Chained (21 page)

Tears burned behind my eyes.  “Oh...Travis.  There is so much more than love to this.  Love doesn't have to hurt like this.”

“Master only hurts me because he cares about me.”

A single, traitorous tear ran down my cheek.  I reached out and touched Travis's face with gentle fingers.  “It doesn't have to be this way.”

He pushed my hand away.  “You don't know what you're talking about.”

“Yes I do.  I had wonderful parents.  Parents that loved me and cared for me.  Parents that didn't make me afraid of them.”

I was losing him.  His face was closed, cold.  “Are you telling me your parents never disciplined you?  Spanked you?”

“Well, yes, but...”

“How is that different?  They disciplined you to make you act better because they cared about you.  My father does the same thing.”

“You shouldn't have to be afraid of someone who claims to love you.  That's not love.”

I knew that glint in his eye.  “Everyone loves differently.  Who is to say Master's way is wrong and yours is right?  You don't know him.”

I couldn't push him any farther. 

How in the world do you explain the difference between discipline and abuse to someone who has only ever known the latter?  Explaining love to one who has never seen it is like explaining music to a deaf person, describing a painting to someone who cannot see.  The mind cannot comprehend what it has never experienced. 

Chapter 24:
On the Move

Travis fell asleep on the bed next to me.  I couldn't sleep with him there.  I pulled out my journal and just stared at it for a while, for once unable to think of anything to write.  I stuck the book back in its hiding place beneath the bathroom sink, behind the towels.

I wandered to the window and looked through the sheer curtains out at the patchy snow that glistened in the moonlight.  It would probably all melt tomorrow, leaving us with brown slush instead of brown dust.

I was afraid to sleep in the living room again, lest Master catch me there.  Travis's trust for me was growing, even though it was a slow process.  Soon he would slip up, give me my chance.

I sat down on the bed, leaning back against the head board and closing my eyes.  Maybe if I just tried to pretend he wasn't here, I could fall asleep.  Pretend I was all alone....

***

“Wake up.”  I was being shaken roughly, and I sat up as quickly as I could.  It was Master standing over me.

Without giving me time to wonder what he was about to do to me, he threw my sweater into my arms. 

“Travis!  Wake up!”  He bellowed.

Travis sat up, rubbing his eyes.  “What's going on?”

“That girl you were talking to.  You're going to come along and help me get her.”

“Again?”

Master hauled me to my feet.  “Put your sweater on.  Don't need you dying on the truck.”  To Travis:  “Yes, again.  If you don't like it, maybe you should stop chatting up girls in other states.  Let's go, son, before I decide to leave your pet here to starve.”

Travis didn't need to be told again.  He leaped up and took my hand as we quickly made our way through the house.  He led me to the little blue pickup truck and climbed into the middle seat, while I took the one closest to the passenger door.  Master emerged from the barn carrying Rachel, whom he set in the truck bed.  She appeared almost catatonic, barely moving when he unceremoniously dumped her into the truck before climbing into the driver's seat.

The truck rumbled to life and we took off down the hill.  Master's semi truck sat at the bottom of the incline, the trailer gleaming silver in the moonlight.

Master climbed out and Travis motioned for me to do the same.  The two men pulled the massive doors open and Travis helped me climb in as Master returned to the pickup to get Rachel.

“It's going to be okay,”  Travis reassured me, mistaking my expression.  I looked around, hoping to see the headlights of rescue vehicles in the distance, but all was dark and still.

Soon I sat huddled among boxes on the trailer.  Rachel was lying on blankets closer to the door.  Master and Travis closed the trailer doors, leaving us in pitch darkness.  I heard them climb into the truck cab and after a moment, we roared into motion. 

The dark and the bumpy motion combined to give me the worse case of motion sickness of my life.  I did my best not to throw up on myself, though I cringed at the thought of Master discovering what had happened to some of his boxes.

After what seemed like hours, we pulled onto the highway.  I breathed a sigh of relief that we were no longer being shaken around like eagerly anticipated Christmas presents.  It was still dark, it was cold and uncomfortable, and the trailer smelled bad, but at least I might be able to refrain from throwing up again.

Rachel stirred and cried out something incomprehensible.  I hadn't heard a coherent sentence from her since the night Tanya died.  If she hadn't just been found to be pregnant, Master would have gotten rid of her already.  She would probably be dead.

I had no idea how long we traveled in the truck.  Thin light was beginning to show through cracks in the door by the time we pulled onto some sort of bumpy surface, then stopped.  After a few moments the trailer door clanked open, and Travis stood framed in the sudden light.  He had what looked like a laptop bag slung over his shoulder.

I blinked at him, waiting for my eyes to adjust. When they did, I saw the seedy-looking motel behind him.  “What's going on?”

“Master likes to drive at night.  We'll stay here for a few hours.  Can you walk?”

Though I was sore and stiff, I found that I could in fact walk.  “Isn't he afraid you'll be caught?”

Travis pulled up his shirt to show the gun shoved in his belt.  “I would recommend you not try to do anything to get us caught.  I prefer not to leave trails of bodies, but I will if you force me to.”

I swallowed hard and jumped down silently from the trailer.  “Got it.”  What else was there to say? 
Sure, go ahead and shoot a bunch of people.  I don't care, as long as I get my freedom. 
No.  I wouldn't be responsible for any more death.

Travis reached in and scooped Rachel into his arms.  Her head lolled against his chest like that of a rag doll.  Didn't this motel have security cameras?  Surely someone had to think a man carrying an unconscious woman dressed in a nightgown was suspicious...

As I soon learned, this was one of the motels where no information was volunteered, and no questions were asked.  Master took Rachel into one room, and Travis and I had another. 

