Sin: A Survival Romance Fiction (Her Story Trilogy Book 1) Read online

  SIN

  Kensley Hatch

  DEDICATION

  To those who have lived through the trauma of abuse and injustice. May you refuse to be silenced and know that you are the strongest of souls.

  If it be a sin to covet honor, I am the most offending soul.

  William Shakespear

  Chapter 1

  A blood red rose lay on the workstation table in bleak contrast to the concrete walls and glaring yellow light coming from the ceiling. Summer immediately took it in her hand and crumpled the delicate petals inside her apron pocket. Discreetly, she pulled it from its stem and threw it underneath a chair a few spots down from her. Her heart beat faster as she sat down in her assigned chair and waited for her ankles to be shackled to the thick oak of the table. She tried to keep her face emotionless, but was struggling with the response that the sight had born inside of her. The only roses in the area were those that grew in the wild, ten feet outside of the perimeter of the twenty-foot electric fence.

  “He has found a way out.” The words pounded in her mind like a war drum.

  The harsh buzzer sounded, signaling for work to begin and Summer watched with relief as the conveyor belt started, and the room filled with the sound of drills at work. Summer picked up her electric screwdriver and commenced to tighten the same three screws that connected two black metal pieces together before they moved along to the next station. They weren’t supposed to know what they were building, but when others stole glances at the clock that was at the far end of the room, Summer stole a look to see the partially finished product before it disappeared into the hole that took it to the next assembly room. It was something for military use, Summer was sure of that.

  She had initially been assigned to the clothing department with her mother and sister. Their job had been to fold and package the goods into boxes that she assumed were being shipped off by the thousands.

  “The nation that has the money has the power.” She told herself as she helped in the final arrangement of these purely nonmilitant products.

  That had been evident enough when the US economy had crashed with hyperinflation after China had called in all American debt. Summer could remember people hauling loads of dollar bills in the back of their trucks to hopefully exchange it for two loaves of bread out of the quickly depleting supplies at the grocery store. It had seemed like terribly unfortunate timing considering the precarious international position that America had recently been put in with the bombing of North Korea.

  When the bombings first happened, Summer had clung to the idea that order would be restored soon. In the first week, there were still news stations reporting on the situation, and they were talking about organizations like the UN and NATO. It seemed that this was just a terrible national crisis that the US government would recover from just like it had always done before. Summer hadn’t been born when the Twin Towers got hit, but she remembered how her mother talked about it. She had spoken with that same sense of heightened emergency in the air, and although it scared her as a child, her mother’s story always ended with the country recovering and moving on.

  It had seemed like an act of national suicide when North Korea had first nuked Hawaii and then Los Angeles. The United States had responded with all of its pent up military stockpiles, and it was reckoned that there was not a square mile of land in the former country of North Korea that would be able to grow trees for at least another twenty years. Once again, it had seemed like an American victory against an inferior attacker. However, that was when the real enemy moved.

  In response to North Korea’s desolation, China applied international sanctions on the US, crippling the economy and ostracizing the US from the rest of the world. It seemed like the UN Security Council was begging to grovel at the feet of the world’s new superpower and the rest of the international community quietly sided with the Eastern state.

  And then the real bombings began. First, it was the White House, and then the Pentagon, but soon it spread to nearly every state sitting along the eastern coast of the United States.The decimated cities and dead bodies that littered them did not tell whether or not they had been hit by missiles or nukes; they only showed the evidence of destruction without regard to the method used for it. As the weeks passed, like billboards in the window of a speeding car, the news stations eventually began to die. The remaining ones stopped talking about solutions and became more and more frantic as the end seemed further away. Eventually, even the hysteria extinguished itself, and the last report she remembered listening to was the half-hearted plea to the rest of the world to intercede on behalf of the United States. Yet, the world merely responded in silence as they watched the first Chinese troops land on American soil.

  Summer didn’t have a great deal of time to think about the past international conflicts, however, as she quickly became one of the fastest producers in the clothing department. Her swift hands and systematic order of folding, placing, and taping was enough to draw attention from the wardens who sat at the head of each table. They were in charge of keeping numbers high while sitting next to the large stopwatch display and counter that ticked away with each box that disappeared into the hole. Soon two of the four guards who roamed the aisles between the tables were standing over Summer, and her shackles were removed as they lifted her from the bench. That was when she was moved to her current position, which was more mindless work yet went at a quicker pace, requiring continued attentiveness throughout the sixteen-hour shifts.

  The sleeping quarters were strictly segregated by gender, but the assembly room for the military equipment was a mix of those who Summer assumed had been picked out in the same way that she had been. Her fourteen-year-old brother, Michael, was sitting further down the line with the rest of the men and boys. Systematically, he came up to her every night after the buzzer rang for the second time and it was no different for the particular night that she recalled from her memory now.

  “Tired?”

