Delphi, Eganene

It was so dark she couldn’t see her hands. Bekka waved her invisible fingers, feeling the air. It had to have been hours, but yellow light beneath the door never changed. Exhausted and miserable, she found the crate and furs, arranging them so she could lay down.

Sleep would have been a mercy. Her thoughts raced despite the furs, the cold bleeding through the ground to make her skin feel numb. It was easy to imagine that she was already dead.

She couldn’t tell her dreams from her daydreams, but perhaps she did sleep. Bekka stretched her cold limbs, her body stiff as if she had been immobile for some time.

Good, she thought, maybe she had slept.

She crept over to the door, putting her face against the cold frame. She could hear nothing new. Hitting the door, she called Billy’s name. He had to come back to let her out. “Come on! Open the door!”

Again, nothing. She was the only one down here. The furnace was making a low rushing noise…She nodded to herself in the dark. Maybe someone else would come to fill the fuel.

And if it was Billy who opened the door?

She would hit him with that piece of metal she found on the crates.

She spent a long time thinking about how much she wanted to hurt him, but even that grew boring. Her thoughts went around in circles until she had them all a hundred times. Without a way to keep track of time, every moment became endless.

The silence, too, grew overwhelming. She tried singing quietly to herself. The sound seemed lost in the darkness. She kept at it awhile anyway, filling the minutes, maybe the hour, until her throat was too raw to continue.

She was determined not to cry. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

Her stomach growled, sounding different, inhuman. She imagined herself as a wolf pup, alone on the plains, surrounded by the vacant blackness of a moonless night. It would be better to be a wolf, she thought. She could wait in the darkness until he opened her door and then rip his throat out.

“You think you’re a wolf?”

What? she thought. She really needed to quit that.

She didn’t want to be a wolf. She just wanted out of the room.

Her tongue was a dry wad in her mouth. More minutes passed, more hours. She tried shouting at the door again, calling for help.

There was no one to answer. She was alone in the bottom of a basement.

The man hadn’t lied. He lived alone and no one was coming. She rubbed invisible tears from her invisible face. She didn’t want to cry, even if there was no one to see her.

“No one’s listening,” the thought boomed in the silence.

Bekka flinched, pushing it away.

“Hello?” she rasped, her voice echoing off the walls. She put her ear against the door, holding her breath.

Silence.

Wonderful, now she was talking to herself. Billy wasn’t out there.

She touched the metal object she’d found. It would do more damage than her fists. She cycled through the reasons he might be holding her here, each one more sick and depraved.

She couldn’t just wait, weeping at the door, so she walked, back and forth, again and again and again, ignoring the pain in her knee, driven to move. She kept count, but the number got too high and she lost it. She started over-- walk a few steps, turn, walk a few more, turn. It was dizzying. Light-headed and thirsty, she felt like an animal pacing its cage.

The image of the wolf returned. Her coat thick and grey, with a warm, heavy mantle wrapped about her neck. Sharp claws clicked against the man-made floor seeking dirt and grass. She licked her fangs, her body yearning for the cool freedom of the plains.

When she grew tired, she sat on the hard floor and rested her head between her knees. This was all a terrible nightmare. She just wanted to wake-up.

I’m not dreaming, she reminded herself.

Ever since she woke-up outside, nothing had been right. From Arthur not being at his desk to their apartment being evacuated. The explosion, her asthma attack, it felt like she was in another world.

I almost died tonight, she thought. I almost died by myself, in the snow.

Even her rescuer had turned out to be a psycho.

“You were snooping,” came the thought.

Bekka shuddered, twisting to the side, searching for the voice’s echo. If the voice was in the room, there should have been an echo.

She could hear her heart, faster than normal, thudding so loudly that she was sure it would drown out anything.

“He saw you,” said the voice in her head.

Jeez, Bekka thought back. Why am I talking to myself?

Not expecting a reply she jumped when she heard, “You are?”

Silence.

Had she really just heard that? She’d hit her head pretty hard, but talking to herself? She was exhausted and dehydrated. It was probably a concussion. Obviously, she was not in the best mental state right now.

