Once upon a crime.
Hope beneath the rime
All is dark and cold. Nothing can be perceived but a song coming out from no where. A children nursery rhyme sung by a little girl.
"Fwerhuh Jackhuh, Fwerhuh Jackhuh, … Doormay voo! Doormay voo!"
Over and over. The giggle that frames it and the impression that it comes from far, far beyond the fog is tinting the innocent song with a gloomy veil. In the fog, you have a grange. Among the buildings of the grange, a barn stands. Concealed in that barn rests a parked car, an old white sedan. The Audi 100 smells gas and a little something else. That last item should be empty, but in the trunk there is something breathing and moaning faintly.
One of the gray plank forming the wall of the barn swirls slightly on its nail, making a thin opening on the night. Some fog twirl in with a head, peering inside. The head dissolves into the darkness then the night is fended away by the pale light of a shiny orange hurricane lantern. The lantern is held by a trembling hand. It searches a hook on the traverse where the prior swirling plank is attached to. The handle of the lamp is place on it, once found. The hand takes some times before letting go totally of the heavy object. It must make sure it will not fall. The entrance point is surrounded by hay stack. There is a constant wheezing. When a sneezing erupt, the hand waves in the air inside the barn before getting out again. It makes place for a red running shoes, a white sox and the leg wearing it. The lantern bobs on its support. The blue overall follows in as the body entering leans sideways. The hand appears again, placing itself on the traverse aside the lamp and pushing on the wall. This one seems to plow, but hold well the feather weight of the little girl. The head passes, then the second hand.
A glance in, the lass blinks. There is something in the trunk of the car there. Something she expected to hear. She smiles wryly, gathering some freed strands of hair.
From inside the car trunk, that other being is listening now, the moaning stopped once the barn started cracking like an old rocking chair. The breath is hold by moment. Paces are approaching. The sound of them is punctuated by several splashes in their encounter with shallow pond. A ruffle and the car twitch up and down. The paces halt, then a ray of light gets into the dark metallic dungeon from someplace behind the head of what is inside: A little girl folded on herself like a foetus. She is shivering and instantly, her gaze is switch to the light source, blinking.
There is a long silence.
"Hey!" whispers who ever the little girl is outside. She crouches to look on the side of the car, approaching her face there. All the captive can see is either an eye or a part of the mouth through a hole she never remarked before. "Poua!You stink!"
There is a Hick-up then, the hostage replies, half-offended: "Sorry.". The tone of her is strangled by emotion.
"Turn on your belly. There is a hole made by rust here, on the far corner. Follow the light!" she indicates, still whispering.
There is a thump in the trunk that twitches again up and down. A similar voice, but muffled by the metal case come out more clearly, on a normal intonation. "That is too small to get out. Who are you?"
"Shhhh!" hushes the outsider. "Don't talk that loud." She demands. "Or I'll get punished to have been there before I can even help you."
"Help me? Are you in a trunk too?" questions the other one laying on her belly.
"Of course not. And the hole is to allow you to see me and us to talk. No escape possible for now. I promise there will be if you listen to me." The light bearer clarifies.
"Then open up please?" the prisoner begs, flipping momentarily on its back and kicking from inside the lid.
The little girl outside the car rises in a leap, nervously peering around and holding her breath to listen to the night. The lantern screeches on its handle, jolted by the sudden retreat. A sighs, then a more vindictive murmur: "Stop that!" The voice continues in undertone after the stranger calm down from the surprising budge. A hand is placed on the side of the lantern to stop the dangerous bobbling. Despite the heat of the glass, the little girl stays impassive and the limb is only removed when the kerosene lamp is secured. "I can’t, but listen to me carefully!"
"You said you were here to help." The one inside the trunk say very disappointed after flipping back on her belly.
"I am. I came to help you. My name is Kamla. You will hear everyone here calling me five on five."
No word for a moment, then a little pointer gets out the hole carefully while the muffled voice speaks: "Please to meet you, I am Haley."
Kamla pinches the little finger stuck in the hole. It is cold between hers warmer one. She frowns. Once she releases the finger, it moves back inside the trunk and she saw an eye brims with tears behind.
"Allo Haley. Before I talk more, I'll need to know. Can you trust me?"
“Do I have the choice?” the youngster in the trunk states more than questions.
“You do. But I fear the alternative is rather grim compare to that. And my time is limited.” the one holding the lantern reveals.
“Shoot, then.” Haley articulates.
“Hum. Are you a good role player?” demands Kamla first.
Confused by this, the little girl in the trunk slides backward on herself, still staring out after she blinked thrice. “Hard to say, I don’t know of what you are talking about. If that is important, I can learn it.”
Now, it is the turn of Kamla to be astounded. She was expecting anything but the confession that someone never ever role played of their life. She twists a strand of her back hair between her fingers, thoughtfully.
“Never mind. Lets try this one: How old are you?”
“Easy, I am seven.” Answers Haley proudly.”Soon eight, in February.”
“No. For now on, till you are safe and sound back in your home, you are ten. Who ever is asking you that question, you have to answer ten. And your birthday is in March.” Firmly announces the light owner.
“But , but that is a lie.” The kidnapped splutters.
“No. That is one of the game’s rules. That is your ticket to ever get back to your parents home, silly. So now, pay attention.”
“How old are you?” she repeats again.
