the other side of the fence

            I had helped to plan the trip, but as our departure drew closer I grew weary.  Something didn’t seem right.  There were discussions behind closed doors, with people I had never seen before, to which I wasn’t invited.  What had started between my friend and her brother seemed to be growing out of control, international businessmen began to take over.  We had planned to go abroad and explore new places, but now, with hushed tones and paranoid glances, our trip had taken on sinister undertones.

            We headed out to the cars—dark sedans, tinted windows.  I had never seen them before.  This is really strange.  I slung my bag over my shoulder, filled with a couple changes of clothes, a book, and toiletries, and pretended not to be alarmed.  My friend, her brother, and I piled into the cars along with the businessmen.  Since when were they coming, too?  I plastered a little smile on my face, trying to look as if this was only to be expected.

            When we disembarked from the cars, we weren’t at the departure terminal of the airport.  Instead, we were in a large hangar with three Boeing 737s.  I saw that one of the planes was boarding and noticed that a group of young woman, with bags much like my own, huddled nearby.

            After the cabin door shut, engines whirring, mechanical arms extended from the sides of the airplane.  I blinked hard and shook my head; I have to be imagining this.  When I opened my eyes, the young women had formed two lines, fear and uncertainty covering their faces, as an official-looking man shouted orders.  One by one, the mechanical arms wrapped around the women and held them above the ground.

            Is anyone going to stop this?  I looked around frantically.  People were going about their business like this was normal.  A similar group of young women had formed around me.  Am I next?  I tried to hold my fear at bay.  No way.  This is going to be a fun trip with friends!  I tried to console myself.  But my situation was growing far too similar to the one I was witnessing.  When the mechanical arms of the plane secured all the women, the plane pulled out of the hangar.  My breathing stopped and my blood ran cold.  What   is   going   on?

            One of the remaining airplanes pulled up to the group with which I stood.  The cabin door opened and steps were rolled up so that boarding might begin.  The businessmen climbed aboard, as did my friend’s brother.  My friend was nowhere to be seen.

            The cabin door closed, the stairs were rolled away, and the engines growled.   The women made two lines on either side of the plane, as ordered, and mechanical arms began to reach out.  I looked to either side of me as the metal claw wrapped around my torso.  The same thing was happening to the other women as well.  Terror filled their eyes. 

            Then, another man appeared, a grin playing at his lips.  He walked with a sense of power in his wing-tipped shoes and smart black suit.  He peered at each of the women, searching their faces.  He approached me and leaned forward to inspect my face and my uncomfortable situation.  I wanted to ask what was going on, but no sounds escaped.  He could sense my fear was changing to anger.  “Humph,” he looked at me down his nose one last time as he moved on to the next women.

            I looked down at the arm around my waist, trying to wiggle free.  I have to escape.  What are they trying to do? Why? What are their plans? Why aren’t we safe inside the plane?  At 30,000 feet we’ll freeze!  We’ll suffocate! Suddenly an image flashed into my mind.  In it, each woman was dropped from the plane.  We aren’t going to die, it will be worse.  They would make sure of that.  But they didn’t need to treat us like people, because to them, we weren’t human—we’re a commodity.

            The man in the suit made his way to the end of the line and the official-looking man stayed close to him.  There was no one else guarding the plane.  I took my chance and began prying open the metal claw as much as I could.  I slipped to the ground, holding my bag close, and ran as fast as I possible out of the hangar into the daylight. 

            A high chain link fence surrounded the hangar, with a large gate to let out the planes.  Businessmen walked about, talking in hushed voices, and guards with large automatic rifles slung walked the perimeter.  I kept running.  I knew my running would draw attention, but they would see me either way—I was not a businessman, nor was I a guard.  But if I kept running, they would have less time to act.

            I ran toward the gate as it began to close.  A guard stood directly in my path, but I didn’t hesitate.  Every moment counted.  For a split second he stared at me, shocked that someone would try to escape.  Then he began yelling orders to the others.  I ran faster and faster, trying to get to the gate before it closed completely, trapping me inside this strange compound. 

            And then I was there, at the gate, sliding through the narrow opening.  I didn’t know what would be on the other side of the fence.  Most likely it was a wide-open tarmac over which I would have to run before I got to safety.  Or there could be more guards waiting to capture me.  Or it could be something completely different—it could be a field of wildflowers with butterflies drinking their sweet nectar and birds flittering about in the sun, with a path leading into a quiet lush forest, just for me. 

            But before I could find out, everything went black.