Time seemed to lengthen and then retract. She tried keeping track, her foot tapping out the time.

Tap, tap, tap, tap, the reverberation echoing the beating of her heart. Her rhythm, steady. The darkness felt heavy on her skin. Bekka imagined there was nothing left of her. Maybe she was unconscious out in the snow, her mind slowly freezing, dreaming this nightmare for her dying body.

It was all black, all silent and all still.

Tap, tap, tap, it was better than the silence.

Swaying to the beat, she imagined that she was the drumming, her entire soul just the thud of someone’s shoe on concrete. She was the sound, the impact, the friction. Her breath rushed out and stopped as the shoe hit the ground. A pause, elongated into space, nothing. She breathed again. The shoe passed through the air, the wind swirling up to become her face.

She closed her eyes. Everything remained black and she hugged herself more tightly. She wanted so badly to feel something, even if it was only her arms wrapped around her knees.

She went back to her makeshift bed and tried again to sleep. She closed her eyes, wondering if anyone was looking for her. Her grandmother would certainly have called the police…

“There are no police here,” said the voice.

She shook her head. “Stop it,” she told herself. “You aren’t hearing anyone.”

Her grandmother would want to search for her, but the storm outside would make it impossible. Had her mother and father had been alive, she was sure they would have found her. Bekka didn’t have real memories of them. But, from what her grandmother said her parents were adventurers, like fairy tale heroes.

In many ways, that was just what they were.

Her father had been a doctor and her mother a nurse, humanitarian aid workers who’d lived far from modern civilization. Her grandmother said they died in a conflict between a rebel faction and the state dictatorship. Their caskets were empty at their funerals.

“Is that what she told you?”

Bekka twitched, refusing to acknowledge the voice.

I will not talk to myself, she thought.

She’d think about her parents instead. They’d have rescued her. She could just see it-- a miraculous homecoming, the handsome couple throwing open the door to her cell, their arms extended for the embrace she longed for.

Bright light seared the back of her eyes. Bekka ran forward into their arms. Encircled, she felt a moment of celebration.

It disappeared as quickly as it had come.

The warmth of their skin faded as she touched it, their lives slipping from her fingers. Clothes and skin slid from their bodies. Bekka recoiled, leaving nothing but the bleached white bones.

“You see that?” the voice asked, sounding mournful.

“What the hell! No!” Bekka spit, rubbing at her eyes.

She was shaking violently now. Dehydration, a concussion, whatever it was, she wasn’t ok. She touched the goose egg on her forehead, but the feel of her parents’ bones lingered.

Desperate to rid herself of the image, she remembered the paintings. She only had two. One was of her parent’s wedding day. Her mother had worn a silky, pale wedding dress, complete with sparkling tiara. It was a black and white painting, but Bekka knew that she was holding a bouquet of daisies. They were Bekka’s favorite, too.

The bride’s hair was as dark as her daughter’s, the lightly curled tresses spiraling to her hips. Her father’s hair was also dark and he wore it long for a man. Bekka guessed that it was the style back then. He looked kind of silly, but she still thought he was handsome. He was wearing some kind of military uniform, dark pants and a coat, with shiny buttons and a striped sash. She had asked her grandmother about which branch of service he was in, but she hadn’t been able to remember.

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The second picture was also black and white, but she liked it better. Her mother and father were sitting together on a patio bench, holding a very small baby wrapped in a blanket. Her grandmother said the baby was Bekka. She dreamt about that picture, about being hugged and kissed and loved.

She tried to imagine that summer day, but all she saw was the winter storm raging outside. Irritated with herself, Bekka sat up and wrapped her arms around her legs.

“What if that man doesn’t come back?” The voice came unbidden, a whisper deep inside her mind.

He wouldn’t leave her here. The blackness ate at her, the same dull nothingness, unending, without relief. Using the palms of her hands, she rubbed at her closed eyes. Shots of red and yellow erupted behind her eyelids, sparkling like fireworks. It was a game she’d played when she was small. She rubbed her eyes again and watched the colors cascade from the center of her vision.

