Page 15 of Scarred Sacrifice
“Well, you may want to set that shit up pretty fucking quick, as there are car lights up ahead.” Eden nods to the right.
Sure enough, a convoy of car lights are heading this way. Betsy hands us each an earpiece and sets up the camera on the box and hits record, just as two cars and a van comes to a stop. Two men get out of the car, and both of them are carrying machine guns.
“Jesus, I feel like I’m in a nineties action film. Give it a minute and Jean Claude Van Damme or Mel Gibson will appear,” I joke.
“I vote for Keanu Reeves,” Eden adds.
“Oh, yes,” I agree.
“Shh!” Betsy hisses, twiddling buttons and knobs while aiming the satellite at the cars. The back passenger door opens, and out steps Henry Sparks.
“There’s the fucker,” I whisper.
We watch as a guy from a small cabin office walks out and greets Henry. They shake hands. “Good evening, Mr. Sparks,” the guy greets.
“Oooh, so cool that we can hear them,” I whisper.
“Shhh!” Betsy hisses at me again.
I roll my eyes and continue to listen. “Good evening, William. I take it everything is in order?” Henry asks.
“Yes, sir,” William responds.
“Good, this shipment is worth a lot of money to me, as well as a gift to a business friend of mine,” Henry states. He clicks hisfingers, and men jump out of the van and around to the back, opening it up. There before us, we watch as around twenty young girls are escorted off, all with chains linked to their necks. They stumble, seeming to be drunk or drugged.
“Some of those girls can’t be more than sixteen,” Eden whispers.
“Mother fucker,” I seethe, pushing to my feet, ready to kill him and get those girls out of there.
“What the hell are you doing?!” Eden and Betsy hiss, yanking me back down before I’m seen.
“We have to help them before they’re shipped off to god knows where,” I argue.
“We can’t,” Eden says with regret heavy in her tone. “If we go running in, the likelihood is we will end up dead. They will still be sent off, and this will continue. We die; there won’t be anyone to stop him in the future.” Eden gives my arm a squeeze. I look into her saddened eyes and see the same torment I am feeling.
I exhale a breath. “It doesn’t feel right sacrificing them.”
“It’s not a sacrifice,” Betsy interjects.
I open my eyes and look at her.
“It’s a promise. A promise that we will hunt them down and find them. It’s a promise that we will put a stop to it,” Betsy states with determination.
“And what if we can’t get to them in time?” I counter.
“We will,” she says firmly.
I shake my head. “You don’t know that,” I sigh.
“You’re right, I don’t. But I have to believe it. I have to believe that we are letting those poor girls to be sold like cattle, being sent off to wherever to do whatever.” She pauses, shaking her head. “I can’t even let my mind imagine what they will have to endure, but I need to feel and believe that we will get them out of there. I will keep searching for every girl that has passed through these docks at his hands,” she asserts.
I grab her hand in mine and give it a firm squeeze. “You’re right. Besides, with you tracking them down, we are sure to find them,” I say with certainty.
“Er, guys. This is all very moving, but look.” Eden nudges us, breaking the moment.
We turn to see Henry grab one of the girls firmly by the arm. Even in her current state she looks pretty with long dark hair. Betsy aims the satellite at them as we try to listen to what he whispers in her ear. He grins and leans back, clicking his fingers. One of the men walks over and unlocks her chain, freeing her. He then turns her towards Henry’s car and roughly shoves her in the back seat.
“Just say she didn’t make it,” Henry scoffs dismissively. “I do deserve my own reward, after all.”
