Click Here to Return to Homepage for A Good Read

Adventures in Shopping

By: Dorothy McFalls

October 2003

Dorothy McFalls [dorothymcfalls@att.net] lives in a small island community in South Carolina and has been writing non-fiction for more than six years as an urban planner. She has recently given up her career to pursue her first love, fiction.

“That’s mine, lady. Hands off.”

Kara Banks hated crowds. Simply hated them. Hated the pushing, the smelly humidity too many packed bodies in a small space oozed. And she especially hated the loss of humanity.

So what was she doing in the basement of Richardson’s Department Store on the busiest shopping day of the year playing a tug-of-war game with a woman enough makeup to cover a small country? Heck if she understood the reasons. Lost her mind, maybe...probably.

Yesterday, the prospect of picking up a few designer outfits at bargain basement prices struck her as a brilliant idea. The Christmas season with its string of obligatory parties was fast approaching. Who could have guessed the light bulb of an idea to find that perfect dress at criminally low prices had struck more than three hundred extremely healthy women? Kara certainly hadn’t. She wouldn’t be standing in the midst of a frenzied crowd if she had.

“I saw it first,” she said, tightening her grip on the sleek black, crystal-beaded gown stretched tightly between her and a woman who couldn’t possibly do last-year’s-thousand-dollar-masterpiece (marked down to three ninety-nine) justice. “I’m doing you a favor. Your legs are too short for the dress.”

Attempting to reason with the price-wizened woman turned out to be a huge mistake. Kara nearly toppled over by the violent tug her comment ignited. The small woman turned out to be surprisingly strong.

And as if that wasn’t insult enough, Kara caught a glimpse of a pair of laughing eyes from across the showroom. The sparkling eyes mocked her as she lost her balance, flailed, and grabbed onto the nearest object--the shoulder of a lady with no less than ten gowns draped over her arms and the misfortune of passing by at the wrong moment. The lady screamed and landed on the concrete floor with a thud.

Only then did Kara get a clear view of owner of those merry, mocking eyes. A tall, blond-haired man with a fiendish smile continued to stare. He didn’t move a muscle to rescue her. He just stood in the corner of the basement, his arms crossed, and watched while Kara was forced to relinquish partial possession of the beaded gown so she could use both hands to help the lady she’d knocked over get back to her feet. The poor round, thing was piled under so many gowns she’d begun wheezing.

“Oh, no you don’t!” the lady screamed. Sprawled out on her back, she squirmed until she’d managed to pull herself up to her knees without letting one gown touch the floor. Quite a feat considering the length of many of the silky skirts. She then slung the outfits over her shoulder and socked Kara in the stomach. “These are mine!”

Kara gasped and doubled over more from shock than pain.

“She’d kill you if she had a knife,” a voice whispered in her ear. A hand with the force of a bulldozer pushed Kara away from the bustle of the crowded bins. She was still hunched over as she allowed herself be mindlessly led, only able to see the owner of the hand’s polished shoes and sharply pressed suit pants. The man who’d laughed at her...of course.

Great heavens on earth! That was just what she needed on top of a truly disastrous shopping trip. To become the butt of this man’s private joke. It was bad enough she was fated to leave the department store empty handed, or worse--with a garment she’d felt coerced into paying full-price. The horrors of the day...

“First time?” he asked.

“Huh?” She wasn’t purposefully trying to be dense. The breath had been knocked from her chest, so that was the best she could manage until the limited air in the room decided spare her a miniscule amount for her lungs.

“Uh-huh. First time.” He’d spoken as if her actions painted her out like some ignorant county-bumpkin on her first trip to the big city. The gentle way he helped her straighten her spine so she didn’t have to stand with her nose pointed to the floor pricked her further.

She didn’t want or need his pity-help, thank you very much.

She swatted away his helping hands. “Back off or I’ll show you what a punch in the gut feels like.” She wasn’t normally a vicious person, but this experience was just too humiliating to her nerves. Expressing her anger went a long way to restore her damaged ego. “I mean it.”

Kara curled her fingers into a pair of tight fists.

The man backed up a step, his fair eyebrows raising at least an inch, and then he broke out laughing...at her. He laughed so hard tears sprang to his eyes.

“Who are you?” Whenever her eyes narrowed with suspicion, a stab of pain would shoot through her temples. At the moment, her temples were hurting like the devil. “Why are you tormenting me?”

Why indeed? Devon Turner hadn’t the slightest idea why he’d picked the sprite-like beauty from a crowd of women of every shape and texture. Perhaps it was the adorable way her nose wrinkled in front of her delicately boned face when she’d fought for the beaded dress. Or perhaps he was drawn to her short, bouncy brown hair. No. No. It was none of that...though he couldn’t deny the tremor of attraction he was experiencing. He’d culled this willowy flower from the herd of greedy shoppers solely because her blunt innocence had captured his complete attention.

Damn. Damn. Damn. She was innocent. Too innocent for his needs. He’d made a huge mistake.

“Well?” She seemed to catch herself before letting her foot tap. She crossed her arms in front of her chest and tilted her head up at him. “Who are you?” She was demanding an answer.

And he couldn’t lie. Lying grated against every atom making up his body. He could sooner grow wings and take flight in the middle of the room than lie.

So he kept his mouth shut.

If she knew who he was, he’d be forced to take her. Second thoughts plagued him. He’d made the wrong choice. She was all wrong. He’d just have to turn her loose and pick a less intriguing victim.

Without a second glance, he turned his back to her and stalked off. There was a bedraggled woman, arms full of treasures, dragging a crying child down a row of brightly colored polyester stretch pants who just might do nicely. He could dump the child off at his aunt’s. She always enjoyed a challenge.

He wasn’t in this to hurt innocents.