The only downside was that you could only do it a few times before it gave you a headache. She already had one, so she might as well entertain herself. She did it again, this time seeing blue and greens fluorescents, otherworldly marine creatures that slid through the black sea. Bekka smiled, inordinately pleased to be rid of the darkness.

Without warning, the door to her cell swung open.

Clanging sounds echoed, but she had her eyes covered against the brightness. As soon as she could, she pulled her arm down, blinking pitifully.

The furnace smiled at her like a fiery monster from hell. The intensity was blinding, filling her darkness, too sudden and too strong. She shrunk back, overwhelmed. The light that seeped through her eyelids felt like needles in her skull.

As desperate as she was to see what was happening, it was too much. She’d been in this dark room for a long time. Her pale face drained of any remaining color. There was a weakness in her stomach, a sudden cramping sensation that rippled across her muscles. Her body remembered what Billy had done to her.

“What if he’s here to kill you?”

That’s nonsense, she thought back. He wouldn’t have just left you in here.

“Me? Who said anything about me?”

Stunned, she blinked, forgetting the pain from the light.

The white glare burned her eyes, but she drew up her knees and squinted at the doorway. There were three silhouettes, two short and one tall.

“Where’s she from?” a deep voice asked.

Billy answered, “Don’t know. Just showed up. I took her in, thinking to keep her, but she stole from me…”

“I didn’t steal!” Bekka growled, indignant, forcing her tongue to form the words.

Billy lunged as if he meant to hit her.

Bekka scrambled back a few feet. The three of them were still speaking.

“You see,” Billy said, pointing at her. His voice was filled with righteous exasperation. “No manners. I can’t keep her around here. No telling what harm she’d do.”

The woman answered. Bekka was surprised to hear an undercurrent of warmth. “Ah, now. She’s just a girl. If you’d been wandering the streets, you wouldn’t have manners either. Those have to be taught to you.”

Billy grunted noncommittally.

The woman continued, “Lucky for her, we know how to teach. Don’t we Martin?”

“That we do,” the other man said, his voice low and resonant.

“And you’ve got some decent timing,” the woman added, almost cheerfully. “We’ve got a shipment running south. We could take her off your hands for you, if that’s what you want.”

“How much would you give me for her?”

“Does she have any skills?”

Billy laughed. “Not that I can tell. She sounds clear out of her mind.”

“But she can cook and clean,” the woman said.

“I told you,” Billy replied, “I only had her for a bit and then she stole from me. I didn’t get around to seeing if she’s good at anything.”

“Twenty nos, then,” the other man replied. “Shipment is running anyway. One more won’t make a difference. We’ve got room in the cabin, even if she doesn’t amount to much.”

Eyes adjusting, Bekka could see that he was taller than Billy, with a thick body. He wore tan pants and some kind of rough-spun blue tunic, a corded belt securing everything beneath his considerable waist.

“Never,” her captor replied, sounding insulted. “Since when do girls go for…”

“What?” Bekka croaked, confusion making her bold.

Billy kicked at her again and she dodged the blow, backing into the farthest corner of the room. The three people stood blocking much of the light, their faces unreadable in the shadows.

She realized that she was back on her makeshift bed, except that it didn’t look the same as she had envisioned it in the darkness. Instead of dark animal furs, the pelts looked an awful lot like horsehides. The skins were all light in color, the brilliant white hair almost seeming to glow.

Disgusted, Bekka pushed herself to the side, once again sitting on the cold concrete. She didn’t understand what was happening.

“That’s better,” her captor agreed, shaking hands with the man. “You like some tea while we settle the sum?”

“Sure,” the bigger man replied following Billy from the cell.

They hadn’t asked the woman. She stood in the doorway watching the men retreat. Then, she turned to Bekka.

Her voice was strangely calming, “My name’s Tonelle, child. I won’t hurt you and neither will Martin. Not as long as you do as you are bid. We travel south with some other cargo. You’ll be fed and kept nicely. There’ll be no need to fear us.”

Beckoning with a hand, she continued, “Come here and let me take a look at you.”

Bekka didn’t move. Did this lady really think she was going with her?

Maybe Tonelle was playing along with Billy’s crazy story and she was going to help her escape. Bekka looked up, her mouth open to ask, but the woman’s posture convinced her otherwise.

