She glanced up at the black rod he held in front of him. He shifted it in front of his face, stopping in front of his eyes. Her gaze met his for a brief instant.
“I told you never to make eye contact!” he snapped.
He pointed the rod at her again. This time, the pain became completely immobilizing. She fell to the floor, writhing. Her limbs flung outward and her body twitched involuntarily as every nerve-end, every muscle, every organ felt as though it would explode. She prayed for anything, even death, to end the excruciating torture.
Finally, the pain released her body, and she sucked in air, lying on the floor like a wounded animal, unable to move.
“I hope this demonstration will help you all remember the basic rules. Now, all of you, get into the bed slots and sleep.”
He walked away. She felt soft hands lift her. Two of the other slaves hooked Shena’s arms over their shoulders
“Can you walk?” one asked.
Shena tried to move the muscles of her legs, but they did not respond.
“No.” The sound released from her mouth on a breath of air, barely audible.
The women carried her to the nearest column of niches and laid her onto the floor, then slid her into the lowest bed slot.
Shena’s heart thumped loudly as she glanced at the close walls around her. She felt like she was in a coffin. Could it get any worse than this?
A few moments later, the lights went out, leaving her in pitch-black darkness. She felt as though she’d been buried alive.
Chapter Seven
The next morning, Shena awoke exhausted, but relieved to climb out of the tiny sleeping space and thankful to find her limbs working fine again, if a little stiff. Most of the night she’d lain awake, despair coursing through her at the thought of Keern’s death.
She and the other women were handed bowls of warm, tasteless food that didn’t quite fill their stomachs. Then they were led outside the ship to a large, fenced area with over a hundred women inside. Shena’s group consisted of the women taken in yesterday. The other women had been with the slavers longer, she realized, as evidenced by their downcast eyes and dirty, bedraggled appearance.
Once inside the pen, Shena stayed away from the fences. There were several men in the area, some loading and unloading wagons or performing various other tasks and some just milling about. One was reading a newspaper, and the word “Herrington” caught her eye. It was in the front-page headline. She stared, trying to make out the rest, but with the way he had it folded, the only parts she could make out were “Herrington” and “Wak.” The man shifted the paper, and the word “Dead” became visible.
Her heart thundered in her chest. The paper held the answer to the question she so desperately wanted answered. Was Keern still alive?
She grasped the wire of the fence and strained to read more, but the man with the paper was too far away.
“What is it, honey?” one of the other women, a tall brunette, asked.
“That newspaper.” She pointed at the man. “It has the name of ... someone I know. I think he might have been killed.”
“You’re new, right? Well, you could ask the guy to give you the paper.”
“You think he’d just give it to me?”
The woman laughed. “Not for free. Just show him your assets.”
Shena stared at her, wide-eyed.
“You might as well get used to using them to your advantage.”
Shena tightened her hands around the wire.
“Oh, sweetie, I didn’t see the mark.” The woman’s gaze had come to rest on the circle on Shena’s arm. “You’d get in big trouble for that.”
The woman glanced at the man with the paper. “Is it really important to you?”
Shena nodded.
The woman called out to the guy. “Hey, you. With the newspaper.” The man glanced toward her. “I’d love a little news. How ’bout you give me that paper?”