“Thank you. You’re a true friend,” Kyle groaned.
“It’s what friends do,” Tommy said.
The trailer stank of feces, urine, sweat and rotting flesh. It took everything Portia had to not vomit at any moment. The few times they stopped she’d push her way past the other women and leap from the back to get away from it, only to be forced back on when they had to go. Her companions in the trailer were unfamiliar to her but all former residents of The Collective, who had failed health tests. At their first stop days before she counted seventeen women, now there were only sixteen, sometime during the night one of the women had killed herself. Someone she managed to find a piece of glass and instead of using it as a weapon to attack her captures, used it to lay open her wrists. The others cried out that she had died but the truck had a schedule to keep and they didn’t stop but once a day.
Portia overheard the drivers discussing the trip during the pit stop. It appeared the first destination would be the next stop and so forth.
The brakes on the trailer engaged and the truck began to slow.
Portia woke. She sat up and looked around but it was almost impossible to see around the dimly lit trailer. “Are we stopping?”
“That or we’re slowly to make a turn,” a woman replied.
“I’m scared,” another woman said.
“If we fought back, we could overwhelm them,” Portia suggested. This wasn’t the first time she’d mentioned it but no one seemed interested. It’s as if life in The Collective had made them rule following lemmings.
“Not again. I’m not risking my life,” a woman said from the front.
“I agree with Nancy, it’s a bad idea,” someone added.
“Bad idea? Being sold into slavery isn’t worse?” Portia sniped.
“At least I’ll be alive,” Nancy answered.
“Is anyone with me? I heard this next stop is where it all begins,” Portia said.
“What begins?” someone asked.
“Being sold off begins,” Portia shot back frustrated.
The brakes kicked on again and the truck shuddered.
“We’re stopping, this is it,” Portia said looking around. “Is anyone with me?”
No one spoke up.
She thought she could fight now or wait for a more opportune time. Not having the support of any of the others, she’d be outmanned and most likely not escape.
The truck came to a full stop. Seconds later the doors opened allowing the light of day and the fresh air in. Like all the other times, Portia was the first person to jump from the back. She looked around and saw a landscape foreign to her. To her right, a building with the name, THE RUSTY NAIL, sat, its weathered appearance looked like nothing inside the walls of Prime. Ahead of her the road curved to the right and disappeared behind a hill, and to her left was another road and a long field beyond.
The two drivers milled around helping the women get off the truck.
She noticed they weren’t looking. Should I run? She thought. This could be her chance to try to get away, but where should she go and more importantly, where was she? She didn’t recognize anything but it’s not like she would anyway. The long field to her left seemed most promising, she took a few steps that way to get a better look. It would be a huge risk to make a run and the chances she’d get far at all were slim.
“Hey you,” one of the men said.
Her head snapped back to see the man who went by Earl looking at her. “Yeah,” she replied.
“Get over here and throw this on,” Earl said tossing a dress at her.
She looked at the fresh linen dress. The soft cotton and fragrant smell told her it came from someone’s closet but who’s?
“You don’t fondle it, you wear it,” Earl laughed.
She looked over her shoulder. The field seemed longer and farther than it had just a minute ago. When she faced back, Nancy was inches from her with a hairbrush.
“Get that on and hurry up so I can brush you hair,” Nancy said.
Without being afforded any privacy to change, Portia did a small trick she learned when she was young. She put the dress over her other clothes and once on, slipped out of her other clothes underneath. What she didn’t realize was in her desire to be modest, her locket had snagged on her old clothes and fallen off.
Nancy noticed it and without uttering a word, quickly bent down, picked it up and slipped into a pocket of the dress she was wearing.
Portia felt she had won a small victory by not openly undressing. Disgusted by her old clothes she tossed them onto the ground.
Nancy spun her around and began to run the brush through her hair showing no concern for how hard she was brushing.
“Ouch!” Portia exclaimed as she pulled away. “You’re pulling my hair out!”
“Your hair is a rat’s nest. Turn back around so I can finish,” Nancy scolded.
“No,” Portia said snatching the brush from Nancy. “I’m more than capable of brushing my own hair.”
With the woman dressed and looking as best they could considering their situation they were led to the back door in single file line making Portia feel like one of her students headed to the infirmary. All will go in, less will come out.
“Yummy,” Conrad the lot guard hollered.
“Ladies come with me,” Candace said waving for them to follow her. She led them inside but instead of going left into the bar area, they took a right and went down a short hallway. A single door sat at the end with the sign, PRIVATE, written on it. “Line up here. I’ll call you in one at a time.”
The women did as they were told. Portia didn’t want to be the first this time so found a spot near the back.
One by one the women entered and came out only to get back in line. Some were crying, while others had terrified looks on their faces.
Portia finally reached the front of the line. Her heart was racing. She didn’t know what lay on the other side of that door but she knew it wasn’t good. When she was nervous she’d fidget and twirl her locket. She reached but the locket wasn’t there. Her heart sank. She looked on the floor and turned around to see if it had fallen off while she was in line.
“Face forward,” Earl barked.
“But I lost my…” Portia complained her eyes scanning the dirty wood floor for the chain and locket.
“I don’t give a shit, face forward,” Earl ordered as he took a few steps towards her.
Seeing him come, Portia did as he said and faced back towards the door. How could I have lost it? She thought. Her mind began to walk through where she’d been since she last touched it, coming to the conclusion it was either on the truck or in the parking lot.
The door opened, Candace stuck her head out, “Next.”
Portia didn’t move.
“C’mon sweet cheeks, best to get it over with, trust me I’ve been in your spot before,” Candace said sweetly.
Portia slipped into the room. It was small and smelled stale. In the middle of the room a large wooden desk sat and behind it a large man.
Candace placed Portia directly in front of the desk and just before letting go, gave her shoulders a slight and encouraging squeeze.
“Take your dress off,” Frank ordered before taking a bite of a sandwich.
Portia began to tremble.
“Do I look like I have all the time in the world? Take off your fucking dress. I won’t buy unless I can see the goods,” Frank barked.
Candace came up behind Portia and placed her hand gently on her hips, “Let me help you sweetie.” She pulled the dress up and off. Underneath, Portia was only wearing panties.
Portia used her arms to cover her breasts.