He wasn’t a monster. Not yet, anyhow. Give it a week, or two. Things always seemed to have a way of changing.

“Excuse me.” A hand clamped down on his shoulder. “You’re not just going laugh at me and expect to walk away.”

Devon shuddered a deep breath and turned to face fate.

The willowy flower had a death wish. A shame, really. He’d given her ample reason to escape. Heck, there was a silver gown perfect for her marked down fifty percent staring her in the face where he’d left her. She should’ve been drawn back to the shopping, not pursuing a stranger across the bargain basement showroom. Was she so innocent that she didn’t recognize danger when it was hovering right in front of her nose?

She probably didn’t even feel a tremor of worry at the hungered look he was giving her...of course her innocence had already been established.

He crossed his arms.

“What’s your name?” he asked abruptly. In time he’d rifle through her purse to make sure she hadn’t lied, but he wanted to hear her name from her lips.

She wouldn’t lie.

“Kara.” She paused. Perhaps she was finally waking up to reality and experiencing a frisson of worry. “K-Kara Banks. Who are you?”

“Devon Turner.” He didn’t give her time to tell him she wanted to know more than just his name before he grabbed her wrist and led her into a rather deserted section of oversized swimming suits--no one seemed interested in the swimming suits on this crisp morning. Kara opened her mouth to protest as he pressed a fragrant, drugged cloth handkerchief to her pearly lips.

“Oh,” she gasped and then sank into willing his arms.

“Poor Kara Banks,” he murmured as he scooped her up. She weighed hardly anything at all. “I am so sorry this is going to happen to you.”

* * * * *

“This her?” a watery voice asked.

Kara’s head didn’t just hurt. It felt as if all the clothes in the bargain basement had fallen on top of her...and she were still buried under them. What had happened?

“Yeah, she’s the one. Though I’m not--”

“She’s pretty, young, fashionable. She’s perfect.”

Perfect? Perfect for what?

Kara vaguely remembered meeting a man in the department store. If the fog would just lift, she was sure she could figure it all out. Where had all this blasted fog come from anyhow? It was getting mixed up with her thoughts, muddling everything.

“Is she okay? Shouldn’t she be awake by now?”

“It’s different for everyone. She’s small. It’ll take her longer.”

Wait a minute. That voice sounded eerily familiar. The man in the department store. It all goes back to him. What was his name? And why was his voice all shuddered and remorseful?

Gentle fingers smoothed the hair from her face.

“I wanted to talk with her before...” the watery voice trailed off. He sighed. “Oh well. Give her a shot and wrap her in the rug. We don’t have much time before the plane leaves.”

A sharp, cold pricked her arm and invited a new bank of fog to roll into her head. She tried to fight it.

A pair of hands stilled her flailing fists. “Sleep, Kara,” the man from the department store whispered. What was his name? Devon? “Just sleep.”

Sleep? Never did an idea sound so dangerous.

* * * * *

Kara opened her eyes, stinging though they were, and found herself laying on an itchy wool rug in the middle of what had to be a sweatshop. Though she’d never seen a sweatshop, she figured if this metal building with its stagnant air, inadequate lighting, cramped workspaces, and a woeful lack of natural light didn’t fit that description nothing did. The rusty machines all around her droned at a deafening level. Her head pounded in response.

Not one of the huddled workers, some working the machines and others whipping a thread and needle by hand with lightening speed took any notice to her slumped in the corner. Kara stretched her tight muscles and remained curiously calm while her foggy mind gradually cleared. A wire clothes hanger twisted around her wrists kept her from extending her arms fully above her head. A matching hanger bound her ankles.

“Wire hangers?” Kara stared at the winding metal, not yet panicky. “I don’t do wire hangers. Don’t they know what it does to my clothes?” It took her more than a minute to realize just how misplaced that concern was. With the drugs still swirling in her system, her thoughts were hard to control.

“What am I doing here?” she said slowly. Speaking aloud seemed to help organize her muddled mind. Her heart pulsed in her throat and she pulled at the wire hangers binding her. A burst of panic cut through the fog.

“What am I doing here?” she shouted loud enough to be heard over the thundering machines.

A few workers glanced her direction.

Her instincts were finally kicking in, thank heavens. She was in trouble. Deep trouble. And here she was worried about the damage wire hangers do to clothes? She needed to get a grip. When she’d left the house that morning, the worse thing she’d imagined happening was her spending too much money and wearing herself out fighting the crowds. Not this.

Who in the world gets kidnapped in the middle of Bargain Mania? Certainly that wasn’t something she should’ve been guarding against, was it?

Too late to worry about that now. She needed a plan. She needed to catch her breath before she passed out. Her head felt lighter than air, not that there was enough air in the room to support her and the hundred or so laborers.

Okay. Step one--take a deep breath. Step two--realize there is no immediate danger. Step three--stop worrying about the dangers awaiting her in the future. Step four--better take another deep breath.

This wasn’t working. Her heart raced faster and faster and her mind was beginning to melt into a dribbling puddle of alarm. She had every right to lose it. People in civilized societies aren’t kidnapped...they just aren’t.

“Hey!” she called a small man turning a knob on an ancient, groaning press not ten feet away. “Hey! Help me!”

Steam hissed out of the machine behind him, using up too much of the precious air in the room. He turned and stared wide-eyed. His ebony mustache twitching, he did nothing but stare for several moments before returning to his work.

Where was the humanity? This indifference these apparently normal people showed to a fellow human in need was unfathomable.

As the day wore on, Kara tried several times to illicit the assistance from a worker, gaining nothing but curious stares and sad shrugs. She was on the verge of giving up all hope when the tall blond-headed man from the department store emerged from behind a heavy metal door. He’d changed out of his sharply pressed suit pants and a white button-up shirt. He looked sloppy now, comfortable. His khaki shirt was wrinkled and open, exposing most of his wide chest, his pants well worn, and a wide-brimmed cloth hat appeared to have suffered years of adventures.

