Chapter 31 Jordan
JORDAN
I'm awake before I can open my eyes. I finally peel them open and they feel sticky and heavy.
The world swims into focus slowly, shapes bleeding into one another.
I rub my eyes with trembling fingers, trying to scrub away the fog clinging to my thoughts. My head pounds with each heartbeat.
What happened? Where am I?
The last clear memory I have is of Matei.
Blood on the pavement. His blood. So much blood.
My chest constricts and I gasp, sucking in air that tastes stale.
Voices filter through the haze. Women's voices. Some laughing, high-pitched and manic. Others crying, soft and broken.
My limbs feel disconnected from my body, but I force myself to sit up. Every muscle feels stiff and sore.
The darkness around me isn't complete. There's a lamp or something in the corner.
My eyes adjust slowly. The space is rectangular, cramped. The floor beneath me is cold steel. Corrugated metal walls rise around us, barely illuminated by the light.
A shipping container. We're in a fucking shipping container.
Movement catches my eye. A woman stumbles toward me, her silhouette jerky and uncoordinated. As she gets closer, I can make out more details. Her clothes hang off her frame in tatters. One breast is completely exposed, the fabric torn away, but she doesn't seem to notice or care.
"Hey," she says, her voice rough. "You got any?"
I stare at her, my brain struggling to process the question.
She doesn't wait for an answer. Her hands are on me suddenly, grabbing at my dress, patting down my sides, searching for something.
"I said, you got any?"
I slap her hand away, the movement sluggish but forceful enough to make her stumble back a step.
"Any of what?"
"Siberian Ice, come on." Her pupils are so dilated I don't even see any other color but black. "The ones they gave us ran out."
My stomach drops.
"No," I say.
She makes a frustrated noise in the back of her throat and moves on to the next person, a woman curled in a ball near the wall who doesn't even flinch when she starts pawing through her pockets.
That's when I really see it.
There must be fifteen other women in here with me. Maybe more. It's hard to count in the darkness, hard to distinguish one body from another when they're all huddled together or sprawled out like broken dolls.
A pile of clothes and personal items sits abandoned in the corner. Purses, shoes, jackets, all discarded like trash. Signs there were even more here at one point.
I look down and see empty vials scattered across the floor. Dozens of them, maybe hundreds.
My chest goes tight.
I've heard the rumors. Everyone has. Whispers about girls disappearing, but I always thought that stuff happened somewhere else. Not here. Not in LA.
Too naive, maybe.
Or maybe I just didn't want to believe that the world could be that cruel.
A girl is lying next to where I woke up, curled into a fetal position. Her back is to me.
"Hey," I say, reaching out to touch her shoulder.
She doesn't answer.
"Hey, are you okay?"
"I just want to go home," she says.
"What do you mean?"
She starts rocking, her whole body moving in a way that makes my skin crawl.
"That man said it was just a drink. JUST A DRINK!" Her voice rises to a shriek that bounces off the metal walls. "I want to GO HOME!"
"Oh my god." The words slip out as I look around, connecting the dots that have been there all along but my drug-addled brain couldn't piece together.
The vials. The women. The container.
"We're being trafficked," I say in a low tone. "That's what they're doing with the Siberian Ice. They're taking girls."
My legs shake as I stand, the floor tilting beneath me. I stumble to the nearest woman, grabbing her shoulders.
"Hey, we need to get out of here," I say. "Do you understand me?"
Her eyes are glassy, unfocused. She smiles at me like I've just told her a joke.
I move to another woman. Then another. But they're all the same. High or completely out of it, lost in whatever the drug has given them.
"Help me."
The voice is small, frightened. I turn to find a woman sitting with her knees drawn up to her chest. She's younger than me, maybe twenty.
"Help me, please."
I crouch down beside her. "It's okay, I'm going to—"
"I don't know how I got here," she cuts me off. Her eyes are wide, darting around the container like she's seeing it for the first time. Then her expression shifts, fear melting into something that looks almost peaceful. "Wait. No. This is fake. A dream. The drugs. Just enjoy it, Sabrina."
She's rambling, making no sense, her thoughts fragmenting even as she speaks them.
"We need to stay focused," I say, gripping her arm. "We need to find a way out of here."
She just laughs.
I get up and take a few more steps and movement in the corner catches my eye.
A figure slumped against the wall, eyes half-closed, hair falling across her face.
My heart stops.
No. It can't be.
