Chapter 7

The metal slab stings my near naked flesh. It’s ice cold and stone hard. I can’t move. Something pins my body to the table. The metal walls are bare, only rusty splatters line the walls. I cringe and try not to think too much about what those could be, though I have my suspicions.

The metal table I’m on sits in the center of the room. To my right and left lies a bunch of technical machinery. Various cords are connected the devices and beeping noises sound off like a boom in the silent room. Small containers filled with colorful fluid, sit in trays on the tables. Tools are lined up neat and orderly on the counter top. What those might be used for, I can only image. There are two large screens with foreign symbols and numbers filtering back and forth.

At my feet is the only door in and out of this metal box. Bad things happen here, I can feel it in my bones. If I listen carefully, I can almost hear the echo of screams from the past. I consider it a small blessing that my heart is pounding too loud and the blood rushes like a tidal wave in my ears.

My body shakes uncontrollably as my mind conjures up horrors. My mind twists and yanks from one scenario to the next, with no true knowledge of what’s to come. What will become of me? When can I go home? Will I ever see my family again? Tears stream down my cheeks, and I don’t dare to hope for such a thing.

All the books I read never ended well. How many times did I scream and rant at the stupid damsels in those books. And yet here I am, a damsel. Who will save me? Will anyone?

These people, they’re strange. Unusual. Otherworldly. What do they want with me? Why do they want me? What use am I to them? Will they kill me? Rape? Torture? The tension and panic slowly choke the life from me. I’m starting to wheeze. Why am I here? Why did I leave? I was so stupid. I should have stayed home. I have nothing to prove to anyone. It was a stupid, immature thing to do. Why am I so stupid?

I startle and inhale a sharp breath at the sound of metal sliding against metal. I peer down my body to the door being shoved open.

A blond man with peculiar violet eyes stalks in, causing my shaking to return. He’s wearing a long white coat with red spots decorating the front. His face is set much like His was, cruel and heartless. His cold gaze flashes over my body with clinical precision. My terror scents the air, and my breathing falters. My eyes slowly track his progress to the table to my right. My attention is drawn as another person enters the room.

In seconds the heavy door is slammed closed. The sound haunts me. My fate is sealed. Despair settles in my bones. Whatever happens now will forever change me, scar me. If I can somehow plead, perhaps I’ll be spared this coming pain. Yet, my steadily climbing terror clamps my mouth shut. No sounds, no words leave my throat. I want to scream. How weak I am? I can’t even plead for my own life.

The female draws up to the table at my left. She has her bizarre white hair pulled tight in a bun. Her young face is stern and unforgiving. She wears a similar cloak as the man, though hers is far less bloodied. Her violet eyes roam over my body just like his. I don’t understand what that means. I don’t understand what they are looking at. I don’t understand what’s going to happen. I want to go home.

The male reaches across and tightens the restraints across my wrists, ankles, chest, and forehead. The female connects wires to different parts of my skin. The wires are like tiny pinpricks, and I inhale sharply. Immediately following the pain, a restraint of some sort is wrapped around my flesh to keep the cords in place.

Once finished, the female fiddles with something on the screens. The beeping speeds up for a brief period before resuming the normal pace. The male hands the female two little vials with needles on the ends. The vials hold that strange golden liquid. I cringe as they both move to stand over me with nasty, evil smirks on their faces.

I jolt awake, heart pounding so hard I fear it will explode. Standing quickly, I steady myself on the cliff face. I scrub my hands over my face and will my heartbeat to slow. Just a dream. That’s all it was, nothing more. I pace back and forth until the sun peeks over the horizon. Relief for the coming sunlight floods through me.

Eventually, evening arrives again. I spent today much like yesterday. I woke with the sun and moved my pack to a place high in a tree. I remained in the tree’s shadow and watched the hustle of the villagers as they went about their day, paying close attention to the reactions of those opening the wooden crate. Nothing seemed amiss from where I crouched, but I would still need to be cautious tonight. Returning to the same place to steal isn’t ideal, but it’s easy.

