Zia’s Path
by
Debra L Martin & David W Small
2011 Copyright © by Debra L Martin & David W Small
Cover Design by www.TERyvsions.com
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Discover other titles by Debra L Martin and David W Small at Smashwords.com: https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/debralmartin
***
Chapter 1 – Zia Slate
Damn. It happened so fast! I didn’t think anyone could sneak up on me like that. ‘Course I was lookin’ for that kid, the one Ham wanted to save, but I heard that goon one second too late. He grabbed my arm, threw me to the ground and put a knee in my back while he tied my hands together with a rough rope.
“Get the hell off me,” I said, grunting through the pain of being slammed onto the concrete.
“Shut your stinking mouth,” the big a-hole replied. He threw a bag over my head and dragged me to my feet.
I tried to scream, but he smacked me upside my head.
“That’s your last warning, sweet cheeks. Another sound outta you and I’ll slice yer throat. Leave ya dead in the streets. Maybe your boyfriend can find you then.”
Boyfriend? Does he mean Ham? This goon must have seen him. Ham, are you close? I need you.
The guy threw me in the back of some kind of van. I heard others inside, but I was too scared to say anything. That threat was too fresh in my mind. The thought of ending up dead in the gutter was something I didn’t want to think about. I’ve seen the bodies, dead in the streets. They get puffy and smell like rotten meat. After a couple days, you can’t even recognize them anymore. I didn’t want to end up like that, so I just shut my mouth. Ham would find me; I just knew it.
That’s when the van started moving.
I was so scared I thought I was gonna pee myself. The only thing that stopped me was that when Ham rescued me, he would laugh. I know exactly what he would say.
“You were so scared, you peed yourself.” He would laugh and laugh and never let it go. I held on to the sound of his laughter. I wouldn’t let this get to me, but who’d grabbed me? I had a couple ideas, but each one was worse than the one before. Another gang? Was someone after my knives? I’m nobody. Why bother with me?
I heard another girl crying beside me, so I scooted over until I bumped into her. She jumped and squeaked like a mouse, but no one came back and hit us so I figured we must be alone.
“Who got us?” I whispered.
The stupid girl started crying louder and harder, and I just knew someone would hear her soon. “Hey, shut the hell up before they come and beat us.”
That did it; she quieted right down. She must have already got her share of being smacked around, so I asked her again: “Who got us?”
“Slavers…” was the only word that escaped between sobs.
“Crap!” I inhaled sharply. Slavers took girls off the street to sell as sex slaves. I was in deep shit. Why me? I looked like a thirteen-year-old boy, for God’s sake. I had no soft curves or even boobs, yet. I didn’t even have my hair down today. Maybe they would realize when they looked me over that they’d made a mistake. Maybe they would just let me go.
Yeah, right. That’s about the time I really started to worry. Ham wouldn’t have any idea who snatched me or where I was taken. Who was left to save me?
The ride didn’t take long and, before I knew it, I was being dragged out of the van. Being blindfolded was the worst part. I had to wait until they took the hood off before I could see where I was or who had grabbed me.
“Oh, look what we have here,” the first voice said. I felt my knife being pulled out of my waistband. “You won’t need this where you’re going.”
“Let me see that knife,” a second voice said.
“Hey, I found it first. It’s mine.”
Then I heard a smack and a muffled cry.
“It’s mine now, a-hole; get these girls inside.”
I wisely kept my mouth shut during that little scuffle. I didn’t want them to see what kind of knife it really was or what it could do. Old Henry said memory weapons were rare and real expensive. Maybe if I could escape, I could get the knife back. Crap! Henry is going to be mad that I’ve lost it already. Today is definitely not turning out as we planned.
I silently cursed, knowing I should have waited for Ham to catch up to me. I shouldn’t have gone so far ahead looking for that little girl. I still don’t understand why she is so important to him. There are lots of lost kids out there that we could have helped today.
Rough hands grabbed my arm and yanked me forward. I heard a door creak open and I was pulled through. That’s when I heard it--crying, and lots of it. This new place smelled like old sweat and piss. It was so disgusting that I had to breathe through my mouth so I wouldn’t smell it. Last thing I wanted was to gag and puke inside this hood on my head.
The bag was finally pulled off. I was smashed up against a steel cage while my jailer took the opportunity to feel me up. I couldn’t help it; I flinched when he lifted up my shirt. His calloused hands were rough against my skin, and when he pinched my nipples hard, I cried out. I felt the tears come and I blinked furiously trying to clear my eyes.
“Well, well, well, looks like we got ourselves a virgie, boys,” he laughed, speaking to the other two men standing by the door. “This one is gonna require special handling. Go tell the boss what we got.”
Holy crap, I’m screwed.
I wasn’t stupid. I knew what slavers did to virgins; sold them for big bucks to the highest bidder at the sex auctions. For some reason, virgins were worth more than the other girls. I didn’t know exactly why, but I didn’t want to find out either.
The big goon laughed at me again, but stepped back and inspected me like I was a piece of meat. I hated him, but I refused to cry and give him any more sick satisfaction. I ignored him and looked over my shoulder to see where I was.
The room was huge, like some kind of a warehouse. I could see a long row of cages stretching down the entire length. None of the cages were that big; they looked like they were made for animals, not humans. Maybe they were at one time, but now they held girls, lots of girls. Some of them were crying, a few grabbed the bars and looked out hopefully, but more than a few just stared with a blank look on their faces, resigned to their fate.
