Seven Wakings Page 14

  I dry heave. “I’ll do whatever you want, just no more drugs.” I feel light-headed.

  “Whatever we want?” He laughs. “I wish.”

  “Knock it off,” the second one says, and unlocks my handcuffs.

  I rub my arm; see that my wrist is black and blue.

  “Get up!” The mean one yanks me to sitting.

  I hold onto the edge of the cot to keep from melting back into the bed. Everything spins.

  “Give her a break, Carlos.”

  My mind and body are separate. “I want to help. I just can’t….”

  “Shut the fuck up!” Carlos backhands my face, pulls me to my feet. Legs dangle like they have no muscle. My head drops back. I see cots filled with girls.

  One struggles against the restraint and yells, “If you hurt her, I swear I’ll kill you in your sleep.”

  Carlos say, “Oh, I’m real scared, kid.”

  Memory returns in small bits, like seltzer bubbling to the surface. I’ve said that same thing before… when I was a kid. We make eye contact. The floodgates open. “Mac?” Panting, with arms outstretched, I say, “I love you more than you could ever possibly know.”

  “Mom?”

  Carlos swirls me around, and says to the nicer one, “Did we snatch a retard?”

  “He’s probably just wacked from the nitrous oxide,” the second man says.

  I wave to Mac and look around. The girls aren’t sleeping; they’re unconscious. Maybe that’s good. Maybe we can get them out of here before they remember any of this.

  The thug hauls me— toes dragging— toward an adjacent room. Second fiddle follows. My head dips sideways. “Don’t worry Mac; everything will be okay.”

  The nicer one looks at me with kind hazel eyes.

  “How in the hell do you sleep at night, after treating kids like this?” My voice is so young it disturbs me. I never knew how vulnerable I was at this age.

  “See what I mean, man? This kid never shuts up.” Carlos puts me on the floor.

  Everything is concrete and painted white: floor, ceiling, and walls. Two spotlights stand

  in the center of the room and point to a fur rug on a low platform.

  The nicer one presses a button on the wall, talks into a speaker. “We’ve got a live one for you. She’s a little loopy, but I think you’ll be able to work with her.”

  “I’ll be right down,” a woman’s voice says.

  My skin starts itching. I feel filled with spiders; want to climb out of myself. “Maybe a little hit would be okay, just so I don’t…”

  Carlos laughs. “Look, she’s a junkie already, only took a couple of days. Just imagine what she’ll do for it later.”

  The second one covers me with a blanket, tucks it under my chin.

  I hear the clacking of heels, and try to sit up. A tangle of blond hair hangs in front of my face as I brace myself with straight arms. A woman’s red toenails appear in slip-on, feathered heels on the floor before me. Pulling my curtain of hair to the side, I look up and see Vanessa.

  I’m not surprised.

  “My, but you are a pretty one, aren’t you?” She leans down and touches my face with the back of her hand; her wedding ring grazes my cheek. “The perfect present for Father.”

  The nicer one looks at me. Something about his eyes make me trust him. He’s not a bad guy; I know it with all of me.

  I clear my throat, try to sound more adult. “Your father likes kids?”

  “More than money.” She’s wearing a blonde wig— bobbed with bangs. Even to the layman, I can tell she’s having a psychological break. “At least he’s easy to shop for; he always wants the same thing.”

  “You don’t shop for kids. You’re stealing them; ruining their lives.” I move my hair out of my eyes and really look at her. “Don’t you understand that you’ve become the animal?”

  She smacks my face. “Watch your mouth, or I’ll tie you to the bedframe myself.”

  It sickens me to think about what Richard actually does to these girls.

  Vanessa growls, “Get her out of my face and into something… presentable.”

  “What do you want her to wear?” Carlos asks.

  Vanessa looks at me, smiles a slow carnival smile, then starts to spin in circles. Her skirt floats as she raises her arms and forms a circle overhead. Stopping abruptly, she says, “Put her in… number thirteen.” Her voice changes to that of a child. “She can be his perfect little ballerina.” Vanessa pats me on the head.

  Carlos rubs his hands together. “It’ll be my pleasure.”

