The dart had worn off by the time they tossed Corbin and Clara into a rusty trailer. The clink of chains fastening across the front door solidified their imprisonment. With wobbly legs, they got to their feet and went to the windows, where iron bars criss-crossed the glass.

The camp of trailer homes sat in a U-shape, creating a cul-de-sac against a wall of dusty mountains. In the center of them, a giant bonfire licked tangerine flames towards the glittered sky. Countless Hounds stood around it, celebrating like college kids as men chased giggling half-naked women—their red cups of Jungle Juice sloshing about.

Amid them, the unmistakable shape of Merric’s tall and husky body watched everyone with his obsidian eyes.

“There’s no use getting your hopes up,” said an old scratchy voice, causing Corbin and Clara to spin around. “Ah yes, you’re not alone in here.”

From the shadows, hands with gnarled knuckles and long pointy fingernails worked a set of knitting needles. The long grey and white hair dangling in front of her leathery, sunburned face split like a curtain as she came into view and glanced up at them.

“Who are you?” Clara asked.

“Mildred, but everyone here calls me Millie.”

“Who’s everyone?” Corbin asked and stepped in front of Clara like a protective barrier.

“The other Witchers,” she replied with a shrug. “Did you think you were the only ones being sold like cattle tomorrow?”

“Were you brought here today too?” Clara asked.

“Honey, they’ve hauled around this trailer for almost a year now. I lived in a senior community until one of the nursing staff sold me out to these... Hounds.”

“A year? Why haven’t they sold you?”

“Cause I’m their pet,” she replied as she continued working the knitting needles. “Apparently the older we get, the fewer people will pay for us, so unfortunately for you, you’ll sell like hotcakes come morning.”

“How many of us are here?” Corbin asked, his eyes roaming the dark trailer.

“Eighteen, but the two of you makes twenty. It wouldn’t surprise me if they gather up a few more. They pack us in like sardines, so use the bathroom while you can.” Millie retreated into the darkness she emerged from, but said, “Oh, and supper should be on its way.”

As she shuffled away, Corbin's and Clara’s eyes met. The light from the bonfire flickered through the windows, casting shadows across their faces. Glistening streaks of tears rolled down Clara’s cheeks, so Corbin pulled her into his arms.

“They’ll find us. I know they will.”

“How?” Clara cried into his chest. “We don’t know where we are. We could be on the other side of the country!”

“Shhh. Don’t talk like that. The Clara I know looks at the bright side.”

She pulled away and tilted her head to look him square in the eyes. “There’s no bright side this time. You heard that woman. They’re selling us in some auction tomorrow. They’ll separate us and forced to go live who knows where? I’ll be sold to perverts!”

“No.” Corbin shook his head. “I refuse to give into this attitude. Gunner will find us. In the meantime, we have to plan an escape.”

“It’s over, Corbin,” Clara replied, her shoulders dropping as her lungs deflated. “We had a good run at freedom though, didn’t we?”

“It’s not over!” He lifted her chin and searched her tear-filled eyes. “Do you hear me? You’re just tired. Why don’t you rest on this couch over here? It’s not glamorous, but I’m sure it’ll work for a nap.”

As Corbin guided her to the couch, her back was fragile against his hand and her gait as light as a feather floating in the wind. She sunk into the flattened cushions and spread onto her side. Corbin knelt next to her and began stroking her hair. It wasn’t like Clara to give up, yet she seemed resigned to their reality of being sold. With each sweep of his fingers through her hair, her soft cries subsided and her eyes closed.

∆∆∆

The metal trailer door squealed open, startling Corbin awake. He had only dozed off for a few minutes, yet his head was heavy like a sandbag when he lifted it. Golden light from the bonfire invaded the living room, along with a shadowy figure that entered.

“You two!” barked a voice. “Get up. Merric needs to see you.”

Clara rubbed her eyes groggily. “What’s going on?”

“I said, get up!” the voice barked again, stomping towards them.

“You don’t touch her!” Corbin shot to his feet to block the man’s path, but was backhanded and tumbled to his knees.

“I don’t take orders from you, Romeo. Now get up and follow me.”

Clara’s fingers trembled as she reached for Corbin and helped him up. Together they walked outside and the reality of where they were set in like a dimension jump. A long picnic table near the bonfire had trays of food as breastfeeding mothers sat around it, supervising their playing children. A few feet away, others danced in a way that wasn’t suitable for children’s eyes.