I swore that wouldn’t happen to me. No matter what happened, I would fight to the very end, whatever that might be. I wouldn’t quit. Ham taught me that.
The goon finished inspecting me, and dragged me to one of the empty cages. He made me squat down, loosened the ropes on my hands, and then shoved me inside. I heard the click of the lock when he turned the key in the cage door. It was the worst sound I had ever heard. I sat down, trying to put on a brave face, but my world was now four steel cage walls, a dirty blanket and a bucket. From the smell coming out of the bucket, I knew what it was for. They hadn’t bothered to empty it after the last occupant.
The guy rattled the cage door. I jumped at the noise and he laughed. He walked back to a chair by the door, sat down, and watched us all: our prison guard.
I couldn’t stop myself. Tears slid down my cheeks. I wiped them away with a defiant swipe, but I didn’t feel brave. I was so scared and wanted my buddy, Ham. Why didn’t I just wait for Ham? Why did I want to prove to him that I was some kind of badass? I’m such an idiot.
Ham, please rescue me. I don’t want to be a sex slave
Chapter 2 – Abraham “Ham” Jones
Step, click, step.
Every step was a pain, but it was a pain that I had lived with for so long that it was a part of me now. The streets were rough in Eastside, not only because of the open dangers, but the hidden ones as well. I knew this area had seen its share of action during the war, because there were hazards like boulder-sized chunks of concrete spilling onto the sidewalks; but it was the unseen dangers that were far worse.
This area was on the fringe of the city, and through the cracks and gaps in the sidewalk nature was taking back the landscape. Maybe that was the draw that made people come here. The inner city was a cesspit, a constant struggle for the homeless to find food and live without fear. The look of this place was disarming, because trees, grass, and even occasional flower were coming back, growing in and between the ruined buildings. It was still a ruin, and hardly anyone lived here, but it would have actually been peaceful if it weren’t for the gangs that roamed the streets. It had certainly lured me in a few years back.
Between the rocks, boulders and creeping vines, I was slowed down to a crawl. I had to be careful walking along here, watching every step, my cane and my foot plodding along in a rhythm of its own. My cane looked harmless enough, but I knew what I had done with it. Killed a kid after I promised Henry I wouldn’t. I couldn’t forget the look on that kid’s face when the sword came out of the cane’s sheath and sliced his neck. I was a killer at fifteen years old. Zia saw it. She knew what I had done.
Henry had started all this when he gave us the memory weapons. He said we needed to follow the right path. I’m not sure what he expects from us. Lend a helping hand. What kind of inscrutable BS is that, anyway? Does he think we can be some kind of heroes? I’ve been on the streets almost three years and I’d never seen a hero. No one ever lent me a helping hand; that is, until I met Henry. I think he’s testing me and Zia, watching us to see what we do with the weapons.
I was trying to do what he asked, but it’s not easy out here. The streets are hard on kids like us. We’re the street rats, the throw-aways. Nobody wants us, and nobody cares if we live or die. We live off the garbage others throw away. Every day is a competition with the other kids on the streets to survive. Who gets to scavenge first, and where’s the best garbage located in the city? It’s hard enough trying to take care of ourselves, let alone trying to help others.
Help others, what a joke. I still can’t believe I even agreed to hang with Zia. If she knew what I had done before, I don’t think she would want to be around me. Funny how no one ever asks me how my leg got busted up. I wonder what Henry would think of his would-be hero if he knew what I had done?
Yeah, some hero I am, but at least today I would try to save someone I knew needed saving.
Zia had gone ahead as usual, scouting and making sure we didn’t walk into any kind of ambush. If I could find the little girl, maybe I could save her this time. I knew one of the gangs here was using her as bait to trap the softhearted dumb-asses stupid enough to try and help her. It was a pretty slick trap: put a little girl out in the streets, scared and alone. Big doe eyes, deep enough to capture the hardest hearts, silently begging for help. When anyone stopped to help her, that’s when the gang would show. It worked more often than not, but even by Center City standards, it was pretty low. Five years old was too young for the girl to know what she was doing. I had to get her away from the gangs before this life changed her forever.
If Henry wanted us to save the world, this would be a good place to start. Our first mission of mercy, like he spoke about: help one person, save one soul, and you were on your way to saving the world. I had helped put that little girl here, and today I would try and save her. Maybe I could save myself in the process.
Only one problem: we had to find her before we could save her.
I knew approximately where the little girl might be, and Zia had gone ahead scouting. I tried to walk faster to catch up, but with my crippled leg that was just not happening. Zia hadn’t been real excited about coming down here, and I didn’t tell her the whole story; but I did tell her all we had to do was avoid the gangs, snatch the girl, and be on our way.
Piece of cake.
I knew Zia was probably waiting somewhere up ahead, bouncing up and down impatiently, and waiting for me to catch up. I smiled when I thought about her. Yeah, she might be a tomboy, but she was cute and feisty and I liked her. I liked her a lot.
I finally came to the corner of the burnt-out building I had described to Zia and looked around. She should have been here waiting for me. I moved back from the corner and looked around for her. I should have run into her long before now, and I started to retrace my steps looking for her.
“Zia, where are you?” I called again and again, but there was no answer.
