Page 45 of Factory Controller

No, not yet. I want to be sure she feels the same way first. Then I’ll tell her, one way or the other.

HEATHER

Ifind it would be easy to let myself get carried away in the everyday life of the village. Too easy.

I’ve never met a more accommodating group of people in my entire life. They’ve opened their homes to us, in some cases literally, and seamlessly incorporated us into their lives. I pick up more of their language every day.

Day by day, I learn more of the chores required of women in the village. To my surprise, this also involves training to use a blowgun. It seems that men venture out far to hunt larger game, while women remain in close proximity to the village and use their dart guns to capture smaller prey.

I’ve never been hunting in my life before, and I have trepidations about killing animals. I know this makes me a hypocrite, since I’m hardly a vegan, but I don’t manage to actually kill anything with my blowgun darts.

At least my stunning ineptitude with the weapon makes the other women laugh. That’s something.

We also prepare the hallucinogenic drink favored by the tribe. It involves a lot of biting, chewing, and spitting of a vile-tasting root. The older women have built up a resistance to it, but the younger women and I all have a few minor hallucinations. The sunlight certainly looks prettier after we’ve made a batch of the serum.

My favorite activity of all is watching the children. I’ve always disliked children, but these kids are different. They’re allowed to run and scream and explore. In many cases, they help the adults in everyday tasks. The first time I see a five-year-old carving a spearhead with a knife it gives me palpitations, though.

Strangely, the only dark side of the village is Trent. He sulks about in the medicine man’s hut, insisting he’s not recovered enough to leave or travel. Some days, I wonder if he isn’t trying to delay our leaving the village. I can’t quite figure out why. Especially since he knows the sooner I report what’s happening the sooner we can put an end to the child trafficking we’ve uncovered.

One morning, some three weeks from the day Trent was attacked, I wake up with a scream. I sit up on my bed, panting. Trent bolts up in an instant, moving with catlike grace in spite of his alleged lingering injuries. He grabs his knife and stands before the mattress, protecting me from harm.

“What’s going on?” he blurts, eyes still bleary with sleep.

“I’m sorry,” I say between pants. “I was having a nightmare.”

“A nightmare?” He sheathes his knife and crawls into the bed with me. His hand rests on my shoulder, and I feel safe enough to speak about my dreams.

“It was awful. I-I saw the mercenaries coming from up the river in a gunboat. They shot everyone, even the…even the babies. Then they made me watch while they shot you.”

“Jesus.” Trent takes me in his arms and holds me tight, his hand petting my head. “It was just a dream.”

I sigh into his chest, but I’m still troubled. I believe I know why, as well.

“This is because of Isabella and her so called charity.”

“What does it have to do with them?”

I heave a heavy sigh. “Because, Trent, as long as I’m out here playingKrippendorf’s Tribe, more and more children will go missing.”

“What are you saying?”

I slide out of bed and get dressed. “I’m saying, I have to get back to Macapá. I have to stop Isabella before more children go missing.”

“It’s not your fight, Heather.” He slides out of bed and comes to my side, resting a hand on my shoulder.

“The Factory says it is.”

“Enough with the damn Factory,” Trent sputters. “They probably think you’re dead.”

His words hit me like a slap. I flinch and feel my heart thundering in my chest. He’s right. The Factory most likely thinks I’m dead, or if they don’t, they soon will. I could be free of them forever, just by staying away from Macapá.

“Look,” Trent says, swallowing hard. I turn to face him. His eyes shine with an intense light. “Last night, the chief came to speak with me. The villagers think we’re a good luck omen, and the women seem to like you a lot.”

A feeling of warmth spreads through my chest. “Really?”

“That’s what the chief said. Anyway, he invited us to stay.”

“Stay?” My face creases in a frown. “What do you mean, stay?”

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