Chapter 41
My light travels toward the voice, stopping three cages down on a woman with eyes squinting from the glare of the flashlight. I lower it a bit.
"Sorry," I say softly. "Can you communicate with them?" It will take time to bring in an interpreter and the last thing these women have is time. We need to get them out.
"Yes, if your intention is good," she replies in a stronger voice.
"We're here to get you out," I assure her. "Do you know how many are alive?"
She inhales and exhales jaggedly before speaking. "Sahar is gone, but I think she is the only one. She is next to me." Her ragged voice tears at my soul as my light drifts to the next cage.
There are two hands inside-one belongs to the woman speaking; she is holding tightly to the lifeless, darkened, hand of the dead woman next to her. In all my years as an officer I've never seen anything more horrifying. It must have shown on my face in the glow of my flashlight.
"I... I told her I would not let go. She was so afraid." Her voice ends on a quiver but her face remains stoic.
Even with the discoloration of the body, I can see bruises highlighting the postmortem lividity. My light travels back to the solemn face of the woman speaking; her own bruises stand out in the illuminating glare.
A voice comes from the stairs. "LT, I'm sitting everything I can find here on the floor. Do you need my help?"
"Yes, Michaels. Wrap the woman on the table in a blanket and carry her upstairs. And for the love of God, be careful."
I turn my attention back to the woman in the cage. "Can you tell her we're taking her to medical treatment?"
The words are soft and lilting in what sounds like an Arabic dialect. The woman on the table relaxes while being wrapped more completely in a blanket. She doesn't utter a protest when Michaels picks her up and quickly carries her up the stairs.
"Do you need immediate medical assistance?" I ask the little fighter in the cage.
"No." The word is so soft I barely hear her reply.
"I'm going to help you out of the cage. If the other women see you're safe, they'll be less terrified."
"Please." Her voice begs, "I can't let go. I told her I would hold on." Her voice quivers with an echo this time.
I don't focus on her words or her clasped hand, knowing I can't give into her plea. I need to get the women upstairs and then I can see to her friend. Thank God someone else will see to this one's emotional well-being.
Small padlocks secure the cages. Using the flashlight, I locate a string of keys hanging on the wall by the stairs.
"No damn lights, LT." Slade's voice startles me and I realize by his tone that the horror is getting under his skin.
"It's okay. Keep your light low and stay where you're at." I walk over and remove the keys from the hook. Grabbing a blanket from the pile on the floor, I walk back to the cages. Squatting in front of the woman who speaks English, I try each key until the lock opens. The soft squeak of the cell door seems loud as I slowly place my hands inside.
"I'm going to help you let go. The rest of these women need you." I put just a touch of command into the words. I need her cooperation, and she needs to be strong for a little while longer.
Carefully, I pry her fingers one by one from her dead friend's hand. The cold from the lifeless body has seeped into her fingers, stiffening them further. Her body begins shaking uncontrollably, but she doesn't resist my slight pull.
"I'm Zach," I whisper. "What's your name?" My body is too large to fit through the small door of the cage, so I reach out to her.
"Hooriya," she answers.
"Okay, Hooriya, I'm going to help you and then get you covered."
"Yes, sir."
"Please call me Zach."
"Yes, sir," she replies.
I don't mind that she doesn't use my name. I'm just saying anything calming that comes to mind. I'm completely out of my fucking league. She places both of her hands in mine. I step back and pull her up and toward me. Her naked body scrapes the sides of the small door. She doesn't make a sound, and when she's through, she hunches over on her knees. It takes a moment to realize her posture isn't by choice. How long has she been in the cage? It's so small it doesn't allow a person to stretch or stand. How long does it take someone's muscles to tighten up so badly they can't stand? I must hold my fucking rage inside. I allow myself a deep putrid breath, which only reminds me of the dead woman in the next cage.
I look down at the woman kneeling on the floor by my feet. A tangled mass of dark hair covers much of her body, though I can see where her skin is shaded dark in too many places, and it's not all filth or her own waste. Sharp purple-to-black bruises cover large areas, contrasting with faded yellow patches, so I know her suffering has been ongoing. I place the blanket around her naked shoulders and feel her quivering body lean into my legs.
"Do you have any broken bones or other medical issues I need to be aware of?"
"No, sir," she whispers.
I don't bother correcting her this time. I hold her to my side, knowing my touch must be excruciatingly painful. She breathes in and out slowly.
"Take all the time you need and then we'll get the other women out," I reassure her.
"I will do it now." She straightens slightly with a soft groan and then begins speaking to the women in her unique soothing voice again.
"What do you want us to do, LT?" I hear Kip say.
"Let's get the cages unlocked and the women covered. We need to assess who can be taken upstairs and who will need to be treated down here. Go tell all the men to clear the house so the ambulance crews have a place to work. Have Stewart snap a few pictures of the bodies and weapons but just enough to cover our asses. Then get those bodies moved so the women don't see them. I don't care if the third POS is dead or not, get him out too and then get back down here."
"Yes, LT."
Log in with Google Account
Chapters
Favorite
Settings
