Part 46
DATE:FC+171

Ashleigh felt so alone. She sat on her camp bed, straining to hear anything beyond the thin walls. The crying from the children had finally died down, and the silence made her worry even more. She didn't know if they were sleeping, sedated, or simply too exhausted to make a sound.

Seeing Brenda and Helen on the plane had almost broken her. For a heartbeat she'd believed she was about to be rescued. Then she'd realised that they were undercover. She hadn't dared look at them, not even once. They obviously knew who she was; they'd even managed to slip in that tiny, precious piece of information about Becky being safe.

But they hadn't taken her with them.

When the plane landed, there'd been no attempt to hold her back, no authorities waiting, no sudden intervention. Just a deserted airfield, rough hands, and a van she was shoved into before she could even orient herself. And the threat—spoken quietly, almost casually—that if she tried anything, the children would pay for it. That had shut down any thought of escape.

And now she was here. Alone. Isolated. A bucket in the corner, a few scraps of food, a glass of water twice a day. She couldn't make sense of any of it. They hadn't killed her. They'd threatened the others, not her. They treated her like she mattered for some reason she didn't understand.

Nothing about this made sense.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the lock turning on the door. She looked at it dazed, wondering if it was mealtime. However, when the door opened, it wasn't someone with a tray to be dumped on the floor. It was a man dressed in a blue polo-shirt and black jeans.

"Come," he said in a thick accent. She knew English wasn't his primary language.

She sat there stunned.

"Come," he said again, but more forcefully, his flexing muscles visible.

She stumbled off the bed. She'd not walked more than a few meters since the flight. He left the door open and left. She hobbled after him, trying to keep up. They went down a plain corridor, the paint peeling on the walls, and a few crumbling holes.

"In there," he said, pointing to the door at the end. "You are house mother."

Unsure what he meant by that, she went through the door. He didn't follow but locked it behind her. It was some type of lounge. There were three old settees that looked more like wooden structures with thin bench cushions on top. The walls were plain white, but it all looked in better shape than where she'd been held. There were a few small square tables with assorted chairs. That was it. No books. No television.

Movement from the opposite corner caught her attention. She saw one of the children peeking around one of two other doors.

"Hello?" Ashleigh croaked. She didn't approach, not wanting to frighten them. She was sure there were others, just behind the young boy.

"Parlez-vous français?" he asked, his voice quivering with obvious fright. He didn't come into the room.

"No," Ashleigh said sadly. She wished she'd paid more attention back when Tina helped Jenny with her French. "Parlez-vous Anglais?"

"A bit," he said in English.

Ashleigh swallowed, her throat still raw. "I'm Ashleigh Thompson."

He hesitated before saying, "My name is Leo."

"I was on the plane. I've been locked up since then."

He turned around and talked to someone behind him that Ashleigh couldn't see. Wondering if being stood up was causing them to be nervous she glanced at the floor. It was some kind of dark wooden flooring. It looked clean enough, so sat down on it. It wasn't comfortable, but that didn't matter. She wanted to be less of a threat.

She presumed they'd been taken. So, they were likely to be frightened of anybody.

"Are you going to hurt us?" a girl's voice said somewhere beyond Leo. Her English sounded better than Leo's.

"No. You won't hurt me, will you?"

There was no response. Leo kept alternating between looking at Ashleigh and looking behind him. Ashleigh waited for whatever discussion was going on to finish.

"Sit on your hands," the hidden girl said.

Ashleigh pondered why they'd asked her to do that. It didn't take long to realise that she wouldn't be able to grab as quickly. Also standing up would take longer. She complied. Whatever they'd gone through, it was surely scarier than what she had. Heck they were only children. It was so wrong.

Gradually they came in. Each looking like they were going to run at the first sign she moved. Nine scared, dirty looking children.

"When we went from the plane to the van, I thought there were ten of you."

"Veronique tried to run away," one of them said.

Ashleigh noticed a few of them were crying silently. No big heaves or sound. Just tears they didn't want others to know about.

"She's with the angels now," added another when they saw Ashleigh didn't understand.

Ashleigh did then understand. She didn't make any attempt to hide her anguish. They'd carried through with their threats.

They were quiet for a little while, either thinking about Veronique or what danger they were in.