There was no way I could have missed her unless she was messing with me. Then it hit me. We had argued about coming down here. She said it was too dangerous for me with my crippled leg. I knew all too well how dangerous it was here, and I began to hope she hadn’t tried to rescue the little girl on her own.
I moved forward to the next corner, and saw the little girl we were here to save. She was sitting alone on the curb, feet dangling in the gutter. I let out a breath of relief. I hadn’t been quite sure I would ever find her again. I needed to approach her slowly and quietly, because I didn’t want to spook her or alert the gang to my presence. I pushed the gang to the back of my mind in my hurry to rescue the girl, and then find Zia.
I came closer to the girl and smiled as I neared her. If she got scared and ran away, there was no way I was going to catch her without activating the cane. I didn’t want to use the cane if I didn’t have to. Without Zia to back me up, I would be alone and there was just too much at stake.
C’mon, let one thing go right today.
“Hi there,” I said, stopping two steps from her.
She stared at me, but did not reply.
“Do you remember me?” I asked, crouching down with high hopes.
The girl scrunched up her eyebrows as she studied my face. After a few moments, she shook her head no.
Damn, I was hoping this would be easier.
“Well, I remember you and I remember your big brother Ben,” I continued in a quiet voice, extending my hand with a small chunk of bread and cheese. “You remember Ben, don’t you?”
She grabbed the food I offered and quickly stuffed it in her mouth. She didn’t look starved, but she was hungry. After she swallowed the food, she looked up at me with large questioning eyes that finally lit up when she recognized her brother’s name.
“Benji here? He came back for me?”
How could I tell this little five-year-old girl that her loving brother, the only family she ever knew in this world, was dead? I felt like the biggest a-hole in the world with my next words, but I had to get her out of here quickly and quietly.
“Benji is waiting for you back at my house. You want to come with me and see Benji?”
She nodded her head. “I want to see Benji.”
“OK, c’mon, let’s go. We’ll go see Benji right now,” I lied. “You may not remember me, but my name is Ham.”
I should have known that the gang would never have let their bait sit alone on a deserted street. As I reached down to take her hand, I saw three gang toughs come sliding out of their hiding holes. The local gang on these streets was called the Black Snakes or the Black Mambas; I couldn’t quite remember which one. It didn’t really matter. Within seconds I was surrounded.
“What’re you doin’ down here, boy?” the leader of the gang taunted. He stopped for a minute and looked at me closely.
“Do I know you? You look kind of familiar to me.”
“No, I don’t know any of you,” I lied, for the second time in under a minute. “I’m just trying to help this little girl here. I ain’t lookin’ for any trouble.”
I tried to move and keep my distance from each of them. They saw what I was trying to do, and all three smiled at my predicament. They had sprung a very neat trap on me. What an idiot I was for thinking that this could be a quick snatch and grab.
“She doesn’t need your help. We care for our own down here; and as for trouble, well you don’t need to go lookin’ for it, ‘cause it just found you.”
I held up my hands in mock surrender. “Hey, I told you I was just trying to help, that’s all. I’ll be on my way.”
The three continued to circle me, giving me no choice but to keep shifting with them. The side steps I had to make were excruciating. My cane tapped out a little ditty with each shift. Walking straight was bad enough, but walking sideways was murder.
The leader finally had enough of my dancing around.
“Enough. You’re on our street and there’s a tax to be paid.” He walked up to me and shoved me in the chest.
I don’t know how, but I managed to save myself from falling; but the effort shot intense pain through my crippled leg.
“I got nothing to pay you with,” I said through gritted teeth.
“What d’you mean? You got a pretty cane that I bet we could sell at the pawns. You just give us that stick and we won’t hurt you too bad,” the leader said with a laugh.
Damn, not this again.
“Listen, you don’t want to do that. Trust me; you don’t want to fight me. Let’s just go our separate ways and call it a day.”
My words had the same effect as freezing water being poured down the leader’s back. First was the shock that I would dare to stand up to him, then the disbelief that I would actually threaten him, and then the rage at my defiance to his demand.
“Do you think we’re weak? Do you think ‘cause you’re a cripple we won’t fight you?” He was pissed and stalking back and forth in front of me, alternating between slapping a 2” pipe across his palm and pointing it at me.
“You come down here, trespass on our turf, threaten us, and think we won’t do squat?”
I noticed the other two had pulled out their own weapons; a length of heavy-duty chain and a long, nasty-looking switchblade. This was not going well, not at all.
“You’re gonna pay for that, crip, and you’re gonna pay bad,” he sneered. “You’ll be lucky if we let you crawl outta here with any legs at all.”
I knew I was in big trouble. Before any of them could move, my finger found the nub on the underside of the cane handle, activating the neural network that would infuse my mind with the skills and memories of a master samurai warrior. My cane was one of the legendary memory weapons, made at the end of the war, that were supposed to prevent the total destruction of the world.
Too bad that didn’t turn out so well.
I braced myself for the onslaught of pain and memories. My stance immediately changed as both legs grew stronger and evenly supported my weight. The fighting memories flooded my mind and I quickly assessed the situation with the eyes of an expert. Surrounded by three adversaries, all armed and eager to fight; this didn’t give me much choice. I had to strike first and strike hard to even the odds.
I launched myself against the leader, smacking him across the face with my cane with enough force to stop him without killing him. The sounds of breaking bone and cartilage were heard a second before his anguished screams of pain. He dropped his pipe as his hands flew to his nose, trying to staunch the gushing flow of blood.