  Summer had simply nodded and shuffled her way through the crowd to the warehouse room that served as their cafeteria. They stood in line while waiting to spot their mom and Tania. As they all sat down together, they were joined by a man who Summer recognized as the man who sat next to Michael in the assembly line. He passed his block of rye bread to Meline who cautiously, and then gratefully, took it and divided it among her three children.

  Michael introduced the man with deep-set eyes and recently cut blonde hair.

  “This is Bridger.”

  Summer took the piece of bread from her mother and sized the newcomer up. He had a different look from those who had worked at the concentration camp for more than a couple of months— the glazed expression that masked any personality in the hundreds of faces who Summer came to recognize by physical attributes only. Conversation was not allowed on the work floor, nor was it much of a possibility with the incessant noise that came from the machinery, which no longer had to be regulated by any union or federal department. Usually, by the time her shift was at an end, Summer no longer had the desire to talk. Like sheep, she would file in with the rest of the women as they were herded to the rooms full of bunk bed frames without mattresses to catch the few hours of sleep that they were allowed.

  She had heard a few snatches of idle gossip from the girls in the next frame down from her. Apparently, this Bridger character had evaded escape from the Chinese capture squads for quite some time and had finally appeared at the concentration camp only after they had starved him out of his hiding place. Now, as she watched him eat his tasteless d
inner from the compartmentalized trays they all had, she saw a flicker in his eyes every time a guard passed by their table.

  “It takes twelve minutes for one guard to circle the room,” Bridger spoke low, keeping his head down as he shoveled more food into his mouth.

  Summer mentally noted the numbers showing on the dial on the wall as her eyes followed one of the men in the tan uniforms holding the massive assault rifle.

  Twelve minutes exactly.

  “It takes four minutes for them to switch shifts,” Summer added, drawing scared looks from her family. She noted the half-second when Bridger paused before sticking his fork into his mouth.

  “I’ve seen them do it every night this past month. Only a couple of guards stay on duty when it happens. Once at midnight and once at noon.”

  They finished their meal in silence, but when Summer stood up, Bridger flipped her wrist over to reveal the five digits that had been burned into her skin with lasers.

  “I’m looking for a weak point in the fence. I’ll keep you updated.”

  He released her wrist quickly to avoid any unwanted eyes. That had been eight days ago, and she reasoned the rose this morning had been his update.

  She tried to remain as inconspicuous as possible while she worked through the present shift. A look down the way towards her brother and Bridger was inconceivable now, even though she often did it on previous days. The hours always felt slow, but today it felt as if time had broken and no longer progressed at all. The screech of the buzzer never sounded more blessed than when it finally announced her shift ending at 11:30 PM. She waited impatiently to be unlocked from her position at the table and herded into the sleeping quarters.

  A male guard was going down the line, bending down to reach each worker’s ankles. He was four people away from her when he stood back up, holding something in his hand.

  It was the stem that Summer had discarded at the beginning of the day.

  The warden stood up from his seat near the end of the table and shouted Chinese that no one could understand. The guard dutifully brought the stem to him and gave it up to be examined.

  “Who does this belong to?” The warden shouted in articulate English.

  Summer kept her head down as a buzz spread throughout the room from the excited whisperings of her neighbors. The warden rarely spoke in English, but it always meant something punitive was about to happen when he did.

  “You!” The warden pointed at the girl who was sitting in the chair that the stem had been laying underneath.

  The girl had a pale complexion and large frightened eyes.

  “It’s not mine!” She cried, but the guards had already removed her from her place and dragged her to kneel in front of the warden.

  He began to shout in strings of Chinese that sounded like the swiftness of an execution blade. The two guards at her side lifted her from the ground and carried her into another room with her screaming and sobbing as she pleaded for mercy.

  The room went totally silent after she had been removed as those who were left sat in stunned submission. Summer held her hands in her lap to try to stop them from shaking. When her ankles were unlocked, she headed down the row of chairs where the other women were exiting. As she passed Michael, he slipped her a folded piece of paper that had been ripped off from the paper covering of the work station. Summer kept it at her side and doubled both of her fists as she left the room.

  Once she was safely isolated in her bunk, Summer unfolded the paper and glanced at the words scratched on it with hurried penmanship.

  Be ready at midnight.

  The writing was unfamiliar to Summer, but it was clear who had written it down for Michael to give to her. There was creaking as people stirred on top of their bunks, and the thought occurred to Summer that there would still be some fellow prisoners who might remain awake at midnight. In a way, the unrelenting work schedule was a blessing since it wore her out enough that the uncomfortable wooden platform of her bed frame didn’t stop her from falling asleep each night.

  However, this night was an exception as she watched with heightened awareness while the female guards took the ladders down from the bunk beds and put in the codes that lifted the bars to create individual cells per a bed. One code was assigned for each bunk bed so that it locked three people up at a time. Reporting on any attempts at escape were encouraged and rewarded with extra rations of food.

