Seated on a cold metal bench with her back pressed against the icy bars, a seventeen-year-old curly-haired brunette rocked a small blonde girl nestled in her arms, trying to soothe her cries of pain. Her large hazel eyes angrily watched the armed men surrounding the cages, her rage boiling inside her.
Her focus was on a particularly nasty man with an eye patch over his left eye. She had heard the men call him Patch—as lazy as that was—and it was clear he was the group's commanding officer. And a real asshole.
When he arrived to take the girl for Bible's vile desires, she tried to block him and offered herself instead. The butt of his rifle slammed against her face was her punishment for her actions, and she could only watch with horror and fear as he dragged the screaming girl through the dark archway of one of the basement's doors. Now, the stinging bruise on her swollen cheek served as a reminder that she would make him pay.
Despite the blurry vision caused by the pain in her cheek, she had to try to calm down the two dozen other children gathered in the two cells with her.
After she first arrived and had already endured an 'orientation' by the Vodou priest Samedi, she realized just how frightened and lost all the other youngsters must have felt. Almost immediately, the teenager took on the role of 'Den Mother' and made it her responsibility to care for them. She asked each of them for their names and ages, where they were from, if they had siblings, and anything else she could think to ask them to keep them distracted and calm.
The first time she met Bible, he had come down to check on the children himself and saw her usher all of them to stand behind her.
He chewed on his cigar and smirked. "You their guardian angel?"
"Piss off!" Curly-hair snapped back.
"I love your spitfire, girl." He laughed and stepped up to the cage, his chest pressed against the bars. He coaxed her closer with a wave of his hand. "Come here."
She glared at him and replied. "Yeah, right. I ain't stupid."
"I can tell. I love that. You'll fetch a higher price from one of my more interesting clients. He has a taste for the brats and hard-to-break types."
"Ha! Tell him to keep the receipt, cause it's never gonna happen!"
"Oh, it will." His smile dropped. "Now come the fuck here!"
She shifted her gaze to the kids and whispered. "Don't be afraid." Her words to them were meant for herself. She took a deep breath and stepped up to the bars.
"See? That wasn't so hard. I'm going to offer you a deal." Bible smiled again.
"What kind of deal?" She steeled her eyes on him and waited.
"Keep the kids quiet and calm, and don't cause any trouble, and I'll ensure you get real food, clean water, and regular bathroom breaks." He side-eyed Patch and continued. "With strict orders that my guards are not to touch them in any way."
"That's it?" Curly-hair asked wearily.
"That's it." He assured her and stuck his hand through the bars. "I'll even shake on it."
He waited. She glared at it before she brought her eyes back up to his disgusting smile. "I'll do you one better." She snarked, then spat in his face.
The guards swiftly drew their guns on her, but he raised his hand and yelled. "Stand down!"
Bible tugged the white handkerchief out of his breast pocket and wiped the spit off his face, his body shaking with a belly laugh. "Maybe I shouldn't have called you 'spitfire'. I'm definitely going to set a higher starting bid for you, girly." The look he gave her next was the most frightening, as were his words. "And if no one wants to pay, then I'll just keep you for myself." He turned and exited the room, leaving her deeply shaken.
However, as promised, he ensured the regular delivery of food and water, and the guards escorted both the kids and her to the nearby bathroom whenever necessary, without incident.
She'd almost fallen for his false compassion until earlier that day, when he ordered the guard to bring the young blonde to him. Now, all she could think about was how she would kill the bastard if she had the chance.
Curly-hair bit the inside of her cheek and suppressed her own urge to burst into tears as she rocked the little one. She had to be the brave one; that was the promise she'd made them.
As she glared at Patch and the others, she recalled her older brother's lessons and advice on street smarts and survival skills, which included never show your enemy weakness. She was determined not to give Patch the satisfaction of seeing her break—no fucking way.
A sudden explosion rocked the walls as she continued to rock the little girl, whose cries had softened to occasional sniffles.
Her head whipped up to the ceiling as dust and debris rained down around the cages. "What the fuck?"
The kids screamed and cried, scared they would be crushed under the collapsing roof. She quickly reassured them, "Don't be afraid, the roof looks solid!"
It didn't do much to calm the kids, though their cries lessened to whimpers.
In her arms, the little girl whispered, "Maybe it's the demon?"
"What?" She crinkled her eyes, giving the girl a weird look.
The child turned in her arms and looked up with eyes swollen from sobbing. "The mean man told me if I didn't behave and do as he told me, he'd have his demon kill me. He said he was having her brought to him soon, and she would help him rule the world."
There were no such things as demons or ghosts, and she believed the little girl must have misunderstood what she'd heard Bible say. Playing along, though, she asked, "How was he going to get a demon here?"
"He said he was using a man as bait for his sister to bring the demon."
A trade? She thought for a moment and wondered. She looked up at the ceiling. Maybe whoever's outside is here to rescue us! Carefully, she helped the girl sit up on the bench.
Sympathy colored Curly-hair's voice when the child winced. "Sorry!"
After she got the little girl settled down, she stood up and spoke loudly. "Listen, everyone! I want you all to stand and be ready just in case."
The group all looked her way, their fears about the ceiling abated by their curiosity about her request.
"What's going on?" One twelve-year-old boy asked.
She pointed to the guards who were taking positions around the two doors that led into the room and explained. "See how they're all moving to the exits, looking out?"
The kid nodded, as did the others along with him.
"It means they're preparing for a fight. It means someone's out there they don't like!"
"Is it the army?" The little girl asked.
Curly-hair took a cue from the story about the demon, shook her head and gave her a reassuring smile. "No, sweetie. Not the army. Angels!"