I immediately pivoted to face the other two boys. They both stood slack-jawed, but within seconds the heavier one, wielding the chain, rushed me. He swung his chain overhead and tried to bring it down on my head, but I sidestepped his attack easily and brought my cane down hard on his knee. He howled in pain and hobbled out of my reach, grabbing and holding his injured leg.
I wheeled to face the last one, but heard a rushing sound behind me. These streets were tough and the gang leader had recovered quicker than I thought possible. I had to turn back to face him and saw he had his pipe again. He was coming at me fast with murder in his eyes. Quickly looking at the other boy, I saw him moving to flank me with that deadly switchblade.
I knew I was in a tough spot. Seeing no other choice, I released the catch on the cane’s handle, pulling the sword out of its casing. As I turned back to the leader, I swept the sword diagonally in front of him, hoping it would get him to back off. I didn’t realize how close he was and the flashing blade caught him across the neck. It is a razor-sharp blade and it cut him deeply. His pipe was raised above his head and set to smash down on mine, but he dropped it as he grabbed his neck. It didn’t matter what he did though; he was bleeding badly. The blade must have cut something major in his neck because the blood was pouring down his neck, soaking his shirt. He looked at me with shocked accusing eyes and slowly sank to the sidewalk.
I knew it wouldn’t take long for him to bleed out and die. Damn it.
From behind me, I heard the last boy with the switchblade ask, “Who the hell are you, man?”
I turned around slowly to deal with the last one standing, lifting and pointing the sword at his face. “I told you I didn’t want any trouble. I told you all that. I said let’s all just walk away. Why doesn’t anyone ever listen to me?”
He shrank away from me, grabbed his buddy with the busted knee, and they took off as fast as they could run. With their leader down and dying, they didn’t want to play heroes. Both were street-smart and recognized they couldn’t beat me so they ran off to the back-alleys they called home.
I bent over to check the one on the ground, but he was already gone. I wiped off the sword’s blade on his shirt before sheathing it away. I stood and took one last look down, shaking my head at another useless, unnecessary death. I wondered if I could have prevented this. If I had such power, why could I only use it for destruction? How could I do anything good in a world like this? Nothing was working out the way I had planned it.
Henry would be disappointed again.
I deactivated the cane and nearly fell on my ass. That was the worst part, the after effects of the neural merge. I struggled to get my feet under me. The little girl came out of the shadows when she saw me stumble.
“Can we go see Benji now?” she asked timidly.
I forced a friendly smile onto my face and turned to face her. “Sure. Take my hand; but before we go, I need to find my friend.”
“Mari.”
“What?” I looked down at the curly-headed blonde.
“I’m Mari,” the little girl said. I remembered her as Marianna when she lived with Benjamin, my best friend back then. She slipped her hand in mine.
“OK, Mari, come with me.”
We hobbled away from the body. It surprised me that Mari didn’t seem as upset about the dead boy as I was. I guessed more had changed for her than just her name. As for me, I never wanted to see another dead person in my life, especially one that I had killed.
I checked each alley we walked by and my frustration increased.
“Zia, cut the crap,” I yelled out. “Where the hell are you?”
“You mean the skinny girl with the hat?”
I looked at the little girl with amazement. Just who did she think I was looking for? Then I realized that I was the one being stupid. Mari had no idea who Zia was, or who I was. The fact she trusted me at all after killing the gang leader was amazing, but I knew it was her desire to see her long-lost brother that pushed her to go with me. That thought alone made me feel like the biggest a-hole of all time. I had sunk to lying to five year olds. I would deal with that when we found Zia.
“Did you see her?”
“Bad men got her,” she replied.
I stopped and stared at the little girl. “Mari, what did you say?”
“I saw bad men take her. They put her in the big truck.”
A stabbing pain of dread slammed into me. Who were the bad men? I reached out and grabbed her arm.
“Where did they take her?” I shouted, shaking her little body.
Mari looked up at me with fear in her eyes and shook her head frantically.
“Don’t know, don’t know,” she wailed, trying to pull her small arm out of my grasp.
Damn it. I was taking out my anger on a poor, innocent child. I released her arm and she shrank away from me. She looked like she was ready to bolt.
“Mari, I’m sorry,” I told her soothingly. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, but I really need to know where they took her. She’s my friend and I have to find her.”
Mari stood sobbing, shaking her head and looking down. She wouldn’t answer or even look at me and I figured this must be her defense against being yelled at. I walked over to her, reached down and rubbed her back, trying my best to calm her down.
“Hey, it’s OK. Take it easy. I’m sorry I grabbed your arm, but my friend is missing and I’m scared for her. I miss her just like you miss Ben. Do you think you could help me like I’m helping you?” I lifted her small chin, making eye contact.
Mari rubbed her eyes with her grubby, small fists leaving two raccoon eyes in their wake. I chuckled. Pulling the rag out of my pocket, I wiped the little girl’s face and waited impatiently for her to answer.
“The big boys know where the bad men go,” she said.
“The big boys? Who are the big boys?”
Mari pointed to where I had fought the gang members. Only the dead boy was still on the ground. The other two were nowhere in sight.
“Oh great,” I cursed myself. “Way to go, Hambone!”
Mari took a step back at my outburst and I realized I was scaring her again. With a concerted effort, I calmed down and smiled at her.
