Paradise Abductions, Page 3

  Chapter 3

  "Get in the outhouse!" she orders.

  So that's what she's going to do. She knows how much I detest the outhouse with its rancid, horrendous, penetrating smell. Every time I have to go inside, I pinch my nose until I finish my business. I can hold my breath for a very long time because of this.

  The outhouse is an old shack with graying wood. It's like an open sewer where our waste drops to from the seat that's actually a hole. She'll probably lock me in there until morning with all the spiders and insects crawling in it and no light except for the sliver of moonlight that filters in between the sheets of decaying lumber. She stares at me, waiting for me to beg her not to do this like the other girls do. I won't give her the satisfaction.

  "Okay," I state, heading towards the outhouse.

  She frowns angrily. "You don't fool me! I know how much you hate it in there!"

  "Is that what you think?" I ask calmly, already planning the spot on the wall where I can stick my nose into to breathe.

  "Stop trying to fool me!"

  "I like being in the waste house in case I have to go," I state, stopping at the door. "I don't have to come all this way in the middle of the night."

  She's fuming, practically foaming at the mouth. "Monica--"

  "H-h-hi," a male's voice says.

  Miguelito. How does he know when I'm in trouble? He always shows up at the right time.

  "M-M-M-Miss Helga, is, is, is--" We wait for him to finish his sentence as he stutters. Helga is rabid, but she can't say anything to Miguelito since he is the elder's favorite servant.

  "I-i-is everything okay," he finally manages to say. His clear green eyes shine in the moonlight and his jet-black hair is almost invisible.

  "Fine," Helga gnarls, between her teeth.

  "Monica, are you s-s-s-sick? Did you need H-H-Helga to go to the outhouse with you?" he asks me with innocent concern.

  "Listen, you slow witted buffoon--" she blurts but catches herself and bites her tongue. "Everything is fine. I have everything under control."

  "Be careful with s-s-spiders," he tells me with a light voice. "S-s-s-some eat flesh and the Elders will be angry if your skin turns u-u-ugly."

  By Helga's expression, I can tell she hadn't thought of that. Of course, if a life threatening insect bit me, she could tell the Elders that it wasn't her fault I got bitten, but the Elders held her personally responsible for anything that happened to us. This led to her abusing us psychologically since the Elders didn't particularly care about that, in fact they carefully fostered an atmosphere of intimidation, but they did care about our physical appearance.

  "We'd better go inside," barks Helga .

  "G-g-goodnight," Miguelito called out as we moved towards the slave quarters.

  Once inside the door, Helga's grumbles became decipherable. "I don't know why they keep that boy--he's slow witted, and he's a cripple."

  I hate it when she degrades a thoroughly sweet boy like Miguelito. And if he doesn't have all the body parts the rest of us do, it's not his fault. What happened to him was a horrible tragedy.

  Miguelito has one arm that stops at just below his right elbow. He had lost the rest of his limb when a land mine had exploded in his hand. Luckily, the mine had been damaged or he would've been blown sky high with only pieces of him coming down. Other boys had died in similar circumstances. That's why boys as well as girls are brought here. The boys serve by doing the dangerous work like planting landmines in the jungle all around Paradise Village and by doing other grunt work. Guards carefully patrol the only road leading out, but it's unnecessary to guard around Paradise Village since all of us are only too aware of the dangers that keep us trapped inside.

  Besides, if the landmines don't get us, the dogs will. Dogs are viciously trained to go after us if we escape. They are savage killers that don't hesitate to ravage what they can. In fact, those were the same dogs that had bit off a part of Helga's face. To this day they hate her and growl when they see her.

  "Consider yourself lucky that boy was out there," Helga snaps at me. "Get to bed!"

  Dozens of eyes stare at me with relief and questions as I get to bed. Helga turns off the oil lamp, and I start spelling words in my mind. The Elders can take away my freedom, but they'll never take what I have inside my head.

  Never!

  The next morning I am unceremoniously awakened when Helga screeches at five A.M. This is how she wakes us up and seems to take pleasure in our dramatically horrendous start to the day.

  All of us start our work schedules with painful stomach pangs. We won't get anything to eat until much later in the day. If we're lucky, we'll get a few grains of rice the leftover slop all mixed together in a mush from the various households. Some of the married girls purposely limit themselves on what they eat, so they can leave something for us.

  If we're unlucky, one of the Elders will decide we haven't worked hard enough or been on our best behaviors and throw the food away or give it to the vicious dogs. Even a single grimace or scrunched face can set an Elder off. Days and days have gone by with nothing being put in our stomachs. At those times, it feels as if our stomachs are eating themselves.

  When we dream at night, we see plates full of food in our dreary and exhausted minds. It's no wonder the rest of the girls no longer remember their lives before this place.

  I remember.

  No matter how tired or hungry I am, I force my mind to hold onto the picture of my beautiful mama.

  "I was so scared for you," Jana whispers to me as she sweeps. We have to clean our living space and then do our respective duties throughout the day.

  "Miguelito saved me," I whisper back as I start making the beds.

  "That boy sure loves you," Jana chuckles.

  "Shut your ugly traps and get to work," Helga snaps.

  When I finish the beds, I start to leave to the Mister's house. I have to clean it spic and span or be in trouble with the Elders.

  "Wait," orders Helga.

  "Yes?" I ask with curiosity.

  "You've got a new work assignment."

  "I do?"

  "Yes," she says with glee. "Follow me."

  I don't like the sound of this at all. If she's happy about this then my new work assignment has to be beyond horrendous. It has to be a way of her getting back at me for what had happened last night. I quietly follow her dreading what's surely in store for me.

  We calmly go past the slave quarters, the boys shack, and some of the pretty homes of the married households. Where are we going? A gnawing sensation eats at my stomach as I try to guess.

  Finally, we step over to the dog corral. It contains twenty or so killer dogs. Helga steps into the small barn next to it and hands me a bag of dog food while the dogs go crazy upon seeing her.

  "You're assigned to the dogs from now on," she asserts over the loud and frenzied barking of the dogs.

  We have to sometimes clean after them which is how I get the dog waste for the Mister's coffee, but that's pretty much all we are allowed to do for the vicious canines. I eye them as saliva drips menacingly from their mouths. The boys are given the task of caretakers for them ever since Helga had been bitten. The Elders didn't want the girls, the merchandise, marred or killed by the animals.

  "Am I really assigned to the dogs?" I ask her suspiciously.

  She steps closer to me with menacing eyes. "Are you questioning me?"

  "Helga--"

  "Feed the dogs!" she orders.

  I decide it's better to get this over with. I hold the bag in my hands as I go to the part of the fence that's lower than the rest. Helga stays behind me, probably to make sure I do it correctly.

  As I turn the food bag over with the animals getting more and more frenzied, I feel a hand suddenly on my back.

  Push!

  I fall in the corral with the killer dogs.