Driggs reached down, grabbed a fistful of my hair and lifted me into a sitting position so I could see out of what.
The moment Thais was in my line of sight, I saw her feet come out from underneath her and her body fly backward before hitting the ground. She cried out. I drew back my legs and kicked Driggs in the pelvis, knocking him on his ass. I vaulted toward the blonde-haired man with my hands still bound behind me, my back arched, my head lowered, and I dove into the man’s abdomen like a spear, and we went crashing to the ground. I straddled him, and because I couldn’t use my fists, I bashed the blonde-haired man in the head with my own head. Once, twice, three times before I felt my dizzied body being dragged away; the dark-haired bastard was behind me, his hands underneath my arms, heaving me off the man.
“You’ll get your chance!” he said. “But not here—no bets have been placed yet!” He laughed.
“Oh, he’s gonna make me rich!” came Driggs’ excited, gruff voice.
I ignored them.
“Are you all right? Thais?” I was sitting on the ground several feet from her.
Thais raised her head and looked across at me. Blood dripped from her nose. She wiped it away with the back of her hand.
My hands shook; I glared at the blonde-haired man, watching him get to his feet.
“Why did you do that?” I asked Thais. “Why were you hitting him?”
Then realization dawned and threw my mind into violence again. “Did they touch you? Thais, tell me—did they touch you?” My breath came fast and heavy; my fingertips dug into the palms of my clenched hands.
“They didn’t hurt me,” she finally answered. “No one hurt me.” She swiped her hand under her nose again.
I noticed the brown-haired man lying on the ground, unmoving.
“He was killing him,” Thais said as the white-haired man strode past.
I blinked with incomprehension. Why did she attack him? Why did she intervene? Why not just let the bastards kill each other?
“Thais?” I lowered my voice, not wanting the men nearby, distracted by one another, to hear. I wanted to scold her, to tell her how stupid it was to do what she did, and I started to, but at the last second changed my mind. I sighed heavily. “Are you all right? Is anything broken?”
THAIS
I shook my head.
“I’m all right.” I wiped blood from my nose again, and then the tears from my cheeks.
Kade helped me to my feet.
“You shouldn’t have done that,” he told me and dusted off my dress. “Women are treated the same as men in our community. If you’re bold enough to hit a man then you should be prepared to get hit in return.”
“Sounds like a wonderful place,” I said, shaking my head. “So, it’s anything goes in Paducah, then?”
Kade smiled, and secured my wrists with another zip-tie. “Pretty much,” he said. “There are no laws, no jails or prisons; there are no fines or punishments”— his index finger shot up—“Well, there are two things we don’t tolerate: cannibalism and child abuse of any kind are instant death sentences. But aside from that, it’s anything goes. Only the strong survive.” He paused, and then added, “Well, sometimes the strong protect the weak, but there aren’t too many with that kind of tolerance.”
“And what about slavery?” The bite was evident in my words, justified by the bonds on my wrists.
Kade walked me around to the back of the truck bed, and out of sight of Atticus.
“It was our decision to take you hostage,” he answered without remorse. “And whatever consequences there are for our actions against you, we’re prepared to face them.” His smile brightened, as if he were thinking of something delightful. “But yes, slavery is allowed. If you want to call it slavery—I wouldn’t go that far.”
I clamped my jaw.
Kade fitted his hands around my waist and hoisted me back into the truck.
“This looks like slavery to me,” I said. “I don’t want to be here; you’re forcing me to do something I don’t want to do, to go somewhere I don’t want to go—the beginnings of slavery, is it not?”
Kade smiled this time with teeth; his fingers slid away from the tailgate.
“Consequences,” he recapped. “I’m prepared to face them.” He patted the tailgate, alerting the man guiding the horse that it’s okay to go into motion again. “If there are any consequences. But you should know that I’ve never taken on anything I couldn’t handle.”
He gave me a chance to respond, retained his smile, which infuriated me, and then he walked away when I had nothing to say.
I sat with the same men as before, minus the one with brown hair who was left, like Jeffrey, on the ground in his final resting place, beat to death by the man across from me. He eyed me with scorn for the briefest of moments, and then with disinterest, as if nothing had ever happened. He looked down into the First-Aid kit again and continued his investigation of its contents.
I looked away from him and thought only of Atticus; my only comfort with these lawless barbarians was knowing that he was there, somewhere, and that he was still alive.
I’m sorry we stayed so long in the cabin.
I’m sorry, Atticus.
I’m so very sorry, Jeffrey.
I looked down at my lap so no one would see me cry.
58
THAIS
I felt suffocated the moment I stepped off the ferry and headed deeper into Paducah, Kentucky. Hundreds—maybe a thousand—people walked the streets, toting shotguns and rifles and axes over their shoulders, pulling vicious dogs on leashes; one man walked with a bear, and it was a wonder how he had not yet become the animal’s meal.
Kade pushed his way through heavy crowds with me beside him, still bound with my hands behind my back. Painted faces watched me—dark makeup, motor oil, charcoal—it was unsettling to see the whites of their eyes stark against the blackness following me coldly as I moved past.
I shrieked as a heavily muscled dog with long, gnashing teeth came at me; it growled and snapped and lunged at me on its leash. Kade put himself between us just as the dog’s owner yanked back on the thick chain; the dog withdrew and lay submissively on the concrete next to the woman.
“Looks like you’ve been fishing again,” the woman said, looking down on me for she was incredibly tall. “Doesn’t look like a fighter. I may have to take her from you.”
I looked back in search of Atticus, seeking the comfort of his eyes, but he was gone. I panicked, struggled to pull my arm from Kade’s hand; I pushed up on my toes to see over the heads of so many people, but Atticus was nowhere to be found.
“Where’s Atticus?” I asked with anxiety. “Where did they take him?”
Kade tugged on my elbow, pulling me toward him.
“You’ll see him later,” he said, and then turned back to the woman.