“Oh, hey,” the woman said. “I kinda thought that was you from the back, but I wasn’t sure. Didn’t we work together on a cleaning crew or something?” The woman started to reach for a hug, then seemed to reconsider and extended her hand instead. She wore an apron that looked about twenty years old, covered in layers of food stains, and Elna noticed that the woman had what appeared to be numerous small burn scars on her palms and fingers.
“Oh, yeah, I think I remember you,” Elna lied. She glanced over her shoulder and saw Prig standing between the tents, waiting for her while trying to look like he wasn’t waiting for her. She then glanced toward the fire and saw the other workers. They continued to go about their business, but they kept looking in her direction. “It’s been a long time, hasn’t it? I’ll be honest, I’m not good at remembering names.”
“Natasha,” the woman said, reaching back to retie her apron, as if anxious to get back to work. “Well, anyway, you just looked familiar, and I wanted to say hello.”
Elna looked at Prig again. He was staring off at nothing in particular, but he made a small beckoning gesture with one finger. “Okay, well, it was good to see you again. We’ll have to catch up some time.”
She raised her hand in an awkward gesture of farewell. However, in the span of about two seconds, she saw the woman’s face utterly transform before her eyes, that slightly shy positivity peeling away as recognition entered her eyes. Her mouth dropped open, and both of her hands went to her apron again, grabbing and twisting the stained cloth.
“No, wait, it wasn’t the cleaning crew,” she said in a little whisper. “That’s not where I know you from. I remember now.”
Elna had heard enough. Without another word, she turned, motioned Prig to get going, and walked away. Prig passed between the tents and quickly moved out of sight, and Elna followed him. She slid between the tents, her shoulders brushing dusty canvas on either side. She popped out the other side into an area that was full of barrels and boxes.
“Now, why’re you rushing away like that?” said the voice behind her.
Natasha had followed her. Elna turned to confront her. How was she going to get rid of this pest?
“I’ve got work to do,” Elna said. “I think you do too, Natasha. Weren’t you helping those other people cook?”
She’d lost sight of Prig, and before she could look for him, Natasha grabbed her shirt with both hands and dragged her close. “I knew I recognized you,” she said, in a low, increasingly sharp voice. “I didn’t work on any crew with you. You were in that group of prisoners from the island that they dragged into camp a few months ago. That’s when they brought all of that cheap wine here. You passed in front of me coming and going. Am I right?”
“You’ve got it all wrong,” Elna said. “I’ve never been a prisoner here.”
But Natasha pulled her closer and wrapped an arm around her neck, pulling her head down. She was strong. Elna felt the muscles in her forearms bulging against the side of her neck.
“I know who you are,” Natasha said, “and you’re coming with me. They’ll reward me good for handing you over to the commander.”
Elna tried to wrestle out of the woman’s grip, pushing at her and twisting, but she was caught fast. The pressure on her neck was also making the edges of her vision turn red as she was dragged back toward the tents.
A sudden sound seemed to freeze the moment. It was a low thud, like a melon slamming onto a hard countertop. Natasha’s grip instantly released, and Elna stumbled backward. She lost her balance and fell onto her butt. Natasha crumpled at her feet in a heap, blood running down her forehead.
Prig loomed over her, a large, rusty wrench in his right hand. He didn’t wait. As soon as Natasha was down, he tossed the wrench onto the ground, grabbed her wrist, and dragged the body into the nearest open tent. Then he closed the flap, tied it shut, and kicked dirt over the small puddle of blood.
“Don’t interact with anyone,” he said, extending a hand to Elna. “That’ll get you in trouble every time. Just keep walking.”
Elna grabbed his hand, and he yanked her to her feet. “Thanks,” she said. “I thought I could weasel my way out of it. Guess I was wrong.”
“We’re running out of time,” he said, pointing at the sunlight shining on the eastern horizon. “Show me where we need to go.”
Elna brushed off the seat of her pants and hurried across the path, slipping between another row of tents. As she approached the far end, she knew she recognized the area. There were more barrels on the far side, and she was pretty sure she’d had a confrontation with Garret in this area. She stopped and peeked around the far corner of the nearest tent. The tents were wide open on the south side, and each of them contained a heavy iron cage. The cage right beside her was empty, but she spotted a lone guard standing in front of a cage a few tents down. He was turned slightly away from her, holding an AK-47 in his arms.
“That’s it,” she said, ducking back behind the tent.
Prig was right there. “Okay, count to twenty, then get the guard’s attention. I’ll take it from there.”
Before she had a chance to ask any questions, he rushed back the way they’d come. Elna started counting, but she felt the anxiety of the moment building in her. What was he about to do? Her whole body felt like it was vibrating, as if from a low electrical current. She almost lost count a couple of times.
“Twenty,” she said at last. She’d lost sight of Prig, but she trusted him now. He’d