“You!” Kara cried. “What is the meaning of this--this madness?” She held up her bound wrists, burning and raw from hours of trying to coil her hands free from the damnable wire hanger.

Devon hadn’t expected a warm reception, but her raw anger surprised him. He beamed a false smile.

“Hello, sweetie. I hope you haven’t been too uncomfortable.” Something about her vicious gaze bothered him. An innocent should be shuddering. Tears should be staining those silky cheeks. Never had he expected to find her spitting and fighting like a spoiled princess.

Perhaps he’d picked the right woman after all...

“I’m not your sweetie.” She struggled to her feet and hopped closer. They’d done a good job binding her wrists and ankles. She appeared quite hobbled.

“Careful, Kara.” Devon stepped forward, prepared to catch her if she were to pitch forward.

“Don’t you dare touch me.” The words sailed breathlessly from her mouth, fear tainting the bravado. Devon understood only too well why she’d be afraid of being touched. With her hands and feet bound, she’d no hope of protecting herself.

Unfortunately, her piece of mind wasn’t an issue. “Can’t help it, sweetie,” he said and scooped her into his arms. She kicked and twisted right out of his grasp. Her backside slammed against the concrete floor.

Devon winced for her, knowing only too well what that felt like. He turned away for a moment and quietly asked one of the factory workers to fetch Lispo while Kara shouted about her rough treatment.

“You think this is rough, sweetie? Try fighting Lispo.”

Kara didn’t know who this Lispo was. She didn’t care either. She just wanted to go home. But since home didn’t appear to be on the immediate agenda, she opted for searching out answers.

“Who are you?” she asked after pulling herself into a somewhat more dignified sitting position.

“I already told you. I’m Devon Turner.”

“Not your name.” Jeez, he was purposefully being obtuse. “Who are you? Why me? What do you want?”

“Whoa there. That’s too many questions all at once.” Devon’s blue eyes danced with amusement. He quirked a grin. “Besides, I think you should be asking me about Lispo and why you shouldn’t try to bite him.” He rubbed his arm. “I think I’m going to bruise.”

“Good.” She’d managed to clamp down on his flesh just below his shoulder in that struggle. So he was hurt because of it. Good. She was glad, truly glad to cause him trouble.

“No, not good. If you give Lispo this kind of trouble, you won’t find yourself smiling like that. You won’t find yourself able to smile, in fact.”

Okay, a sobering thought. “Why should you warn me? I can’t image you kidnapped me just to be kind to me.”

Devon shrugged. “No, we didn’t.”

He could’ve lied. She wouldn’t have minded a pretty white lie...truly. Her reaction to his bald honesty must have been telling. Devon bent down and scooped her into his arms again.

“What?” he said while a wicked grin brightened his unfairly handsome features. “Did I scare your fight away?”

“Perhaps.” Kara bit her lip to keep from spouting off something foolish just to preserve a brave front. The thought of this unknown factor named Lispo didn’t sit well with her. She’d rather not tempt fate and get herself into a deeper stew of trouble than she already was in now.

When the metal door swung opened, she thanked heavens she’d held her tongue and was encircled by Devon’s strong arms. They felt oddly safe at the moment...much safer than the bald-headed seven-foot monster with a torso the size of a small car pounding toward her.

“This Lispo?” she whispered the question.

“Yeah,” Devon whispered back.

“She need a lesson?” Lispo’s hard glare latched onto her as if he’d found a prize.

“Not anymore,” Devon said. The playfulness, if that’s what Kara could call it, was gone from his voice. And even more disturbing, Devon looked faintly scared.

Who wouldn’t? Lispo was big enough to keep even Kara’s mouth shut.

“You sure?” Lispo pressed. He reached out his paw and stroked her cheek. The pads of his rough fingers scraped her.

Devon jerked away. “Quite sure,” he said. “She understands now. She’ll not give us anymore trouble.”

Lispo forged forward, his hand reaching out for her again. “I could make certain.” There was lust under that heavy accent. Kara couldn’t place the accent...but the lust was unmistakable. Her stomach twisted in defiance of the helplessness she felt. But, trussed up like a Christmas goose, there was truly nothing she could do to control her fate. The feelings swirling in her gut were worse than helplessness. She had nothing.

Only a vast void of despair...

Why in the world did she think finding a bargain so important? She cursed herself for being a fool. She should have stayed home in bed. Or better yet, under the bed.

“Hush,” Devon said, squeezing her tightly against his chest. His lips quirked at the corner into a crooked grin. She must have really used some colorful language this time. Her friends always warned her that her unfettered tongue would cause trouble. “You’re not exactly helping.”

“Parish the thought of me being a bother,” Kara murmured.

“Give her to me.” Lispo held out his boulder-sized arms and licked his lips like a clichéd black-caped villain. “I’ll teach her.”

“No, Lispo. It’s under control now. I don’t need your help. We’ll ruin the impact if she’s covered with bruises and suffering from a broken bone or two. She has to look perfect. We all agreed.”

“Not all,” Lispo growled. He turned his back and crossed his arms in front of his broad chest. Kara let loose the breath she’d held. Who cared if he didn’t agree, as long as he didn’t stand in the way? Suddenly, Devon didn’t seem like quite the scoundrel anymore. She rather warmed to his protective touch and if she hadn’t been plagued with an urge to rush to the bathroom, she would’ve been content to stay in his arms forever.

“Let me down,” she hissed instead of speaking pretty words of gratitude.

“What?”

“I said, let me down.” She squirmed. “I haven’t had a moment’s privacy and it’s been a long day.”

Devon must have read her meaning behind her pleading gaze. He tossed back his head and laughed. “Oh, do pardon me. I’ll convey the princess to her private chamber posthaste.”

