Whether I escaped in winter or spring, my odds were still slim, without any idea where I was going. Maybe if I were a French native, I would have a better understanding of the geography and have a greater chance of reaching a safe destination.
But I also had no chance without a horse, because they would hunt me down quickly if I were on foot.
When I thought everything through, it was depressing, because I realized I really had no chance of getting away, let alone with my sister. I could escape on my own and then alert the authorities to the location of the camp.
But I’d have to successfully escape first…and survive.
I spent that evening soaking in the tub, feeling the warmth infect my limbs and cure the developing frostbite. I didn’t realize how cold I was until I was surrounded by warmth, until I felt the numbness. It took ten minutes for me to finally feel the temperature of the water, to feel my muscles relax in response.
Later, a knock sounded on my door.
I was in bed, wearing the clothes that had been provided for me, my hair still a little damp because there wasn’t a hair dryer in the room.
The door unlocked, and a gloved hand appeared as the door was opened.
Then a woman set a tray of food on the chair against the wall. Her head stayed down, and she didn’t look at me before she walked out. The man shut the door, locked it, and then they continued on.
I grabbed the tray and ate in bed, realizing how hungry I was once the smell hit my nose. The last time I ate was in that wine bar, when I’d smeared the assorted cheeses on the fresh slices of bread, topped with some dried cranberries and nuts. That’d been…I don’t even know when.
I ate everything and drank the glasses of water left for me before I returned the tray to the chair. Then I got under the covers and lay in the dark, comfortable for the first time since my capture. The sheets were clean and warm, my stomach was full, and there was a sense of peace in my helplessness.
It could be worse.
At least that’s what I told myself.
The door flung open, bringing the morning light into the dark cabin. “Up.” The coldness immediately rushed in, the dry air that made it difficult to breathe through the night without burning the nostrils.
I sat up immediately, jolted out of my dreamless slumber.
The light flicked on. “I said, get up.” He threw a pair of snow boots on the floor for me to wear.
“I heard you the first time.” I moved my legs over the edge of the bed and blinked my eyes a few times as I woke myself up. I’d slept hard that night, despite being drugged for so long, probably because my body was exhausted from the adrenaline of the day before.
“Doesn’t look like it to me.”
I picked up the boots off the floor and pulled them on, tightening the laces and securing them on the outside of my pants. The clothes they’d given me were made of a similar material to their own, waterproof because I’d be working outside all day. “I don’t get breakfast first?”
He was still and silent.
I assumed he was staring at me. “Show your face.”
He ignored what I said and walked out of the cabin. “Let’s go.”
I followed behind him and stepped into the morning light. It was another sunny day, and the powder that had fallen days ago was slowly melting into slush in several places. It was so cold that it hurt every time I took a breath, probably because I wasn’t used to the conditions. I walked to university from my apartment, but it was a short walk, and then I spent the rest of my time indoors, usually with a warm cup of coffee in my hand.
I saw other women leaving their cabins and walking in the same direction as I was. When we passed another cabin, I saw several girls file out of the same doorway, at least a dozen of them. That seemed to be the case more often than not, that several girls bunked together at once. “Why do I have my own cabin?”
He kept walking.
“Hello?”
“You ask questions like you’re entitled to answers.” He walked slightly in front of me, like he wasn’t afraid of turning his back to me, like there was nothing I could do to defeat him. He had broad shoulders that hinted at his strength underneath the layers of dark clothing. He was tall, much taller than I was, and when he moved his shoulder, the fabric hugged the individual muscles of his arm.
I might have had a chance against him if I knew a few moves, but since I didn’t, I really had no shot at overpowering him. He’d have me pinned down and bloody so quickly. Also, taking him down wouldn’t get me any closer to escape. Pickpocketing something worthwhile was probably a better use of my time.
I noticed he didn’t carry a gun. That knife seemed to be the only weapon he possessed.
I looked around and saw more women file out of the buildings and head to work, like it was a normal day in this hell. How did the men keep all these women in line with no guns? How did they get so many to submit when they were outnumbered ten to one?
Maybe I needed to orchestrate an uprising.
When we approached the clearing, most of the tables were already full of women working. Other men dressed identically stood around the edges, to keep an eye on the women. They were all wearing black garments with gray cloaks, their faces hidden.
Why did they hide their faces?
The guy walked me to the table full of brown boxes. “Open the box.” He ripped through the tape and folded back the edges to reveal the white powder. “Replace the empty boxes along the table. It’s that easy.”
I glanced at the women, who were already filling small plastic bags with carefully measured amounts. “And I’m just supposed to do this all day, every day?”
“You catch on quick.” He turned to walk away.
“Why do you hide your face?”
He halted in his tracks, taking a second before he turned around and regarded me once more. “Remember what I said about the weeds?”
I crossed my arms over my chest, still cold despite the heavy jacket they’d provided me.
“Don’t be a weed.” He walked away, moving to the edge of the clearing to speak to one of the men. Then he entered one of the cabins and disappeared from sight.
I turned back to the tables and searched for my sister. It took me a while to find her, but once I settled on her face, her eyes down on her work, I was relieved to see that she didn’t have any bruises, that she looked physically the same. She was measuring the cocaine and putting the contents inside the small plastic bag.
I wanted to walk over there, but I suspected I would be reprimanded for leaving my station. But when would I ever get the chance to talk to her again?
One of the men at the end of the line addressed me. “Get to work.” He moved down the line of tables until he picked up an empty box. He threw it on the ground then walked away, as if he expected me to come pick it up.
Now I understood why they didn’t carry guns. Because when he turned around and walked away, his waist was level to the girls, so it would be easy for one of them to pull the gun from the holster at his waist and shoot him.
At least, that’s what I would do.
I grabbed one of the boxes and hesitated, realizing it was at least forty pounds. I could carry it; I just hadn’t anticipated the weight. I understood why they’d asked me to do this while Melanie measured the cocaine. She couldn’t pick up these boxes once, let alone over and over.