Page 66 of Hostile Rival
“The others…where were they taken?”
“Look… I’m in the dark too, you know. All I know is the last girl couldn’t keep the drugs up her ass and they dragged her out of here. I heard something about a barn. That’s all I know.”
“How come you’re still here?”
“Because I kept them in…and now I wish I hadn’t.”
I fall silent, thinking. If I squeeze the pellets out and they take me to the barn, I could be with Margo again…and we could plan an escape…together.
Maybe it’s a reckless move, but I have to do something. I can’t hang around here, waiting for them to use me for human drug trafficking.
In a mindless moment, I squat and squeeze, relieved to finally release the pellets. Rolling them away from me, I press my spine into the wall and hug my knees tight to my chest, waiting for the fall out.
When the door eventually swings open, my muscles tense and I brace for the worst, apprehensive about the risk I’ve taken.
Intense light shines directly into my eyes. I’ve never known this pain, for light to hurt this much, but it does. And combined with the merciless force of a Souza drug trafficker who hides behind a flashlight, I’ll forever despise the two.
“Fucking puta!” the man snarls. “Bitches are so fucking weak. Get her out of here.”
That’s the last thing I hear. Something rock hard wallops the side of my head, pain splices across my skull and the light cuts out.
My lashes flutter.
Slashes of soft light are all around me. Speckles of dust dance in the haziness and a persistent throb in my head reminds me of the horrific seconds before I’d blacked out.
I suck in a deep breath and wiggle my fingers. I try stretching out my legs, but something stops them from fully straightening.
Slowly my senses kick in, and I realize I’m flat on my back, facing wooden slats. A hideous smell drifting up my nose, unlike anything I’ve ever endured. At least there’s light…natural daylight.
Rolling sideways, I freeze.
“Margo?” I whisper, meeting her wide eyes. She stares at me, not blinking or speaking. “Margo…”
I jackknife to sit, suddenly sick to the pit of my stomach, and cautiously set my hand on her ice-cold cheek, confirming what I don’t want to believe is true. “Jesus fuck…”
Stealing my hand back, I turn my head and whimper, absolutely petrified. All around me are women. Motionless, gray-skinned girls. Blondes, brunettes, raven haired daughters, sisters…wives.
They all had families, loved ones. People who’d mourn them. And although I don’t have those blessings, my heart still breaks into a million pieces.
They’re all dead.
And I was thrown on top of the pile like trash.
This unholy act of brutality was created by the Souza cartel.
The sound of my blood pumping in my skull reminds me I’m still alive and in grave danger.
In a panic, I push onto all fours. Clambering over stiff legs and twisted torsos, I do my best not to focus on their vacant faces.
My stomach heaves with the foul odor of death thick in the air. I throw up. Not once, or twice…over and over until all that comes out is yellow bile.
When I go to stand, my knees buckle and my head swims. I’m shaking uncontrollably and my teeth won’t stop chattering.
No wonder. Not only am I knee deep in decomposing corpses, in a make-shift morgue, I’m only wearing a flimsy bra and a pair of panties.
Doing my best to think straight, I take a minute, frantically studying all four corners of the space. Underneath my shins there’s compacted dry earth. If it’s my only option, I’d dig my way out with my bare hands.
At the far end of the barn, I find twin doors and a few metal barrels. My eyes fall on the bodies again. Even though it's unacceptable to rob a dead body, I need to survive what they didn’t.
