One Grave Less

clothes from earlier in the day—long pants, long shirt, and the little boots that still looked too big for her. She was a pretty little thing even in the dark and covered by dirt and grime. But the most notable thing about her was her intelligent eyes. They weren’t little girl eyes. They were eyes that had probably seen too much of the worst in humanity. And there was desperation in them.
    The prisoner didn’t hesitate to accept Ariel’s offer, as strange as it was, coming from a child less than four feet tall. The kid had come prepared. She took a key she had secreted in the pocket of her pants and worked it into the large rusty lock on the chain holding the door to the cage closed.
    The cage itself was about six by six feet and provided a full 360-degree view around the compound and into the jungle. A small hole cut in the sapling floor was the bathroom. The prisoner had used it only at night to avoid being seen exposed, which would result, she feared, in a host of other dreadful problems. She was almost faint with relief at the prospect of leaving, and her heart beat loud enough to wake the village. But her relief was companioned by terror. If they were caught, what would happen to them? What would happen to this little girl?
    Don’t think about that .
    The two of them quietly pushed and pulled the door open. The prisoner jumped out onto the ground and Ariel picked up a bundle of rags she had brought and tossed them inside in a heap, closed the door, and locked the chain back in place. At a distance and without close examination, it appeared that the prisoner was curled up asleep on the floor of the cage.
    Off to one side sat a ragged backpack. Ariel picked it up in one hand and grabbed the woman’s arm with the other and pulled at her. As the woman turned her back to her prison, she grabbed a large bat-sized stick that she’d been eyeing from her cage—the only part of an escape plan she had come up with . . . If she got out, grab that stick as a weapon.
    Ariel walked quietly and quickly ahead of her and tugged at her until they were out of the moonlight of the village clearing and covered with the darkness of jungle. Very little moonlight filtered through the thick canopy. In the dark the dense foliage had a bluish black cast. Already the woman was lost. She was good at woodcraft, but in the kind of woods that grew in Kentucky and Georgia. Not here. Here all the signposts were different.
    The sounds were muted at night in comparison to the daytime—sounds of night birds, insects, frogs, occasionally the call of a higher food chain creature. The sounds would be appealing were she not at the mercy of the creatures that made them—and at the bottom of that food chain. It was terrifying, but did not trump the fear produced by the men who had kidnapped her.
    Ariel grabbed her hand and whispered, “This way.” She pulled her along until they were out of sight of that part of the village. Ariel seemed to know the path by heart . . . or she had incredible night vision. She stopped abruptly. She looked like a shadow amid the dark foliage.
    “We have to be careful. Not just of the men, but of the jungle.”
    The woman nodded and tried to whisper. “Ariel, my name is . . .”
    “Maria,” Ariel said quickly. “And mine is Rosetta. You are my mother. We must have a story until we get to a place where you can contact people you know who can get us to America. Until then, it’s best if people don’t know who we really are. Julio has many friends around here for a long way. Remember that. You are Maria.”
    The woman had the impression that Ariel feared she was an idiot. She supposed she looked like one. She had never been filthier in her entire life. Okay , she thought. Maria it is. I am Maria, Maria, Maria. I am the girl named Maria .
    “That’s a big pack you have. Let me carry it,” the newly christened Maria said.
    Ariel—or rather, Rosetta—reluctantly relinquished the bag, and Maria shouldered it.
    They stepped quickly down a path, trying to avoid protruding roots, logs, or any one of other abundant hazards. Walking through the jungle at night was dangerous, but both were far more frightened of her captors.
    Rosetta stopped just before the thick jungle flora met the openness of the giant kapok trees, the tall signature rain-forest trees that supported an entire ecosystem in their canopy. They would be leaving the overgrown part of the forest. That in itself was a relief. The jungle was thicker