* * * * *

As if things couldn’t go from horrible to absolutely terrifying, Kara found her normally cheery disposition fraying after Devon let her see to her needs--as he called it--without the decency to unbind her or even turn his back. Once she’d finished in the bathroom, he’d hauled her over her shoulder like a sack of grain, not that she’d ever touched a sack of grain much less hauled one but she did have a vivid imagination. He carried her into a deep basement where he dropped her on the dirt ground.

Twenty pairs of curious eyes met her outraged glare.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” Devon had the nerve to say before leaving her alone in the room full of strangers.

One by one the curious gazes drifted back to their handiwork. Just like upstairs, many were wielding a needle and thread. Others were dealing with stacks of paper. Like an army, these workers all wore a drab olive uniform. Unlike an army, they looked like they’d assembled here from all over the world.

War? Terrorists? What was going on? Now, more than ever Kara wanted to know. She’d kept herself from dwelling on her situation for fear that she might learn the reason for her kidnapping, learn her future fate, and worse...not be able to bear the truth. For the hours she’d sat upstairs she’d purposefully picked ignorance over madness.

But now, while managing to untwist the metal hanger and free her ankles she forced herself to wonder as calmly as possible about her future. For a fleeting moment Kara felt a desperate pang to know. Was she facing death in this basement?

Perhaps she should try and steel her nerves for what might come. She certainly needed to steel her shaken confidence and force a smile to her lips in the face of the weathered man who’d stalked up behind her. He touched her shoulder, fingering the light fabric of her silk blouse.

Kara flinched. He crowded her until she’d pressed herself up to a wall. A second man, much younger than the first, approached. The two spoke in a language Kara couldn’t recognize. She spoke a smattering of French and Spanish. It didn’t sound like either. Nor did it sound Arabic, a language she didn’t understand but had heard her college roommate speak during long phone calls home enough to recognize.

Their bronze skin could identify them as natives of any number of countries, most possibly somewhere in South America. But that was only a guess. The light in the basement wasn’t very bright and Kara wasn’t thinking straight at the moment. The older man was still touching her blouse with his grimy hands. The second man reached out to join in.

That was too much, simply too much to expect a normal woman to take. Kara opened her mouth and let a healthy scream spill out. She screamed for the fear of what these men might do and for the rage of what had already been done for her. The sound filled the room and continued even beyond what she thought her burning lungs could sustain.

“Hush, chère.” A woman whose leathery face was heavily lined gathered Kara into her arms. She rocked her like a babe, rubbing her back and whispering soothing sounds with a fluid accent. Kara peered nervously around the room, blinking through the tears she didn’t know she’d shed and found the two men standing a few feet away. Both men wore nasty grimaces. A few other men, with equally menacing expressions, joined them. Their predatory gazes locked onto her.

Unable to sustain what she’d had left of her brave front, Kara buried her head in the kind woman’s embrace and hid.

“What in the--!” Devon charged into the room, nearly diving down the long, narrow stairs. He peeled Kara away from the safety of the ancient woman’s arms, dredged her to her feet, and dangled her like a toy at the end of his outstretched arm. For the moment, he seemed more concerned for the older woman than for Kara. He spoke gently to the woman, who answered him with what sounded like a sharp tongue. Kara couldn’t understand a word, but she guessed by the tone that Devon was getting a stern lecture.

He took it like a man, nodding and listening patiently to the little old woman telling him off. When she finally finished, she gave Devon a thump on the arm and wandered back to her work.

Devon’s gaze still ignored Kara. He shot the men who’d encircled them a killing glance and uttered some sharp words himself. The men backed off, returning to their work as well.

Then, and only after Devon had sucked in several deep breaths, did he turn his blue eyes toward Kara.

“I told you to stay out of trouble,” he said.

“I didn’t do anything,” she shouted. She hated how raspy her voice sounded and how sore her throat felt. No matter how bad things got, she swore at that moment she would not lower herself and ask this man for help. He was arrogant, imperial, dangerous, a kidnapper. Definitely not someone she should trust. “I was just sitting on the floor where you left me and those men started to--”

He grabbed her arms and gave her a nasty shake. “Don’t you understand the truth by now?”

No, she didn’t. How could she?

He shook her again as if shaking her could explain anything. “No one here believes you have a drop of humanity in those lovely veins of yours.”

“What? Why? I haven’t done--”

“Because you’re American! Look at you. Look at what you’re wearing. The latest fashions purchased at ultra-low prices. I bet you’ve never stopped to wonder where those clothes come from, have you? Or how they can cost so little. You, like the rest of Western society, don’t care. And everyone in this room knows that. To them, you’re a devil--a demon--the root of all sorrow. Given the chance, they’d happily kill you.”

No. That couldn’t be true. What had she ever done to anyone to deserve this kind of hatred? Nothing. Less than nothing. She gave to charity. Went to church every Sunday. Heck, she didn’t even cheat on her taxes. She just wanted to save a few dollars...not a great crime.

This was just too unfair.

Devon gave her arm a squeeze and captured her eyes in his deep, blue gaze. “I’ll keep them from torturing you.”

Torture? When did the idea of torture enter the room? Her head suddenly felt lighter than air. “This is insane,” she muttered.

“The world is insane,” he said with a lazy shrug.

Dejected--Devon wasn’t helping to boost her mood--she strolled across the room and sat down on the floor next to the brown-skinned old woman who’d coddled her. She was skillfully sewing a banner.

“You don’t think I’m a devil?” she asked.

The woman’s fingers stilled. After several moments she lifted her weary head, revealing lines sorrow and pain had etched over time on her plain features.

“A devil?” The old woman shook her head. “Devils have the power to inflict pain and cause corruption, do they not?”

