Filthy Secret

We sneak down the hall and open as many doors as we can find before locating some clothes for me to wear. There’s no time to shower, and the janitorial uniform looks ridiculous, but I don’t care. My mission for revenge doesn’t require a ball gown and high heels.

“This way,” Darla says, leading me through a maze of rooms, hallways, and main entryways until we’re standing before yet another door. She turns to me. “This isn’t the best idea, and it will take some time, but if we’re going to have any chance of getting out of this place, we’ll need weapons.”

She pushes the door open. Inside are hundreds, maybe even thousands of suitcases. “I don’t think suitcases are going to do much damage.”

Chuckling, she moves over to a case, opens it, and starts throwing the contents to the floor. “People travel with guns; they can’t carry them on the plane, but they can check them. If we can’t find any, surely we’ll find something we can use.”

I glance at the piles of bags, then at Darla. “This is going to take forever.”

“You’d be surprised.”

Crouching down, I grab the nearest bag and crack it open.

We spend hours hovered over the suitcases and duffle bags looking for something we can use as a weapon. I’m about to give up when I find a hard box buried beneath some clothes. “This looks promising,” I say, and show the box to Darla.

With wide eyes, she jumps up from her place on the floor. “Yes!” With a nail file she’d found early on in her hand, she easily pops the lock, and we’re both relieved to find a gun and ammo secured neatly in foam. “This will work. Now let’s keep…” She stops, glances toward the door, then grips my shirt and pulls me to the floor at the same time the doorknob jiggles. Luckily, she’d thought to lock it. Once the rattle of the knob stops, we slowly stand.

“Let’s get out of here,” she says.

“But what about more cases?” I plead, not wanting to leave unarmed.

Placing a hand on my shoulder, she gives me the same sympathetic look from earlier. “We’ll need to share.” I nod, thankful that I don’t have the responsibility of carrying a gun, but fearful at the thought of going out there without one. I hadn’t seen any guns on Anthony or Travis, but that doesn’t mean they couldn’t have one hidden. “Come on, I know where they hide the gas masks and hazmat suits.”

Darla’s in the lead as we enter the hall, and I’m tucked closely behind with a death grip on her shirt. We don’t see anyone until we close in on the door to the equipment room that’ll be our saving grace. It took a maze of hallways to get here, and I doubt I could find my way back out without Darla’s help, but we made it.

As expected, the door is protected by a soldier. Fortunately for us, he’s napping. I doubt he deals with escapees too often, causing him to be lax. Stealthily, she creeps up behind him and hits him hard on the back of the head, knocking him to the floor. She swipes a ring of keys from his pocket and tries a few of them before finally getting the right one, and we enter the small space that could be better described as a treasure box.

It’s filled with food, water, gas masks, and protective suits. I know the essentials are things that’ll help us escape, but my stomach growls just looking at the snack cakes on a shelf. Snatching several, I rip off the cellophane and shove two cakes into my mouth. Darla is already zipping up a white suit and slipping a gas mask over her head, but not before she tosses an understanding stare in my direction.

It’s not like we’d been lacking sustenance. The soldiers made sure everyone had three meals a day, but they were in control of what types of food we ate, when we ate, and how much. So, taking things freely is more a rebellious action than one of need. I fill my pockets with more food, then grab a suit and a mask. Following Darla out the door, I pause only long enough to relieve the guard of his gun.

It doesn’t take long before we come to a T in the maze of hallways. Right takes us back the way we came, where the last memory of my innocence remains. Left takes us to the unknown. “Which way?” Darla asks, glancing down both halls.

“Left.” I tell her, without a second thought. Travis or Anthony could still be lurking around, and wild horses couldn’t drag me back through the breeding room.

She nods, heading past me to lead the way.

We’re silent as mice as we creep along the wall, trying every door we pass. Most are dark, empty offices with lights illuminated by a motion detector. One room is a janitorial closet and several others are storage rooms. We close in on the end of the hall. There’s one last door, one last chance. The pale oak calls out, like a beacon in the endless sea of painted drywall and wood. If this doesn’t lead us out, it’ll mean going back, and that’s not something I’m willing to do.