“Mari, do you know where the big boys live?”
“Uh huh.”
“That’s good, Mari.”
I stood and reached for her hand. She slid her tiny hand into mine once again. “Let’s go talk to the big boys and see if we can find my friend, OK?”
Chapter 3 – Ham Jones
As Mari led me through a maze of crumbling buildings and ruined streets, I began to wonder if she knew where she was going. I hoped I wasn’t wasting time, and began to worry about finding Zia quickly. We hadn’t gone too far when I heard a car’s tires screeching behind us. I looked back and saw a system cop car barreling towards us.
“Run. Hide!” Mari shouted. She pulled her hand out of my grasp and took off running.
I tried to hurry after her, but using the cane earlier had sapped my energy. I hobbled along as fast as I could. Obviously, not fast enough. The cop car jumped the curb and cut off my escape. I was trapped.
An enormous system cop got out of the car and stomped over to me. He stood about 6’4” tall and was probably 240 pounds, all of hard-packed muscle. His nametag read “Dent.”
“Come here, you little shit. Where were you going with that little girl? What did you plan to do with her?”
“I wasn’t going to do anything to her, sir. She was taking me to see her friends,” I said, trying to explain.
“You expect me to believe that?” Officer Dent spat, disgusted at my meager excuse. “Then why did she run away the minute you let her go? You street rats are all alike, using anybody you can get your hands on.”
“Wait. I wasn’t holding her like that. I didn’t let her go; she got scared and pulled away when she saw you. I’m not lying. Really I’m not,” I pleaded.
Dent was not amused, especially with the remark about him scaring the little girl. He drove a punch hard into my midsection and I fell to my knees, doubled-over in pain. I lost the grip on my cane and it rolled a few feet out of my reach. It might as well have been a few miles for all the good it would do me now.
“That’s what lying gets you,” Dent snarled.
He wrapped his meaty hand around my throat and forced me upright. I was skinny and he had no problem holding me up.
“I’m sick of you little a-holes thinking you run these streets. I run the streets. Do you understand?” Dent asked, shaking me vigorously.
I tried to answer, but the cop’s hand was choking off my air.
“What? Nothing to say now?”
I wasn’t sure what to do. Either way I shook my head, yes or no, it would probably be the wrong answer. I dangled helplessly in front of the cop. I was terrified and tears leaked down my face. Dent looked around, trying to see Mari, but she was long gone. He shook his head and looked back at me with disgust.
“Let’s see how a little stay in the hold suits you, you little smart-ass.”
Dent dragged me over to his car, opened the back door and threw me inside. Thankfully, he also grabbed my cane and threw it in the back with me. With his hand off my throat, I was finally able to gasp in a deep breath, and tried to speak. Dent slammed the door in my face, effectively cutting off any further communication. I sat back in the seat, feeling dejected, thinking what a great hero I was turning out to be. I started off trying to rescue a little girl and lost Zia in the process. Just when I think I might find some trace of her, I wind up in the back of a system cop car with some gorilla-head choking me half to death. I lost both girls, and I don’t even have the strength to activate the cane.
Crap, I knew this place was bad. Nothing good ever comes out of Eastside.
The back of the cop car was cramped, with little to no room for anyone with long legs. With my crippled leg, it was agony to try and sit up. I finally managed it and tried talking to Dent again. I figured if I could just get him to listen to me, he might let me go.
He got in the car and started it. The engine sounded muffled and when he picked up a handset and started talking, I immediately knew why. I could hear nothing; the back was totally sound proof. The clear partition between the front and back seats prevented any noise from disturbing the driver. I lifted my cane and banged on the pane of glass, but it did nothing. Dent finished talking and put down the handset. He was probably calling me in to the main station. He looked back and I tried to bang on the glass again. I saw him laugh at me. He flicked a switch on the dash and I heard his voice come through some hidden speakers.
“Don’t bother trying anything. You can bang on that glass all you want, it is bullet proof and sound proof. Little something we added a while ago to keep degenerates like you quiet back there. It makes for a nice, peaceful ride to the station.”
“Wait. You got it all wrong. I wasn’t trying to hurt that little girl.”
“Not such a smartass now, are you kid?” Dent laughed again, and switched off the intercom.
The silence was deafening.
With nothing left to do, I sat back in the seat and tried to get my leg comfortable. I reached over for my cane and tried to activate it but I didn’t have enough energy left in my body. Henry had told us there was a built-in failsafe that shut the weapons off in case the one using it was drained too much. It prevented them from dying due to exhaustion. At this point, I might have welcomed that.
The stories on the street about the inside of a cop station did nothing to calm my nervousness. I started shaking and tried to take some deep breaths. I had to calm down before we reached the station. Nothing would spell disaster quicker than showing fear in front of any other street rats in jail. It would be a clear advertisement that I was weak and easy prey. However, this would be the first time I’d seen the inside of a police station and I was scared.
The streets sped by, and a sheen of sweat broke out on my face despite the coolness in the cop car. I was thinking about my friend Skeeter and the stories he told of the kids that had gone into police custody. No one came back out, according to him, but Skeeter was known to exaggerate a bit. I could only hope that this was one of those times.
On the outskirts of Central City, I saw the familiar figure of Henry Lloyd on the sidewalk, pushing his shopping cart full of junk. The old man’s shock of white hair and stooped posture were hard to miss. I banged on the car window with my cane, trying to get Henry’s attention as we sped past.