"Where were you?" Ashleigh recognised it as the girl who'd asked questions earlier.

"I was locked up. They've just released me. Do you have food?"

Food was always something important. Ashleigh hoped this would be an ice breaker. They looked at each other and a few of them looked embarrassed, but none of them spoke.

"Is there a kitchen?"

One of them nodded. Another said, "It's a mess."

"I'm going to get up to have a look. Are you okay with that?"

The girl who seemed to speak the best English relayed it to the others. There was an animated discussion, and a few looked frightened. Leo said something and they went.

"They are going to one of the bedrooms," explained one of the other boys.

When they were gone, Ashleigh rose. It wasn't an elegant movement, her legs felt stiff. Sitting on the hard floor hadn't helped her regain flexibility.

They were right. The kitchen was a mess. It wasn't a big kitchen, but there were things everywhere. Either they'd never been taught how to washup, or they'd been too nervous to do much.

"You get one pass," Ashleigh said in English, pointing to the mess. Then on a whim, she repeated it in Hytuna.

The six of them that were crowded by the kitchen entrance looked at her in joint amazement.

"You speak Hytuna?" Leo asked in Hytuna.

"Some. My daughter is better."

Ashleigh started rummaging in the cupboards. There were boxes of food. She looked at several. They were mostly in a script that looked Arabic. There were a few though with Western letters. The one thing she did notice was the word Türkiye.

There wasn't a dishwasher, so Ashleigh started running a bowl of water to wash the pots that had just been left.

"It would be great if you can dry," Ashleigh remarked. "See if you can find something to dry them with and put away."

There weren't any clocks, so there was no indication if it was morning, afternoon or evening. The windows were high on the wall, so all they could see was deep blue sky. It wasn't nighttime but that was the limit. Ashleigh didn't know if she should cook something now or later.

The washing up started well. One of the children got brave, took the cleaned item, and dried it. He passed it to one of the others who put away. However, they were interrupted by a scream in the lounge.

Things got left as they rushed there to find two burly men. One was the person who told her she was the house mother. She had no idea who the other was.

"What's going on?" Ashleigh demanded.

"Where is Antonia?" the new man asked, in good English.

"What do you want with her?" Ashleigh demanded again.

"She has a client. She will be back in a few hours."

Ashleigh wanted to be sick. Bile rose in her throat, but she pushed it down. She went to shove the man out, but he just laughed and pushed Ashleigh to the floor.

"Do that again and I will choose one of them," he threatened.

Ashleigh stayed on the floor, trying to keep from reacting. The young girl who'd spoken English stepped forward.

"Ah, there you are," he said, grabbing the girl and leaving.

Once again, it was quiet. They were locked in.

"What did he mean?" one of the silent ones asked. "What did he mean when he said he would choose one of us?"

Ashleigh didn't want to tell them. She didn't want to make it worse for them, but they had to know. Her voice shaking, she explained, "If I misbehave, they punish one of you. If I escape, they send at least one of you to join Veronique."

There was silence in the room.

"I don't want them to walk all over us, but we need to survive. They aren't nice people, and if we do anything silly, they will hurt us. Someone will rescue us. Not today, and probably not tomorrow, but one day. And for us to still be here when rescue comes, we need to be brave."

The children looked dazed. Ashleigh let them think it over for a minute before standing up. "We need to finish the washing up."

This time everybody helped. It was a tight squeeze in the little galley kitchen. Every time she said something in English, she repeated it in Hytuna.

"Is anybody vegetarian or not like anything? Any allergies?"

One of the boys raised his hand. "I was vegan. That is how my parents brought me up. I've had to eat the same as everybody else, and I don't mind. It's not that we will see our parents again."

"Nice English," Ashleigh remarked.

"I was taught it early. My Dad was from Scotland. I'm Mark."

"Mark, we just have to survive. You can be with your parents when that happens."

"Our parents sold us out," he said bitterly. "We were sent to a camp to learn how to be good French children. How not to listen to the aliens. It was fake. We ended up here."

Ashleigh let out a breath. She didn't know what to say about that. After a few seconds she said, "They probably just thought it was a camp. They probably will be frantic when you don't come back. But mention it to the authorities when we're rescued. That way they can confirm it."

