Struck at the sadness, abuse and loss these women have endured, we’re all wondering the same thing, how long has this been going on?
“It’s okay,” Scratch announces to the women, holding up his hands. “We’re here to help.”
By his side I also reassure them, “It’s over! It’s all over.”
Tonk and Honey Badger puts their guns in their belts again to hold their hands up, too.
“You’re safe, ladies,” Honey Badger says in as gentle a tone as he is capable of.
One of the women believes us, because her sobs twist immediately to those of deep relief. She crumbles to the ground and Tonk rushes forward to embrace her, kneeling by her side. She’s about five, maybe six months to her due date and she can’t be more than eighteen.
He looks at us, his face total agony. “Who would do this?”
Scratch mutters, “We have to call the police on this one.”
Several women scream, “NO!” which shocks the fucking shit out of us.
In hurried cries of terror they beg us not to, some speaking in English, others in Spanish. It’s a big mess of female, terrified voices and weeping. We quickly realize they think the cops have been dirty all along. They think the police and government as a whole, knowingly let this happen.
“Fuck,” Scratch rasps, overcome by the insidiousness of how deep this goes.
I raise my voice with patience and leadership. This is what I’m good at — calming people.
“Ladies! Ladies, listen to me for a minute. LADIES!” The room goes quiet and dozens of big, scared eyes lock on me. “Some of you speak English, so please, when I’m done, translate this for the others.” I pause. “The police do NOT know you’re here. They are your friends. They have no idea what you’ve been through and they can help you. They want to help, just like we do. You have been lied to and I’m very sorry for that. I am deeply, deeply sorry for what you’ve been through. My friends and I are here to set you free. We need to call the police, get you medical attention to make sure your babies are okay, and you will have many, many people working together to get you homes.” As the glimmer of hope shines back from some of them, I pause, trying hard to keep my voice steady. I’ve never seen something as sick as this shit, and it’s fucking killing me. “It’s hard to believe. I can see you’re scared and you have no reason to trust men. But I promise you we are different. You are about to discover I’m honest. My friends are honest. We are telling you the truth. See my face? This is an honest man looking at you. We are here to save you. This shit you’ve been through – it’s over. It’s done. Forever.”
The room is dead silent. Tonk pets the young woman’s dark hair before he rises up to join us so that we can stand in one powerful line together and show them we are not evil.
We mean what we say.
We will keep our word.
Scratch mutters, “We need to make sure none of those evil fucks gets away.” He calls out to the women, “We’re going to make sure the men who’ve hurt you are taken care of. Then we’ll get you out of this hellhole. It’s going to be okay.”
The English speakers start translating, but of course trust is earned and this will be an uphill ride.
We head out.
“I wish we’d brought more Ciphers,” Scratch says after the door is closed.
Honey Badger’s mind is working and he grabs our V.P.’s arm. “There’s not that many guys here. Ten, twelve? I don’t know, but I bet they didn’t need more because – and I fuckin’ hate to say this – but this place looks like a well-oiled machine.”
With disgust, Tonk growls, “Since they lied to the women about the police, I bet they never try to escape.”
On a long exhale, Scratch asks Tonk, “You have the rope?”
He nods. “It’s in my bags.”
“Jesus, no wonder you never change your pants. You don’t have any room in there,” Honey Badger mutters.
“Hey, I’m prepared for shit like this,” Tonk shoots back.
We all make quick strides back to find Fuse kicking one of the bodyguards in the gut.
“He was getting up. I got that one over there, too.” Fuse points to a mess in the corner. He nods with amusement in his eyes. His nose is a dripping, bloody mess and his jacket is gonna need a sewing job.
“Good thing you got shot,” I tell him, staring at the man he kicked. “Kept you out here keeping watch.”
Soon we’re cutting rope with pocketknives and tying up the fallen evil. I hear a noise and look up. To say the staircase is ornate would be a fuckin’ understatement.