Kara furrowed her brows. “Yes. But I didn’t--”

“Devils don’t care about the trail of pain the leave in their path. Everything is forward. Everything is for personal gain, is it not?”

Of course she couldn’t argue with that. “But I’m not--”

“You’re not?” The old woman cradled Kara’s soft hands in her hard, callused palm. Her unnaturally bent fingers curled around Kara’s perfectly manicured nails. And then just like the man who’d scared Kara into a corner, this weathered, old woman reached out and fingered her silky blouse. She studied the stitching carefully. “I sewed that blouse. See those stitches, they’re mine. At the factory in my village...that’s what I do to survive now, sew fancy blouses.”

“It’s beautiful. You do wonderful work.”

There was no pride or satisfaction reflected in the woman’s tired eyes. Only a tearing pain.

Words failed Kara. She felt even more nervous than when those two men were crowding her.

“You should be proud,” she said after a long, awkward silence.

“Proud?” Anger soared in the woman’s voice. “Why? They pay me a penny for every five I can sew. I have to work long into the night just to make enough money to put food on the table.” She fiddled with the banner in front of her for a moment before looking back up to Kara again. “You want to know what I see when I look at you?”

“Yes, I honestly do.”

“I see a woman who doesn’t care if I live or die.” The woman’s flat accusation cut Kara deep in her chest. She’d prided herself on being a loving person, a good Christian.

“I don’t know you,” Kara protested. “If I did, I’d care. I can’t possibly worry about and feel responsible for every single person alive. I’d go insane. I worry about myself--and those closest to me. That’s what living life is about.”

The woman choked on a gravelly laugh. “You know so little and don’t wish to know more. That’s what I see. Just like a devil, you laughingly live while others die.”

How dare this woman who’d lived sequestered in an isolated village judge her? The nerve. The gall. Jeez, there was nothing wrong with her. These people in this dank basement were the warped, twisted, hateful ones--not her.

“Well, since you’re so perfect.” Kara crossed her arms and held her jaw so tight the tight pain in her temple returned. “Explain it to me. Explain how I should live my life.”

“I cannot tell you how to live.” She touched her hand to the center of Kara’s chest. “You have to feel it here. No one can speak words to you and change what dwells inside there.”

“Try.” Kara knew how to be stubborn.

The woman heaved a deep sigh. “Doesn’t matter anyhow with you,” she muttered. “I’m here because of my family. I lost them last year. The factory--the one where I work, where nearly everyone in our village works--was built by the government. Jobs bring money which brings improved living conditions, we were told. Go work at the factory, we were told.”

“Makes sense. Without my job, I wouldn’t be able to afford these clothes. I work hard too.” A blaze of heat stung Kara’s cheeks as a fresh wave of anger flowed through her.

The woman only shook her head. “Our life wasn’t horrible before the factory. We lived off the land and managed. But now our government has sold everything. Some company in Ohio owns our water supply. We used to get water for free. Now only those with enough money can drink clean water. Foreigners have cut down our forests. I don’t even know where the lumber went. Doesn’t matter. The forest is gone and when the rains came this year, the whole side of the mountain collapsed onto homes that have stood for generations. My entire family died in the mudslide.”

“You need to protest to your government. Tell them to protect you from outside interests. I can’t do that for you.”

“No, no you can’t. All you can do is buy the goods to support the system that kills my family and demand more for less, throwing away what doesn’t appeal to you anymore.” The woman shook her head. “I don’t pity you. I thought I might, but I don’t.”

“Pity me? Pity me why? Why kidnap me?” Kara shook her bound, raw wrists emphasizing her plight.

Before the woman had a chance to answer, a pair of rigid hands wrenched Kara from the floor.

“You’ll find out soon enough,” the owner of those hands growled.

Kara blinked. Oh goodness. Her legs barely supported her weight. There was no way she could fall though. Oh goodness.

Lispo kept a death-grip on her arms...she couldn’t fall to escape. He knew it and he was smiling.

“You’re not supposed to hurt me,” she said, sounding much braver than her quivering insides made her feel. “Devon said--”

“Devon isn’t here.”

The pronouncement rang like a death knell. What did he mean Devon wasn’t there? Hadn’t Devon promised to protect her? To keep them from--Kara swallowed hard--from torturing her? Of all the unreliable, flighty things a kidnapper could do. Didn’t he have some kind of responsibility to her? Sure he did. He’d gotten her into this mess.

This kidnapping certainly wasn’t her fault.

“Devon?” Kara twisted in Lispo’s arms. “Devon!” Her frantic gaze searched the dim basement. There wasn’t a blond-headed man in sight.

Lispo bait. That’s what she’d become. The mammoth of a man completely ignored her kicking and squirming as he dragged her toward the steps.

“Put her down,” the woman sewer who no longer pitied Kara said sharply to Lispo.

He stared at the old woman for several moments. Her fingers were busy once again stitching the banner. Her attentions fastened to the satiny thread. It was as if she’d already forgotten Kara.

Kara held her breath, waiting for the horrors to begin.

Amazingly, Lispo, his gaze still warily on the old woman, released Kara’s wrists. He gave a deep grunt and climbed the stairs out of the basement.

This was bad, real bad. And her situation wasn’t going to get better. Kara drew a deep breath. A sense of aloneness pricked her heart. No one paid any attention to her. No one cared.

She pulled herself to her feet. No one took any notice. She cautiously climbed the stairs. Still, no one lifted a head or shouted a warning.

This could work. This could actually work.

She eased the door leading out of the basement open and peered out. The workers were gone. The factory floor deserted. With great caution she stepped through the main office and into the sweatshop, taking note of any and everything that could be of use. A phone sat silent on an abandoned desk, a heavy pipe leaned up against a wall, and a bolt of fabric lay on a table. These were all good to know.

