093:

By the time the plane landed, Hannah had fallen asleep, and Abby was awake. Both diapers were soaked through and smelly, and of course, she had nothing to change them with. The plus side was that her three kidnappers, although wanting her to hurry off the plane, were reluctant to touch her or help her due to the sticky sweet urine smell that permeated her lightweight cargo. For this Melia was grateful, as it kept her from getting shoved or man handled.

Unfortunately, as she passed one of the evil jeerers, her phone which was on low battery, took that moment to vibrate it's low battery message and he grabbed her by the hip pocket and retrieved the phone none too gently. He began immediately screaming in some Spanish dialect, and she was sad that she'd been discovered, hoping they wouldn't look at the last calls she'd made, and figure out they'd been played.

She didn't stop on the steps, but kept walking, even though her legs were cramped and she stumbled under the awkward weight of both slimy children, now awake and crying. The nice thing was, she seemed to have lost her excruciating fear over the course of the prayerful flight. Her heart was calm, no longer racing like a rocket, and her anger was back at least a tiny bit, although she knew she was in no position to demand anything. She did think the imbeciles would figure it out themselves pretty quick. If they were going to kill her they would have already done it.

There was a van parked close by with two armed thugs waiting outside it. They all greeted each other, and she hefted the girls higher on her chest, smearing herself with pee for good measure. Only one thug gave her a look at all, and she stared back defiantly. She had no idea what kind of picture she presented, but his look was definitely interested, and that creeped her out. Was he the one behind all this? She was about to ask when she was shoved from behind and told in English to get into the van. This shove gave her already splitting head another sharp ache.

The interior of the van was primitive, without seats, just the back of a utility van, and there was nothing between her and the front except a couple of buckets and some rags and painting equipment. It was freaking hot too. The door slammed behind her and both baby's screamed bloody murder for a full five minutes. This would have been a good time to call someone, she thought vaguely, shaking with her efforts.

She felt a throat clogging event about to happen and pictured Robert, trying frantically to figure out where she was and how to help her. But at least he would be trying... she thought, and he was somewhere down in these seas. She had seen the sea from the air, and from the tarmac. They were close.

The driver and passenger, two thugs that had been guarding the van got in and roared to life down the rural tarmac. This jolted Melia's hold on Hannah who slipped to the floor. More screaming, but these two thugs, different from the other two, didn't even glance at her, or care that the baby was screaming.

She picked her up, comforted her, cradled her, as her little hands pushed away the gentle but cloying touch of sweaty momma. It was obvious Hannah wasn't in the mood to be coddled. She bared a breast and let her nurse, wondering how long her own milk would continue without any hydration of some sort. Her tortured mind couldn't even fathom what was happening to her, and she'd long since given up trying to make sense of it all, or chastising herself. She feared that the end of this ride was a long trip to spirit prison, and the only thing that mattered there was that Jared would be there to yell at her for her stupidity too.

*****