Sold Into Freedom - 13. Chapter 13

Later that night, Purple Gloves and Goulet shoved Matt into a small wooden boat. A portable lantern sat in the bow of the little craft. Purple Gloves rowed, and the oar locks squealed and rattled badly in their mounts. The choppy ocean slapped the vessel, and the currents tried to pull it off course. The oarsman was a wiley sailor and easily corrected their position.

The bottom boards where Matt was sitting prevented him from getting wet. Below the boards, water slowly seeped into the little boat from a tiny crack in the weathered wood.

While gazing upwards, Matt attempted to pick out and name the constellations. The perfect blackness of the sky allowed the stars to appear as shining beacons and gems.

"It's beautiful," Matt whispered.

Purple Gloves grinned and glanced at Goulet, who rolled his eyes.

I don't care what they think. It is beautiful. I only saw them back home if we drove miles out of the city. Matt looked at the two others from his place in the bow. "Can you tell me where we're going? Would that be too much to know?"

Goulet stared, remaining silent for a few minutes while considering whether it was safe to answer. After deciding, he said, "We're sailing north to the Outer Hebrides."

North? "Is it cold there?"

"Cold, wet, stormy. They're islands off the northwestern coast of Scotland in the Sea of Hebrides, part of the North Atlantic. Your new owner lives on some island there." Goulet lifted his large hand and pointed over the bow. "We're close."

Nodding, Purple Gloves continued to row with reduced power.

The waiting yacht was the Singing Spirit.

Matt twisted around and saw her outline ahead. She sat patiently in the water, waiting for her crew and new passenger to return.

Goulet whispered, "She's older but seaworthy. She'll get us there."

"Yeah, she's comfortable and pretty fast. She's eighteen meters, cruises at 9 knots." Purple Gloves lifted the oars and let their little row boat glide onwards. He started to row again when their speed slowed. "The three of us can handle her and we'll get you there safe."

Once aboard, Goulet led Matt to the yacht's lower deck while Purple Gloves was left to haul the small boat aboard and secure it to the swim platform.

"This boat is smaller than the last one I was on," Matt said as he took in his new surroundings.

"Gee, I'm sorry it's not up to your standards." Goulet tightened his grip on Matthews's left bicep.

"Ow." Matt squirmed, trying to free himself. "No, I'm not saying that. Sorry, I just noticed that's all."

"Just keep your trap shut. Life will be perfect then for me and you. Clear?"

"Yes, sir." Matt frowned but looked away from his captor.

Goulet pulled his prisoner to a stop and pushed a door open. "In here. You get the nice cabin. Davis or me will bring you out for food and air."

Davis must be Purple Gloves. "Okay." Matt stepped into the cabin.

"You got a TV, and the head's over there. There's some films and books." Goulet stood in the doorway. "We'll be back to feed you later on. You allergic to anything?" The man grinned. "We don't want to kill you before we deliver you."

The ball of dread that never left Matt's belly began to swell once more. It felt hard to breathe. Matty, don't be fooled by these people. They are not your friends. "No. No allergies."

"Good." Goulet nodded at the bunk. "Sleep. We'll be underway soon."

"Okay." Matt sat down slowly on the firm bed. He bent to pull off his shoes.

Goulet watched, unmoving. His mouth opened and closed several times before sound came from it. "Me, Davis, and Ivan…well, we have a job to do. Don't fuck around and make us do shit to you that we don't need to."

"I won't." Matt's heart pounded as the ball of fear in his gut expanded. He didn't move until the door closed and the lock clicked into place.

Matt took several deep breaths. Calm down, Matty. Do as they say, don't fight this. After nodding to himself, he slid off the damp sweatpants and laid them over the back of the wooden chair. It sat under the small table, which was bolted to the wall.

I'll lie down and try to sleep. Matt let himself pretend that Ahmet slipped an arm around him from behind. He'd always felt safe in his lover's embrace, and Matt's imagination generously held Ahmet there as he slept.

