Bronnah dashes around, and heads as swiftly as she can towards a green railcar. When she gets close enough to see the number on the side of the train, she is giddy with excitement. Now what? She wonders.
Five different cars are sitting, silent. A cold wind blows, and Bronnah hears voices coming towards her. Desperate, she dives behind some stacked crates and listens. "No. We have another hour before the train arrives. They're all awake, but not stupid enough to try anything again. Let's go get a drink."
The two men laugh as they wander away and across the street. Bronnah waits, afraid to move until she realizes that she doesn't need a distraction. She dashes to the car and stares up at the massive door. From a distance, the train car looked small, but up close it's a very different story.
A massive wooden sliding door with a latch and rusty lock greet her. "Damn!" she snarls under her breath. "Find a tool, Bronnah," she mutters. Rushing back to the barrels she drops her bag and looked around. Surely there's a tool somewhere. "Yes!" she spots a crowbar and seizes it.
Rushing back to the door, she looks around and swings, praying the sound of the trains on the tracks will cover the sound of metal on metal. It takes three strikes before the lock breaks and falls off. Bronnah pulls hard, ignoring the pain in her stitches as the door slides open with a metal screech.
The first thing to strike her is the smell, followed by horror. Five young women are chained to the wall like animals. They stare at her, bruised and bloody, but alive.
"Jes suis un ami," I'm a friend, she tells them. Bronnah tosses the crowbar inside of the rail car and climbs in.
“Tu marcher?” Can you walk? Two of the girl’s scramble to their feet crying in relief. Their chains are long enough to reach the bucket in the corner.
With a sob, Bronnah glances around the filthy car. In one corner is a bucket for drinking and another has the bucket for the bathroom. “Dear Lord,” Bronnah gasps.
When she starts to swing the crowbar, it's seized from behind. "Need some help?" Chase growls from behind her. Bronnah nearly screams before spinning to face him.
“Chase?” she whispers. Elated to see him she throws herself into his arms. “Oh, Thank God.”
Chase closes his eyes in relief for a moment, and when he opens them, he recognizes the look of the hunted in the women before him. They back away from him terrified that he's one of their captors.
“Il est à mois!” He’s mine. “Il est à moi!” He’s mine! She repeats. They seem to calm when he begins looking at the chains.
"Guard the door," Chase orders. Bronnah does as ordered and turns back to the women when one says, "Nous devons pâtir!" We must go! Bronnah translates.
“Use the key,” a rusty voice said. Chase and Bronnah freeze and stare at the youngest of the girls in the corner. She looks to be about fourteen. “They leave a key just to torment us.” She points to the wall, where a key is hanging on a hook in the corner.
"Bastards," Chase snarls. When he takes a step towards the first girl, she backs away with a sob.
“I’ll do it, you guard,” Bronnah takes the key and avoids looking at him. She isn’t sure she could take the disappointment or anger she’s bound to see in his eyes. With trembling hands, she unlocks them quickly, stopping on the final girl. Her skin is gray and cold to the touch.
“No,” Bronnah moans.
“She died this morning,” the youngest explains. No one moves for a moment as the severity of this situation strikes them. “What now?” one of the girls asks.
Chase leaps down and snaps, “Now, we get you to freedom.” Bronnah translates and urges them to follow Chase. He helps them down and slides the door shut behind them and kicks the lock underneath. Bronnah dashes behind the crates to grab her bag as Chase says quietly, "With any luck, they won't realize you're gone…"
“What the hell!” A male voice calls out. Three men round the corner of the car and all draw their weapons.
Chase has only his single colt, and the five women cower behind him. Bronnah draws the gun quietly out of her bag and glances around her desperately looking for something to distract the men. Grabbing onto the wood of the crate she realizes what she's hiding behind. Crates of whiskey waiting to be loaded on the next train. Bronnah grabs three bottles, stuffing one into her bag.
“Hands up!” One of the men orders Chase.
Bronnah hooks her bag over her shoulder and pops the cork on one of the bottles. She pours the entire contents of the bottle over the inside of one of the lowest crates. As quietly as a mouse she slips away down the road around the corner of a building and grabs a kerosene lantern off the wall.
It dawns on her that she will only get one chance, she just prays that Chase will see what she's trying to do. The girls are cowering behind Chase, and the men are ordering them back into the train car when Bronnah steps into the light holding the lantern.
Chase has to struggle not to laugh when she calls out to them. "I seem ta be a wee bit lost?" All three guns swing to her, and the moment they turn Chase attacks. He moves so fast Bronnah doesn't have to do anything but stare in awe.
Bronnah blanches when Chase kicks out, and one of the pistols goes off. It explodes a few inches to the right of her. With a crack
