Survivors - Jean Lorrah [2]
No, she mustn’t think about food. Pickings had been lean lately. Even in the market, there wasn’t much-so little of some items that she dared not take any, as there would not be enough left to rearrange to hide her pilfering.
So she thought about warm clothes to replace the ones falling off her growing body. She had had to tie front and back of the top of her garment together with bits of string, and it kept slipping down in front, barely covering the “bazooms” which now made her a valuable commodity to the rape gangs.
Some men had seen her today, and eyed her greedily, but she had slipped away, hoping they were not rape gang members. When they did not follow her, she assumed they were not. Still, being drooled over that way brought back the memory of being caught-She turned over, spilling the cat off her shoulder. It came back quietly as soon as she settled in a new position, purring again. The girl rubbed its head, taking comfort in its warmth, its softness, the way it pushed against her hand as if to say it would take care of her.
Suddenly the cat arched, sat up, then leaped off the girl, hissing and spitting.
She sat up-and saw a glimmer of light down the twisting corridor.
But she was not trapped; she had learned never to be without a bolt-hole.
She picked up the cat and scurried into an adjoining tunnel where she knelt, trembling. She tried to calm the cat, fearing it would run toward their hunters and be killed. When she felt secure that it would come with her out the other direction, she set it down headed the way she meant to go, whispering, “Now run! This place isn’t safe at all.” She took one final glance toward the corridor where she could see the lights, hear the men calling, taunting her-The ruins were a deathtrap at night, but there was no choice. She had to run, risk falling into one of the bottomless shafts—
A hand closed on her shoulder.
She turned by reflex, shock seizing her gut as she recognized the leader of the rape gang, come in the back way—
The cat leaped on him!
The man yelled, and the others came pounding in as the girl slashed her attacker’s shoulder.
Instantly, she realized her mistake. She should have run out past him; she might have had a chance in the tunnels in the dark.
Revenge had cost her her chance-two men grabbed her from behind, while their leader captured the cat in a hammy hand, then wrested the knife from the girl and before her eyes gutted the only living being who cared for her.
She shrieked, struggled, bit, but it was no use. Again a hood was slipped over her head, drawn tight about her throat. Her hands were forced behind her back and manacled together, and she heard the man in front of her say, “We been watching’ you, girl. You growed up nice an’ purty. You’ll fetch a good price, oncet we’ve had our own fun!”
Then she was picked up, slung over somebody’s shoulder, as he continued, “Let’s get outta here. Gotta get this cut fixed afore I do my playin’- an’ don’t you go gittin’ no ideas ‘bout havin’ her first!”
Struggling was hopeless. Her only chance was to go limp, let them think she had passed out. Save her strength. It wasn’t all easy going-eventually her captor had to put her down and rest a moment. Even manacled and hooded, she jumped up and ran, barking her shins on something, hitting her head-Pain didn’t matter! If she fell down a bottomless shaft, even death