“Henry, Henry,” I yelled through the sound-proof windows. Something must have gotten through to him, because he looked up as we passed. His mouth hung open in shocked disbelief at the sight of me in the back of a cop car. The car sped past, leaving Henry in its wake, but at least he saw me. I wondered what he would be able to do.
It took another fifteen minutes for Officer Dent to navigate through the city and pull into a parking space in front of a nondescript building. The sign above the entrance read “Central City Police Station #103”. Dent got out of the car, opened the rear door and yanked me out by my arm.
“Don’t even think about trying to run,” he said.
“No sir.” I tried not to flinch at the sudden pain in my arm where the cop’s meaty hand was closed around it.
I clutched my cane and tried to use it for support as we headed up the front steps to the police station. Dent did not slow even a fraction and half-dragged me beside him. He dropped me unceremoniously in front of the processing desk in the lobby.
“Got yourself a hardened criminal today, Billy Ray?” the desk cop asked sarcastically.
“Yeah, you’re funny, Colton. Got any more calluses on your ass from sitting behind that desk all day?”
“’Course, somebody has to do the tough jobs. What have you brought in now?”
“I caught this street rat trying to kidnap a little girl. He was dragging her along, heading for the back alleys of Eastside. God knows what he was going to do with her. When he saw me, he let her go and she took off running like a bat of out hell. I tried to look for her, but she was long gone. This one, though, he couldn’t get out of his own way and I caught him easily.”
I tried to stand straight. “Officer Colton, I wasn’t doing anything to her, I…”
Smack!
The back of Billy Ray’s hand struck my cheek. It sent me crashing to the floor with a painful thud. My cane skidded across the floor. This day was going from bad to worse.
“No talking until you’re spoken to,” Dent sneered. He bent down and yanked me back to my feet.
Officer Colton pulled out a processing form. “What’s your name kid?”
“Abraham Jones, sir.”
“Got any parents?” Colton continued.
“No sir, but I have a guardian. His name is Henry Lloyd.” I tried to gauge whether it was safe to explain further. This guy didn’t look any friendlier than Dent, so I kept any other information about Henry to myself.
“Address for this Henry Lloyd guy?”
“I don’t know, sir. He lives in an abandoned building near the burnt-out zone.”
Officer Colton shook his head at me, probably trying to decide if I was being a smartass or telling the truth. I brushed the hair out of my face.
“Ever wonder why nobody lives there?” Officer Colton asked. “Without an address, no notification will be sent to your guardian that you are here. Even with an address, I doubt I could get anyone to go to the burnt zone. In three days, if no one comes to bail you out, you’ll be sent to internment for sentencing. Today’s your first day. Do you understand this?”
“Yes, sir, but Henry doesn’t stay there all the time. You can usually find him walking on the streets, pushing his cart.”
“Oh, even better,” Colton replied, picking up the stamp next to the pile of papers. I watched his hand slam down on his paperwork.
“TO BE PROCESSED” appeared across the top of the form in big, red letters. My face paled when I realized that no effort would be made to find Henry. I was on my own. If Henry didn’t come and bail me out in the next two days, I would go to internment. Skeeter’s words rang in my mind, “No one ever comes out of police lock-up.”
Officer Dent picked up my cane and gave it to Colton.
“Put this cane down on his paperwork. I don’t want anyone saying that Billy Ray Dent doesn’t have a heart,” he sneered, before shoving me toward the narrow corridor.
“Get moving, punk.”
I did my best to walk, but without my cane to support my bad leg, I had to resort to half-walking, half-hopping. Billy Ray did not take kindly to my antics. He grabbed me by the back of my shirt and dragged me to the end of the corridor before stopping at a large cell. Inside the cell were about a dozen other kids, watching us. Billy Ray opened the door and shoved me inside. I groaned when I hit the concrete floor. I scrambled over to the side of the cell, putting the bars at my back as quickly as I could.
“Let’s see where your smart-ass mouth gets you in here,” Billy Ray said with a chuckle. The cell door banged shut.
As his footsteps receded down the dark corridor, I looked around, trying to gauge my fellow guests. If there is one thing you learn quickly on the streets, it is that weakness is a sure target for bullies. Most kids were scared silly when they found themselves on the cold, harsh streets of the city, alone, with no one to care for them. Some just laid down and never got up, and some tried to hide and get by without causing waves; but some always tried to take advantage of the rest. It was the last ones that you had to worry about; the bullies and a-holes that preyed on kids who were lost and scared. I had my share of encounters with bullies, and I hated them all; but I did learn that if you stood up to them, they just might leave you alone.
I pressed against the bars of the cell to keep my back protected. There were two distinct groups in the cell I was sharing. First, there was a group of four older teenagers, three guys and a girl, who were hanging close to each other in one corner of the cell. They were talking in low whispers and were ignoring everyone else. They seemed harmless enough, but you never knew when someone would turn on you.
In the opposite corner was the second group--the one I was worried about. There were five of them, but they were all younger than the first group. Judging from the way they kept looking at the first group, I could only assume they’d already had “words” and had ironed out some kind of peace treaty. Of course, that treaty didn’t apply to me. I knew I couldn’t count on any protection from the older kids. They would probably just sit back and watch the entertainment. I was on my own with the younger group of kids, who were looking at me like I was shark bait.
