The Wolf Road (17 page)

Fist slammed down on my crate so hard I thought it would go right through.

“Look at this, huh,” a man shouted, so damn close, “says ‘Fragile’ on the side.”

Bursts a’ laughter from all sides.

“Get it on,
careful
,” same man said, and all a’ sudden hands stabbed through the holes and I shifted, silent, so they wouldn’t touch me.

Don’t think I breathed the whole way. They groaned about how heavy the crate was and how nothing that heavy could be fragile. Felt like I was carried miles. At one point the front end of the crate lifted and I feared I would slide right down and smash out the end. I figured we was going up the gangplank onto the boat. Front end soon dipped down and I figured we was going down into the hold. Smell changed from fresh, cold air to the stagnant smell a’ standing water and algae. They set me down rough and knocked my elbow on the bottom a’ the crate. Clenched my teeth hard to stop from shouting curses at them clumsy shits and waited till I didn’t hear footsteps no more to swear.

Sun was up and the inside a’ my box was light enough to see my hand in front my face. Not long later, after a few more crates was loaded, the hold doors was closed, and everything was murky dark. Took a while for my eyes to take to the dark and soon as they did, the engines roared and the floor rumbled and my bones felt like they wanted to shake themselves out a’ my skin. Couldn’t hear no people, no passengers or nothing, and I hoped Colby didn’t miss the boat.

We started moving, slow, rocking gentle side to side, and quick got up speed. I looked out one a’ my hand holes and saw, with all kinds of relief, that I was up ’gainst a round window, dirtier than sin but I could see enough. We was sailing close to the side of the lake, mountains grew up high, lit up nice by the sun. If I kept my eyes on them, my stomach didn’t want to empty every time the boat rocked.

Took me hours to get used to the movement and by the time I did darkness was coming and I figured I was hungry. I didn’t have no food or water, ’course, but that weren’t no problem, I knew how to get both when I needed ’em. I took my knife and dug it into the join ’tween crate and lid, started levering. My knife was stronger’n that wood and it quick started splitting. I weren’t ’bout to wait for Colby to come feed me, could be hours and I weren’t no prisoner. Hadn’t heard no one in the hold since we started moving so I weren’t worried ’bout being discovered.

Like them gods was spying on my thoughts, I heard a noise like a hand slapping wood. I hid my knife in my coat and held my breath.

Another slap. No other sound in that hold ’cept scuttling rats and my blood in my ears.

I looked out the hand holes one by one. One at the head a’ the box looked on another box. One at the bottom did too. ’Course one looked out on the window, but when I peered out the other that looked clean across the hold, my heart near stopped. Right in front a’ me I saw another crate, another hand hole, and another pair a’ wide, glistening eyes staring right at me.

“Can you get out?” the crate said. Girl crate, young too. “You have to get me out.”

“I don’t have to do nothin’ for you, I don’t know you from a stone in my boot,” I said, and I stopped looking at her. “Fact, I know that stone better’n I know you.”

“Please,” she said, tone a’ her voice spoke a’ crying, “before they come.”

“Don’t know who you waitin’ for, girlie, but I got myself a good man comin’ for me.”

I sat back in my crate, got myself settled, and thought a’ Colby. Still felt his kiss on my cheek. Still heard his words calling me pretty in my ears. Didn’t want to be hearing from no strange girl in a box but she kept talking at me.

“Are you going to stay in his cabin?” she said, and her voice went calm, none a’ that panic no more.

“Yes, I am.”

“Good-looking guy?” she said, and I heard something close to one a’ them stuck-up tones. Met a few people with them, Lyon a’ course, and the good reverend.

“Not that it’s your business, but he’s damn fine,” I said, and pictured Colby’s smiling lips.

Girl went quiet for a few and I thanked her in my head for shutting the hell up.

’Cept she didn’t for long.

“Are you his ‘opportunity’?” she said, and that picture in my head cracked.

I shifted close to the hole and found them eyes again. “Why you say that?”

She laughed, sour as unripe apples, and said, “Because I’m James’s
opportunity
too.”

