Page 53 of Soros
“Why aren’t you scrubbing?” he asked in a threatening tone when he caught that I wasn’t on my knees. The obvious answer would be that I was too far from my bucket to reach. Stretching my back, I complained, “My back is killing me.”
“Do I look like I care?” He took four steps and smacked me across my face.
It hurt, but it also disgusted me that I hadn’t heard him wash his fingers.
Satisfied with his punishment, Stanley went back to the couch while I continued washing the floor with my mind racing to find ways that I could overpower the man and get us all out of here. What worried me was that Stanley most likely was armed and that my life didn’t matter to him. I had no doubt that killing me would bother him less than seeing a homeless dog.
The exit at the end of the hallway opened and I got a quick glimpse to the other side. It was another storage room. But with the door open behind the man, I saw enough to tell that it was a bike shop that repaired motorcycles.
We were trapped in a basement with bikers on both sides making sure that we couldn’t escape.
The man approaching carried a helmet in his left hand. He was Caucasian and as soon as he spoke, I could hear he had an Eastern European accent.
“You need to move your trash bike from my spot. I told you four times already.”
“Fuck off, Mikhail.”
Completely ignoring us, the newcomer stopped in front of Stanley. After throwing his helmet on the couch, he pulled off his black gloves and asked, “Why are you even down here?”
“I’m supervising the cleaning,” Stanley explained and gave a sideways nod to the body on the floor. “The boss got himself killed.”
“Yeah, I heard. I never liked the bastard anyway. Not after he scratched my bike. Carlos called and said that there’s a new boss who wants to talk to all of us. I think they’re having a meeting upstairs.”
Moving to the edge of the seat, Stanley sounded offended. “They’re having a meeting? Why wasn’t I told?”
Shoving the gloves into his helmet, the biker shrugged. “Probably because you’re degraded to being the cleaning guy and they don’t think you matter that much.”
Getting up from the couch, Stanley rubbed his bald head and pushed out his chest. “I was close to the old boss. He called me useful.”
With a glance in the dead man’s direction, the biker spoke in a dry tone. “That’s not going to help you now, is it?”
Moving on, the biker pushed open the door to the storage room and Stanley instantly followed. I could hear the newly arrived biker stomp up the stairs before he stopped and said, “Tell me that you’re not stupid enough to leave the women unattended?”
Stanley argued, “I’m not missing the meeting with the new boss. What if he distributes territories?”
“Just lock the girls up, dickhead.”
The biker kept walking up the stairs, while Stanley came back and ordered us, “Get into your room.”
He pushed Veronika in the back when she wasn’t quick enough to get inside and then he slammed the door shut and locked it.
The moment Star saw me, she came running to me. “I thought I would never see you again.”
While hugging Star, I spoke to the German girls. “I took Malene down from the cross and gave her some water. She urgently needs medical assistance.”
They held hands and looked as distraught as I felt.
“How do we get her to the hospital?” Hanna asked.
Unable to come up with a better plan, I went back to my first one. “We break out of here.” Turning the bed, I continued unscrewing the leg. “Here.” When I held out the wooden bed leg to Veronika, she pulled back.
“I don’t want those men to kill me for breaking the wall.”
Narrowing my eyes, I asked, “How many girls do you think have survived?”
Hanna whispered, “Not many. They said that girls disappear, and new ones arrive each week.”
I gave the German women a hard glance. “Do you want to stay here that long? You realize Malene might die if we don’t get her to the hospital fast. Her wounds will most likely get infected and she’s lying naked on a cold tile floor. We have tosaveher and us.”
