Chapter 5

                                    

                                              
 Her head banged, her body ached. The roar of the motor and rattle of the van did nothing to help the situation. She closed her eyes and tried to concentrate on visions of her mother once more. She started to drift into her own illusions but every bump in the road sent pain flaring through her head and the image shattered.
                          
Kira settled once more, then realised the van had stopped. Nerves overcame her body, they must have arrived. She waited in the darkness but nothing happened; she waited some more; she waited further. Could they have forgotten her, left the van behind with her still inside? Maybe they were attacked, she had not heard noises, but had been unconscious for some time. Nerves turned to panic. Her palms started to become wet, her muscles itching to move. She yanked away from the side of the cage, grunting as the handcuffs cut into her wrists. Screwing up her eyes and clenching her teeth Kira tried once more. It still did not work. Frustrated she kicked out at the cage; satisfied by its rattle she completed the task a second time. Then she realised that she could make noise, try to attract someone's attention. She rocked the cage more vigorously as she shouted, "HELP." Barely any time passed when the door slid open but Kira faced the other way, legs moving like a screaming child, voice shrieking.
                          
"Hey," the tattooed man tried. When this did not stop her he shouted, "HEY!"

                          
Shocked, Kira paused, turning to the door. She felt she should apologise, she was being held captive though, it did not matter what he said he would always be in the wrong. "Why have we stopped?" she sounded harsh, venomous.
                          
Ignoring the tone he replied, "we are picking up someone else."
                          
She almost missed the comment as the scent entered her nostrils. He was eating something, something that filled her heart with joy, made her mouth water. He saw her eyes transfixed on the bread he held to his side. Raising it, he watched her eyes follow the food, subconsciously begging like a dog at a dinner table. "Do you want some?" he asked.
                          
Kira was taken aback, she was a slave, imprisoned in this van, surely this was a joke. The only sensible course of action was to keep silent and stare into his eyes. He laughed, "not everyone is bad." As he turned from the door, he tossed the bread into the back. It landed just beside Kira. Like a wild animal she went to grab it. Unable to move her hands within range she resorted to bending down and eating it off the floor. It tasted so good, the bread fresher than any that had ever met her lips. Its soft white casing concealed sausages, a large slathering of tomato sauce squirted over the top. Her face was a mess, red sauce and greasy juice glistened from her lips as the light from the, still open, door bounced from her face.
                          
As she sat back, satisfied for the moment, she noticed that the light here was not coming from the sun. Outside her confines was a large parking lot like the one she had been taken to at the Hall of Justice. The phrase he had said rang in her ears, 'picking up someone else.' There was another slave coming; no, another person. Fear overtook her thoughts, what if it was a true criminal? Someone with a shaved head, tattoos on every part of their body, piercings in ears and mouth. Someone imprisoned for a real crime, armed robbery or even murder. She imagined a thug bent on hurting anyone they came across. As she started to shake she realised she was being stupid. He would be locked up like her, he could not get to her. And if he was as horrific as she pictured he would be after those that captured him not her. She was on his side, another life crushed by Princips Ltd. Maybe this would work out, maybe he would help her escape.
                          
~
                          
 He was not at all what Kira expected. In fact, he was not a he at all. The young woman was only five or six years older than Kira, just out of her teens. Her face and hair looked immaculate, unlike someone who had spent a night in a cell let alone a criminal. Her long dark hair fell slightly below her shoulders, sleek and straight. Its rich earthy tones highlighting pale skin. Kira could have easily got lost in her eyes, their deep blue glaze seemed to burn with a white flame. Looking at her gave Kira strange feelings, feelings she had only ever had looking at boys.