Chapter 33
“Reed, take the women to the dungeon, then come back,” orders Byron. “Make sure they can’t cause any trouble. We’ll discuss how to handle them properly until the auction.”
“Understood,” Reed replies, then prepares us for the walk, making sure we’re thoroughly bound with rope.
Byron watches as Reed works, seemingly feeding off our anger. “If it’s any consolation, Quinn, you were dealt a bad hand but you played it beautifully. Darren and I have mastered the game. You were never going to win.”
“Fuck you,” I spit, though I’m acting out for his sake. My anger no longer churns, it buzzes like an electric current. Despair’s jaws yawn wide beneath me, but I’m not going to fall. I refuse to lose hope. I remind myself, I still have one more card: Reed. He’s my ace in the hole.
He takes us both at once, hauling us by leashes. With our arms securely bound behind our backs in tight box ties, and our legs hobbled at the knees, there’s no way we could break free. I’m tempted to ask Reed to get us loose so we could take down Byron and Prescott now — we’d be three on two, not the worst odds. But then there’d be no auction, and all those potential buyers would remain free. As long as Reed can act on our behalf, there’s still a chance this will all work out.
“This isn’t over,” I whisper to Amber, wanting to give her some hope.
She grunts, shaking her head. “Yes, it is.”
When we arrive at the dungeon, Reed lays us on the floor and gets out some more rope. He finishes tying our legs, then bends them back and roping them into hogtie.
“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” he says. His lips purse and he leans forward like he wants to kiss me, but he stays back.
“You’re just going to leave us like this?” I moan.
He nods. “That’s right. Now behave yourselves. Don’t make me regret not gagging you.”
Well, that’s just great, I think. As much as I enjoy the way the rope feels around my body — the ache in my muscles from the stringent position, and the intoxication of utter helplessness, right now I have bigger concerns.
“I’m sorry you had to suffer through that,” I say, trying to squirm my way along the ground until I can see Amber. My face burns in embarrassment as I bob back and forth, but it’s slowly working.
“Seriously?” she replies. “You were going to screw us all over so you could escape.”
“No! It’s not true. I made that up so they’d stop hurting you.” I strain against my bonds with all my strength, desperate to get out, but it’s impossible. “I swear! The plan is to fight them.”
I finally turn enough to see Amber, who glares at me in disgust.
“How, Quinn? With what? We have nothing!”
After what Jacqueline did, I don’t think I should risk telling Amber about Reed.
“All we need is for one of us to take a stand at the right time,” I mumble, trying to sound like I believe it. I wish it were true, but it’s not. If we’re going to win, we have to all unite as one.
Amber scoffs. “Sure, whatever. If you really meant to fight, you wouldn’t have made some fucked up deal with Byron, endangering the lives of every woman here. Or am I supposed to believe Byron was lying about the auction?”
I really wish I could have a minute alone with Reed so I could find out what’s going on — did he secure any help for us? If so, when are they coming?
“You know, we really thought you were serious about planning a breakout,” says Amber. “For the first time in years, I had hope. The whipping Reed just gave me fucking hurt, but not as much as finding out you double-crossed us. Do you have any idea how that feels, Quinn?”
The bitch.
“Yeah,” I say, sneering. “I do. Jacqueline was the one who ratted me out to Byron. He and Prescott have leverage on her, so she’s been their spy all along. I get why she did it, but it fucking hurt too.”
The anger on Amber’s face drains; she closes her eyes, shaking her head slightly. “That… explains a lot. If the other women knew… Fuck. We have to tell them.”
“They’re not going to give us the chance, they’re going to keep us isolated from now on.”
She nods, wringing her hands, trying to get loose too. “But what about the auction, Quinn? What was the point of that?”
I inch my way forward until I’m close enough to Amber to whisper in her ear. Under the circumstances, I’m going to trust her, but Byron could have bugged the room.
“Reed’s getting help. I don’t know how or when, but he’s doing it. I know how you feel about him, but he’s changed. He’s trying to make up for his mistakes.”
“I hope you’re right, Quinn,” she whispers. “But what if you’re not?”
Balling my hands into fists — which is about all I can physically do at this point — I say, “Then there’s nothing we can do. Is that what you want to hear? I’m sick of being told we can’t win.” I lean in closer, making sure she hears this, because she needs to. “I trust Reed. I know he got the word out to someone who can help. But if you need something you can do, just be ready to do your part.”
Amber rolls her eyes.
“I’m serious. If you have a chance to hurt one of these men, do it. Bite hard and don’t let go.”
“Quinn, do me a favor, okay?”
“What’s that?” I ask, backing up.
“If this fantasy of yours comes true, I want to be the one to kill Byron.”
That’s the spirit. “I’ll do my best to see that that happens.”
—
“Don’t talk,” Reed says when he comes back, not alone: Edwin is with him. “From now on, you are not to say one word. If the other inmates talk to you, ignore them. Otherwise they’ll be punished. If a guard gives you an order, don’t acknowledge it, just follow it.”
Shit. This is bad.
They untie us enough to feed us and let us use the bathroom, then stuff thick wads of cloth in our mouths and seal our lips shut with several layers of tape. Keeping our hands bound behind our backs, they walk us to the cell block and seal us in for the night. The other women ask us questions, but we do as Reed said, and offer no reply. Eventually they give up and go to sleep.
All except Jacqueline: she stands at her cell door, watching me. When everyone else goes quiet and snores echo through the cold halls, she kicks one of the iron bars until I look up at her.