Kara’s mind began clicking--piecing scenarios together and watching them play out in her mind. Nothing worked. Nothing assured escape--except.

Of course. How stupid could she get? Such a silly thing to overlook too.

She could simply run.

Her heart thundering in her chest, she ran. Escape was just a few paces away. Once her feet hit the outside, she’d be free. They couldn’t touch her out there in front of everyone.

She pushed open the double green doors she’d watched hours before as workers came and left through them. That was the way out...her salvation.

Bright rays of sunshine momentarily blinded her as she charged headlong into safety. Her legs burned as she ran, top speed from the building, not watching where she was going but mindful of where she’d been.

Lispo was following. She saw his great body swaying as he ran. She tripped through a great crowd of people, all shouting and waving banners and signs, and ducked under a wooden platform draped with colorful fabric.

“Excuse-excuse me,” she stammered breathlessly.

A man dressed in a white linen suit looking unnaturally cool and fresh in the midst of all this heat and humidity dropped a heavy box in his hands, exclaimed an oath in a language she didn’t understand, and whirled around, his eyes widened with surprise.

“What--?” His eyes widened further. His gaze touched the clothes hanger still binding her wrists. “What are you doing here?” He took a broad step toward her.

“You must help me,” she said in a rush. “There are some bad men after me. I’m afraid they might find me and hold me against my will again.”

The man’s startled expression softened as he listened to her rambling explanation. He took hold of her arms. “Is that so? This is terrible, simply terrible.”

“Can you help me get away from here?” Finally, this ordeal would be over. Relief poured through her. Her legs may have well been made from jelly they turned so wobbly.

“Of course,” his watery voice tripped over his lips. His hold on her arms tightened. “Of course I can help you.”

He called out in his native tongue, a lyrical language once she took the time to listen to it. Almost instantly the fabric covering the platform parted.

Devon, tall and blonde and frighteningly all too real, stepped into the darkened space.

Kara jerked, desperate to twist away from the man in the suit. “That’s one of them,” she shouted. Her rescuer swiftly covered her mouth with his hand.

“What is the meaning of this?” he asked Devon.

She shouldn’t be afraid. The man in the suit had promised to help her, hadn’t he?

Devon glared at Kara though a hint of amusement played at his lips. He shrugged elegantly. “I’m not sure.”

Not sure? Not sure? What a blasted lie.

He knew exactly what was going on, the jerk. He kidnapped her. If only that nice man in the suit would lift his hand from against her lips. She itched to blurt out a lengthy list against the scoundrel playing the innocent in front of her.

“Well you better get sure...and fast. The WTO delegates are scheduled to leave the building at four this afternoon. We don’t have the time for slip-ups like this. It’s all or nothing, you know that.”

“Yes sir,” Devon mumbled.

“There are too many people counting on us.” The suited man’s fluid voice grew sharp. “If this doesn’t work, it’ll be your head. You understand?”

Devon paled. “I understand.”

The man gave a stiff nod and clamped down even harder on Kara’s arms, pinching them until they turned numb. “We can’t just leave her here. What do you plan to do?”

“Um...” Devon still hadn’t recovered from the threat. He could barely think beyond what would’ve happened to him if Kara hadn’t stumbled into Jocko’s arms. This group wasn’t anything like the boy scouts. There were no second chances here, only bullets and shallow graves.

Kara squirmed in Jocko’s arms, the willowy princess didn’t know enough to be deathly afraid of the situation she’d stumbled into. Jocko would snap her neck if she wasn’t necessary to carry out the plan. After today, the world would sit up and take notice. After today, no one would dare turn their backs on their suffering.

“I’ll return her to the factory. The side door’s not ten feet away.” Kara squirmed again. Devon could see where Jocko’s fingers were biting into her skin. He had to get her away from the madman quickly.

“She’ll put up a fuss. That can’t be allowed.”

“She’ll come willingly.” Devon shot Kara a look, praying she’d take the cue. “She won’t give you any more trouble. You can release her.”

Jocko didn’t ease his hold right away. Devon held his breath, wondering what he could do to save Kara from needless suffering. He didn’t want her to feel pain. That was the plan...it was to be painless.

“Look at her. She’s like a terrified doe. I promise, she won’t do anything. Let her go.”

Jocko sighed deeply and released Kara. Devon held his breath anxiously waiting for her to do something stupid, like scream. It would be his head if she did.

She stood in the middle of the darkened space beneath the platform, rubbing her arms. Her lips were swollen, bruised from Jocko’s rough treatment. Her rabbit’s gaze darted from Devon to Jocko. The smell of fear filled his nostrils, which wasn’t a good sign. Fear equaled unpredictability.

“Do what I tell you, sweetie,” Devon said, holding his hands out in front of his. His palms were empty, unthreatening. “I told you I wouldn’t let them torture you, but you have to do what I say.”

Her silky neck constricted as she swallowed deeply. She gave a deep nod.

Devon drew off his khaki shirt and draped it over her arms to hide the hanger holding her wrists together. He locked his arm with hers and led her out into the sunlight. “We’ll be in the factory.”

“I’ll join you in an hour,” Jocko said. Something in his tone made Devon worry. An hour from now someone was going to get hurt.

Badly hurt.

Kara walked compliantly by his side for less than a couple of steps. She stopped then and stubbornly refused to budge.

“Please don’t make me toss you over my shoulder,” he whispered. This pending blow-up with Jocko was making him nervous, too nervous.

“WTO,” she said, ignoring his plea. “World Trade Organization, right?”

He nodded. “Let’s go.”

“That man setting up the platform said the delegates would be leaving at four. What does he mean?”

“There’s a conference just across the street. The delegates come and go in full view of this factory. That’s why there are so many protesters lining the street. That’s why we are here.”

“Protesting?” she asked.