The biggest one, an ugly kid with a nasty scar on his face, kept staring hard at me. I could tell that he was not going to let me rest in the corner of the cell undisturbed. I climbed to my feet and kept my back to the bars, watching him the whole time. He was taller than me and had quite a bit of bulk to him, maybe all muscles. Of course, it might have been fat but, either way, I didn’t want to find out. The bottom line was he was a bully. He actually smiled when he saw me struggle to my feet, seeing that I was crippled and easy pickings. He began to walk toward me, with the rest of his crew following close on his heels. As I thought, the group of older kids stopped their conversation to watch what would happen.
“I don’t want no trouble,” I blurted out. “I’m just waiting to get bailed out, that’s all.”
The big bully chuckled. “You hear that boys?” he said, glancing back at the others behind him. They all laughed in unison and the leader turned his attention back to me.
“Name’s Leon, but you can call me trouble with a capital T,” he said while clenching and unclenching his fists.
Without my cane, I was just a crippled, and destined to get my ass kicked, kid. I didn’t realize how much I had become dependent on the cane and the heightened abilities it gave me. I silently cursed myself for the trouble I went looking for this morning. Damn, I’m no hero. Why was I trying to act like one? I remembered something Skeeter used to say. “No good deed goes unpunished.”
Leon sauntered toward me. I hobbled along the bars, trying to get to the empty corner. I don’t know what I was thinking I would do once I was there, but it was the only option I had at the moment. I was pathetic looking, and “Big T” Leon stalked me like a cat after a crippled mouse. It was impossible for me to get away, but I did reach the corner and tried to wedge myself into it as far as possible. I was thinking that if I made myself a small target, he wouldn’t be able to beat me so bad.
When Leon casually stepped in front of me, I knew I was a goner. The other four formed a semi-circle behind him. As I watched them get into position, I felt the uncontrollable urge to pee and puke at the same time.
Oh shit.
“What are you going to do now, crip?” Leon taunted.
“Get away from me,” I said with as much force as I could muster. My throat was still sore from Dent strangling me earlier and my voice came out like a squeak. Just like a cornered mouse.
A smirk passed over Leon’s face. He was definitely enjoying this. This was going to be bad. Leon rushed me and banged my head against the bars while punching me in the stomach. It was the second punch of the day to my stomach, and I dropped to my knees. My head was spinning from the whack with the metal.
I’m going to die, were the words screaming in my mind.
A vicious kick connected with my ribs and sent me tumbling. I felt helpless and curled into a fetal position, trying to cover my vital organs.
“I don’t like cripples. I didn’t like you the minute you came stumbling in here,” Leon said, standing over me.
I opened my eyes and saw that Leon’s leg was coming toward my head. I threw my arms up, trying to ward off the blow, but suddenly something snapped inside my mind. Memories of hand-to-hand combat slammed into my brain. I sucked in a breath, not quite understanding what was happening. Without a second thought, I threw out my good leg with as much force as I could, and connected with the side of Leon’s knee. There was a loud cracking noise, and the big bully sank to the floor howling in pain.
What the hell just happened? I didn’t even have my cane with me.
I sat up, startled by my own actions. The adrenalin was coursing through my system, and I watched as Leon got to his hands and knees. I instinctively aimed my heel at Leon’s nose and connected with a sickening crunch. His head snapped back and blood began coursing out, soaking the concrete floor. I scooted back to my corner and pulled myself up to a standing position. My breath was ragged. I winced when I tried to take in a deep breath. It felt like Leon’s kick had broken at least one of my ribs.
The rest of the gang came out of their stupor, rushed to their leader’s side and dragged him away from me. No one had expected that, least of all me.
“I told you to stay away from me,” I said, with a bravado I did not feel.
Leon shook his head and glared back. He held a dirty rag to his nose to stem the flow of blood. “This ain’t over, cripple. I’m gonna get you.”
I heard a stranger’s voice from the other side of the cell. “Not today, you ain’t.”
We all looked over, and saw two of the older boys get up and walk toward us. Leon and his gang quickly scuttled out of their way. These boys were much bigger and stronger than Leon’s crew. It was easy to tell who was top dog in this cell and it was definitely not “Big T” Leon.
“Why don’t you come over and join us?” the taller of the boys asked.
“Why?” I asked suspiciously.
“First law of the street, kid; protect your own. You stood up to these bad asses and handled yourself pretty well. Not many kids would do that. You’d be a welcome addition to our crew.”
The other nodded his head in agreement.
I looked over at Leon and saw him staring at me with a deep-seated hatred. He was a bully that had got his punk card pulled. I knew I wouldn’t be safe alone. Watching Leon out of the corner of my eye, I hobbled over and joined the other group. At least I knew I would have someone watching my back tonight.
Chapter 4 – Zia Slate
I looked around the warehouse, trying to memorize every part of it, including all the exit doors. If I got the chance to escape, I didn’t want to run blindly down a dead end.
Unfortunately, I didn’t have to wait long before the jerk with the calloused hands came back to my cage. I tried to shrink away from him, but he just reached in and pulled me out. He slammed me up against the side of the cage and my baseball cap fell off, letting my hair fall down past my shoulders.
“Rev, the boss man said no bruises on this one,” said a voice behind me.
Rev grabbed a fistful of my hair and turned my face toward him. “Don’t try anything or you’ll feel my fist. Understand?”
