Alliance

Chapter Thirty-Four

I was awoken swiftly as I was knocked out. Hands pushed my body and I fell hard onto the moving ground and was dragged.

"You bastards," Ben called, laughter answered him. Opening my eyes as I was dragged, my hands before me were in irons. The irons were part of a chain that was attached to a wagon. An old wagon that came right out of the Wild West in the sixteenth century. Hands grabbed the top of my jacket and I was pulled up by Ben.

"You okay?" his voice was low and dangerous.

I checked myself over to find that I was just sore. My face hurt from where I fell on it and my head radiated with pain from the temple where I got hit by the gun.

"Yeah, what happened?" I asked while walked. Before us, the men who pushed me off the edge of the wagon moved up to the driver. Looking behind me, I was face to face with two horses that were pulling another wagon.

I glanced at Ben who seemed unharmed as he walked. That was until he turned his head. His left eye was black and blue and swollen. "This is a slave caravan."

My heart felt like it was about to explode and the remaining contents of my stomach seemed to squirm. "How?" I asked breathlessly.

How was this possible? We were only two days away from the Wall. Allegan said there wouldn't be many slave traders or Raiders until we got on the other side of Omaha.

"I don't know." Ben turned back to watching the countryside around us. "I don't know how they found us. They have no idea who we are. They did not even ransack the Hummer. They just left all of our belongings there. Their leader, Clark, said that there was not enough room to take anything with them."

"What's the plan?" We had to get away from these slave traders.

"I'm thinking of one."

I fell silent to let Ben think. The sun was still low in the east, still morning then. Perhaps if Ben could think of something soon, we could get back to the Hummer.

Checking the shackles, they were somewhat tight. I tried to pull my hand out of them but because of my thumb, my hand wouldn't fit. The only sure way we could get out of them is if we broke our thumb bones but we needed our thumbs. Giving up on the shackles, I focused on walking. 

We walked all morning as I watched the sun rise to noon and then past noon. We continued on without a single break. I had done a lot of training with Ben and my feet and legs did not begin to hurt until the sun was low in the sky.

The caravan was called to a stop for the first time that day. My head was home of a pulsing headache from the lack of food and water. Neither was given as we walked.

"Left side," a voice ordered. Ben and I turned to the side to stand next to large wheel of the wagon. I looked at the other wagons. There were seven in total with us in the middle. Other slaves, like us, were shackled. About twenty-five slaves in all; all in different stages of ages and looks, but I was the youngest female.

Clark strolled down the line of slaves with two other men. The trio stopped before us. Clark's eyes narrowed to my cheek and chin, the two spots that hit the ground from that morning. 

"Those brutes pushed you off the wagon, didn't they." I did not respond. "They tend to do that. If I don't get a high price for you, I am going to blame them. So." Clark walked around us slowly, like a man examining a prized horse.

"Well, you are strong and able," Clark said to Ben who remained silent. I watched Ben. He did not move, did not clench his fist or jaw. He showed no emotions. "You could be sold as a farm hand, a fighter, or to warm a woman's bed. Tomorrow we will see how well of a fighter you are."