He gave he arm a yank to get her moving again. If Jocko saw this, he’d have a fit. “Yes, protesting.”

“What?” She fought being dragged. “Protesting what?”

“Globalization.” He gave her another pull. “We’ve got to get you back inside. It’s not safe to stand out here.”

“Globalization...like what that woman in the basement was telling me about? Her village? Her losing her family because of the improper timber harvesting?”

“Yes.” He scooped her up. “Everyone here has suffered catastrophic loses from globalization.”

She didn’t seem to mind being carried. Perhaps he’d done it enough times that she’d gotten used to the feel of his arms around her.

“Even you?” she asked.

“Yes.”

He didn’t want to talk about it.

Instead, he kicked open the side door and marched back into the factory. Only after the door slammed closed behind him did Kara struggle to be set down.

“How?” Her feet had barely touched the ground when the question popped out. “How were you harmed?”

He really didn’t want to talk about it. The pain was still too raw. “None of your business.” He grabbed his shirt from her bound wrists and thrust his arms through the sleeves.

“None of my--? You made it my business. You brought me here and made all this my business.”

He pressed his hand to her mouth before she started shouting in earnest, taking more care than Jocko to not harm her. “Please, you don’t understand the situation. Please, don’t make so much noise. I can’t protect you if you do.”

She pulled away and laughed. It was a nervous sound. “Protect me? Is that what you’re doing? That-that mammoth of a man in the basement was going to maul me if I hadn’t gotten away.”

He was? He’d kill him, take a knife a plunge it into his muscle-bound throat. “I told Lispo not to touch you. I’m sorry I wasn’t here. I had to help with preparations.”

“Preparations for what?”

“This afternoon.”

Tired of answering questions, Devon hauled Kara over his shoulder and carried her back down to the basement. It didn’t stop her from talking. Non-stop questions bombarded his ears all the way down, but he kept his lips sealed and his mind trained on the wrongs done to him.

Jocko might swing chillingly to the extreme with some of his ideas, but he was dead right with this plan. This was their only option--to strike at the heart at the problem, to hurt the consumer supporting the dirty business practices. It was the only way to reap a small measure of revenge against an unjust world.

* * * * *

Kara began to wonder again why she’d been kidnapped. Devon kept alluding to her purpose. And that they were preparing for this afternoon.

To do what?

Why did it involve her?

She really didn’t want to think about it.

She wandered around the basement. It was mostly empty now. The workers had taken their banners and their papers and climbed the stairs nearly an hour ago. Only Devon and Lispo remained behind. Lispo growled at her whenever she glanced in his direction. She made sure to steer clear of him while she wandered.

Devon slumped in a metal chair, cradling his head. His silence accompanied by that flat expression alarmed her. She’d rather hear him call her “sweetie” in a mocking tone and quirking silly grins than suffer his tension.

“It’s almost time,” Lispo said. He cracked his knuckles and advanced on Kara. Whatever was coming, it was something that monster was looking forward to.

“Jocko will come for her,” Devon whispered, not bothering to lift his listless head. “Leave her be.”

Not three minutes later Jocko descended down the steps with the workers dressed like a small army following behind. Devon took to his feet.

“Everything is ready,” Jocko said.

Nobody cheered, but the anticipation in the room was palatable. This was definitely an event this group had worked hard to achieve. Even Kara’s heart picked up its beat.

“The army we are about to face will try to kill us. Once the act is done--run. If you don’t run fast enough or hide well enough, you will die.”

Jocko’s warning sent a shiver down Kara’s back. What were they planning that was so dangerous?

“Remember. There is no room for a misstep. We’ve suffered enough today already. We nearly lost our captive because of one of you.”

With a quick move, Jocko pulled a gun from his pocket and shot Lispo in the head. Just like that, the man fell dead.

Dead. Kara’s escape from this madness brought on another’s death. Her actions killed a man. She could barely catch her breath. Shock chilled her bones, hurting her. She began to sink to the ground. Devon wrapped his arms around her from behind and gave her support.

“No more mistakes,” Jocko said to the rest of the stunned people in the room. “This is war and their army is much bigger than ours. We all have to stay focused. Understand?”

No one spoke but many nodded. All eyes were trained on Lispo’s utterly still body sprawled in the dirt and the pool of blood spreading out like a gruesome halo.

“Let’s go.” Jocko was the first to make the climb back out of the basement. One by one his followers trailed past Lispo and took the stairs up to their destiny as well.

Devon tugged on Kara’s hand. His fingers trembled. “Stay close to me,” he whispered.

Kara followed the end of the procession with Devon a step behind. The air burned her tightly constricted lungs. All she could think about was Lispo lying dead on the ground. When she blinked, she could still see his sightless eyes staring after her.

“Don’t fall apart,” Devon whispered when a sob escaped her lips.

Don’t fall apart? What was he thinking? This was terrible, simply terrible. What kind of person pulls out a gun and kills someone? What was going on here?

When they neared the door, Devon took Kara’s hand and held her back, spinning her around. He kissed her fiercely. “I’m getting you out of here.” He pushed her toward a back exit.

“But they’ll kill you.” She fought him as he dragged her by both wrists across the concrete floor.

“Worry about yourself for a moment, sweet. The plan has always been to kill you. They’re going to march you out onto the platform set up out there and in front of the WTO delegates and the world’s press put a bullet in your head. I’ve got to get you out now.” He gave her arm a mighty tug. “Come!”

Kara went deathly pale. She tripped over her own feet before finding her balance and willingly running after him. “I don’t want to die.” Her hollow voice was a shadow of her former spirited self.

“No one does.” Devon silently cursed himself for being a fool...hundred times a fool. He didn’t want to die either. But by hoping to save Kara, he’d as good as plotted his own death.

