“Not our leader,” said the black-haired man; he lit a cigarette, and I, looking up at his face glowing from the flame, realized he was the one who’d grabbed me—there were fresh scratch marks across his cheek just above the hairline of his beard. The flame blinked off and darkness concealed his harsh features again.
“No, our leader is a fair man,” said the older man with red hair. “We take back spoils and he divides it evenly.”
While the men appeared distracted by conversation, I covertly ran my hands over Atticus’ clothes in search of a knife or his gun. But he was empty—they’d surely stripped him of any weapons he might’ve had after they knocked him out.
The front door filled with dark shadows as the men who had gone outside returned. Others still rummaged through the kitchen; some relaxed on the sofa, digging through our backpacks.
Tired of hearing them ramble on so casually as if over their morning coffee, my head snapped around. “I really don’t care about you, or your polygamist leader”—I assumed this of all men who were leaders; my hands clamped tightly against Atticus’ shoulders—“we’re not going anywhere with you, so take what you want and leave.” I knew it was a bold statement, and not one I could so easily—or at all—back up, but defiance was all the weapon I had. Even if I could somehow make it to my staff propped against the far wall, little good it would do against so many men, and I not being practiced enough in its use.
The black-haired man laughed at my comment.
“A polygamist?” he said with surprise, and then glanced again at the red-haired man who shared his expression. He took a drag from his cigarette. “Lord Maxima is a lot of things,” he said with a grin, “but that isn’t one of them.”
“No, Lord Maxima respects women,” the red-haired man put in. “Strong women.”
The two men looked at one another, nodded in agreement.
“I bet he does,” I said, pushing the words through my teeth. “I bet he respects women so much that he does whatever he wants with them, against their will.”
The black-haired man smiled, but my attention moved sharply to Atticus.
I thought for a moment I felt Atticus move. I froze, looked down into his face, but there was no change. It’s for the better, I thought. If he wakes up now they’ll hurt him, maybe worse than before. If I can just keep them talking, keep them distracted—for what, I don’t know—maybe they’ll go away. Maybe they’ll take our gear and our weapons and just go away. Maybe, but unlikely, my gut told me.
My hands shook, but I hid them; my heart beat so fast and hard I thought surely they could hear it, but I stayed calm. I was so afraid, for myself and for Atticus, but I wore my bravest face, hoping it would not falter, because every minute that passed I felt my brave face straining under the weight of that fear.
“Lord Maxima has only one wife,” the black-haired man said. “Of course, she isn’t his only…companion, if you will.” He glanced at the red-haired man. “And I can assure you his wife, if she didn’t want to be married to him, sure as hell wouldn’t be. Isn’t that right, Driggs?” He turned to the red-haired man, apparently named ‘Driggs’. Then he dropped the half-smoked cigarette onto the floor and crushed it with his boot.
Driggs nodded, crossed his bulky arms over his chest.
“That’s right, Kade,” Driggs answered, and then his eyes narrowed; he shook his head and pushed air through his lips which came out in a faint whistle. “That woman, no way in hell could any man make her do anything she doesn’t want to do.”
Driggs and Kade laughed.
Keep them talking, I said to myself. Try to relate to them; make them have pity on you, if it’s possible.
“What is her name?” I asked, my voice nearly cracking underneath the bottled anxiety. “What kind of woman is she?” I really didn’t care what her name was, or what kind of woman she was.
The men sitting on the sofa, rummaging through our backpacks, stood up and left, took the backpacks with them. Driggs sat heavily on the sofa in their place, his weight pushing the legs across the hardwood floor about an inch. He brought his arms up and interlocked his fingers behind his head, crossed his booted feet at the ankles.
“I could use a nap before he we head back to Paducah,” he said, closing his eyes.
“Ravinia,” the black-haired man named Kade answered me. “And she’s a beast of a woman; strong and lethal like most women in our group.”
“A bitch of a woman,” Driggs chimed in, his eyes still closed. “But don’t tell her I said that.” He laughed at himself.
“Ah, she’d take it as a compliment,” Kade interjected.
“Maybe so,” said Driggs, “but I’d still rather keep it between us.” He shook his feet back and forth.
The smell of more cigarette smoke became evident on the air; the men in the kitchen were helping themselves to our stash. I heard the clinking of glass again. “Cheers!” someone said as they downed the whiskey they’d found underneath the sink.
“You’re from Paducah?” I asked.
Please go away…please just go away and leave us alone…
“For now,” Kade said, scratching his beard. “We’ve been there for about a year; got quite a setup. You’ll like it there.”
I felt my intestines tie up in one big knot. My first instinct was to go into defiance mode again, tell them I wasn’t going anywhere with them, but I fought to keep a cool head instead.
“Well, this is our home,” I said civilly, never regretting the overtime Atticus and I spent in the cabin more than I did in this moment. “We’re doing well here. I appreciate the offer, but we’re going to stay.”
“It wasn’t an offer, little lady,” Driggs said, lowered his head and looked right at me. “The two of you are coming with us whether you like it or not.”
I tensed, digging my fingertips into Atticus’ shoulders. Wake up now…please wake up, Atticus. I can’t stop what’s about to happen…I can’t stop them from taking us away—Atticus please! Wake up!
I looked at the men.
“But you said…y-you basically said that people are treated equally there,” I stuttered, “that your leader isn’t a tyrant; you said that women could do what they wanted.”
Kade’s dark smile caught my attention and I turned immediately toward him.
“No, dear,” he began. “You misunderstood. Only those who prove themselves are rewarded with perks such as equality and freedom.”
I dug my fingertips deeper into Atticus. Please wake up! You have to wake up! On the inside I was screaming, on the outside I was calm, emotionless.
Driggs got up from the couch and stretched his arms high into the air; his face distorted with a lion’s yawn.
Kade pulled his backpack around onto one shoulder, reached inside. I glimpsed something plastic, thin and white, the ends poking from the top of his fist. After shouldering the backpack again, he came toward me.
I shook my head and covered Atticus’ body with my own again.
“We’re not going anywhere with you,” I said, panic rising up in my voice.