  “Not you!” She snarls and points to the other man. “You can do it. I want her pure until she’s… presented.”

  I hear Mac yelling from another room. “You’re never going to get away with this!”

  Vanessa addresses Carlos. “Make yourself useful; knock him out.” She turns to walk away, but stops herself. “Not too much. I kind of like his moxie. Reminds me of myself.”

  I forget my role, and react. “He’s nothing like you. He actually has a heart.”

  Vanessa looks down at me. “Speaking of hearts, it looks like he’s stolen yours. Two kids in love; how sweet.” Her voice changes from sarcastic to cruel. “I can’t wait to make you watch him with a different girl every day. Maybe that’ll shut you up.”

  I start to respond, but the nicer man intervenes. “Can you walk?” He dips his arm to my waist to help me up and drapes my arm around his neck. “You can change over here.”

  Walking slow together we head toward a room to the right. It’s the size of a one-stall garage. Three walls are filled with rows of costumes; the fourth holds the largest mirror I’ve ever seen. A garden bench is in the middle of the room. He sits me down, riffles through the rack.

  “This is what she wants you to wear.” He holds up a satin, padded hanger displaying a baby-pink ballerina costume: leotard, tights, tutu, slippers, wrap sweater, and an added touch… countless strings of pearls.

  “Can you give me some privacy?” I ask, bracing myself on the bench.

  “Not really.” He hands the costume to me and turns around. “I’d leave the room, but Vanessa won’t allow it.”

  “Why do you work for her? You don’t seem the type…”

  “I’m not,” he says and leaves it at that. “Don’t put your hair up. She wants it loose.”

  I try to run fingers through my hair, find the back matted. “What’s your name?”

  “Paul,” he says simply.

  “How would you like to help me get out of here, Paul?” I look over my shoulder.

  “I’m working on it,” he mumbles.

  “Are you a cop?” I turn toward him.

  He laughs. “Not hardly.”

  That’s a vague response. I try to put on the tights and leotard, but am so weak that it’s as hard as pushing Play-Doh through a drainpipe. Only a little gets in at a time.

  “Can you at least tell me if you’re a good guy or a bad guy?” I put on the ballet slippers.

  He smiles. “The less you know about me the better.”

  He’s a human vault, and I don’t know his code. “You’ve gotta be a bad guy if you knew about this and didn’t do anything to stop it.” I pull apart the Velcro seal on the tutu and wrap it around my waist.

  “Listen kid, they only brought me in last night.”

  I put on the sweater and make a bow at the waist. “Who’s ‘they’?”

  “Carlos is right… you do talk a lot.” There’s a smile in his voice.

  “Are you and Carlos… friends?” I drape strands of pearls around my neck.

  “Okay… that was your last question and my last response is: we work together sometimes.”

  I finish getting ready and turn toward him. “So... you’re normally ‘just’ a thief?”

  He turns around. “Think what you need to, Kid, if it gets you through the day.” He points toward the mirror. “You wanna take a look?”

  Looking at my reflection, I see I’m Anna; Mac’s love int
erest. I’ve never seen a child so lovely. Tall and lean, my lips are full to the point of distraction, my eyes the clearest blue. Ivory skin is devoid of imperfection, and long hair waves to my waist. Lingering on my image in the mirror, I’m horrified by my appeal. For one brief, revolting moment, I understand what a pedophile would see in me.

  “You look very pretty,” he says gratuitously. “I’m sure Vanessa will be pleased.” He comes to the bench and offers me his arm.

  “As if I care whether or not she’s happy.” I attempt to stand; my legs are shaky.

  “If she’s happy, she’s calm. And if she’s not… you’re in trouble.” He looks at me. “Play nice; your life depends on it.”

  Now standing, we make our way to the door.

  Soon, bright lights switch on and Vanessa turns up the stereo; it plays Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake. I walk to center, am heated by illumination, and doused in Love’s Baby Soft. Vanessa shows me the most innocent of poses: knees turned in, arms crossed over developing breasts, eyes down and off to the side.

  I realize that I’m in the vision I had when the hell dog first attacked me: bright lights, two men talking, a woman taking pictures.