A cry of alarm echoed through the empty factory just as he reached the back exit. He tossed Kara through the door. Out the corner of his eye he spotted Jocko and several of the healthier workers sprinting after him.

“Run!” She had to get away. Now. And fast.

He’d catch up, but he wanted to slow their pursuers first. His gaze searched the walls and floor for something--anything--to serve as a roadblock. He pulled a nearby fire alarm, hoping to set off warning bells and sprinklers...nothing happened.

A guard desk sat near the door next to a mechanical time clock. Shots ricocheted off the metal walls and helped Devon to find a renewed burst of strength. With a single pull, he managed to wedge the desk completely in the doorway.

A second series of shots nearly deafened him. He ducked his head, wincing at a sudden sting in his side. The desk wouldn’t slow Jocko long, but it would just have to do. Staying behind had turned too dangerous.

Devon dove over the desk and out the door during a brief lull in the gunfire. He had no trouble spotting Kara. Her mad dash created a ripple through the crowds gathered for the WTO protest. All he had to do was follow in her wake.

It took several blocks before he caught her arm and pulled her off the main road and down a narrow alleyway. Devon knew these twisted streets like the back of his hand. Kara didn’t have the breath left in her lungs to protest, which was good.

He wasn’t in the mood to explain.

He ran a twisting route down one street and up another. It seemed haphazard.

“Are you lost?” Kara finally managed to shout. She wasn’t in prime shape and her burning legs were just about at the point of collapsing under her.

“No. Don’t stop.” Devon kept his hand clamped over her bound wrists, pulling her. If she fell, she had no doubt that he’d drag her.

He was insane. And she was insane for trusting him. He’d gotten her into this mess. He’d plotted to get her killed. She really shouldn’t follow him.

She tried to jerk free and find her own way, but his hand refused to release her.

“We’re almost there,” he called over his shoulder. “You can’t rest now.”

They ran down a narrow cobblestone street, with laundry strung above their heads and garbage cans standing guard at the doorways. He was taking her deeper into the city, deeper into trouble. All sorts of alarms began clanging in Kara’ head.

“Stop!” she shouted and let her feet sail out from beneath her. Her rear cracked against the pavement, something she knew going in she’d regret.

Her sudden stop sent Devon flying. His bottom slammed against the pavement not a second later. He cursed.

His shouted oaths, not all English, blistered Kara’s ears.

They also attracted the attention of a pair of police officers. The officers, dressed in full riot gear, must have wandered away from the protests. They took one look at Devon and then at Kara and charged forward, drawing their guns.

“Over here!” Kara called. Seeing the police approach was the most welcome sight in the world.

“Shut up,” Devon muttered. He pulled to his feet and darted down an alley. One officer stayed with her while another took off in pursuit of Devon.

“You Kara Banks?” The officer quickly holstered his gun. He cocked his head as he stared at her.

She gave a broad nod.

“You okay?” he asked then, a wide smile coming to lips. “World worried after you.” His mastery of English was clearly limited. He glanced down the street Devon had disappeared. The sound of gunfire simmered in Kara’s ears. She leapt to her feet. “Don’t worry after Devon Turner. He won’t hurt you.” The officer smiled as a few more shots were fired. “He dead.”

Kara sucked in a deep breath. Dead? Devon’s dead?

“No--” she whispered.

* * * * * *

“These pants are to die for, don’t you agree?” Kara’s best friend beamed a smile and held up a pair of black, silk Capri pants. They were lovely. The stitching tight, the fabric the highest quality.

“And the price, it’s a steal.” She waggled the yellow price tag under Kara’s nose. Twenty dollars, it read.

“To die for,” Kara mumbled. Her stomach cramped.

An image of the old woman, with her crooked fingers whipping stitches for pennies, blazed in her mind. Did anyone suffer making those pants? She snatched them out of her friend’s hands and peeked under the label. They weren’t manufactured in the United States. Who knew what kind of labor practices the country of origin employed. She sure didn’t know.

“What’s wrong? Do you need to go sit down?”

“No.” Kara pushed the pants back into her friend’s hands. “Put them back.” Her voice sounded raspy. “You don’t know where they came from.”

“Where they came from? You’re joking.”

“I’m not.” She fled the store.

Her friend hastily hung the pants on the nearest rack and followed. “What’s the matter with you?”

“I do care, that’s what. I can’t shop here.”

Her friend just shook her head. “You’ve really lost your mind, Kara.”

Her friend’s chiding echoed in her head that night as she settled in, sipping on herbal tea she’d purchased from the local organic grocery store. That kidnapping disaster had changed her...perhaps she had lost her mind.

She’d become an instant celebrity for all of a month. But even after the media interest died down and her days returned to normal, she felt different inside. She was more aware.

And her thoughts on quiet evenings like these strayed to that scoundrel, Devon. She never learned what had pushed him over the edge, what had caused him to kidnap her in the first place. He’d alluded to something terrible happening in his life, something he blamed on the globalization of the markets.

He believed she was a devil and yet he’d given his life to save her. Despite what the news reporters said. He wasn’t evil, just as she wasn’t evil. Personal choice and perception; the combination caused all sorts of trouble.

“Sweetie?” A whispered word and a light tap on the window leading out to the fire escape made her think she must be losing her mind.

What in the--?

“Sweetie, I’m about to freeze out here.” The voice was all too real. The irritation unmistakable.

Kara dropped her cup of tea and flew across the room. She pushed open the window sash without thinking.

“I thought you were dead.” Her heart beat wildly in her chest. She had so much to tell him...so many questions.

“I’ve a couple of unnecessary holes now, but I’m far from dead.”

His teasing smile wiped all good sense away. She stepped back as he climbed into her apartment.

“I can’t stay long,” he said a moment before he stole a fleeting kiss. “I just had to see for myself that you survived.”

Click Here to Return to Homepage for A Good Read