Phantom Universe (11 page)

Summer pushes the empty tray back through the slot and goes to her corner that she’s made into a nest of sorts. She glares at the bucket in the other corner that is her toilet. It reeks and is only cleaned out once a week. She listens for any of the men outside her door and hears no one. But then she hears several male voices echo down the hallway, chilling her blood. Her lips seal automatically.

“
It’s time,” says Jag excitedly to someone. “The buyer is thrilled with her Native American background.”

“
Those Yanks always have rich tastes,” replies Johnny with a chuckle.

Summer’s heart skips at their words—they are selling Jaden to someone, and this will be the last time she’ll ever see her—or hear her, as it is. She stands and presses her ear to the wall between them, desperately wanting to say something but no words will form. Her body refuses to encounter another beating at the ends of the cutting whip. Her fingers cling to the wall as she listens carefully. Jaden also keeps quiet as they lead her away. Their footsteps grow fainter until she can’t hear them anymore.

Summer slides to the floor, her shoulders slumping dejectedly. All of her hope seeps from her pores and slithers away with its tail between its legs.
Stupid hope
, Summer thinks miserably.
Fine, go run and hide you coward
.

A phone rings just outside her door, and she startles, clasping her hand over her mouth to stop herself from squeaking. Footsteps pound down the hallway, and then a receiver is picked up. She had no idea that there is a phone just outside her door. If she would have known that the first day she ran for it, she might have been able to call out.

“
Hello?” comes Jag’s scratchy voice.

There is a moment of silence before he lets out an exasperated sigh. “It’s not negotiable. We’ve kept her long enough, ya know? We could of sold her already for a much higher price.” Pause. “I don’t care what kind of society yer are. She’s in my possession and if you don’t up your offer you ain’t layin’ a single grubby finger on her, understand?”

Summer put her ear to the slit in her door. Is he talking about Jaden?

“
Now listen here you righteous— No!” he practically growls into the phone. The sound of it being slammed into the cradle makes her jump away from the door, her breath heavy with fear. She didn’t do anything, but the men are known to use beating the slaves as a way of letting their aggression out.

“
You can take your money and shove it up your arse!” He kicks the chair she’s sat in many times for whippings.

She chances a glance through the slot in her door to see him dialing another number. His greasy fingers stab each button like they have personally offended him. “Jones!” A pause, and Jag smiles. “Ah, yes. I found the perfect girl fer ya.”

Oh, no
. Summer panics internally.
Jaden’s going to be sold
.

“
Of course she’s trained, you prat. Blonde hair, blue eyes. Name’s Summer.” He laughs at something Jones says.

No,
I’m
going to be sold
, she realizes uncomprehendingly.

“
She needs to go immediately. You gunna be at the shipyard today?” Another pause. “I’ll bring her by after dark. I think that’ll be an even trade. Make sure you kick your wenches off the boat before I get there.” More laughter. “Cheerio.”

Jag hangs up the phone, and Summer backs into her corner as the door opens slowly. Light floods the room, the golden glow so far from angelic she wishes for the darkness again. Her breath catches at the unnatural, greedy look in Jag’s black eyes. He runs a hand through his greasy hair to pull it out of his face.

“
Time to get cleaned up.” He holds the door open and gestures for her to exit. She doesn’t hesitate in fear of what will happen if she doesn’t comply. They run into a whistling, jolly Johnny, his dark green eyes satisfied with something.

He guides her to a place she’s never been before and instructs her to strip down. She shakes, knowing when clothes come off there is usually some sort of punishment involved. Her tiny fingers hook into her black pants, and she pulls them off. Next she removes her shirt. The room is tiled, and she wonders if she will finally be able to take a bath—she hasn’t had one since she was kidnapped.

“
Stand there and be a good girl,” says Johnny with a slightly crazy lilt in his tone. “This’ll take just a few minutes.”

Summer wraps her arms around herself, feeling exposed and vulnerable. Johnny turns a hose on, and the mocking water splashes against the tile like a waterfall of crystallized droplets beading up and rolling toward her in battle. He holds it up and sprays her with the cold water as she contains her shrieks before they escape and run rampant through the flowing water. She spins around as he commands and shudders through the whole ordeal. After several minutes he turns the hose away and flips a towel toward her. She dries and dresses quickly, impatient to be warm again. Her teeth rattle in her head.

Johnny opens a door and points. “It’s warm outside. Go. Your chattering is gettin’ on my last nerve!” Outside she finds a cage ready for her, bucket and all.

CHAPTER
12: SOLD

4 years old

Johnny’s right—it’s invitingly warm outside. It is midsummer, and the sun’s rays bare down on Summer until she’s no longer cold but sweating. This is the first time she’s been outside since her mummy took her to the bistro outside the shipyard. She may only be four years old, but she feels as if she’s matured to the age of six. Maybe even to the ancient age of seven. The cage is especially uncomfortable—noticeably meant for large animals and not people. The bucket is at least clean, though there is no comfortable place to sit, so she stands and leans against the bars. She jumps away from them quickly; the bars are so hot from the baking sun that they burn through her clothes and make the healing sores on her back sting with fervor.