He woke a few hours later; the ship's motion told him they were underway. I'll ask again later how long it should take to get there. I hope the new guy is better than Kanaan was. He sighed, not wanting to think a new owner might be worse. I want to go home. Brief thoughts of home and family entered his thoughts. Do you, Matty? Was home that great a place?

No, it wasn't after Dad died. Matt lay on the thin mattress with his thoughts. Mom was hurting and tired. She loved him. The insurance paid for the house, and he left enough but took most of her with him. Maybe my not being there helped somehow. He turned onto his back and stared upwards. I do want to go home.

⸛

As promised, Davis, formerly Purple Gloves, took Matt onto the deck a few hours later for air and some exercise. Davis didn't seem to mind spending time with their captive cargo.

"Sit down. Later today, we'll stop in Brest, France, to pick up the fuel we need for the rest of the trip." Davis sat down on the padded bench beside Matt. "For obvious reasons, you'll be locked in your cabin and restrained."

Matt shook his head. "You have to? I'll be good."

Davis smiled. "Don't fight us okay, Matthew? Ivan and Goulet don't need me so I'll stay with you. No problem."

"Okay." Matthew sighed, giving in to the situation.

Several hours later, Matt was allowed to eat and then handcuffed to his bed. Davis sat with him while they docked briefly in Brest to refuel.

⸛

"How long have we been sailing now? Is it three days?" Matt sat on one of the built-in seats, enjoying the sunshine.

"Today is day four. We should be there in the next two to three days." Davis held a travel mug filled with coffee. He sipped from it. "Then we'll drop you off."

"Do you know anything about where I'm going? Like who?" Matt leaned forward, his hands between his thighs.

Davis sipped his coffee once more. "Nope. They tell us where and when. Goulet has a contact name and stuff, but he doesn't share that with me."

Matt swallowed; his anxiety grew. He sucked in air and let it out in a shaky huff.

"Hey. It's okay." Davis put his coffee down and put a hand on Matt's shoulder. "Relax. Don't freak out."

Sweat beaded on Matt's forehead. "I-I don't know if I can."

Davis' grip increased in pressure. "You need to calm down. Breathe. This is out of your control, and you need to let it be."

Matt turned to stare at Davis. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, you have no control, and you need to admit that and not fight. You can handle anything that comes but right now, you cannot control it. And freaking out, worrying so much, it just isn't gonna help you."

Somehow, what Davis was saying made sense. "You're right."

"Yeah, I know I am. Just be here now. Don't think about tomorrow or what could be." Davis patted Matt's shoulder and removed his hand. He picked up his coffee. "Have you ever tried meditation?"

"No." Matt sat, rocking slightly.

"You should. It can help get you through."

"How?"

"Meditation allows you to control what you can. The easiest thing you can control is your breathing." Davis turned in his seat. "Just get comfortable, be quiet, close your eyes and breathe normally."

"Okay." Matt leaned back and closed his eyes.

"That's good. Then, as you breathe in, repeat So, and Hum when you breathe out. You do it silently. Concentrating on your breathing and the words. If your attention drifts, just bring it back."

"Okay."

The prisoner spent a few minutes following the advice he'd been given. " This feels good. I can do this, " Matt said, feeling the air filling and emptying his lungs.

From his place on the boat's little bridge, Goulet watched the interaction between his crewmate and their prisoner. "Fucking Davis."

The third man on the yacht glanced back from the helm. "What's he doing?"

"He always fucking has to be their friend."

Ivan glanced ahead and then down at the controls. "You ever think maybe that's a smart thing, man? They don't feel alone, and they're calm. If one of 'em freaked out or escaped, they could fuck us up pretty bad."

"That would just be stupid."

"Maybe." Ivan turned in the worn seat. "But you aren't thinking. Why let it happen, when it costs nothing to just be good to them? He's nice to 'em, and we all have a fucking better trip."

After a sigh, Goulet conceded. "Yeah, suppose that's true."

"It is." Ivan glanced at the dashboard. "For Davis, being nice and friendly is easier; you're different. You can't get close because it's too hard to deal with."

"You make me sound like a pussy." Goulet frowned.