  After innumerable shutter clicks and flashes of light Vanessa looks at me with a pout. She speaks in baby talk. “Sorry, Sweetness… I’ve grown tired of your presence.” Dropping the camera her voice changes to a low, intolerant tone. “Lock her up.”

  Paul picks up the camera and puts the strap around his neck. “I’ve got her.” He lifts me to my feet.

  Vanessa turns away, struts down the hallway, and waves a backhanded goodbye.

  “Give me the OxyContin,” Paul says to Carlos.

  “Finally, you’ve grown some balls.”

  “Yeah, I’ll fuck her up good.” Paul looks at me. His eyes are completely neutral. I can’t read him at all. As we walk into the first room, he pushes me down onto the cot. “Get on your side!”

  Carlos laughs. “That’s the way you’re supposed to treat ‘um.”

  Paul leans down, grabs the handcuffs that are hooked to the bed, and snaps the free side closed. They’re not on my wrist. Covering me with sheets and a wool blanket he barks feigned aggression. “Put out your other arm.” When I don’t react he smacks my face, apologizes with his eyes. He fills a syringe with clear fluid, holds it up to the light, and flicks the needle with his middle finger.

  I hold out my arm, wonder what he’ll do. A supply table blocks Carlos from view.

  Paul sticks the needle into the blanket, pushes the liquid into my bedding. “Say goodnight, Kiddo.” He says, loud enough for Carlos to hear. Then kneels and whispers, “Take this.” It’s a key. “When I signal you, go to a room at the end of that hall.” His eyes show me where. “There’s a man in there. Give him this and tell him to get the hell out of here.” He hands me a piece of paper. “Have him call this number; he shouldn’t speak to anyone else.” Paul stands up.

  I push the piece of paper into the hip of my leotard and fold the key into the sleeve. “Why don’t you just call, or give this to him yourself?”

  He squats down to get some things from the bottom of the supply table. “Phones aren’t allowed in here. And I can only enter that room accompanied. ” Glancing around he says, “I wouldn’t normally get a kid involved, but I need your help.” He locks eyes with me. “Are you okay with this?”

  I nod. “Who’s in there?”

  He puts some sheets and needles on the top of the supply table, then squats down for more stuff. “Just some guy who’s in way over his head.” He looks around. “I’ll make sure they’re distracted when the next girl wakes up. You’ll have less than five minutes. Have him tell them to ‘wait, bait, and shake.’ Got it?”

  “Wait, bait, and shake. Got it.”

  He stands, rubs his knee, and says to Carlos, “She melted like a candle.”

  Walking to a chair between the two rooms, he sits next to Carlos. Once settled, they turn on a flat-screen TV on the opposite wall. I notice a hallway ascends behind them. A camera in the corner points down at the cots.

  Rolling on my side, I look across the room to Mac. He’s facing away from me; seems to be out. I clear my throat. Nothing. Cough. Nothing. Cough louder. Slowly he turns toward me and fights for consciousness. His eyes roll back with every blink.

  A tangle of voices echo in the hall. I can’t hear the conversation, but one thing’s clear; I know all of them: Vanessa, Kim, Mike, and Chief Lewis. I still can’t believe the Chief is involved. It doesn’t make any sense. I close my eyes and try to make out the conversation; they’re planning Gilchrists birthday party. A party where cake, ice cream, and virgins are served.

  None of this surprises me—except the Chief’s involvement. It’s like finding out that God vacations on the Las Vegas strip. I hope Lynette heard his name before I passed out and told Archer that the Chief can’t be trusted. Every cell in my body feels rage. I want to run across the room and grab him by the throat… but that doesn’t exactly seem tactical.

  Their reflections appear in a glass cabinet near the foot of my cot. Soon Mike and Kim go up the stairs and Vanessa and the Chief get into an elevator heading up. I suddenly realize we’re underground. That explains the lack of windows.

  Mac’s out again.

  “Hey… I’m gonna head out for a smoke before Springer comes on.” Carlos stands and smacks Paul on the shoulder.

  Paul looks around. “Sure. It doesn’t look like they’re waking up any time soon.”

  Once he’s gone, I look over to Paul. Glancing at me, he shakes his head, “No.”