“Sev...ten. Ten, I am ten.” Haley struggle to answer back.
“Perfect!What is your name?” the offhanded guide ask.
“I don’t know. Tell me?” replies her trainee.
There is a pleased giggle sounding like the one of the signer still singing outside the barn. Less gloom, though. This one is even reassuring. “Now that is better. Whenever you are not sure of the answer to give or how you have to react, put your hand to your forehead and make like you try to remember very hard, but you can’t. You can even do some puppy eyes. That will help you get out of it. Now for your name: It is either Kasha or Three of Five. You have to learn to react to one calling you that way.”
“What is for the “on five” things?” Haley inquests.
“I was getting to it. When mother will come and get you out the trunk, you will see the four of us. We’ll have to do exactly what mom says. So don’t expect a warm welcome. We can’t smile, we can’t talk. That will be the time for you to play the “I lost my memory, where am I?” understood?”
Although unseen, Haley nods.”But…”
“…what with the “on five” thing?” completes Kamla. “We were originally five. Kasha was our twin, one of the five.”
“What happened to her?” automatically asks the new Kasha in the trunk.
“She drown.” Makes Kamla, sobbing. The light stirs as she wipes her own tears.
“On her own?” pursues the other.
“Yeah, mother was not that impatient with us at the time. She was sweet and always laughing. After she found Kasha in the creek, the head under the water wheel, she went like nut. She placed her in our room, in one of the bed and asked us to whisper to not wake her up.” Details on undertone the sibling.
“Yurk!” make the girl in the coffer.
“When she was too rot to be recognizable, all swollen, we removed her with the mattress and the sheets and we dug a hole underneath here. We buried her in while mom was away and we said later to her that she left. She was beside herself. And soon after, we start seeing replacement for Kasha.” finishes to explain Five on Five.
“There was other.” the next prospect exclaims.
“You are the fifth. No one escaped before.” Kamla says, with a groan. “I am well intended to make you go through. And all my sisters as well. Oh, speaking of which. Give me one of your hairs?”
Haley giggles.”Are you going to plank some of them in the place we are?”
“Nah, that serves nothing here…” grumbles the crouched girl, raising the light and the eyes toward the shiny metal ceiling. She collects brands of hay and passes it through the hole.
“oh…” makes Haley, seizing them and smelling them. ”I thought there was some of that, I scent them.”
“Sure thing that you smell them.” Kamla expresses, getting the light down again near the partition splitting the girls apart from each others. ”There are tones of them…we are on a farm. Have you ever been on a farm before?”
“Yes, yes. At Eastern time. We used to go to that farm in the mall.” Replies the young one, proudly.
Kamla facepalms.”Not that kind of farm, a real one?” She sounds exasperated a moment.
“That exist?” The emitted surprise is genuine.
Now, the tone is sadder than anything. “Oh dear! Yes, that exists. That and people speaking French in North-America, snow in July and people unable to eat their three meals. You don’t get out that often, do you?” mumbles that member of the quintuplet.”You’ll have to learn it fast or you’ll get into trouble.”
“Awe…” cries out Haley.
“Now,Kasha, I will help you in it. We’ll all help you. Trust only us. That said, you still haven’t given me that hair of yours…”
Something thick sprouts out the rusted hole: the long black hairs of Haley. They are so substantial that one can count them with no problem. They are alike the thread used to fasten buttons on a winter coat.
“Woa! Wonderful!” makes Kamla. “We won’t have to dye your hairs, you are exactly like us. I can’t wait to see your face.”
Dogs bark outside, the crouching girl arises, anxious. Her tension is easily transmitted to Haley inside the trunk.
“What, what’s happening?” she asks stirring and making, thus, the car springs.
“Hush. Don’t forget all I told you. I got to scram. Promise!” presses Kamla.
“I promise. How long…”
“Not long, by the morning, mother will get you out. Play the lost of memory. I’ll introduce you everyone once you are out and in our bedroom. Now, quiet…try to sleep.”
The hum of the sister voice is getting thinner. The splashes in the shallow ponds are heard again, the pace is more scurry. The light is gone; the plank sets back into place. The only noises left are the barn cracking like a rocking chair, the gloomy nursery rhyme in the far and the dogs now whining.
“Where were you at?” pierces suddenly a voice, very faded by the distance.
Haley wince, thinking of her new friend and trying to hear what she answers to that. Unfortunately, Kamla’s voice is powerless in crossing till the ears of the one that will soon been called ‘Kasha’.
It is but a shy buzz.
Then the louder and harsher one comes again. ”Try to do it faster next time, when you’ll got on the work market, bosses wont like one taking more than five minutes in the back-house. Now, go in your room. ”
The little girl in the trunk waits, snooping, her ear now near the hole. But she hears nothing more.
She tries to remember the prayer her Suzy taught her, but it is like a figment in her memory. Like if it was so far away. Her stomach grumbles. She searches with her hands, but found nothing.
That is not the first time since she was taken from her bedroom that she feels hunger. Only now, it causes her to fold in two.Her mouth is dried to have so much talked.
"Mommy!" she supplicates, holding her arms around her belly.
She cant help but to cry and feel the humidity of the "past accident" penetring her legs skin like as many little pins. She stirs, trying to find a dried spot and she falls asleep, crying and shivering.
Word Count=2157