Page 13 of Red Captive

The guys keep working. I hear their boots on the stone.

“Hey!” Rex says a minute later. “Where is Jen? Where is the human?” His voice is laced with concern. “She said she wouldn’t stray,” he mutters to himself.

“Maybe she went out into the gardens. It’s nicer to walk out there than in here,” one of the guys says.

Rex is silent for a few long seconds. “Maybe, but she knows better than to pull something like this,” he says, sounding worried. I feel bad. He’s such a great guy. So super-sweet. I really hope he doesn’t get into any trouble for this. I told him about my mom and Caleb. I’m hoping he’ll understand even if he doesn’t have all of the facts.

I lie there, keeping as still as I can, keeping my breathing even.

Please don’t find me.

“I’m sure she’ll come back.”

“She probably went back to the kitchen. They might start to run behind otherwise. She’s a hard worker. I’ll help you with the last two crates, and then I need to go check on her,” he says.

“Thanks for helping,” one of the guys says. “We would never have made it otherwise.” They lift the crate I’m in.

“There aren’t normally this many,” the other guy says as they walk. I keep expecting them to notice that I’m in here, but they don’t.

There is a scraping noise as they push the crate into the truck. A minute later, the last crate is being loaded.

I hear them say their goodbyes, their voices becoming muffled as they close the doors. I pray they hurry. It won’t take Rex long to realize that I am not in the kitchen or in the gardens. It won’t take him long to realize that I’m missing.

The engine starts with a deep rumble, and the truck starts to move. I heave a sigh. It feels like we are going slowly. The engine hums. We go over the odd bump. There’s a turn here and a turn there. It’s so dark inside the truck that I can’t even make out my hand in front of my face. I shift my position to try to make myself more comfortable and will myself to stay calm. It’s going to be okay. It’s going to work. It has to.

The sound of the engine lulls me, the steady hum soothing. As the truck continues down the winding road and picks up speed, I start to feel a glimmer of hope beginning to spark within me. This might be my chance to escape.

It doesn’t take much longer, and the truck stops, the air brakes releasing with a hiss. I hold my breath, listening intently for any sounds outside. The voices of the men grow louder as they approach the back of the truck, which they quickly open.

“This is the last of it. Let’s get these into the hold,” one of them says.

My heart races as the crates are pulled out of the truck, landing with a light thud on the ground outside. There are more booted footsteps as crates are moved from the truck. Two seconds later, my crate is lifted as well. Once again, I work on keeping as still as possible and at staying calm, with even breathing.

Thankfully, there isn’t much room to be jostled around. There’s scraping and bumping as my crate is pushed into place. I think I’m in the aircraft, but I can’t be sure.

I hear the men talking, but their voices are muffled by the walls of the crate. There is the odd call from a seagull overhead. They must be looking for food. It’s oddly relaxing to hear the birds, even though my heart is pounding in my chest.

Please hurry.

Please!

The sounds go on and on. The birds, the men, their boots on the tarmac. We need to leave now, or I will be caught. Any calm I was feeling earlier has evaporated, and in its place is a sense of extreme urgency.

The cargo door is closed, drowning out most of the outside noise. I feel like I’m in a coffin. For a moment, I want to scream and beg for them to let me out, but I hold myself together. It won’t be long now, and we’ll be taking off.

I try to clear my head. I will do this for my mom and for Caleb. My little brother needs me.

Moments later, the aircraft is moving. I push out a heavy breath I didn’t know I was holding. This is it. We’ll be taking off soon. We keep going and going. Surely the runway on such a small island isn’t very long? Why is this taking so long? We turn and then turn again. Something feels off. Sweat beads on my brow, and I strain to hear anything outside over the engine noise.

I can’t.

Then, the aircraft stops. What’s going on? What are we waiting for? Do they know I’m here?

I strain my ears, but it’s quiet. Too quiet, perhaps? I wait for ages, my fears growing by the second, even though I can’t hear anything out of the ordinary.

Then the tarp is being pulled open, and a dark shadow looms over me. “You’re in big trouble, Miss Harris,” someone says in a voice I don’t recognize.

The tarp is opened further, and I am pulled from the crate.

---