Ivan laughed. "You're not. This is just how you deal with stuff. Davis won't go too far, only far enough."

"I guess. I'll stop worrying about it."

"Good idea. Hey, man, I don't suppose you could start chow early? I'm freaking starving."

"It's a bit early but I'll find you something." Goulet got to his feet and went below.

⸛

The days aboard the yacht passed quickly. The weather remained calm, but it got cooler as they sailed north.

Matt's anxiety ratcheted up as the time of his departure grew closer. This morning, he'd dressed and sat waiting for his door to be unlocked. He didn't have to wait long to be released from his room.

Davis opened it and smiled. "Hey. It's cold up top this morning. I brought you a coat."

"Thanks." Matt took the older garment and slipped into it. It hung from his gaunt frame, but it was warm.

"Breakfast is indoors this morning." Davis led the way up to the small enclosed bridge, which doubled as the lounge and dining area.

Matt could smell coffee. He sat where Davis indicated. On the little table before him were dishes of peaches, slices of white cheddar, and butter. A carafe of coffee, a carton of milk, and a sugar bowl sat on the table.

"Ivan made fresh muffins." Davis settled himself on the bench seat next to Matt. "He's a pretty good baker. He'll be up in a minute."

"It's my last day here, I'm guessing." Matt closed his eyes. Stop it. Do not freak out. Get control of yourself.

"Yeah, it likely is. We aren't far away now. Goulet messaged the contact. We’re just waiting to hear which island to drop you off at." Davis reached over and put his hand on Matt's forearm. "You're gonna be fine. This guy may not be so bad."

Matt laughed. "Most people who buy and sell other people are not usually good guys."

Davis shrugged. "Maybe. I guess that's probably true."

"Look, you've been fair with me. I appreciate it. I really do. This trip could have been a lot worse. I know that."

The two were interrupted by Ivan, who arrived with a plate of muffins, which he pushed onto the crowded table.

"Get 'em while they're hot. They're oat bran and blueberry."

Matt hesitated for a moment and then reached for a fresh muffin.

⸛

That afternoon, the weather turned from gray and windy to full-on stormy. Matt retreated to his cabin to wait it out. The rocking motion only increased his queasy anxiety as they drew closer to their destination.

About an hour later, there was a knock on the door, and the captive looked up. Davis stood there. He filled the doorway, resting his right hand on the door handle.

"We're where we need to be. We're gonna wait for the storm to calm down before we take you over."

Matt closed his eyes and sighed. "Okay. I guess it had to happen."

"Yeah. I…I hope it'll be okay for you, Matt."

If you care, how can you do this to me? Frustration and anger joined the dread in Matt's gut, but he pushed it down. "Yeah, me too."

"Do you want anything while we wait? Drink or food?"

"No, thanks. I'm okay."

Davis felt resigned as he paused. He knew Matt was not okay, but there was nothing more he could do for their cargo. "Sit tight. I'll be back for you when it's time."

"Okay." Matt hung his head and waited for the door to click shut. He hopes it'll be okay. How can they—he—do what they do? Buy and sell people like cattle. I hope they all rot in hell. Matt was on his feet, pacing in the small space. The storm's effect on the vessel made him unsteady. It's better than any of these bastards deserve.

He stopped suddenly as realization hit. He didn't lock the door. Matt spun and stared at it. I'm sure I didn't hear the lock. Moving slowly, he reached for the door handle until his left hand touched it. His heart pounded in his chest as he grasped and turned it.

The door opened.

Matt blinked and sucked in air. The rhythm in his chest increased. I have to go. He pulled on the old coat, grabbed his backpack, and entered the passageway. He could hear nothing but the rain.

This way. Matt started walking along the short passage to a set of stairs and climbed them. Now outside, Matt made his way in the dark and stood in the stern. He held the handrail as the wind and rain tore at his clothes and hair. It felt like tiny daggers on his exposed face. Words from the past echoed in his head. He felt Dante's hand gripping his arm. "Ride the motherfucker and when you see a tiny island of hope, fucking jump, Matt. Don't do what I have, you fucking jump."