My heart races as Darla turns the knob and pushes it open. I’m half expecting her to get snatched before my eyes, but she steps through without incident. I cautiously follow and let out a deep sigh when I realize we’re back in the terminal.

It’s eerily quiet. That’s not unusual during the evenings when everyone finds their own nooks and crannies to sleep in, but this is different. Not only is it daylight outside, but it’s also lunchtime. There should be at least a straggler or two looking for food. Something doesn’t feel right, which means we need to get the hell out of here. Looking at the bug eyes of Darla’s gas mask reminds me I need to slip into my own protective gear.

When I resemble a DEA agent prepped for a lab seizure, she gives me a thumbs-up and we head toward the double doors. Less than a hundred yards away, our freedom lies just on the other side.Content protected by Nôv/el(D)rama.Org.

There are two sets, the first opens automatically as we approach. A lock wasn’t necessary, because if anyone is dumb enough to wander out without the proper gear, then they deserve the consequences. The thought reminds me of Elijah, whose body still lies where I’d last seen him. I shouldn’t leave him here alone with the creeps keeping us hostage. But I can’t carry him far, if at all. A single tear escapes the corner of my eye in remembrance.

Darla mumbles something I can’t hear, then holds up her finger indicating for me to wait while she tests the suit outside. It’s like watching a movie. I’m on the edge of my seat, holding my breath, waiting to see what happens.

I let out the breath I’d been holding in anticipation when five minutes pass and nothing happens.

She waves me out excitedly.

I take a step forward and then another until I’m standing before the first set of double doors. My mind is so focused on my freedom and Darla’s waving hand that I don’t see him in the reflection until it’s too late. A large hand covers my gas mask, and an arm goes around my waist, holding me steady and forcing me to watch what comes next.

Her peripheral vision is impaired.

She doesn’t see him coming.

One shot.

Another body.

EPILOGUE

The twins play quietly in a makeshift pen in the corner of the breeding room. They’re young enough they don’t have any idea what the men are doing to their mommy, and since it’s only on rare occasions that

the men are any other than their own daddies, the boys seem unaffected.

Seven months ago, when their personalities and facial features began to shine, I knew who their fathers were. They both have dark hair and spitfire attitudes, but that’s where the similarities end. Anthony’s son has pale blue eyes and sharp intelligence, while Travis’s son has hazel eyes, and a stocky build.

I’ll admit, I was relieved when we’d discovered they were both boys. As a mother, I wouldn’t have been able to watch my daughters be taken by multiple men to pop out babies until they could no longer do so. I know, it’s a given that one day, my boys will perform-the same as every other man here-but their time is a long way off. And as much as us women don’t want to think about it, the experience is different for men.

Thinking about my boys brings thoughts of Darla to mind.

I hadn’t really known her, but she gave her life for me. If only she’d left sooner instead of releasing me from the pillory and allowing me to tag along. It’s possible the outcome would’ve been the same, but I wouldn’t have known.

Three months after her death is when I’d finally spoken to anyone. My silent treatment was the only way I knew how to honor her. Even the doctor, with his hypnotic ways, couldn’t get through the wall I’d built. Not that it made any difference. I still ended up on my hands and knees being pounded by Anthony and Travis, just with a lot less chatter.

As of late, I’ve come to terms with her memory and I’ve filed away the nagging twinge of guilt in the back of my mind. Had I not, I’d never have been able to focus on being the best mother I can for Aiver, Tanison, and- according to Marissa-soon-to-be baby number three. I just need to figure out when to tell Anthony and Travis that they’re going to be dads again.

My lips curve into a devilish grin. They’re both here, albeit preoccupied. Anthony is buried balls deep in my pussy and Travis is covering my nipples with a breast pump, intent on capturing every drop of breastmilk before it hits the floor.

Once all the stars have aligned and they’re both nearing the edge, one from my pussy and the other from his fist, I drop my news, “I’m pregnant.”

The timing couldn’t be more perfect. The toxic air outside has dwindled to almost nothing, and the world is slowly recovering. One day I hope I can leave this place, find a home, a job, and a good school for the boys. Maybe get back to some level of normal. But when I look between the two men doting over me and my soon-to-be swelling belly, I know they’re never going to let me go.