"Lindsey!" I yell as I scramble toward her, tripping over someone's leg, nearly falling.
She doesn't move at first. Doesn't even seem to register that I've said her name.
Then her lips curve into a slight smile.
"Yeah, that's me."
I drop to my knees beside her, taking her face in my hands. Her skin is clammy.
"Lindsey. It's me. Jordan. Hey." I tap her cheek, trying to get her to focus. "Come on. Lindsey."
Her eyes flutter open, just barely, and for a moment they try to find me, but they slide past my face, looking at something behind me.
Then her face crumbles. She starts crying, tears streaming down her cheeks.
"Jordan… Jordan… Jordan." My name spills from her lips over and over.
"Hey, that's right. I'm right here." I pull her into a hug, feeling how fragile she's become, how her body trembles against mine. When I pull back, I cup her face again. "Do you know how you got here?"
"VIP," she says. Her smile returns, bright and terrible. She raises her arms in the air like she's dancing at the club. "Cause I'm VIP, baby."
"Do you know how long you've been here?"
"Hey, hey, don't worry, Jordan." She touches my face, her fingers leaving trails of ice across my skin. "They'll come soon for some."
I grab her arm and that's when I see them.
Fresh needle marks. Track marks up and down her inner arm, some still bleeding slightly.
"Are you shooting this up?" My voice cracks. "Lindsey, you never, you said you'd never—"
"No, they come." She says it like she's sharing a secret, leaning in close. "You just relax and they take care of you."
"What do you mean they come?" I look around wildly, my pulse hammering. "We need to get out of here."
"Why?" She tilts her head, genuinely confused. "It's nice here. Enjoy the dreams. The ride, you know." She playfully hits my arm. "They got all you need."
Fear claws its way up my throat. But this isn't a dream. This is a nightmare that's about to get so much worse.
And Matei.
Is he still alive?
The image of him on the ground, covered in blood, flashes through my mind. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to push it away, but it's burned there.
I can't think about that. Can't let myself spiral into that dark place. If I do, I'll never climb back out, and I've got this to deal with.
A sound cuts through my thoughts. Metal scraping against metal.
The door to the container is opening.
Yellow artificial light floods in, blinding after so long in the darkness. I throw my arm up to shield my eyes, squinting against the brightness.
Silhouettes appear in the doorway. Men. Three of them, maybe four.
One of the women scrambles toward them on her hands and knees and for a moment I think she's trying to escape, but I'm proven wrong.
"Do me first," she begs, thrusting her arm out. "Please, do me first."
One of the men doesn't even hesitate. He jams a syringe into her arm, the glowing blue disappearing into her body.
Her eyes roll back immediately. A moan of pleasure escapes her lips as she collapses.
More men file in, spreading through the container. They move and one of them heads toward me.
I stand on shaking legs, backing up until I hit the metal wall. Every instinct screams at me to run, to fight, to do something.
But there's nowhere to go and there are too many of them.
My eyes dart around desperately, looking for anything. A weapon. An escape route.
I think I see something, but one of the men reaches me. He's saying something, but I can't hear it over the roar of my own heartbeat.
I raise my fists. "Get away from me."
He laughs and leans into me with his shoulder, grabbing my arm. I thrash, but then the needle pierces my skin.
Fire and ice flood my veins simultaneously. The drug rushes through me like a tidal wave, drowning everything in its path.
My legs give out. I collapse to the floor, landing hard next to Lindsey.
The metal beneath me should be cold. Uncomfortable. But it feels soft now.
The darkness of the container bleeds into gentle warmth.
No. No no no. This isn't real.
Lindsey's head rests on my shoulder, as if we're on the couch watching TV.
"I'm glad you're here, Jordan," she says and sighs. "It's so nice."
My mind is going fuzzy. Thoughts slipping away before I can hold onto them.
I understand now. The drug isn't just a sedative. It's a trap. A euphoric cage that makes you want to stay. Makes the cold floor feel like silk. Makes the terror feel like peace.
That's why it's so dangerous.
That's why these women don't run.
Why would they? When this hell has been made to feel like heaven?
My last conscious thought is a battle. The drug whispers that everything is fine, that I should just let go, just say yes to the dreams.
Every part of me screams to fight it. To remember.
Find a weapon. Get out.
Get to Matei. Don't give in.
But the drug is stronger than my will.
The last thing I feel is Lindsey's breath against my neck, warm and alive.
The last thing I think is don't give in.
Then the euphoria swallows me whole.