Page 10 of Caging Liberty

I shift my arms and wince as my wrists rub against metal. A pole is at my back, and cuffs binding my hands clink against the pole as I adjust my weight to sit up straighter. I blink slowly to try to fight off the grogginess threatening to pull me under. The only thing stopping me from falling asleep is the redhead’s scream in my ear.

“Shut the fuck up,” the other woman growls. “We’re on a boat, you idiot. All you’re going to do is draw their attention.”

“What’s happening?” the redhead whimpers. “What do they want?”

“I don’t know. I forgot to ask when they were hitting me over the head with a mallet.”

My head lulls from side to side as I try to focus my vision to make sense of my surroundings. Or any of this. Wherever I am, orweare, it’s dark. And cramped. There are several wooden crates stacked in front of me and nothing but a wall behind it. When I turn to my right, I spot junk in a corner. Some water jugs, a pair of work boots, a few loose pieces of foil that look like wrappers without labels.

All three of us are cuffed to the same pole with our shoulders touching and our legs sprawled in front of us. I try to look behind me, but my neck protests. I wince.

Was I hit with a mallet too?

My head spins, and my stomach bottoms out again. I feel more like I was drugged than hit. I have a headache, but it isn’t concentrated to one spot, more like a whole-body ache. And I can barely think. It’s like my mind is firing so slowly, I can feel each nerve impulse conducting through Jell-O.

Think.

Think.

Think.

What the hell is going on?

No, that isn’t the right question. I have no way of sorting through that right now.

What happened?

I try to sift through my memory, but it’s too hazy. The last thing I remember is picking up Robert’s dry cleaning. The lady behind the counter wore big, turquoise earrings, and the guy behind me stood so close, I could feel his breath on my neck.

Everything after that is blank.

The two women go back and forth, Redhead searching for comfort and Combat Boots denying it.

“I wanna go home,” Redhead whines before she starts to sob.

“Really? I couldn’t have fucking guessed.”

“Stop,” I say, my voice cracking. I move my tongue around, searching for moisture, but my mouth may as well be full of cotton.

“Look at that, you woke Sleeping Beauty.”

“Do you know who they are?” Redhead asks me. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know.” I shift, my muscles aching as I try to make my voice gentler than Combat Boots’s. “But we’ll figure this out together.”

“Yes, together we can take over the ship. We’ll use our girl power to break through metal, then—”

“Shut up,” I snap. “You’re not helping.”

“You want helpful?” she scoffs. “I’ve been awake a lot longer than either of you and have had ample time to think through the rush of questions gushing through your heads right now. So let me save you some time. We’re fucked. There, is that helpful?”

I ignore the snide remark and close my eyes at the sound of Redhead wailing. I don’t like Combat Boots’s cold pessimism, but I relate to it more than hopeless sobbing.

I’m scared. Fucking terrified. We all are. But right now, we need to use that fear to fuel us, not drain us or isolate us.

“How do you know we’re on a boat?” I ask, looking around.

“Can’t you feel it?”