Never Let Me Go

Chapter 7 - Desperation

Why can’t I find her? We’ve been searching for days and all I can think of is how her time could be running out. Anything could be happening. I stare out at the endless piles of sand dunes, merging with the blinding brightness of the sun to form a shining wasteland. The van bumped over rocks and shreds of road paving. It’s been weeks and no leads have appeared of Anita’s whereabouts. The radio on my belt crackles every few hours, coming into contact with a signal, and then I would beg for news. Prey that someone had found her, killed the bastards who took her from me. But still, nothing had been said. I leaned forward, my hand on the drivers shoulder, learning a few days ago that his name was Atash. His wife and son were also travelling with us. I had not yet learnt their names. He turned to me, “We are nearly there my friend. If your girl is as strong as you say, she will be fighting.” He turned back to the road. Two days later we arrived at Anita’s base. I stopped a woman in the street; she wore a black robe and a chequered scarf around her neck to protect her face from the blowing sand. My palms were sweating as I asked “where are the stolen girls taken?” she did not respond in English, I shook my head. I couldn’t understand a word. An idea formed in my head and my bag hit the floor, I searched frantically before handing the woman a piece of paper and a pen. I made the writing motion as she stared at me, pen in mid-air.

She suddenly nodded and wrote a series of symbols onto the paper.  I stared, thanking her and made my way to anyone who could help me.

The symbols translated as ‘the pit’, the place referred to as where girls are stolen from the cities and army bases, and sold to men as slaves and used for sex trafficking. By the time I found a truck willing to take me to the destination, night had already fallen.

The truck bounced on the dirt road, headlights bobbing in the darkness, suddenly stopping. The engine died as the doors were heaved open. I was tossed out of the vehicle, only to see it speeding off into the direction in which it came. There were no noises, only lights coming from a crowd of mobile buildings. Big flood lights surrounded the blocks. The name ‘pit’ suit the situation perfectly; it was indeed a pit. Possibly fifty feet deep with steeping dirt walls with only one dirt road entrance, watched by guards all day and night. I looked down at my army uniform, think with sand and dirt from days of travel. I’ll be shot on sight if I just wander down in my uniform. My bags contents tipped out onto the floor, my gun and knife on one side with a pair of jeans, and a blue polo shirt half covered in dust. I was changed in a matter of seconds and making my way down the brightened buildings.

I’m coming for you, Anita.