Tonelle had her hands propped on her wide hips, her stance threatening. “I said, come here.” Her voice had changed. She didn’t sound like a kind mother anymore.

Bekka didn’t move. She must have imagined the sympathy. These people are crazy too, she thought. They had the same accent as Billy. Maybe they were playing some messed up game.

Well, she wasn’t going to play along. She was going…

Surprisingly quick, the woman covered the distance between them and hauled her from the ground. Rough hands squeezed her arms. Tonelle’s face was close enough to kiss. Bekka arched away awkwardly.

Shaking her, the woman spoke sternly, the way people talked to their dogs when they misbehaved, “I told you to come. You’ll need to learn to listen better than that.” Her breath was hot and sickly sweet against Bekka’s face.

“Manners, child. Manners above all else.” She tapped Bekka’s head with the end of one finger, each blow pressing against her bruise. “Manners, manners, manners.”

Bekka flinched, but didn’t try to get out of her grasp. Where would she have run? Tonelle was short, a hair over five feet, with long, red hair worn in a braid behind her head. Like her partner, she wore tan pants and a blue tunic. The cloth was snug to her body. She didn’t look pregnant, but Bekka couldn’t help thinking of a nursing mother when she noticed the woman’s ample chest.

“We can’t get a thing for you if you don’t learn your manners. But don’t worry, the kids and I will help you with that. You won’t end up like those other girls. I can promise you that. My girls always find good homes.”

In the light, Bekka could see that a deep patch of freckles covered the woman’s face, neck and hands. The spots were so close together that it seemed like she had been splashed with paint. Supple lips and a largish nose gave her a slight expression of stupidity, but Bekka could see that her blue eyes sparkled with intelligence.

Tonelle sized her up and smiled, her teeth flashing in the half-light. “Ah, child, you’re quite pretty! You learn to listen and you’ll do just fine. No, look at me now. Your hair! Beautiful and black it is. And you’ve got green eyes! My, they are pretty. How old are you?”

Bekka tried to pull away from the woman’s grasp, but Tonelle didn’t let go. “Now, dear. You answer my questions and be smart about it. I can help you if you’re good. If not,” she suggested, “you’ll find it hard. Now. I asked how old you are.”

“I…” Bekka rasped. Tonelle grabbed something from her waist and Bekka was relieved to see that it was a canteen. Bekka took it eagerly, ripping off the cap and upending the bottle above her mouth.

After she had drunk the entire contents, Tonelle grinned at her. “Well?”

“Seventeen,” Bekka managed. This woman was better than Billy, if only by degrees. She would go along with this nonsense until she could run for help. No matter what, she had to get out of here.

Tonelle smiled. “Good. And you have a voice! You can talk just fine.” She patted Bekka’s arm. “I was worried about that, tell you the truth. But, all's the better. Can you do anything else? Know your letters at all?”

“Do you mean, can I read?”

“Yes.”

“Of course, I…”

Tonelle laughed out loud. “Of course, you say? Well, that’ll be great if it’s true. But enough of this. Take off your clothes. I’ve got something for you to put on.”

“But…”

The woman pushed her gently towards the back into the room and said, “We didn’t pay for the clothes you got on, so you’ll have to change into what we have.” She turned her back and retrieved a canvas bag from outside the doorway. Pulling several wool dresses, some tan pants and a few blue shirts from the bag, she sorted through them until she found what she wanted.

Handing a dress to Bekka, she said, “This should fit you. It’s warmer than it looks, you’ll see. I’ve got some stockings and shoes for you in the wagon…”

Holding the clothes in her arms, Bekka asked, “The wagon?”

Tonelle laughed again. “Sure, child. Did you think we were going to make you walk to Orlenia? You’re worth a good bit of money to the right person. Can’t have you walk hundreds of miles and then expect to fetch a good price.”

“Where’s Orlenia?” Bekka asked, softly.

“Oh, south and west of here. It’ll take us about a few months to get there if the weather doesn’t dump on us. Martin and the boys put sled legs on the wagon so we’ll be able to move quickly until the snow melts. After that, they’ll change them back to wheels and the going will be slower.”

