Redemption Road

7

Ramona lost track of time in the blackness of the silo. Her world was damp earth and heat and concrete walls. The door was a metal square that gave a fraction of an inch before the lock outside clanked.

“Somebody…”

It was a whisper, her voice already broken.

“Help me.”

Something fluttered high in the silo, a bird maybe and trapped, too. Ramona lifted her face, then scratched at the door, her nails torn by rusted screws and cracks in the metal. Another hour passed, or maybe it was a day. She drifted and slept and woke to a spear of yellow light. It flicked the length of her body, and she saw grime on her hands and arms. Hope sparked in her chest, but died when he spoke.

“Time to go, Ramona.”

“Water…”

“Of course, you can have water.”

He pulled her through the door, her feet dragging. It was still night, but barely, the moon a hint of gray as headlights made shadows dance on the silo. She blinked, but his face was a blur.

“Here.” He gave her a bottle, and she drank too much, choking. “Let me help.” He guided the bottle to her lips, tilted it. She wanted to scream or run, but could barely move. He used a damp towel to wipe black soil from her face and arms. She watched in quiet terror as he lifted the hem of her dress and used the same towel to clean her legs, the touch intimate but chaste. “Better?”

“Why…”

“I’m sorry?” He leaned closer, one hand on the soft place behind her knee.

She licked cracked lips. “Why?”

He smoothed hair from her face and stared into her eyes. “Ours is not to wonder why.”

“Please…”

“It’s time to go.”

He pulled her up and guided her to the car with torn seats and cigarette burns in the vinyl. The cuffs clinked on her wrists, and he kept a grip on the chain as he belted her inside the car.

“Safe and sound,” he said, then walked through bright lights, his shadow rising and falling, then gone. She tugged at the seat belt, but was weak with hunger and heat. He slipped into the car and closed his door.

“I want to go home.”

The clock on the dash said 5:47. Beyond the glass, a pale light gathered in the trees.

“The more you cooperate, the easier this will be. Do you understand?”

She nodded, crying. “Where are you taking me?”

He said nothing as he turned on rough dirt and drove out of the woods. At the paved road, he cut the wheel right, color bleeding into the fields as they drove, the sun a dim eye rising.

“Please don’t hurt me.”

He said nothing, drove faster.

Four minutes later she saw the church.