I watched Master carry the limp girl into his room, and I worried.  It wasn't like he'd never been alone with her before.  This just seemed different somehow.

I was ushered into the motel room in front of Travis.  He locked the door behind us, then the deadbolt, then put the chain in the groove.

My heart sank when I saw the room.  There was only one bed.

Travis didn't seem to notice my discomfort.  He tossed the bag on the bed and pulled a laptop computer from it. 

“What's the problem?”  I focused on Travis, when he asked the question, suddenly realizing that I was still standing awkwardly by the door.

“Oh.  Sorry.  It's nothing.”  I moved forward, perching on the corner of the bed that was the farthest away from him.  “Are we really going to capture another girl?”

“Yes.”

I stared at my folded hands. 

“Sarah?  What's the problem?”

“I just don't understand.  Why do you need to take another girl prisoner?”

“I told you.  We are rescuing them from bad situations.  We aren't capturing them.”

“I wasn't in a bad situation.” 
Let's completely ignore how crazy his statement is for the moment...

Travis shrugged, not looking up from the computer.  “You were special.”

Tears immediately filled my eyes.  Stupid hormones.  “I don't want to be special.  I just want to go home.”

Travis slammed the laptop lid shut.  “If your home life had really been so wonderful, why were you online searching for someone to love you?  You say you know so much more about love than me, but you found me on a website devoted to lonely people looking for something to make them happy.”

It was a dare.  A stupid, childish dare.  I lost my life over a dare. 

After a few moments in which I failed to think of a “safe” reply, Travis tossed the laptop onto the bed and sat leaning against the wall, his arms crossed.  “You should be grateful.  There are many men on that site that would have raped you and then killed you and left your body in a ditch.  We have fed you, clothed you, given you a home.”

“Grateful?  I should be grateful that you beat me every time I step out of line?”

A decidedly non-handsome snarl crossed Travis's face as he leapt up from the bed and came around to my corner.  He pushed me back onto the mattress, a hand on either side of my head as he practically spit in my face.  “You would be
dead
if it weren't for me.  After your escape attempt, Master wanted to kill you.  I convinced him that it wasn't worth losing the money your baby would bring.  If you hadn't been pregnant, you would have died that night.  And you
should
be grateful that Master has a short memory of wrongs, or you would have been dead the moment that child left your body.  So, grateful?  Yes, you should be.  If not to Master, then to me, because I am the only reason you are alive.”

My bravado began to fail with Travis's angry face in mine.  My brain was starting to shut down.  I just stared into his eyes, unable to form a response, until he pushed himself up and walked over to stare out the window.

I decided it was wisest not to respond to Travis on the subject.  “I'm going to take a shower.”

There was no answer as I went into the bathroom and closed the door.  It wasn't until the hot water beat on the top of my head that I allowed the tears to fall.  Being here, out in the real world--so close to freedom and yet so far--it was almost harder than being captive in the middle of nowhere.  I could run away if I wanted.  I could find a way.  But this time, rather than concrete walls or miles of wilderness, I was restrained by my sense of morality.  The threat of more people dying because of me was a shackle as secure and cold and heavy as chains of iron.

After only a few hours of sleep, I woke to Travis shaking my shoulder.  He handed me a bag of gas station snacks and bottles of soda, before taking me by the arm and leading me back to the truck.  I cast one last, longing glance at the empty parking lot and the tantalizing sight of the gas station next to the motel, so close and yet so inaccessible.  With a heavy heart I climbed into the back of the truck and, as Rachel was carried in, moved toward the front of the trailer.  The heavier furniture was securely tied with ropes to prevent it from moving around during travel.  I pulled boxes out from beneath an ornate dining room table and crawled underneath into the little space, spreading my sweater on the floor. 

My body was aching from lack of sleep. Pregnancy insomnia was at its height, and the constant nausea didn't help.  I curled up in my little space, tucking the bag of food in between a couple of boxes.

A few minutes later the engine of the truck rumbled and shuddered, and we were moving again.  I closed my eyes and tried to sleep, hoping I wouldn't throw up if I was laying down.

We only stopped at deserted buildings and quiet rest stops for Rachel and me to be allowed to use the bathroom.  Rachel was awake and would walk now, though she refused to speak to anyone. 

After a while I took a package of doughnuts and a bottle of Coke and wound my way through the furniture and boxes to the back, where Rachel lay on her blankets.

“Rachel?”  I had to speak loudly to hear myself over the roaring of the truck engine.  “Are you hungry?”

No response.  After a few more tries, I left the food and drink next to  Rachel where she could see it, and went back to my spot.  I sat under the table, my head hunched a little to avoid scraping it on the underside of the wood, sipping a Sprite. 

It was much the same for the next two days.  Occasionally Master and Travis would stop the truck and some furniture or boxes would be removed.  I soon lost my hiding place under the table.  Besides these deliveries, we drove straight through the nights, only stopping for a few hours in the daytime.  Gradually the truck and the air outside grew warmer.  We were moving south.  Plains and desert gave way to trees resplendent in fall colors. 

Then we reached our destination.  Master let Rachel and me out of the truck and we emerged near the edge of a lake that was surrounded by dense forest.  There was a small, run-down cabin in the trees just out of sight of the water.  Master made us go inside the cabin and then he left.  We must have already dropped off Travis off because he was already gone.

The cabin had no electricity or running water.  It was a little one room thing, with a single bed, a worn leather loveseat, a table and chairs, and bucket in one corner half hidden behind a curtain strung between two nails.  There was a short kitchenette on one wall, the counter holding a sink with no faucet and a bucket underneath the drain pipe.  There was no fridge or any way to cook, except for the bag of charcoal beneath the counter that probably meant there was a grill outside.