Page 91 of Little Children
He’d tried to keep track of time when he was in the small room, and again when he’d been brought to the stables, but sometimes the pills made him drowsy and sometimes they didn’t, meaning he didn’t know if he’d slept for a few hours or straight through the night.
He had known within an hour in the stables that he wasn’t in there alone. Within ten minutes of being chained to the ground, he’d heard a cough. He’d tried to make contact just like the new boy this morning had, and he’d been told the consequences of speaking by one of the others. First talking offence got you no food for twenty-four hours. Get caught a second time, you lost both the food and the privilege of being taken to the toilet. No one wanted to sit in their own mess.
He didn’t know how many others there were, but he wondered if they’d been caught the same way he had. Had they been offered money as well? Had they been told that it was like a summer camp where they’d learn to fight? Had the others refused because they’d already heard their parents talking about sending them away like he had? Not that it had mattered. He hadn’t noticed the van was still there as he’d headed home, and they’d just grabbed him anyway.
He wished he knew how many others there were, but all he could see through the wooden fencing was that there appeared to be an identical pen on the other side of the walkway. He hadn’t been able to see more of the building, as he was blindfolded every time he was taken out and brought back. He heard others being taken out and brought back too, and he sometimes heard the low whispers of Mister and Missus, the people who had abducted him, but he hadn’t been able to keep track of how many other boys were imprisoned alongside him.
On one of the days, he’d started thinking about trying to escape. He’d thought of trying to overpower Mister during one of the toilet trips. That same day, one of the others must have tried it. He’d heard a scream and some swear words from Mister before hearing something being thrown against the wall. More angry words had followed, and the sound of someone in pain had echoed around the building before Mister had left and turned out the light. Lewis had heard pained cries for the next few hours. The following day, he’d seen a bite mark on Mister’s hand when he’d brought in the food.
Every time he was taken out, Lewis had tried to form an escape plan. He counted the steps on the hard gravel until he was shoved into an outside toilet. He had seventeen steps to try and make his escape. But he was blindfolded and naked except for his underpants. He had no clue where he was and knew he didn’t have the stamina to outrun Mister. There had to be a way though. It was just waiting until the right moment came along.
His thoughts were interrupted by the barn door opening. Food was coming, and however much he hated his captors and his conditions, he was grateful that it was time to eat.
Mister appeared at the gate to his enclosure, and his heart sank when he saw what was in the man’s hand.
This was a real plate. On it was steaming meat, vegetables and mashed potatoes. His stomach rumbled in response, even though the feeling of dread had started to form. This had only happened one other time. He knew what it meant.
‘Okay, Lewis,’ Mister said, sitting on the ground beside him.
The plate also held a knife and fork that he would never get to touch.
Mister cut off a piece of the steak. ‘Come on, Lewis, eat up. You’re fighting tomorrow night.’
Despite the dread in his stomach, his body still craved the food.
He’d been taken to fight only once before, and it was an experience he’d never forget. The first fight had been between a couple of boys older than him. They had gone at it for a good fifteen minutes before one of the boys was knocked out cold. He had watched as well-dressed men jeered and cheered throughout the bouts. He’d watched money change hands all around the ring. And he’d watched when, after attempts to revive the unconscious boy had failed, he’d been dragged out of sight. He’d overheard Mister say ‘dead’ and knew that he’d been talking about the unconscious boy.
He didn’t want to fight. From what he’d seen, none of them wanted to fight. But it was survival.
Lewis opened his mouth to receive the food. He had to be as strong as possible or the next person being dragged out dead could be him.
Fifty-Eight
Warren was just closing the door to the gym when they got there.
Kim placed her toe against the frame as an extra measure of insurance.
‘Hey, buddy, got a minute?’ she asked with more manners than she felt. The confrontation with Steve Ashworth was still rattling her nerves.
He looked down at her foot, the positioning of which belied the fact he had a choice.
She forced the reporter from her mind. She was watching Warren’s micro expressions more closely this time and detected a shadow of fear. She liked that. People who were nervous had something to hide, which meant that there was something he didn’t want her to know. That made her even more determined to find out what it was.
He stepped back into the gym and flicked a switch that illuminated only the lobby area, leaving the rest of the vast building in eerie darkness.
‘So, how do you pick ’em?’ Kim asked, taking a seat on the sofa.
‘Sorry? Pick what?’
‘The kids who are good enough for the league?’
‘What league?’ he asked without enough confusion in his voice.
Kim sighed. ‘Warren, you are going to have to assume that we’ve come back here with a lot more information than we had earlier.’
‘I honestly don’t have a?—’
‘Fella, we know for a fact that Josh’s time away from his family was spent fighting. We also know he didn’t go willingly. The kid was walking home. As it’s unlikely he spent four years fighting with himself, we can assume there’s another kid involved. And why stop at two when you can just lift anyone off the streets or arrange to have them abducted.’