I shook my head yes. I was scared. Even if I’d had my memory knife, I didn’t stand a chance against an enforcer like Rev. He was a big, heavy-set man, with heavily muscled arms and a scarred face. From the looks of his crooked nose, he liked to fight, but it also looked like someone had gotten the best of him and knocked out his front teeth. Staring into those cruel eyes, to me he looked like the scariest thing I’d ever seen. I couldn’t help it. I started to shake.
Rev shoved me forward, toward a door at the rear of the warehouse. Another man stood guard at the door, and he opened it when we reached it. Rev pushed me again. He seemed to like to push people. We traveled down a long corridor with doors on either side. I could hear crying, grunting and moans as we passed by. None of those sounds inspired any hope in me. It didn’t take a genius to know what was going on behind those doors, and another shiver went up my spine. At the end of the corridor, there was one more guarded door. The guard opened it. We stepped into an office of sorts.
A grizzled, old man with short, graying hair sat behind a steel desk, and looked up when we came in. He was huge, with gnarled hands and arms layered in rock-hard muscle. He looked like he was some kind of soldier, not a sex-slave boss. Rev pushed me one last time until I was standing directly in front of the desk. Rev stepped back and took up a position near the door.
The boss man looked me up and down with cold, gray eyes that looked dead. There was no warmth to him as he inspected me and another shiver went down my spine. He looked at me like I was a piece of meat and it took all of my willpower not to burst into tears.
“What’s your name?”
“Zia Slate.”
“How old are you?”
“14.”
“Take off your shirt,” the boss man said.
What? Undress in front of a stranger? I stood helplessly in front of the desk. I was scared out of my mind and couldn’t make my fingers work the buttons.
“If you don’t do it, I’ll have Rev do it. Understand?”
That snapped me out of my stupor. The last thing I wanted was for that man’s hands to be on me again. I nodded my head and, with trembling fingers, began to unbutton my shirt. When the top button was undone, I let the shirt drop off my shoulders and fall to the floor. The coolness of the room hit my skin and my nipples immediately hardened. A scarlet blush raced up my neck and face.
The boss man smiled, cruel and calculating. “Now take off your pants.”
I had no choice but to obey. If I didn’t do exactly what he said, I would be at the mercy of Rev, the enforcer. That was not something I wanted to even think about. I unzipped them and slid my pants down to my ankles. I stepped out of them. It was the first time that I had ever stood naked in front of a man. I crossed my arms over my small chest.
“Put your arms down and turn around.”
I turned around. I knew Rev was leering at my naked body. I pretended that he wasn’t in the room.
“Nice, rounded ass, long legs--a little skinny though. OK, turn around again. My name is Mr. Steele and I run this operation. You will do exactly as you’re told, nothing more, nothing less. Do you understand?”
I turned back to face Mr. Steele. “Yes.”
“Are you a virgin?”
Oh, God, could this get any worse? Another blush raced up my face.
“Answer me truthfully girl, or I’ll have Rev stick his fingers inside you to find out.”
“Yes, I’m a virgin,” I blurted out.
“Good. Now put your clothes back on.”
I picked up my pants and shirt and slid them on as fast as I could.
“Rev, take Zia to holding cell #3 and give her something to eat. We’ll get a nice price for her sweet ass at auction Friday.”
Friday? I did a mental calculation. I had two days before my life as a sex slave began. Was that enough time for Ham to find me? I had no idea, but I refused to believe that Ham would abandon me. What I wouldn’t give to see his sweet smile again.
Rev walked forward, grabbed my arm and pulled me out of the office. Back in the corridor, we walked to the third door on the left. He pulled out a key ring from his pants’ pocket, found the right key and opened the steel door to the cell. He shoved me inside. I stumbled and fell to my knees. The click of the lock was the final sound I heard before I couldn’t hold it in any longer. I burst into tears. Great sobs wracked my body. I collapsed on the thin mattress, hoping against hope for rescue.
Ham, please find me.
It was long hours before I heard the clinking of the lock. I scooted to the back and into the farthest corner. There wasn’t anywhere to hide in the 6’ x 8’ room, but I wanted to be as far away from the door as I could. A small window with steel bars sat high up on the wall, letting in scant light. A naked light bulb hung from the ceiling, but there was no switch inside the room.
The door opened, the light bulb snapped on and Rev walked into the room carrying a bowl of steaming food and a tin cup. The door snapped shut behind him.
My stomach rumbled in response to the aroma of the hot food. I tried to make myself small in the corner, but it didn’t matter. Rev walked straight to me, and put the food down. He plopped down on the mattress on the other side of the room and put the tin cup on the concrete floor.
“Eat.”
I grabbed the bowl, spooning the stew into my mouth as fast as I could. It was the first time I’d eaten all day. My hunger overcame my terror. I kept my eyes on Rev, waiting for any movement on his part. I had no idea where I was going to run to if he came at me, but I kept watch anyway.
“Slow down, girl. No one is going to steal the food from you.”
I wasn’t taking any chances. Food was scarce. I kept shoveling the food into my mouth until every last drop was gone. I finally set the bowl down on the floor and stepped back to hug the wall again, never taking my eyes off Rev.
“Bring that over here,” he said.
I didn’t like the way he was looking at me. But what choice did I have? I picked up the bowl and slowly walked back to the mattress. I handed the bowl to Rev.
Download this book for your ebook reader.
(Pages 1-30 show above.)