Page 42 of Backwoods
“They’re like the slaves on Westbrook. Well, I guess they were slaves at first, but they’re different. Like, upgraded.”
“Upgraded?”
“They’re stronger—alotstronger.” She rolled up the sleeve of her dress and showed him her scrawny arm. He could see faded fingerprints on her forearm. “I got this from when Miss Lula grabbed me. She didn’t like how I was cleaning the kitchen and I got stupid and gave her some lip.”
“Who is Miss Lula?” he asked.
“She runs the house. Crazy mean, but she comes off nice at first—until you piss her off. I really hope your girlfriend doesn’t make her mad. She’ll be sorry. Miss Lula ain’t no joke.”
Nick had to pull his thoughts away from the danger Amiya was in, or else he would go nuts with worry and lose his focus. Focus, he realized, would be key to them getting out of here.
“I need to understand this place, Westbrook,” Nick said. He wished he had a pad and pencil to keep all of his facts in order. “We have the helpers, okay. The ones who picked me up, Betty and some guy?—”
“Jimmy,” Raven said. “I was watching.”
“Jimmy,” Nick said. “He’s a helper. How many helpers are there, total?”
“Seven,” she said. “I know all of them. I know their routines. I have to, to stay away from them.”
“You escaped,” he said.
“Five months ago. I keep track of the days in my head. I got away a hundred and fifty-five days ago and I’ve been here at Westbrook for one thousand, four hundred, and seventy-two days. I’ve always had a good memory for numbers.”
Nick nodded, impressed. “How did you get out and get keys to the chains?”
“I had help, inside,” she said. “One of the other house slaves, we came up with a plan. He didn’t make it . . . the Overseer caught him.” She shivered, and glanced nervously at the sky.
“Who is the Overseer? Every time someone brings up this person they get scared, and supposedly he comes out at night?”
“I’ve only seen him once,” she said. “At sundown, I go into a hiding place and I don’t come out ’til morning.”
“Butwhois he?” He was struggling to temper his frustration with her nonsensical replies.
“I don’t know. He marked me—that’s the one time I saw him.” She tapped her head, the wound of the old scar on her face. “He’s the one who does the marking of everyone. The mark keeps you here.”
“It’s just a symbol on your skin,” Nick said. “Hell, I have a buddy in a frat who got branded when he pledged. It’s not keeping you bound to this place, Raven.”
“You don’t understand.” She only shook her head. “But you don’t have the mark yet, and neither does your girlfriend. That means you can get away—and maybe you can help me get away, too.”
Of course, Nick realized.That’s why she’s helping us.She thinks we can help her escape.
These people, these helpers, the so-called Overseer . . . they had done one hell of a mind job on Raven and the others. To have influenced these captives to actually believe they couldn’t escape because of a mark on their skin? It was one of the most insidious cases of brainwashing he’d ever seen.
“I need to understand how my grandfather plays into this,” Nick said. “You called him the Caretaker?”
“No one’s supposed to touch the Caretaker,” she said. “Not even the Overseer or the Master, I think.”
“Jesus, now we have a master, too?” He laughed. “This is too much, seriously. The master lives in the big house, huh?”
“Exactly.” Raven didn’t laugh. “I think they took your girlfriend to be the Master’s mistress.”
Nick’s laughter died in his throat. “His mistress? What?”
“The Overseer runs Westbrook, but the Master still lives in the house. Like the Overseer, he comes around at night. Wakesup, I guess. All he seems to care about are the women. He never bothered me. I guess I wasn’t his type.”
Nick was trying and failing to wrap his mind around the outpouring of information. “What does he do with the women?”
“Whatever he wants,” Raven said, plainly. “They don’t have much choice about it, either.”
