Stanley knew that he was fucked.
He knew he should have gotten away from the cartel while he could, but damn it, he got caught
up in the comfort of having food and a bed…
He should have known better. He gaped as he stared at his latest load of "cargo."
"I said I'd do your drug runs. And I did. But I ain't doing this! People aren't fucking cargo!"
"Pity then. I thought you could be trusted to do this, after all these years. Oh well. You can join
them instead, gringo. You're strong. You'll fetch a pretty penny."
"Wait, No!"
Stanley stumbled as he was shoved into the shipping container and stared while the doors were
pushed shut. The odor in the container was foul, full of the scent of waste and unwashed
bodies. The other people in the container kept their distance, wary of the newcomer. Stanley
sat, unable to move.
Human trafficking… Damn it, I got in too deep! Now look! I'm gonna be fucking sold. These
people are gonna be sold.
Shoulda thought it through better, damnit. I could have done something useful and set them
free. Dumbass.
"I'm so sorry. I had no idea… I'm sorry."
Not much time had passed by the time the shipping container began to move, causing the
occupants of the shipping container to fall over.
Damn, they must have found someone else to move us.
Stan, deciding that there was nothing he could do at the moment, leaned against the wall of his
temporary prison.
Heh, wouldn't Pops be proud of me now? Five years away from home, and I'm already banned
from 3 states, have been to prison, helped run drugs, and now I'm going to be sold like cattle.
Tears began to bead up in his eyes, though Stan refused to let them fall.
What the hell is going to happen to me? There's no way this will end well for me. This is gonna
end with me dead, isn't it?
No. I can't think like that. You're a survivor Stan! Gotta think of a way to escape. Bide your time
and escape when they least expect it.
Eventually, the shipping container jolted to a halt, bringing Stan out of his reverie. Shortly after,
the door to the shipping container cracked open, and through the door a single order was
barked.
"Line up, single file!"
Everyone quickly lined up as told, including Stanley. Two men quickly walked down the line,
carefully chaining each individual to the person in front of them. Once that was done, the taller
of the two men barked out "Move it!" prompting the line to begin moving. Stan tripped,
unprepared for the movement, only to be roughly tugged upwards without a word. Stan squinted
against the light of the building they were walking into, adjusting after hours of darkness.
We're in some sort of warehouse… and there's lots of people, in chains and not. Guess this is
where we get sold. God, I wanna puke.
People with haughty expressions walked through the lines of people in chains, occasionally
pausing to inspect someone.
Some of these people are dressed mighty nice… God, it's like we aren't even human.
Stan looked around, stunned at what he saw. Dozens of people were in chains, heads bowed
and bodies scarred.
So many of these people… they look so broken. Will that be me?
He was brought out of his thoughts when a hand grabbed him roughly by the chin, bringing him
face-to-face with a man with a rank cigar in his mouth and a fancy suit clinging to his skin.
"This one looks strong. He been broken in yet?"
"No sir, he's new. A fresh catch."
"Hmm. Unbroken ones are always best. Get to do it yourself. How much?"
"10,000 dollars, sir."
"Bit high, don't you think?
Heh, guess I'm finally worth something. Ugh, that was awful, even for me.
"No sir. It isn't often that we bring unbroken goods to the floor. We like to train them first.
Besides, he's probably the healthiest one in the room."
"You have a point. I'll take him. Cash, as usual."
"Perfect."
Stan stared blankly as his shackles were disconnected from the people next to him, in shock at
what had just occurred. He watched as money exchanged hands, and he was loaded into a
small trailer with a few others.
Once the doors closed, he allowed his tears to fall.
I'll never get to see my family again, now. God, what's going to happen to me?