  I wait impatiently for things to change. Minutes tick by like I’m watching sand in an hourglass. Finally, a child rouses in the cot next to Mac. Paul gets up and hovers over her. “You awake?” He asks in a gentle voice.

  “Huh?” She recoils from him.

  “Don’t worry, you’re going to be okay.”

  Carlos returns and goes to the speaker box. “Another one’s awake.”

  “We’ll just be a minute. The Chief and I are… finishing up.” Vanessa growls.

  Carlos takes his finger off the speaker, directs a question to Paul. “Man, do they ever stop fucking?”

  I cringe, thinking about the Chief’s wife and kids. Why would he throw everything away for a pretty face? A crass saying comes to mind: Never underestimate the power of the pussy. Clearly I’ve worked with cops for too long.

  “At least we don’t have to change the sheets,” Paul says.

  Carlos laughs.

  Voices echo in the hallway. Vanessa, Chief Lewis, and Mike appear.

  “Which one?” Vanessa asks.

  I play dead and listen to them talk to the girl.

  “Don’t be afraid,” Vanessa says, as if talking to a infant. “We’re just going to get some pictures of you, and then you’ll go right back to sleep.”

  I hear Mike’s voice, but don’t know who he’s addressing. “You’re gonna have to sit this one out.”

  Checking the reflection in the cabinet, I see he’s talking to Paul. I wonder why.

  Mike gives him the “buddy slap” and I imagine slapping him right back… with a lead shovel— full force to the back of his head.

  Carlos throws the girl over his shoulder and the three of them head for the other room. Paul looks to me and gestures for me to wait. He moves to the hall between our room and the photography room. The Beach Boys blare in the background. Paul looks to me and nods.

  I stay low and rush down the hall to the room at the end. Removing the key from my sleeve, I try the lock. As the key turns, I brace for what I’m going to see. When I crack the door, the scene is surprisingly normal: bed is made, room is tidy, and there’s no one in sight. I walk in and close the door carefully.

  I’m grabbed from behind. Screaming, I try to fight my way loose. Whoever has me must be tall; my feet flail far off the ground.

  A hand covers my mouth. “Shhh. It’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you.” I recognize the voice; it’s Joe.
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  I relax as he lets me go. Turning to him, I see a burn-mark on his neck; realize I was tasered. “Are you okay?”

  He smiles at me. “What kind of kid asks that… especially in this situation?”

  “The kind that’s really Emma James.”

  His eyes change. “Who told you to say that?”

  “Nobody told me to say anything. I’m Emma. What do I have to do to make you believe me?” Still woozy, I sit on the edge of the bed.

  “You have to admit, what you’re saying sounds a little crazy, right?”

  “I’ve made love to you, worked with you, been you, and now I’m trying to save you. What’s a gal gotta do to get some recognition around here?” I turn the key back into my sleeve.

  “Just tell me what’s going on.” He massages his temples.

  I hand him the piece of paper. “You have to get out of here and call this number.”

  He unfolds it. “Who is this?”

  “I don’t know, but you need to get out of here now. Only contact this number. Tell them that Paul said they should, ‘wait, bait, and shake’.”

  Joe seems distracted. “I’m not just going to leave all of you behind.” He puts the piece of paper in his pocket.

  “You won’t be leaving us behind, you’ll be getting us the help we need to get out of here safely.” I stand and move to leave. “And you only have a couple of minutes.” I crack open the door, still hear the music. “Do you know how to get out of here?”

  “Of course. But not without being seen.” Joe stands close to look around.

  “Don’t worry about that; as long as the music’s on no one will see you.” I look back to see if he’s ready.

  “On the count of three.” Joe counts down and we rush toward the open room.

  I head to my cot and slip under the covers. Glancing back, I see Joe looking stunned in the opening.

  “Oh my God. What did she do?” He doesn’t move, just stares at all the kids.

  “You’ve got to leave, Joe.” I wave him on. “Get out of here.”

  He looks at me like I woke him from a dream. “Yeah, right.” He walks through the open room, to a door at the foot of Mac’s cot; tries to push it. It’s locked from the outside. He turns around and heads toward the elevator.