Once the sun starts to sink beyond the horizon, I make my next move. Following a different path than last night, I come to the wooden crate. In no time, my food is safely tucked in my bundle. I survey my collection from tonight: three veltos, one gran, and one porg. I had hesitated grabbing the porg because they don’t taste good uncooked, but I couldn’t pass up the nutrients.

I ran an increased risk of discovery the longer I stayed. By some power, I had yet to be discovered and I didn’t want to push it anymore. Tomorrow will be my last batch before leaving for Joult the following morning. I stash the goods in my pack and in no time, sleep claims me.

****

I expect the day to follow much as the two before, and am surveying the village when something catches my eye. Two young children wander to the fields in the early afternoon, and I think nothing of it until I see them reach for a basket of fresh food. Before their hands grab anything, a villager throws them aside. They land in a pile of dirt and struggle to stand. Even from my distance, these children are unnaturally small and thin. Their clothing could barely be called rags.

Once they are standing again, they reach for the food once more. Like before, they are pushed away before they can touch anything. I watched in disgust as the villager snatches the basket and makes a show of eating something.

After taking only a few bites, the ugly man drops the food in a puddle of mud. He smirks and watches the children fight each other for the half eaten, muddy food.  When one succeeds is snatching the meal, the bastard laughs. The child devours it, and instead of intervening, the other adults join in the laughter.

What could possess adults to laugh at children’s suffering is beyond me. Adults should care for and nurture the young, not belittle and taunt them. My first impression of this place was wrong, and disgust washes through me in waves. For a village to stand by and watch their children starve is inhumane. I thought I was the monster, but it looks like these people are far worse than me.

Why these people forsake these children baffles me. Even if they are without parents or family, it’s usually customary to be adopted by another family in the town. No one should be abandoned by their village.

I continue to watch the children, wishing I could do something but knowing I can’t risk exposure in the middle of the day. Eventually, they move away and wander back to a dilapidated shack on the far edge of town. My heart cries with pity at the sight, and the thought of eating this town’s food sickens me. I want nothing to do with them, but have no other choice tonight.

A plan formulates in my mind as I wait for dusk one final time.

By the time night rolls around, a firm plan has been established. I follow the same routine from the previous two nights. In no time, I reach the tree line and make my way to the shack on the far side, bundle secured. I approach the building in the shadows and hesitate only briefly.

I remained extra vigil throughout the day to make sure I knew where the children where located. They hadn’t moved from their shack once since they entered.

Very carefully, I open the shack door. This was the part in the plan causing me the most anxiety. Things could go very wrong in seconds and I would be easy pickings for the villagers if things soured.

The door squeaks quietly and I wince before continuing on. I know I can’t stop now, these kids need it. I pray to the powers that be, the children are deeply asleep in there. With just enough room to fit my package, I carefully slide the cloth bundle in. I pause for a moment and listen for movement.

Nothing stirs and a soundless sigh of relief escapes me. With just as much care, I close the door and quickly retreat to the woods. Without looking back, heart still pounding and sweat still pouring, I bolt for my pack. Once at the tree, I finally pause and hold my breath. Content with the lack of sounds, I grab my pack and head out.

I make it to the cliff face at a much slower pace. With the night still silent—not even a chirping or rustling in the forest—I relax and settle in for the night.

I ponder over my decision to give the children food. What I just did could turn out terribly. If the villagers find the stash before the children finish, they could get hurt—or worse. I push those thoughts from my mind. It won’t do any good to dwell on what might happen.

Besides, I had no other option. I hate leaving them there, but what other choice do I have? I can’t take them with me. I can hardly care for myself out here. How would I be able to care for two starving children? There was nothing more I could do for them.

Perhaps there will come a day when I can come back for them. When I am better off, I can come back and bring them to another home where someone will care for them as they should. Maybe if I tell someone in Joult, they can send a small group to collect the children. I can only hope they survive until then.