“Quinn, I’m sorry,” she whispers. “But Isabel…”
I nod, wishing I could tell her I understand. Part of me wants to get up, turn around and give her the finger, but I won’t — I’m better off saving my anger for Prescott and Byron.
The next morning, the guards take everyone but Amber and me to the workshop. Reed gets us fed and cleaned again, then leaves us in our cells, bound to our beds.
All I can do is stare up at the tiny window atop the wall, but as I do, I start to hear something: a high-pitched beeping, followed by a deep, low rumbling. Trucks?
Soon I start hearing loud voices and loud buzzing. Chainsaws!
Construction.
Work on the prison’s new wing has started.
I wish I could see out the window, but even if I could stand up, it’s too high up for me to get a good view. Still, I can hear lots of men outside, and multiple vehicles — earth movers, dump trucks — probably all kinds of equipment. Sometimes I’ll hear a loud yell, followed by a crunch — felled trees. This goes on all day long.
The next morning brings new sounds, particularly the rhythmic thumps of hammers pounding nails. They’re building something, I’m sure of it, but how is that possible? It can’t be the new building — they’ve only just gotten started. Byron may have a lot of workers here, but it’s not an army. How long does a project of this magnitude take? Months, at least. So what are they doing?
Fucking dammit!
I wrench around, trying to loosen the ropes binding me to the bed, but it’s no use. There’s so much going on right now, and I have questions that need answers. Have the workers been inside the prison yet? Have they seen the women, or been given a chance to violate them? Are the women out there working?
To calm down, I remind myself that when the women get back later, they’ll talk — if not to me, then to each other. I’ll just have to listen.
However, that moment never comes. Before the inmates return from their work, Edwin and Hunter come for me and Amber. Though I’m scared about what’s going on, it is a relief to be let out of bed. My body feels stiff from just lying around.
When we get out of here, I’m going to start running. Not for exercise, but because I’ll be able to. I haven’t run anywhere in weeks. I’ve walked, slowly — and never by myself. As much as I love Reed, I look forward to spending time alone — without being locked in a box. Free to do anything, or to do nothing. It’s hard to appreciate how important that is until it’s lost — I hope that I never take it for granted again.
As we move along, I realize we’re headed down a corridor I’ve been through only once. My heart races, realizing we’re headed outside.
The lake?
Sounds of revelry hit us immediately: loud conversation, raucous laughter, the snap of beer cans being opened. It’s a fucking party, and it’s as bad as I imagined: dozens of workers, all big men with plenty of muscle. They drink and joke and smile like everything is right with the world, while the inmates of the Walker Work Center — even Jacqueline — watch from thirty feet away.
Naked, gagged and shivering in the cold breeze, the women are tied to wooden posts driven into the ground in a single continuous row. At the end of the row stands a small, wooden stage. Some of the workers walk up and down the row, inspecting and taunting the girls. When they shy away from an unbidden caress, the men hoot and cackle.
Fucking animals.
Torches encircle the entire area, guttering in the wind. The lake glitters, reflecting the flames as clashing shadows illuminate the prison’s facade.
This is hell, I realize. I close my eyes, unable to bear the sight. At least I know what they were building: a proper spot for a slave auction. It’s situated in front of the lake, which would make it easy for Byron to dispose of the women who don’t sell. Do they know that’s their potential fate, or has Byron left that part out so they don’t completely panic?
“Good evening, ladies,” Byron says, waltzing up to us with a beer in his hand. He’s abandoned his suit and tie, and unbuttoned his collar to look more casual. “What do you think? Pretty good for just a couple days, isn’t it?”
He looks so proud, but I’d die of shock if he helped hammer in a single nail.
“I have no doubt tomorrow’s auction and groundbreaking is going to be a huge hit, the most fun I’ve had in years,” Byron continues, looking out at the scene. “The guards will be sad to say goodbye to all the girls; they only just met. But I promised them the new inmates would be along within a week, so they’ll be fine.”
Every word out of his mouth makes me want to throw up; with my mouth gagged, I’d probably choke to death on my own vomit, but that would still be better than having to listen to this piece of shit prattle on. But then I wouldn’t get a chance to watch him die, and I wouldn’t want to miss that.
“Right now, dozens of sponsors are on their way here from all over the country. Half of them are up at Darren’s, enjoying his hospitality. Jonah’s there, Quinn, and he’s eagerly anticipating seeing you. He’s going to put on quite a show for the new guards. Personally, I can’t wait.”
As Byron gloats, Edwin jogs off to a small shed not far from the stage; he emerges shortly, wheeling along a wooden stockade toward us.
“Remember this, Quinn?” asks Byron. “It’s from the day you arrived. I thought it would bring a nice sense of symmetry to your time here.”
Working together, Byron and Edwin carefully free me from my bonds, just long enough to lock me in the stock. I try to break free of their grasp, but Edwin’s too strong. It takes them less than a minute to lock me into the device.
“Edwin, put Amber with the others,” Byron orders, pushing me and the stock. “Then go have some fun.”
“You got it, boss,” Edwin replies, chuckling.
Byron starts sweating, struggling to move me and the device toward a table. The wheels sink too far into the dirt to roll easily, and after a while Byron gives up and goes to get the table instead. I grin beneath my gag, taking some comfort in his fumbling.
On the table are a whip, a whiskey bottle, glasses and a bucket of ice. He takes the whip and holds it up close so I can see it. “I know I don’t have Reed’s stamina or finesse, but I make up for it by never granting mercy. We’ve got all night, Quinn, and I’m going to make the most of it.”