James. Colby. That lying son bitch. Felt that strange sharp pain in my chest again, the thought a’ him looking and talking to other girls, spinning ’em the same lines he used to hook me. Ain’t no way I was waiting for him to come get me; I would go find him and make him choose me or her, I wouldn’t be no one’s seconds.

Gripped my knife tight and dug it into the gap ’tween lid and wood, started twisting hard. Somewhere outside, in the mountains ’round the edge of the lake, a wolf started howling. The wild part a’ me said it was my wolf, said he was following me along and keeping me safe, ready to come back to me on the other side a’ the water. I know wolf howls like I know my own heartbeat, spent so long in the woods with ’em. Some types a’ howl were celebrating a kill and the next morning I’d find naught but scraps and blood in the snow. Some types a’ howl were for fighting ’tween the pack, keeping ’em all in line, keeping the ladies happy. But this howl weren’t none of them. This was a howl a’ warning, told a’ danger and I knew enough to listen to the wild when it spoke to me.

Scraping clang of metal on metal and a creak as a door opened somewhere in the hold. My toes went cold.

“Hush,” the girl hissed like an angry garter.

Heard voices a’ two men and I recognized Colby’s right away. His was crystal where the other’s was rough like leather not scraped right. Wolf howl kept going and I hid my knife where I could grab it quick.

“Which one?” leather voice said.

“That one. The other is paid-for property,” Colby said, but he didn’t sound like he did on land. That fox in him had turned feral.

Next I know, someone’s kicking my box.

“Still alive in there?” leather voice shouted, then laughed like a donkey choking on hay.

I quick caught sight of the other girl’s eyes, but then I heard an almighty splintering and a crowbar came ’tween lid and wood. My heart went like galloping hooves and I didn’t have time to get into a striking pose, didn’t have no time to wonder what was coming for me, didn’t have no time ’cause the lid got thrown off. Colby stared down at me, crowbar in his milky-white hands. ’Side him stood something between man and hog. A beast I recognized. He was the harbor master, that fat, boil-covered thing. Stood there with his mouth open, dripping grease and sweat, and looking at me like I was a pork chop.

“Twelve for this one,” Colby said, smiling at me. I wanted to rip his pretty face right off his pretty skull.

The hog snorted. “Twelve? Dog like that ain’t worth eight.”

“She’s an ugly sort, I’ll grant you,” Colby said, “but you don’t have to look at her face.” Then he sneered at me like he was looking at rotten fruit. “Probably best you don’t.”

Felt like crying, felt like shouting,
You said I was pretty
, but I weren’t stupid. It was all lies. All goddamn lies.

“Let me see the other,” the man said.

Colby put his hand on the man’s shoulder and I wondered if I could stand up quick and grab that crowbar off him.

“I told you, the other one is bought and paid for by someone you don’t want to piss off. They have big plans for her. It’s this one or nothing.”

I shifted my feet to get a better spring, but Colby heard me, dropped the crowbar out a’ reach. Swore at him in my head.

The beast looked back at me, then his fat, sweating hand grabbed my hair and yanked me up. Can’t tell you that pain, thought he might pull my head clean off. I screamed bansheelike. Pain shot down my neck and I grabbed his hand, trying to get some kind a’ relief. He pulled me up to my feet and dragged me awkward out that box. My knees hit the deck with a crack and I screamed up fresh.

“Get your goddamn hands off me,” I shouted, gritting my teeth ’gainst the pain, but he kept his hand on my head and pulled me standing again.

I kicked at him and spat and my boot landed square on his shin, my gob on his eye. He growled and his grip loosened and I got free. Colby was laughing and I turned on him. Fire blazing in my eyes. Fires of hate and killing.

But I didn’t get a chance to reach for my blade. Colby slammed that crowbar into my gut. All my air rushed out a’ me and I was on my knees afore I knew it. Took a second for the pain to come but when it did, I couldn’t see straight. Saw only bright spots. Gulped for air like a fish on the dock. Clutched my stomach tight, felt like if I didn’t, all my innards would spill out right on Colby’s shiny shoes.

