“If you want to fight me for her,” he challenged, a grin in his voice, “then by all means; we can settle it here, or in the arena later tonight.”
The woman’s free hand came up, the tips of her thumb and index finger moved over her bottom lip. “Hmm,” she pondered, looking me over with the surveying sweep of her gaze. “She’s too skinny—maybe next time.” The dog sprang to its feet when she jerked on the leash, and the two walked away together, disappearing amid the crowd.
Kade looked at me; I swallowed nervously.
“Around here,” he explained, pulling me toward a building, “you’re only my companion for as long as I can keep you.”
“You mean your slave?”
He ignored my icy comment.
“Still have to watch my back though; you’re new and the people here like shiny new things.”
“Shiny new slaves, you mean to say,” I kept on.
He stopped on the sidewalk and gestured a hand at Paducah’s residents. “Every person you see here either wants to be here—”
“I don’t,” I cut in, sneering.
“Either wants to be here,” he repeated more sternly, “or hasn’t figured out how to change their situation. If you’d like to leave, all you have to do is find a way out. Your freedom is up to you, sweetheart. If you’re strong enough to take it, then you’re more than welcome to keep it.” He pointed at my bound hands and said matter-of-factly, “Those are on your wrists because you let me put them there.” He smiled. “Your limitations are what got you into this mess. Think about that for a while.”
I wanted to claw his eyes out! But strangely enough, it was his logic, not his actions, which provoked it.
We went into motion again, heading for the building. “You can’t live out there, alone, like the two of you were doing in that cabin. What were you thinking, anyway?” He glanced at me, his brows drawn.
“We could live alone,” I bit back, “if people like you would leave us alone. Just because the world ended doesn’t give you the right to oppress everybody else. Because civilization was set back hundreds of years doesn’t mean we, as humans, have to devolve with it.”
Kade’s bright eyes smiled thoughtfully, and then his mouth, wreathed in a black beard and mustache, shortly followed.
“A lecturer,” he stated. “Can’t say we’ve had too many of those around here”—he glanced at me, raised a dark brow—“But that could play in your favor.”
“How so?” I asked, but with little hope.
“Nobody here wants to hear that shit,” he said, pulled me along. “So no one will bother challenging me for you.”
He led me around the building toward the front. Dozens of graffiti-covered school busses were parked across the large parking lot, the windows and doors left open, some were covered by sheets, and people sat outside in lawn chairs.
The building in front of me had tall diamond-shaped windows positioned dramatically over the wide entrance and low steel-and-glass awning. I was surprised to see that the many glass doors and windows were all still in-tact.
Kade pushed open a glass door and took me inside the once-extravagant building. Vulgar graffiti covered the walls; the smell of burnt wood and the mustiness of a slowly-dying building lingered on the air, smothered by the stench of body odor and unwashed clothes and marijuana, and, of all things, the after-burn of a methamphetamine cook. I knew that potent smell all too well—my neighbor, Terry Wiltshire, blew his house up and almost took mine with it one year because of a cook gone bad.
Insofar as I could tell, Paducah was a disgusting place, occupied by disgusting people, who, as I walked past, looked at me as if I were an annoying fly they wanted to swat and be rid of.
Oh Atticus…where did they take you?
“Where did they take Atticus?” I said out loud as Kade led me up a wide flight of stairs.
“Ah, he’ll be all right,” he said, brushing it off. “He looks like the kind of guy who can hold his own. And if not, then you don’t need him protecting you anyway. We’ll see soon enough.”
What does that mean? I clenched my hands behind my back, and bit down on my bottom lip. What does that mean?
Another floor and down a weaving hallway and we came upon a room. Kade led me inside, and cut the bonds from my wrists.
Before I could take in my new surroundings, a tiny young woman with a soft cloud of black hair around her head scurried forward and stood before Kade, her hands with long, gentle fingers were linked down in front of her like a little basket. She was clothed in a sheer ivory gown that clung to her petite form, revealing her deep brown skin underneath.
“Drusilla,” Kade spoke up, “this is…” He looked to me askance.
With a short sigh of surrender, I told them my name.
“It is nice to meet you,” Drusilla said, slowly smiling; she had delicate, round features, but set within them were a pair of fierce brown eyes, hinting at something far stronger underneath than what appeared on the surface.
Drusilla reached out a hand, and reluctantly I took it. Rings were slid upon all ten of her fingers; jewels hung from her earlobes, and her dainty neck, and her wrists.
“See to it that Thais is dressed and fed,” Kade said.
“Yes, sir.” She smiled at him, but to me, it appeared forced, vengeful even.
Kade’s eyes grazed the spacious room filled with random furniture, and a king-size bed, and tables covered with rolls upon rolls of fabric, and baskets and shelves chock-full of yarn and thread and various other sewing supplies.
“This room is a fucking mess,” Kade told the girl with the wave of his hand.
“Yes, sir, I will clean it before you get back.”
“Good,” he said with a solid nod, and then he turned on his heels.
“When can I see Atticus?” I asked, but Kade’s tall form slipped out into the hall and disappeared, the door closing behind him.
“They’re going to make him fight,” Drusilla spoke up from behind. “Whoever Atticus is.” She retreated back to the spot on the floor where she had been sitting when I entered the room.
With dread in my heart, I went toward the girl. “Fight? Why? With who?” I stood over Drusilla as she sat cross-legged, surrounded by small strips of fabric in an array of designs and colors.
Drusilla moved pieces here and there, appearing to match each one with another one that best complimented it; she rarely ever looked up at me when she spoke.
“Everybody fights eventually,” she explained; her dainty hands moved gently over the patterns. “You either stand up for yourself, or if you can’t, you find someone willing to stand up for you. Of course, that way isn’t free, either.” She glanced at me, a hidden meaning in her eyes, and looked back down at the strips of fabric on the floor.
I sat down in front of her, needing to see her face, wanting the girl to see mine so she’d understand my desperation.