Amber said, “You can’t stop it. He thinks you know them. They’ll hurt me to make you talk, or until you convince them you’re telling the truth. Either way…”
The entire group moved every two days, always keeping Bodhi and Amber separate from the other women, who worked the crowds of aliens at every stop.
Once when they left it unlocked, Amber cracked the door, and watched a tall black woman with platinum hair talking to one of the black men, and she did not look happy. Amber closed the door as the other guard started down the hall.
Several minutes passed and they heard no loud voices or sounds of violence. Amber eased the door open to peer through the crack. The guard stood six feet down the hall, facing the living room with his back toward Amber.
She opened it another quarter-inch and saw the Kiowa talking with the tall black woman with silver hair. Not loud enough for Amber to hear, but they didn’t like each other, that was evident. The Kiowa stepped toward her but stopped fast when she whipped out a small pistol from under her loose shirt and pointed it at his face.
He backed away. The guard with his back to Amber turned to look at the door and Amber closed it fast but quiet. She moved to the bed and sat beside Bodhi. “Things are getting bad.”
Bodhi picked at the raw cuticle on her left thumb, “I want to go home. I just want to go home.”
“That may be a while. One of them drew a gun.”
Bodhi’s eyes widened.
“They’re arguing with each other. What worries me is if they start shooting, they may decide to kill us, too. Not leave witnesses. We have to be ready if things go to hell.”
“And do what? We don’t have any weapons.”
“I’ll think of something.” As she looked around the room, the door opened and the black man said, “We movin’, get yo’ stuff together.”
Amber wanted to ask about the black woman and the gun, but let it go.
An hour later the Kiowa and his men hustled everyone into the van with the Mexican women and drove to another small town. They moved three more times in five days, and no chance to escape came.
Trouble came on the fifth day.
Bodhi and Amber sat in another bedroom in the latest house, an older one, with brown water stains under the windows. The window in their bedroom had fresh plywood screwed over the opening. The room smelled of dust and, faintly, of insecticides.
“Where do you think we are this time?” Bodhi said.
Before anyone could answer, they heard voices in the living room. The voices grew quickly louder and angrier.
Footsteps echoed down the hallway and the bedroom door opened. The Kiowa stepped to them and reached for Bodhi.
Amber said, “Leave her alone!” and pushed at him. It felt like pushing stone.
She didn’t see the punch as his fist slammed into her jaw, rocking her head. Red flashes sparked in her vision and she felt as if she had been electrocuted. She fell sprawling on the floor.
The Kiowa squatted beside her, grinning. He grabbed her hair and lifted her face, then hit her again, very hard. She felt the terrible power of the blow as she sunk into a gray, pain-filled haze.
The man paused a second to let her regain consciousness, then launched one more shot to her face. Amber lay limp on the floor, on the edge of consciousness. He let go of her hair and stood, saying, “Bitch,” closing the door behind him as he left.
Amber fought to regain her senses as she lay there. She felt her eye and face swelling so fast it seemed her eye blinked down the lid in slow motion on its own. She crawled to the door to listen, and that took all her strength.
Several voices argued. Amber made out several words, “It’s not working like you planned,” and another voice, “You double-crossed me,” and a third, “I’m gonna ki–,” two sharp gunshots cut off the last word and the sounds made her jump. She heard Bodhi scream. More noises of fighting came fast on the heels of the shots, sounds of heavy bodies hitting the walls and floors, yells of pain, screeching tires outside, and then quiet.
“Oh no, no,” Amber whispered. She crawled to the bed and used it to help stand. She faced the door on wobbly legs and waited with her fists balled tight. She heard a car start up outside, then drive away. She spat a large gob of blood and heard them coming.
The door opened and one of the black men said, “Come on.”
“No.” Behind the man, Amber saw the other room open as the second black man stood by it and motioned the Hispanic women out of the room.
The man said to Amber, “We not hurtin’ you, we takin’ you all to another house. Don’t make me beat you and then carry you. If that happens, I’m gonna be pissed. You understand, girl?”
Amber staggered out the door. Two of the Hispanic women came to her and helped keep her upright all the way to the van. They all saw the black woman with the platinum hair lying dead on the threshold. There was no sign of Bodhi, or of the Kiowa.