Beth and Cindy were both there, and they immediately walked over to me once Magnus turned away.
I instantly asked the question on my mind. “Cindy, do you have any idea which cabin my sister is in?”
She crossed her arms over her chest to fight off the cold. “No. They don’t tell us stuff like that.”
“At the end of the workday, do you ever see which direction she goes in?”
She shook her head. “I’m sorry.”
The last girls were escorted to the meeting point, and then we moved farther into the plains in front of the camp. A layer of snow from the last storm still lingered, but it had slowly melted to a smaller size because of the clear weather we’d had. It was sunny and clear today, so I took advantage of the conditions to look into the distance, to see if I could spot a landmark, some sign of human civilization.
There was none.
Like last time, the plane approached. It appeared from the Alps and came our way, the engine getting louder and louder. Then the crates fell from the sky, landing on the powder below. They dropped it as they continued to fly past, leaving a trail of cocaine-filled breadcrumbs.
Then the plane left.
“Move it,” one of the guards barked.
We seemed to be out here at the same time as last time, so I hoped to hear that church bell again, that a priest rang it at the same time every day.
We moved to the crates and started to put everything in the wagons. I wasn’t as lucky as last time, and there were no pieces of debris that could be used as a weapon. Even though my hands were gloved, they were still cold every time I stuck my hands in the snow to retrieve the smaller bags of drugs that fell out of their crates.
The men sat on their horses and watched us, their bows and arrows on their backs, their horses snorting in impatience.
We finally got everything onto the wagon and headed back to the camp, frozen and sweaty at the same time. I looked over my shoulder for a sign of life, for the hope that I would hear that ringing bell, to prove to myself that it hadn’t been my imagination.
That it really happened.
A storm hit that night.
I’d been waiting for it.
Because if there was a storm, that meant there would be snow.
And we’d have to shovel that snow.
Magnus opened the door that night, let the woman put the food on the chair before she walked out. He had a mug of cocoa and set it on top of the tray. Then he turned to walk out, like always.
“Wait.”
He stilled, standing near the door.
“Could you stay awhile?”
“No.” He opened the door.
“I’m not going to ask you to help me escape. I just…want someone to talk to.”
My assumption must have been correct because he pushed his hood down and revealed his face before he grabbed the tray and chair and came closer to me. He set the tray on the bed then took a seat across from me, keeping six feet between us like he never wanted to get too close to me at any given time.
His elbows moved to his knees, and he leaned forward, his chin down and his eyes on the floorboards. His jaw was free of hair, and his eyes were a little less hostile than usual. He pulled the gloves from his hands and stuffed them into his pockets.
I grabbed the tray and put it in my lap. After grabbing my fork, I started to eat.
He wasn’t averse to a conversation, but he didn’t put any energy into speaking.
“Where does that plane come from?”
He massaged his knuckles, like they stung from the cold. “Colombia.”
I didn’t know anything about the drug industry, but I assumed that was where the plants were grown. They must be processed and then dropped here so they could distribute the drugs throughout Europe. Without confirmation, I assumed I was working among the most notorious drug lords in Europe. “Do you live in Paris?”
“Mostly.”
I ate my dinner, my eyes down most of the time.
“You said you lived there.”
I nodded.
“You sound American.”
“I am.” I noticed he had a clipped French accent, but his English was flawless. Most of the French spoke English, but they sounded much sexier doing it with their accents. “I moved here for a study abroad program. But I liked it so much that I decided to stay.” If I hadn’t chased my dreams, I’d be living a quiet life in America…as a free person. Now, I would be forced to work until my body gave out…and I was hung. It would happen to us all; it was just a matter of time. “I had a little apartment next to this coffee shop that I love. The university is just a few blocks away. I made a lot of friends at school, most of them native French people, but some of them visitors like I was. I haven’t traveled a lot, but Paris is really special. It’s so romantic, so thrilling. Sometimes, I can still taste the wine and cheese…and the bread.”