"What now, Matty?" He hung on and stared over the side. "It's a good thing you're not a brain surgeon."

"Indeed, it is."

Matt whirled. He saw the gun first, then followed the wet form upward to Ivan's irate face. He realized his only chance was gone as if snatched away by the raging wind.

"You gonna spoil our nice trip, Matt?" Ivan said, reaching up with his free hand to wipe the wet from his face.

"No. I'm not." Fear raced over Matt, and he felt cold in his coat.

"Why are you out here?"

Matt stared at Ivan. The world was suddenly silent as if they stood in a bubble. For Matt, there was only himself, Ivan, and the pistol in the world.

"I…I felt a bit sick. I wanted air." He clutched the backpack before him.

"I see." Ivan turned and waved to the bridge where Davis and Goulet stood watching. "I'm glad you weren't thinking of jumping because your gear would pull you down in a heartbeat."

All the colour drained from Matt's face, and he swallowed the lump in his throat. "I wasn't going to jump."

Looking past Ivan, Matt spied the other men as well. Davis pulled on a waterproof coat and a blue watch cap.

Ivan turned his attention back to their prisoner. "It's time to go, Matt. Davis will take you across to the drop-off."

"In this?" Matt stared down into the violent sea.

"He's a good sailor. He'll get you there, don't worry."

Several minutes later, Matt sat in the small boat with a life jacket on and a death grip on his backpack while Davis pulled at the oars.

"It's my fault."

Davis looked up at his passenger and raised his voice to be heard over the wind and sea. "What?"

Matt yelled, "That we're out here in this now. It's my fault."

Davis grinned. "Oh, this is calm compared to earlier. It's cold, though, and gonna get colder. We had to get it done and now was the best time."

They were near the island, but its sheer rocky coast was unwelcoming. Matt feared the crashing waves and rocks.

Davis twisted around often to see where they were. "Can you see the dock? It's supposed to be on this side."

Matt looked forward; he could barely make out the solid platform. "Yeah, we're not too far."

"Okay." Davis strained against the waves with the oars. The wind and rain started to calm somewhat.

Craning his neck, Matt stared up at the steep rocky walls of rock. "It looks so bare out here."

Davis' breath joined the increasing fog. "It's an island - a private one. I'd guess there isn't much on it other than a house. You gotta have some cash to buy an island."

They drew close to the dock, and Davis jumped out and tied the small boat to the cleats. He then reached down and helped Matt to his feet and out onto the dock, which had stairs leading up.

They began to climb.

"I bet these are a joy in winter." Davis held onto the railing with his left hand and Matt with his right.

"Yeah, I bet they are."

The pair arrived at the top of the stairs and stepped onto the worn, slippery path. The rain had ceased, and now a cold fog began to settle.

"We're to follow this to the house," Davis said, tugging at Matt. "Come on."

The storm had abated somewhat, making their walk more pleasant, but the temperatures were dropping. Davis was relieved to see the house.

"Lights are on. Someone's at home."

Matt stayed silent. If he lets me go, I'll run. I'd rather drown than live like this again. Someone's thing. Owned.

As if he'd heard, Davis increased the pressure of his grip. "This is where we part."

"Yeah." Matt hung his head.

"You've been good company, man," Davis said kindly. "You're gonna be okay. Remember to breathe."

"Sure."

Davis knocked on the door. "Look after yourself."

Light slipped out into the dark fog when the door opened.

Matt stared at the older woman who stood there. Davis greeted her.

"He belongs here." Davis pushed Matt forward toward the door.

"Yes, he does. Thank you for bringing him. I'm the housekeeper, you can leave him with me." The small, slim woman smiled and looked at Matt. "Come away in. Tis cold out."

With a nod, Matt stepped past the woman. "Yes, ma'am."

He silently waited in the entranceway, holding his backpack while she finished her business with Davis.

"Davis!" Matt moved back to the door before it was closed. "Thanks. I want you to know, well, I appreciate—"

"Hey, it's cool, Matt. You take care." Davis smiled and turned away into the thickening fog.