  Summer knew this because she had tried to escape one time before, but had backed out last second, realizing she could never get her entire family out by herself. One of the other prisoners had watched her as she hesitated to make her move at escape and later she had to buy the woman’s silence by giving her extra rations from Summer’s own meals to make up for the reward ration the snitch would have received. In spite of this, Summer was desperate to get out of the camp that was smothering the life out of all of them, but she needed someone else who could help her. That’s why her blood was pumping so fast now and the hairs on her skin were raised up in anticipation: because this time it might actually work. Luckily, Summer had weaseled her way into the empty bunk at the bottom of Meline and Tania’s frame after the girl who had previously slept there had been taken away two days ago for unknown reasons.

  She saw the female guard getting close to her bunk and quickly shoved the message from Bridger into her mouth, swallowing it before the guard reached her. The woman in charge of putting in the codes to lock them in their cages seemed to have adopted the same lifeless expression as the captors she watched over. She barely looked at Summer as she inputted the code into the lock and moved onto the next frame. Summer wished she had been given time to tell Tania and her mom what was happening, but she was still shaken from the episode with the innocent girl and the broken stem. She doubted she would have been able to tell them anything with a steady voice.

  Soon, the lights were turned off, and Summer waited for the tick of midnight. The darkness that enveloped her was a relief since it made her feel invisible, and hopefully, undetectable. The guards stationed themselves outside of the closed door that let in slits of light from the hallway.

  There was quiet for a time until the imminent sound of footsteps down the corridor made the hair on Summer’s arm stand up as adrenaline poured into her veins. She rolled over to look through the bars that held her in and strained to see the person coming towards her.

  Summer pushed herself back against the wall as soon as she saw the tan pant legs of the military uniform, but it had already stopped in front of her bed. She shut her eyes to try to give the illusion of sleep and waited for the guard to pass on. There was a slight clink of metal, and when she dared to open her eyes again, the bars of her enclosure had gone down, and her mouth was instantly covered.

  Bridger made a shushing motion with his finger against his lips and carefully watched the locked door where the faded light seeped through and allowed them to see, even if it was only in shadows. The door remained shut, and Bridger moved above her to where Meline and Tania were. Summer continued to watch the door until Tania had nimbly swung down from the top bunk and her mother had landed quietly below as well. Their silhouettes were less noticeable with them wearing their grey jumpsuits as opposed to the tan that Bridger had donned. Summer was about to get up when Bridger signaled for her to stay.

  “Watch the door.” He whispered. “If the guards come, create a diversion.”

  Summer nodded and laid back down with her head craned outside of her bunk as she watched Bridger take her sister and mother away in the opposite direction. There was a small window that was about six feet up on the back corner, and Bridger lifted Tania and then Meline until they could wriggle their way through it. When Meline’s feet had disappeared into the black hole, Summer turned back to see the knob of the door turning. She rolled off her bed and tucked herself underneath it as the door swung open, letting in a rectangle of light that stretched along the middle aisl
e.

  Summer heard shouts in the tones of the female guards as they came bolting into the room. Though she hadn’t been taught any Chinese, Summer picked up on the word for ‘stop’ that she had deciphered from the commands that had been spewed at her over the months of her residency in the camp. The word was repeated and mixed with others until she saw Bridger being poked in the back with a baton as the two guards prodded him in front of them. As they came towards her, Summer saw less and less of them until only their legs and feet were visible to her underneath the bed frame.

  Bridger’s feet stopped in front of her, and Summer kicked her leg out to knock down the guards behind him. They fell to the ground, and Summer felt her body yanked from underneath the bed as Bridger pulled her out and stood her on her feet. The entire enclosure was waking up now as the two guards yelled loudly and Summer followed Bridger as they dashed for the door.

  The light was nearly blinding when they burst into the fully lit hallway, but they had little time to adjust to it since the sound of more shouts and running footsteps was coming from around the corner. Bridger ran in the opposite direction and Summer hit the wall as she followed his sharp turn down another hallway. There was a garbage shoot on the right as the passage opened up and Bridger lifted the lid while looking behind them for their pursuers. Summer didn’t have time to think before she was putting her feet inside of it and sliding down the dark tunnel.

  The landing hurt as she fell onto bumpy bags that felt like they were full of aluminum cans. The waste container didn’t have a lid on it, and Summer saw the night sky for the first time in a time span that she couldn’t remember. There was banging inside the shoot above her and Summer speedily moved over as Bridger came vaulting out of it. They both jumped from the bin and hid in between the one next to it.

  The exterior of the factory had been altered to fit its new role as a sweatshop under the invader’s control. The twenty-foot electric fence loomed all around them and headlights were circling around its perimeter. Luckily, the lights came from towers at the center of the yard and didn’t pass over where the garbage bins were sitting against the factory wall.