In to Her

“Just… be good,” he says. “And we will free you.”

“Who the fuck are you?” I growl.

The one to his left aims his gun at my head with a little more intent.

“Do not attack us,” the leader says. “We’re here to help you. And we don’t have much time. So please, forgive and forget so we can make the boat.”

“What fucking boat?”

“Questions are for later,” he says. “Now is for… gentleness.”

Gentleness? I screw up my face, not understanding. My mind still foggy with drugs. “What the fuck are you talking about!”

“Cállate!” he hisses. “Shut up! Do you want everyone to know you are here?”

“Maybe,” I say, but with less venom. Because… I start to understand. And then… no. No. He didn’t do that. Please tell me this is not—

“Well, we like to live, friend. We like to keep secrets too. But we will shoot you if you make that impossible. So choose carefully, AJ.” He says my initials with an oddly American accent. “Choose carefully.”

When I stay silent he smiles.

Then waves his hand in a gesture that says, Please get out of the van.

I do. With some difficulty. Because unlike Yvette, I am tied up. But only my hands, not my feet. So I scramble to the edge of the van and cautiously step out, still a little unsteady from being drugged.

“Good,” the leader says. “Muy bien. And gracias. Now come with us.”

“Untie me,” I say. But they don’t. His two henchmen grab me by the upper arms and pull me along while the leader walks behind me, gun pressed into my back. Yvette walks in front, supported by two other men and another out in front of her. “Where are we going?”

He ignores that too.

Great escape plan, AJ. You really took control of this situation.

But… I don’t feel too bad about my failure. Because I’m starting to understand that this is my escape.

Our escape.

Logan. What did you do?

We walk across the parking lot to the docks. It’s mostly empty. I’d guess… maybe four AM? They lead us out to a fishing boat. The guy in front stops, points at the ramp, indicating Yvette should board, then helps her with a shove when she hesitates.

“It’s OK,” I say. “Get on the boat, Yvette.”

“Where are we going?” she asks. “What’s going on?”

“Just get on the boat,” I say.

She shoots me a worried glance over her shoulder, but by then the men in charge of her have had enough and are pulling her along.

I go willingly, but stop to turn once I get to the top of the ramp. “Thanks,” I say to the leader. He has put his gun away and he smiles.

“De nada,” he says. “I owed him, now I do not.”

I smile, getting it, then turn my back to him and follow Yvette into the cabin and down a narrow, steep flight of stairs. We stop in front of a door and wait for the three men to open it.

We go inside, but we’re not done. Because one of the men opens a hatch and points for Yvette to climb in.

“No,” she says, looking back at me. “No.”

“Yvette,” I say. “Just get in. It’ll be OK.”

I don’t know that for sure. And when I follow her down into the hidey hole, I feel her unease. Because it’s dark, and cramped, and it smells like fish.

One man hands us a battery-powered lantern and says, “Stay in here. And do not come out no matter what.” He points to two cots, then a small fridge, then a bucket that is probably our toilet. “Sleep, food, water, shit,” he says. “Someone will come and let you out when it’s time. Be quiet. No talking.”

“How long?” Yvette asks. But he closes the hatch. Sealing us up in the darkness. And there is the unmistakable sound of a padlock being fastened on the door.

Yvette begins to hyperventilate.

I hold her, saying, “It’s OK,” over and over again.

But all she does is shake her head.

Her trust is gone.

Have we been kidnapped? Have we been sold? Or is this all part of some genius plan cooked up by Logan?

We have no idea.

All we know is that we are locked in a hot, cramped hole that reeks of dead fish for what seems like years.

We say nothing.

Not one word.

There’s a whole crew on board and I’m pretty sure none of them know we’re down here. They could be taking us anywhere. At one point we stop moving, the boat rocking wildly, wind beating against the hull.

We stay like that forever.

Then we motor on again.

They are fishing, I realize. Just doing their jobs. Probably a dozen or more people on this boat with us.

Eventually we hear the unmistakable sounds of a harbor. For all we know we’re back where we started. Damon coming to meet us when they open that hatch.