Matt stood to one side as Maeve closed the thick wooden door. He was in the mud room at the back of the house. He stared into the large, warm kitchen. A pot steamed on the stove, and the odour of onion and vegetables filled the air.

Maeve eyed the young man. He's wet, cold, and frightened. Who could blame the poor lad? When she stepped closer, he took steps back until he was pressed against the door. He made to open it.

"Please don't go back out there, laddie. It's an evil cold night coming, and you're sopping wet." She held up her hands. "There's nothing to fear here from us, we don't want to hurt you. Get out of that jacket and come sit down. There's hot food for you."

Matt watched as the housekeeper gestured to the table. She sounds nice … but Ahmet was nice too. Just kind people who protect the monsters. He stood by the door, his back pressed against it. He could feel the wetness from his jacket seeping through to his shirt. He was shivering. Where would you go, Mattie? This is an island somewhere. It's cold. A tear ran down his face.

Maeve watched the young man struggle. The fear and misery he felt were evident and marred his handsome face. She moved to him with purpose, reached for the backpack, and said, "Let's get this wet coat off now." He offered no resistance, and she hung the dripping jacket on a wooden peg.

She smiled. "There. Now, come into the kitchen and sit down. I'll get you a nice bowl of my thick, hot soup. Andrew wants you to eat and relax before he comes to meet you." Maeve took Matt's forearm, tugged him gently into the kitchen, and placed his pack beside him. "There now. Sit down, and I'll get you a bowl."

Matt complied and looked up at the kind woman as the steaming food was placed before him. "Thank you."

"Aye, you're welcome. You eat, and maybe after that, I can tempt you with a slice of cake."

Matt ducked his head and picked up his utensil. He dipped it into the thick potato soup and carefully spooned some into his mouth. It was delicious, and the first swallow filled him with warmth.

He looked up from the bowl to the face of the woman. "It's really good."

She smiled at him. "Good. You eat up. There's more if you want it. Then I'll take you up to your room. It's late, and you must be tired."

Matt ate and watched the woman move around her kitchen. She talked to him as she did.

"Andrew isn't here right now. He was supposed to be. He wanted to welcome you but the storm is keeping him on the mainland. I suppose he'll be here tomorrow."

Once he'd finished the soup, she turned to him. "D'ya want anything more? A slice of cake?"

"No, thank you. That was good. I enjoyed it."

"Well, if you're sure. Please don't go hungry, if you are." Maeve moved to the table to pick up the still-warm bowl. "I'll wash this and take you up."

"Thank you." Matt sat on the chair, his hands hanging between his thighs as he waited. Andrew is his name, the new Master. He's not home, so I can just go to bed. I wish I were back on the boat with Davis. At least he was nice.

Maeve quickly finished the few dishes and wiped her hands. "Right, well, come with me."

"Yes, ma'am." Matt grabbed his bag and followed the housekeeper through the house and upstairs.

She pointed at the first door. "This is Andrew's, and you're just down here. He's bought some things for you. He assumed you'd not have much clothing. It's all rather plain as he wasn't sure of your size of course."

Maeve opened the door to the bright, clean room. "Here you are. There's a small bathroom there, with a shower. Make yourself at home. I think he's put a few books and magazines in here for you. You can take the clothes you want."

Matt stepped into the warm room. "Thanks. I…I'm grateful."

"Now, I'm off to my bed. Will you be all right? D'ya need anything? Whatever toiletries there are, are there for you. So, feel free to use them."

"I'm fine, thank you. I'll just shower and go to bed."

"Very good. Well, goodnight." Maeve smiled again and left the room, closing the door behind her.

Matt remained rooted to the spot. He waited for the lock to click into place so that he could move and breathe again. Several minutes passed, and the storm outside was back, battering the house. It was all Matt could hear.

She never locked the door. He walked over to it and looked at it. What? He squatted down to view the mechanism more closely. She never locked it because there isn't one. He opened the door and stepped out into the hall. After standing in the dark for a moment, he returned to the room and closed the door gently.

The tangled web of fear in his gut loosened just a little.

 

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