With no other comfortable options, she stands in the middle of the cage, her arms folded. She wonders why she is out here—Jaden never mentioned anything about cages outside. The sky is slowly growing pink as the aloof sun slides dispassionately toward the horizon. After two hours of cooking in the aggressive heat, Jag strolls from the building and unlocks her cage. His tall frame casts a shadow across the grass, and in that shadow you can see the outline of what he carries in his left hand. It’s the whip, and instinctively Summer flinches away from its offensive leather.

“
You stay in line and we won’t worry about this,” threatens Jag as he pets the whip affectionately. There is no telling how many times she has been whipped with it, let alone all the other people that came through that place. Summer had only heard one other person being whipped during her two week stay at Hell. She recoiled every time the boy shouted, almost like she could feel the leather slicing into her own skin.

Summer nods at Jag, letting him know she understands perfectly what the consequences of disobedience are.

“
Good girl. I’ve got someone who wants to meet ya. His name is Travis Jones—but it’ll be Captain Jones, or Master depending on what he wants, to you,” explains Jag as they walk in the direction of a car with tinted windows. “We’ll have to drive there, though. If you cause me any trouble at all I’ll whip you. And if you try to run away I’ll shoot you.” He points to his pants where the outline of a gun is barely noticeable.

Summer almost gasps but is able to quickly contain the sound with her hand. She’s only seen police carry guns. Jag nods to two men she’s never seen before as they reach the car.

“
Get in,” he orders.

She hastily opens the door and slides inside at his command. Jag lowers himself into the driver’s seat and starts the car. He quickly flips through radio stations until he finds some grunge music he likes. It’s strange for her to see him so relaxed and rocking out to some tunes on the stereo. This makes her hate him even more. He puts the car in gear, and they start down the road.

“
There’s a comb in the glove box,” he barks. “Brush your hair. You gotta at least have brushed hair.” He mumbles a curse to Johnny under his breath.

Trepidation crawls up her nerves like a spider, engineering its web of anxiety.
I’m being sold
, she tells herself, seeing if it sounds more real when she says it inside her head. She doesn’t dare say it aloud. So many different emotions latch on and devour as her heart drops and pumps wildly with all the warring emotions inside her.

This may be the last time I ever see Jag
, she realizes hopefully. The feeling is short lived because she knows that being locked up at Jag’s means the possibility of her mum finding her again. Being sold tonight signifies the end of hope—or it would have if she hadn’t already lost it. Her mum, always so patient, kind, and accepting will never be in her life again, and she has to come to terms with it now. Her mum always told her to be a big girl, and now is the time. Regardless of how crestfallen, there’s still such a gratifying relief at never seeing Jag’s face again it almost puts a smile on her face.

But the longer they drive, the sweatier her palms become. Jag is unconditionally cruel, but what if Captain Jones is more ruthless? She sits as motionless and noiseless as a stone combating the ravages of time and tries to camouflage her mental state, which is about as easy as slaying a fire-breathing dragon in the depths of Hell. Her captor probably sees right through her, down to her jumping heart, tightening muscles, and dancing nerves.

The sun finally fades, and the moonless night’s sky is full of illuminated clouds from the city lights below. Jag parks the car outside a port where fleets of ships are docked. Summer’s nerves are so stressed, strained so tight, she’s not sure if she can move.

Jag circles around the car and opens the door. His beady black eyes stare holes in her forehead as if they are laser beams, and a frown dominates his face, clearly annoyed.

“
I’m not here to service you.” He places his hand on his gun. “Get out of the car and stay ahead of me. I’ll tell you where to go and if you don’t listen and obey . . .” He taps his fingers lovingly over the gun.

Summer is so quick to get out of the car at his threat that she’s faint for a few moments and sees stars. She stumbles forward as she tries to recover her full vision. Being starved is undoubtedly damaging her body as she becomes increasingly weaker daily.

The ships tower over them like pillars of a vast city. When he demands that she stops before a huge vessel, the panic kicks in with such absolute ferocity that it’s like her breath is being stolen right out of her lungs by some soul-sucking creature. Her heart skips a beat; it’s as if the entire two weeks are finally catching up to her. Tears leak out in a torrent, though she stays completely silent, weathering the storm better than any four year old should be able to.

A figure steps from the shadows like he’s part of the night. Everything about him is sinister—his eyes, hair, and clothes. His scruffy beard canvases the majority of his face, and his cheeks are pitted with scars like craters on the moon. His exposed arms have faded tattoos and are also scarred with the sun and other marks that she couldn’t even begin to guess the source. The man grins widely at Jag, and she assumes this is the Captain.

“
You’ve trained her well, I see. Not a single peep,” he says in a smooth voice that doesn’t seem right with his outer appearance. He has an accent she can’t place.

“
We need to talk.” Jag points a little ways away. “You stay right there,” he adds to Summer. “If I see you even take a single step remember what I promised.” His eyebrows lift in challenge.

Summer nods and wipes the tears away hastily. She’s embarrassed that he saw her cry. The two men step away from her and into the shadows. She can’t hear their words, but she can tell it’s a heated conversation. She wishes she could at least see their facial expressions to gauge their emotions, but it’s useless in the dark. Suddenly, the Captain laughs and claps Jag on his lanky shoulder, nearly knocking him over.

They shake hands, and Jag walks deeper into the shadows until she can’t see him anymore. The Captain glances in her direction and comes over. He seems genuinely pleased, his dark eyes light with humor. “Jag told you who I was?” he asks.