The Never List

far in the back, where no one could touch, where even the body’s pain could not reach. I knew that place. I had lived there for about thirteen years now.
    The girl across from us must have once had a chic pixie haircut, but now it was as disheveled as she was. She glanced over at us with eyes that were slightly more human, less animal, than the others.
    I whispered across to her in the dark, “Who are these guys? Where are they taking us?” I was almost surprised to hear my voice shaking. The shock had—temporarily, at least—conquered my terror. For the moment I was all focus.
    A half-smile flickered across her face, then disappeared. I didn’t think she was going to answer. When she finally did, I noticed she was missing a couple of teeth.
    “Do you really want to know?” she finally said.
    “Yes,” said Tracy, leaning forward in the dark. “Yes, we really want to know. We have to figure out how to get out of here.” I could hear the fear in Tracy’s shaking voice, despite her attempt to hide it.
    The girl sniffed, “Yeah, good luck with that,” hastily adding, “If you do figure that out, let me know. I’m in. In for anything. But I doubt it. You don’t know what you’re up against.”
    “Then tell us,” I said.
    “We’ve seen some pretty bad stuff ourselves. You’d be surprised,” Tracy added.
    The girl looked at us straight on. “No. No, I wouldn’t.”
    Her glance drifted away, her eyes lulled into a dead stare at the darkened windows.
    “Well, what do you think it is?” she finally said in a quiet voice, without shifting her gaze.
    I didn’t want to think.
    Then she faced me directly, “And whatever you are thinking? Think worse.”
    I told myself she didn’t know how dark my imagination could go, and I tried to focus on something more productive. Like making an escape.
    “Do you think we’ll be driving all night?”
    “Depends.”
    “On?” Tracy muttered, her annoyance barely hidden. She didn’t like guessing games.
    “On the order.”
    “Order?” I wanted her to get to the point now, too. I wanted to know what was coming.
    “You know …” She made a typing motion with her fingers. “Whatever the client orders up on the Internet. My advice? Do exactly what they say, and it hurts a lot less overall.”
    I looked out the back windows to see the highway slipping away behind us, trying not to visualize what she was suggesting.
    Tracy leaned over and lifted the limp wrist of the girl next to her, who didn’t even seem to notice. “No restraints, anyway.”
    “Not in the van,” the girl replied. “They have to be ready witha story in case we’re stopped by the cops. We know the drill. We’re part of a religious order.” She lifted the arms of her white robe to demonstrate. Then she nodded toward the back doors of the van. “It looks like an ordinary church van, but trust me, they’ve fixed the door handle on our side. It doesn’t connect to anything.”
    So that was it. Noah Philben’s religious organization was cover. Had Sylvia been one of these girls? So eager to get out, she agreed to marry Jack Derber?
    I shook my head, pushing away these thoughts. Pointless. None of it mattered if we couldn’t get out of this situation alive. At that moment my mind was utterly clear. Even through my fear I felt energized. Just as I had during my escape.
    It was as though the only time I could feel calm was when the worst had actually, finally happened. Now I could focus. This is what I had prepared for. And now I just had to think. Only thinking could save us.
    “What happens when you arrive at a new location? Tell me exactly,” I said.
    The girl smiled wryly and shook her head, covering her mouth with her hand this time.
    “That really depends. Sometimes we have special instructions. Sometimes, you know, we have to get all … dressed up somewhere first.” She nodded toward a corner of the van, where a large wooden chest stood, secured with two heavy metal padlocks.
    “If we don’t have an appointment, they take us to one of their buildings to get locked up for the night. They seem to have a lot of … facilities, I’ll say that.”
    “Are you ever left alone?” Tracy asked, sounding desperate.
    “Only when they’re convinced you’re finally brainwashed into total submission. When they know you are so scared you wouldn’t dare make a move. When you believe the stories they tell you.”
    “What stories?” I was dreading the answer even as I