"I'm so sorry, I just... you have no idea how horrible, I mean... it was crazy! He was crazy... I'll never forget how he... You have to run! You have to-"
"Shhh," I whispered, and put a finger to her lips to silence her. She then broke into sobs again, throwing herself into my arms. I embraced her welcomingly, trying to make her feel better. She was right. I never had been through what she'd been through. And I never would be. While it was a horrible thought, I was comforted by that fact. I would never be a slave.
I looked around the dark room, and then to my bedside clock, which read 3:15 a.m. Had we really taken that long? I went down to the tunnels to get her at around 12, but I suppose because of her weak condition that it made sense. It had taken me twice as long to get her back to the house because she kept falling and crying. I continued to glance around, worried of being seen. Although the windows were dark, I had a horrible feeling I was being watched. I pulled her away from me to look into her eyes. "Listen. I know that it has been rough for you, but we need to get you to the next safe house and out of Dystonia as soon as possible, understand? You leave here tomorrow morning, and you need to be refreshed before you leave. I'll show you to your room, that way you can take a bath and get some good sleep, alright?"
She nodded obediently, and I led her through the house and into a small room with a bathroom inside of it. She thanked me, and closed the door quietly, tears still in her eyes. I sighed, and turned back towards my bedroom, preparing to go back into the tunnels. I hated it down there. Made only of dirt, the tunnels were crawling with bugs and roots, and the dark dankness of it all made it worse. Preparing myself for the trip, I opened the trap door, and slunk back into the corridor. Grabbing the flashlight stowed away in my belt, I turned the switch on and began the walk again. It was a lonely horrific walk, as usual, but I continued on, remembering my purpose. It took about thirty minutes to reach the main corridor, where the tunnel split, leading to more safe houses, and also back to the slave owners' own houses. Once there, I shined my light around the large cavern.
"Garrett?" I whispered harshly, shining my light down various tunnels to try and spot him. "Garrett, it's me." Suddenly, a figure emerged from one of the tunnels; I let out a short scream before my attacker put his hand over my mouth, twisted me around, and held me tight against his muscled chest, his free hand coiling over the front of my hips.
"Hey baby," he cooed into my ear, and at the sound I relaxed and rolled my eyes before licking the hand covering my mouth. At the action he laughed and released me, wiping his wet hand on his jeans. "Jumpy today, aren't we?"
"Fuck you, Garrett," I replied, keeping my body turned so he wouldn't spot my wide grin. "You scared the shit outta me. You know better than that," I turned back to him, attempting to look as irritated as possible. He only laughed at my expression, and led me over to a section of dirt, which, somehow, looked nicer than the rest of the place, and we sat.
"How was it tonight?" he asked seriously, all amusement gone from his face.
I sighed, putting my head in my hands. "Another one of Lord Harper's." Garrett nodded knowingly, looking sadly at me. Tears threatened to slide down my cheeks, but I sniffled harshly to avoid it. How pathetic would it be for me to cry? I wasn't even a victim. Garrett put his arm around me, urging me to continue. "Garrett, I just don't understand. How can he do this to people? How can our country do this to people? It's wrong, to make these innocent bystanders of war become slaves to heartless barbarians like Harper." I paused, thinking of what to say next. "I want to do what's best. I want to help these poor people, like my parents did. But any more of this, and I'll be needing just as much psychiatric help as Harper's slaves."
He looked at me knowingly. "Emi, you don't have to do this anymore. You know that." I looked back up at him, irritation spreading through me.
"But I do have to do this, Garrett. I want to do this. I need to make things right."
"But you don't have to! You have no obligation."
I glared at him darkly. Wasn't it everybody's obligation to help? Wasn't that what being a country was about? Standing up for what's right? Well, maybe not my country's idea of what is right, but the general moral idea. But not everybody was as willing. Even still, people were too scared to act out against slavery. Or maybe, a small voice said inside my head, regular people, just like you, agreed with it. What a sick thought.
"I better get back to the girl, she will freak out if she wakes up alone." I stood up, brushing the dirt off my clothing in an attempt to hide my discomfort. Garrett looked up at me with a sad expression, but before I could let it effect me too deeply, I turned around and headed back to the house.
********
5 am came quickly, but I didn't sleep a wink. I was too jittery on moving the girl out of my house and into the next one. It was a very delicate process, one that had been created long ago when slavery first started in Dystonia. Named the Nakii Safeway (because slavery had been introduced after the Nakii War), the idea was to have underground paths that lead from various slave owners or auction outlets to safe houses. Each safe house owner, called an Escort, was given times and dates for when to pick up slaves through the underground paths. Small pieces of parchment would be nailed to the trap door from the leaders of the system, and the Escort had to move slaves from place to place according to the times on the paper. The slave was then passed off from Escort to Escort until out of the country. The last safe house provided identification and money for the slaves, keeping them away from the clutches of Dystonia. The reason the system worked so well was because Escorts were never allowed to have contact with each other outside of the system. Hell, they weren't even allowed to know each other's names. This was so if one Escort got caught, he or she wouldn't be able to give the whole system away. This was how communication worked. And it obviously worked well, since the Nakii Safeway had never been discovered.
It sounds sketchy, I know. And believe me, there have been a few close calls. If you could imagine how a rich politician would feel when his trophy and sex slaves keep disappearing, multiply that anger times 10. Sex slaves are quite replaceable, and while they are embarrassed their slave got away, the anger quickly dissolves. But if you get a trophy slave out, it's a big deal. It is actually pretty rare to get a trophy slave out safely. In fact, it has only happened 10 times in the 15 years the Nakii Safeway has existed. On average, we get about 2 slaves out per week. Sometimes 3. However, most of these slaves come from lowly farmers in the countryside or auction outlets. Even still, once a month we usually get a sex slave from some rich bastard. And, of course, it is always lovely to dream about saving a trophy slave.
At exactly 6, the girl and I headed back into the tunnels. She had been silent all morning, and looked oddly at the floor. It made me nervous. Recently, we had been getting a lot of sex slaves from Lord Harper, one of the worst lords of Dystonia. Every single slave we rescued from him seemed to be scarred deeply, and was never able to become happy again, despite the fact that they were free. I walked closer to her, in some sort of pathetic attempt to make her feel more at ease.