“There you go, now she’ll be friendly,” Colby said, and the other man just growled.

“Fine,” Colby said, “ten and you can do whatever you want to her, just as long as you don’t kill her. She’s going to a dope house in Halveston; they don’t need them pretty there.” He laughed and nudged the beast.

The beast grunted and said, “Ten.”

I couldn’t be hearing this right, I thought, I couldn’t be.

I couldn’t get enough air in my body, felt a spiky pain when I tried. Figured he might a’ broken a rib or two.

Heard the clink a’ coins and Colby said, his voice turned back to a ringing bell, “Have a good time, put her back in the box when you’re done. I’ll be on deck.”

Then Colby left, heard his shoes clacking on the floor and the door creaking open and closed. Bright spots in my eyes were ’bout cleared and I could see the beast staring at me, mouth hooked up at the edge.

“Just you and me,” he said, voice all breathy and rumbling. Hog man let out one a’ them wracking coughs and spat a gob on the deck.

He knelt down in front of me and his gut near touched the floor.

“You touch me,” I said, calm as I could, “and you won’t never see the sun again, I promise you that.”

He pulled back his lips to show off cracked, yellow, and missing teeth and I got a whiff a’ his breath. Give me rabbit guts lying in the sun all day, that was like roses ’gainst his mouth. Rest a’ him weren’t much better.

I tried to move away but my belly and ribs was raging and I couldn’t do naught but stay right where I was and try to look fierce.

“Aw, come now,” he said, shuffled a bit closer, “I’ll be gentle.”

Then he shot out his hand, quicker’n I expected for a man that fat, and grabbed me ’round the throat. He squeezed tight, forced out all that air I’d just put back in my body. He pushed me backward and my belly sent spasms through me. I couldn’t scream out the pain, my eyes started streaming and hot blood rushed to my face. He scuttled on top of me and drove his knee ’tween my legs.

All that weight on me, smell a’ him, his breath heaving on my face, bile rose up in my chest. I pushed and fought ’gainst him, but no matter how hard I hit, how much I kicked and thrashed, it didn’t make a dent in him.

“Stop it,” he said. His hand still on my throat, he lifted my head and slammed it back on the deck.

Blinding white agony. Felt like I was underwater, cold muffling in my ears, blurry nothing in my eyes, arms and legs heavy and useless.

Felt the beast’s hands ripping open my coat. Ripping open my shirt. Felt cold air on my skin. Then his tongue was on me. Slobbering all over. Then his hands was ’tween my legs, tugging at my belt and trousers.

That shocked me back out a’ the water.

He had my belt open and started pulling down my unders, rough and frantic.

I didn’t know right what was happening. Didn’t know how it got to this.

“I’m gonna make you hurt for kicking me,” he said, spit dripping off his beard.

Hunting is all about staying still till you got the right shot. This weren’t no different. Ain’t no way I was letting this hog get any part a’ me. I ain’t no prey. Never have been and damn well never will be, ’specially not to a lumbering dolt like this.

His breath was racing, his heart was thumping so loud I could hear it. He started moaning threats and calling me a dog. His head was on my neck, licking me like a bear ’bout to take a bite. But I was the one taking the bite.

I whipped my head ’round and clamped my teeth down on his ear.

He let out a high scream and put his hand on my face, trying to push me off but my teeth was sharp and my jaw strong as a wolverine. When he yanked his head away, he left the best part a’ his ear in my mouth.

Sharp metal tang a’ blood filled up my throat and I spat it clean across the hold. He roared and sat up on his knees, taking all that weight off my chest. This was my shot. I twisted, pulled my knife out from the back a’ my trousers, and, trying to ignore my cracking ribs, buried it right up to the hilt into his gut. It went in easy, like cutting butter.

He quick stopped roaring. Blood poured down his neck and out his belly, splashed onto my skin. I ripped my knife out, and he gurgled, spat up some red. I squirmed out from under him.

“You…bitch,” he said, and staggered to his feet. “You’re dead.”

One arm round my stomach, other clutching my knife, slick with his blood, I faced him on my feet.