Bekka nodded, realizing the woman was waiting for her to make some kind of response.

“Don’t fret, dear, it’s a decent enough road. Been up and down it for the last ten years or so, but you can’t know. Sometimes it’s too wet to be quick.”

“Mrs., I don’t know how to tell you this but…”

“Oh, don’t Mrs. me child. I’m Tonelle to you just the same as to anyone else. Martin, well, he likes to be called Sir, but you only need to say that if you want something real bad. You just call him Martin, all the others do. And your name?”

“Bekka. But Tonelle, I’m not supposed to…”

“Well, that’s a pretty name your mother gave you. Don’t hear of many Bekkas anymore. Name kind of went out of style when…”

“Tonelle, please listen, I can’t go with you. You seem nice and all, but my grandmother will be looking for me and I really need to go home. If you would take me there, I’m sure that she would give you whatever money you paid this guy and then we would both be better off. There’s probably a reward!”

The woman’s smile slid, the corners of her mouth dropping down towards the floor. “Look. No more talk of your grandmother. Things are the way they are now and you’ll have to accept that. If you don’t, it’ll go hard for you.

Trust me in this. I’ve seen it a hundred times with other boys and girls. You want to cling to the life you had, that’s fine. Think about it in your head if it makes you feel nice, but don’t believe that things will ever be different from the way they are now.

You’re mine now. That’s your lot in life. If you’re lucky and you’ve got good reason to believe you are, then you’ll find work with a nice family that’ll feed you and keep you proper. You’re a pretty girl, Bekka. And pretty girls can end up with some fancy men.

Think on it, child. You’ll see I’m right. There’ll be no more cold nights. No more roaming the streets. You’ll have food and a warm place to sleep. Why, you should be thanking me!”

Bekka tried again, “But, really, I…”

“That’s enough.” The words were hard, brooking no nonsense and Bekka swallowed what she was going to say. “You’ll listen to me. I’ll do my best to help you to a nice home. Give me trouble and you won’t have anyone to help you and teach you.

Trust me, child. Girls without manners don’t end up well in the auction. They get bought for reasons you don’t want to know and I’m not going to talk about. Do we understand each other?”

Bekka didn’t know what to do.

How was she supposed to reason with someone who thought she was taking a wagon to auction in Orlenia?

“Good question. Your grandmother’s in Philadelphia, Bekka.”

Tonelle waved her arms in annoyance, “Listen, girl. When I talk or Martin talks, you need to listen. Neither of us likes repeating ourselves. I told you to take off your clothes and change. We’ve got a day of traveling ahead of us. I’m not keen on wasting any more daylight.” She threw an annoyed glance behind her, “Tea or no tea, it’s time to be going.”

Bekka fought the rushing panic as Tonelle slowly closed her in the room. She watched helplessly as the light from the doorway shrunk, its brightness slowly diminished until all that was left was a thin strip.

“You hurry up in there,” she heard Tonelle call.

Bekka began to take off her clothes, rushing now. It felt good to pull her captor’s sweater from her body. She wished she could shower the thick mustiness of Billy’s smell off her skin.

Standing barefoot on the cold, hard floor, she grabbed the clothing Tonelle had left for her. It was a dress. She pulled it over her head, taking her necklace out of Billy’s clothes and stuffing it into one the many pockets.

Without any warning, the cell door opened and the two men entered the room. Bekka could see that her captor was pleased with whatever deal had been struck. He even had a smile for her.

“Good, you’re dressed,” Billy laughed. “You be good for these folks, now, and don’t you worry. Martin will take care of you just fine.”

“Come on, girl,” Tonelle said from behind them, beckoning her out of the room. “I don’t think you want to stay in there any longer.”

Bekka shook her head and tried to squeeze passed the men. Neither moved, but let her brush by them as she made her exit.

“She’s a pretty one, isn’t she?” Billy remarked.

Martin’s booming laugh answered, “Sure enough, she’ll fetch a good price. My Tonelle will teach her manners.” Herding the women up the steps, he continued, “You let me know if you find any more. We should be back up here in six or seven months.”