Splashing drew Corbin’s to a pool where a foursome played a game of chicken. Tattooed men lounged on the sidelines with beers in hand, chanting for the women to take it off. Corbin turned away when one of the women obliged and ripped off the bikini top from her opponent. An eruption of cheering followed.

“Don’t even think about making a run for it. We’ll catch you,” said the man.

Corbin reached for Clara’s hand and squeezed as they walked past a group of arm wrestlers. One of them flipped a table after losing and shoved the winner while shouting profanities. Joanie, the mohawked woman, pushed through the crowd and cracked a bottle over his head. When he fell to the floor, she kicked him in the ribs. Meanwhile, the circle of onlookers cheered as the winner scooped her up before shoving his tongue down her throat.

“This is madness...” Clara whispered. “These people are animals.”

“We’ll get through this.” Corbin squeezed her hand again.

“No, we won’t.” Clara shook her head and deep down, Corbin was starting to realize she might be right.

Once they reached Merric’s trailer, their escort did a double knock on the door. They waited a few seconds before the squeaky metal opened and a flood of incandescent light greeted them along with a familiar face. The name was on the tip of Corbin’s tongue as he took in the inky black hair, almond-shaped eyes, and petite figure.

“In-Ingrid?” he stuttered.

She squinted, examining his features and drew her head back as recognition hit her but then she stepped aside. “Merric is waiting.”

“Watch your step!” the man ordered, shoving them forward.

The floor creaked when they stepped inside and Corbin’s eyes followed Ingrid as she retreated to the kitchen where she stirred a big pot of something. Isabelle sat on the carpet in the living room, reading, but the book slipped from her hands when she spotted him. Except, she didn’t say a word as her gaze darted to her mother and then to Merric. With trembling hands and a ghost white face, she picked up her book and began reading.

Next to her, Merric relaxed in a recliner while sharpening a jagged knife--one that could fillet a man in two. His muscular build dwarfed the chair, as if it were better suited for a child and Corbin swallowed hard. He was larger than he remembered. 

“Step forward,” his deep voice said without glancing up.

Their escort shoved them towards him. “I think we’ll make a killing with these two. A lot healthier looking than the others we rounded up. They’re both in good shape, attractive, and young. The woman is still in childbearing years. That’ll make her double the price.”

“Thank you for stating the obvious, Kyle,” Merric replied, and the veins in his neck seemed to pulse as he glared. “Leave the appraising to me.”

Merric set the knife aside and stood. Clara trembled as the tall, bulky man circled them. First, he stopped in front of Corbin and ran his hands down his body like a police officer doing a pat-down. When Merric did a quick squeeze and swipe of Corbin’s genital region, he released a soft gasp. Then Merric removed a measuring tape from his pocket and began taking measurements while Kyle jotted them down.

“He’s a good one,” Merric concluded. “We’ll start the bid for him at a thousand.”

“A thousand? We usually start at one hundred dollars.”

“I said, a thousand and I meant it!” Merric snarled.

“Yes, I’m sorry, boss.”

“We have elite buyers coming in from all over the country. I suspect he’ll sell for at least twenty grand.”

“Right. You’re right.” Kyle nodded rapidly.

Merric moved onto Clara and did the same pat-down. Tears trickled down her cheeks again and Corbin was ready to jump out of his flesh to console her. When Merric’s hands moved to her breasts, Corbin reflexively pulled Clara away and stepped in front of her.

“Leave her alone.”

“Kyle, deal with him while I finish my appraisal.”

“Gladly.” He smiled, slamming his fist into Corbin’s abdomen, and causing him to double over. “Stay down, ok pumpkin?”

Corbin glanced up, clutching his stomach and noticed the brass knuckles around Kyle’s fist. Behind him, Merric finished his pat-down and said, “I don’t even need her measurements to know she’ll sell for at least fifty grand. We’ll start her bidding at five thousand.”

“Would you like me to give her a test run? I’m sure our buyers would like to know if they’re making an excellent investment.”

“No,” Merric replied, wiping a tear from Clara’s cheek. “This one is special.”

“And him?” Kyle nodded towards Corbin.

“No one touches him either. Lonely housewives will beg their rich husbands for him. Now please take them back to their trailer. It’s time for Ingrid to distribute supper.”

As they walked back, the reality of their fate only sunk in farther with every step and Clara’s words echoed in Corbin’s mind louder than ever.

They weren’t getting through this.

***
Thank you for reading.