The boy nodded. "They're going to make us do things we don't like, aren't they?"

"I'm not going to lie to you," Ashleigh said. "I can only guess, but I doubt Antonia is out having cheese and wine."

Ashleigh took a painful breath and said words she never thought she would say. "Yet resisting is just going to see you hurt. We will have to work together to help each other over these unimaginable events. Try to be kind to each other, but expect some to be angry and frustrated. When that happens, remember they aren't angry with you, but with what is happening."

After a pause, she decided the conversation needed to move off that topic. "I'm going to cook now. When it's in the oven, I'm going to inspect your bedrooms and make sure they're neat. They don't have to be perfect, just tidy. You have fifteen minutes."

"Can you cook a bit slower?" Mark asked. "Give us thirty minutes."

For the first time since her abduction, Ashleigh laughed. "Go! "

They were eating when they heard the door being unlocked. They all looked up to see Antonia. She was walking, aided by an old woman. Their main guard was at the door making sure nothing happened. Behind him was the man who spoke English.

"I need a clock," Ashleigh called out.

The man turned and looked at her suspiciously. "Why?"

Ashleigh screwed her eyes. She needed to frame this in his language. She knew it would sound awful. "So we know when to eat. That way the children are healthy for the clients. It shouldn't have a date on it."

He scratched his head. "Why?"

"Because we don't need to be reminded how long we've been here."

"Okay. Marian has a basket for your washing. We collect each morning."

The woman left Antonia standing there, and the door slammed shut. The sound of the door locking was a relief. Nobody was coming in while it was locked. Ashleigh went to help Antonia, but she stepped away.

Ashleigh stepped back, putting her hands in her pockets. "Okay. New rituals. When you come back from seeing a client, go and have a shower. You might not be able to wash the memories away, but you will be able to wash the smell."

There were stunned looks from those around the table. It had become very real.

"The second ritual is a buddy system. There are five girls, so one will be a three-girl buddy group. These buddies will be someone you can vent to and they can vent to you. I saw there were two beds in each room. I suggest you buddy up with your roomie. We'll see if we can get a third bed in for the three-buddy."

"Why?" Mark asked, unsure why Ashleigh was asking this of them.

"This is going to sound harsh, because it is. You'll be able to help each other. You will probably have similar experiences. You can all come to me, but I won't have the same pain to share. What your buddy tells you stays with you. You won't share it, because you won't want your suffering shared."

Mark translated it all. The children stared at her, wide-eyed. Leo was the first to protest.

"Try it," Ashleigh pleaded. "It is a similar system to what happened at the school my younger sister went to. I'm hoping it works here. If it doesn't, then we try something different. Eloise, you are in her room, aren't you? Go with Antonia. Make sure she's okay. Then both of you call it a night."

Slightly dazed, they went off. Ashleigh watched them go. Seeing Antonia's blank eyes was probably one of the worst things she'd ever seen.

"What do we do?" Mark asked.

"We washup. We don't want to be faced with dirty dishes when we want to eat breakfast."

It became a routine. Ashleigh washing, a few of the children drying and others putting away. All of them were crowded in the small kitchen, as they didn't want to be alone. Not after what they'd just seen. Not with the worries each of them had if tomorrow was going to be their turn.

Before they all went to bed, they moved furniture around so there were three beds in one of the rooms. Nobody wanted to be alone. As she was going to her new room, she went past Antonia and Eloise's room. The door was slightly ajar, and she spotted them perched on the side of one of the beds talking.

Finally, she made her way to her room. It was the same as all the other bedrooms. Two single beds on opposite walls, with a large table along the back wall with a small window high up to allow some light. Alone, Ashleigh broke down in tears. She'd spent the day being brave for the nine victims. She'd tried to marshal some type of routine. But she didn't know if it would help.

Once she'd got herself back together, she opened her bedroom door, just in case any of them needed her, and got into bed. The only clothes they'd provided were underwear, shorts and t-shirts. The only footwear were sandals. Exhausted, she slipped into bed wearing what she'd worn all day.

Her final thoughts before slipping into a fitful sleep were of some type of rescue for them all. She wasn't sure how long she could cope, let alone the children.