When Hope Calls: A Human Trafficking Story

March 9th, 2010 // 10:05AM

It started with a phone call, one among the two dozen calls Morris received every day. But to this Burmese humanitarian worker, they meant so much more; each one was a woman, a man, a child, who needed desperate help in regaining their freedom.

It all started with a phone call – a call that changed Morris' life forever.

Ring ring, ring ring, ring ring.

"Hello, this is Morris of the help hotline," he said, in Thai, "How can I help you?"

Raspy, shallow breaths. A stifled whimper.

Bad phone connection was common in the middle of bustling Bangkok, so he tried again: "Hello? Hello?"

Then a female voice, barely a whisper, barely audible, spoke in Burmese. "Sir! I have been kidnapped, I need help!" There was an explicit urgency in the tiny voice that Morris had never perceived in any previous call. His eyebrows furrowed with apprehension. He replied in Burmese, "Miss, please stay calm, I am here with you. Do you know where you are?"

The voice on the other end – a young girl it seemed – stuttered through her sobs. "I...I don't know! I can't understand any of the signs...it is all in Thai," she stammered. "I have been in the car for many hours...I do not know where they are taking me. I am in the toilet. They do not know I have a phone. I need your help..." Here she broke down, cries of such anguish that Morris' hands began to tremble with trepidation. Stay calm, stay calm. I must be calm to be able to help her.

Deep breaths – in and out. That eased the mounting weight in his ribcage, but did nothing for his shaking hands. This was all too sudden, all too new. Like a fresh nightmare. "Try to keep calm, miss," he finally managed to say. "I will help you! What is your name? My name is Morris." He hoped that this semblance of human connection would ameliorate the unfiltered fear that enclosed their dialogue.

And his name did have an effect: the sobs on the other end abated somewhat. "My name is Mya..." came the reply. Then there was a sudden sharp intake of breath. "I have to go now, they are coming! I will try to call again –"

"Wait, Mya, let me –" But the line was already dead. "Hello? Hello?"

The phone had never felt heavier in his hand as he replaced it on its stand; in fact, his quivering fingers dropped it on the table before he found the cradle. It was then that Morris noticed he had been holding his breath, his entire body rigid with anxiety. Breathe in, breathe out. There was a tingling sensation running from his temples down through his spine. He shook his head to clear his thoughts, still uncertain what had just happened. He needed help. Turning around in his chair, his mind switched to English, "Jeremy, umm, can you come here for a moment? I need your help." Even his own voice now sounded strange to his ears. Speaking four languages fluently was nothing new to him, but this time the language change was more...daunting, and left a bad taste in his mouth.

A stout middle-aged man appeared – Jeremy Moore, their technical advisor. He was a reliable, resourceful man they could always turn to for technical expertise. "I swear, if this is another joke about rebooting your phone, I'm walking outta here." His grin disappeared when he saw Morris' furrowed eyebrows and trembling figure.

"Jeremy..." Morris began, before coughing to clear the lump in his throat. "I just had a call from a Burmese girl who says she was kidnapped. She's in a car and has no idea where she is, since she can't read the road signs. Before I could get any more information, her phone disconnected." The reality of what he had just experienced hit him then, as his words hung in the air between the two silent men. "I...I...I don't know what to do," he concluded. His listener stood stock still, jaw tight, staring fixedly at Morris. One could almost hear the cogs whirring madly in the technical advisor's brain.

Finally, Morris watched with relief as Jeremy's facial expression transitioned from concern to worry, then resolution; if nothing else, Jeremy could be counted on as a man of planning and action...and this situation definitely called for more than Morris' trademark empathy and listening skills.

To break the silence, Morris ventured a thought: "Maybe I should just call her back –"

"No!" Jeremy nearly shouted as he grabbed Morris' hand, which had been reaching for the phone. "Her captors may find out that she has a cellphone. Who knows what they'll do to her then..."

Jeremy took a deep breath, allowing himself a moment of thought as his eyes settled absentmindedly on his coworker; wide face and nose, rounded features, short jet black hair, lips always ready to break into a thin – yet contagious – smile. Such a good, kindhearted man. He couldn't imagine what this phone call was doing to Morris' emotions; it was certainly messing with his own mental clarity. "We must keep this line of communication open for as long as possible," said Jeremy. Morris leaned back, reeling at the mistake he had almost committed.

A minute of silence passed, with both men wrapped in thought, until they decided in unison: "We've got to ask Marg for help".

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Thank you for reading the first chapter of my novella!

I will be posting 2 new chapters a week. If you can't wait to find out what happens next, the completed ebook is available for purchase at my website https://davidluiwriter.wordpress.com/. All proceeds go to anti-trafficking NGO work!