Page 110 of Save Me

“A New Beginning Church,” I read the side of the van when it turns into the parking lot. “Son of a bitch,” I mumble. They’re using actual church vans to traffic children for forced labor.

The van pulls around the back of the motel, causing me to lose sight.

I begin running across the street. I have to see this up close.

Nicole is behind me, with Michael following. Behind the motel, there’s an empty parking lot. It’s fenced in by a low brick wall that extends up into a thicket of trees and shrubbery.

This hotel is the demarcation between the outskirts of a working-class neighborhood that’s been on the economic decline for some time now and an upper-middle-class neighborhood.

I peek around the side of the motel to get a clear sight of what’s happening.

Nicole and Michael are behind me.

“Let’s go. We don’t have all fucking night!” the guy behind the steering wheel yells at those getting out of the van.

I watch the fifteen or so people who were in the large van pile out. Their movements are sluggish and languid. They appear exhausted. The light from the back of the building allows me to see their faces. They’re kids.

Most look to be between the ages of thirteen and sixteen.

I pull out my burner phone, which does have a camera, and snap pictures of the scene that plays out in front of me.

Another guy gets out of the passenger side. “Hey, Billy,” he calls.

A red-haired boy looks up, stopping just before he enters the back entrance.

I lower my phone, not feeling good about what’s about to happen. The guy raises a fist and punches Billy.

The boy, who looks to be about thirteen or fourteen, crumples to the ground.

“What the—” I start in their direction before thinking better of it. But someone stops me.

I turn, ready to rip free from whoever is holding me. I stop when I see it’s Nicole. Her eyes are wide with fright. She silently shakes her head, begging me not to intervene.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Michael says through gritted teeth. His voice is low, barely audible. “Shit,” he curses and pulls away from the wall, moving out of sight of those in the back.

I do the same, too, and crouch against the building next to Nicole. She was right to stop me. I know she was.

I just have a hard time seeing anyone, especially someone smaller than the other person, being attacked, beaten up, or harmed in any way. I always have.

“Are you trying to get us caught?” Michael rants. “Do you know what they do to those kids?” he whisper-yells. “I ain’t about to let that happen to me. I’ll meet you in the car,” he says to Nicole before running off in the direction we just came.

She watches him but doesn’t call after him. I assume it’s because she doesn’t want to get caught.

Nicole remains beside me, but she looks terrified.

She visibly swallows, her eyes glazing over. I reach out and squeeze her hand. I don’t have words because no words can offer comfort after witnessing just a piece of what she, Erika, and so many others must’ve endured.

I hope my touch provides the comfort that I can’t say.

“I-I just want them to stop,” she says.

“We’ll get them,” I promise. “I’m going to try to get a few more pictures, and then we can leave.”

Her eyes remain watery, but her resolve is strong when she nods.

My hands shake as I take photo after photo. The shakiness is a result of anger.

I’m pissed off at what I’m seeing these bastards do to these children. The driver and his helper in the passenger seat. They yell and berate the teens who exit the van. While no other incidents like that with young Billy happen, there remains a fair amount of pushing and shoving to rush the kids into the hotel.

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