woman they can get their hands on."
"Because of my mother, as I'm sure you remember," He gazes at the fire once more, his smile fading. Then, he rises from his seat, grunting in the process, my hands claw the leather chair, veins bulging all the way up my arm. "Anyway, it's about time for us to return, but I would like to let you know something first-"
"What is that?" I ask carefully, watching him closely, yet he maintains a safe, comfortable distance.
"My plan to help you ladies escape is almost complete, once it is, you all will be receiving a message in the next shipment, which will be purposely mishandled and lead to you all having to return here, and once that happens, you all will finally be safe and free."