I followed Moe as she approached the unit with the fading number four on the door. There was a noisy air conditioning unit that made sounds similar to human coughing and sputtering. At least it would be cooler inside. I hadn’t realized it, but I’d been eaten alive by mosquitos.
When we approached the door, I noticed two huge black dogs for the first time. They were lying on the sidewalk, one on each side of the door, and they raised their heads inquisitively as we passed them. When they determined we were not a threat, they went back to their naps. I didn’t know it then, but those two creatures would become my jailers and eventually my protectors. They were large black Rottweilers named Damien and Lucifer.
I had an idea of what the inside of unit four was going to look like, but I couldn’t have been more wrong. It was like walking into a different world. Where there should have been a dilapidated old bed, worn carpet, ancient furniture and the smell of decay, I found instead a totally modern living area. It looked like two rooms separated by a small kitchen. It was clean, cool and tastefully decorated. Was this some kind of dream?
Apparently, two units, maybe even three, had been remodeled to offer the occupant some modicum of comfort. I didn’t have to guess as to who that occupant was.
My first thought was to find a phone. But Moe must have been reading my mind. We both spotted the phone on the kitchen counter and looked at each other at the same time. She just shook her head slowly. I sized her up. She was little. I wasn’t too big myself, but I was strong and I was pretty sure I could take her down if I had to. I would save that for later if I needed to. I decided to try to warm up to her. Get on her good side. Get her to feel sorry for me. To want to help me.
“Wow, it’s really nice in here. Are all the rooms this nice?”
She didn’t answer me but gave me a look that said “Are you kidding?”
I sat on the edge of the small sofa. She sat on the edge of an oversized recliner and just stared at me.
“So you’re supposed to get me settled in? What exactly does that entail?”
No answer. She got up and walked to the small kitchen area. Opened the refrigerator and took out a can of soda. She popped the top, walked over and handed it to me. I thanked her and sat it on the little coffee table without taking a sip. On second thought, my mouth was as dry as the desert. A sip would probably taste good. So I sipped my drink.
I guess she noticed me scratching at the mosquito bites because she got up again and passed through the kitchen into what I assumed was a bedroom with a bathroom. She quickly returned and wordlessly handed me a bottle of antiseptic and one cotton ball. She nodded at my arms and I realized she was trying to offer some kind of comfort for the bites. My immediate thought was, “Okay, so she’s not a horrible person. Only a nice person would be concerned about some stupid mosquito bites.” I don’t think it ever occurred to me that she was being nice because there would be hell to pay if she wasn’t.
I continued with the small talk as I dabbed at the bites with the medicine-soaked cotton. Moe still refused to answer me no matter how hard I tried to engage her. I’d never seen someone so loyal to her leader. There must have been some unspoken rule about not fraternizing with the prisoners.
Oh man, I hadn’t thought of that word before, but that’s exactly what I was. A prisoner. Held against my will. I had to get to that phone. I had a plan. Not a good one, but if I acted casually enough I might just pull it off. Who knows? Maybe I’m not really a prisoner, I reasoned to myself. Maybe I’m overreacting. This isn’t real. This is the kind of thing you see in the movies.
I chugged my soda. When the can was almost empty I casually stood and said, “All done, thanks. Is the garbage can in the kitchen?” Without waiting for her answer I walked to the small area pretending to look for the trash. I walked to the sink and started to pour out what little soda was left in the can. With my left hand, I casually reached for the phone on the counter. Before I could lift it off the receiver I felt her behind me. I stopped dead. One hand on the receiver, one hand still dangling the soda can over the sink. Tiny, quiet little Moe was holding a knife to my neck.
“Whoa, Moe, no need for that. I just wanted to make a call. Let my parents know where I was. They’ll be worried and all.”
She removed the knife and I turned around and saw that she was giving me the same look she gave me when I asked if all the rooms were this nice. No, little unassuming Moe was no dummy. She was small and she was quiet, but she had my number. Heck, maybe she was me a few years back. I didn’t know.
I stammered an apology. “I’m just scared. I don’t know what’s going to happen to me. Do you know? Why won’t you say anything to me? If you could just tell me what’s happening or what I can expect I think I could handle it better.”
She was shorter than me, but we were standing so close I was able to get a really good look at her face. She had pretty eyes, even with all the makeup, and I could tell she had beautiful skin. I hadn’t seen her smile yet so I couldn’t comment on her teeth.
She showed no emotion as she stared back at me. I was lost. I was alone. This little would-be friend was not a friend. She was doing her job.
She opened her mouth slightly as if to say something. Finally, maybe an answer. A word of comfort. Anything.
It was then that I noticed Moe didn’t have a tongue.