"Hey," Genevieve awoke to Simon sitting beside her. They were in the naughty children's room.
He asked, "how are you feeling?"
"Cold," her teeth chattered as her breath materialized above them. Her hands felt like they were on fire. It was that sensation one felt if they had been out in the cold too long, and any feeling of heat scolded.
"We found you digging out in the snow, do you remember that?" Simon held her hands in his.
A flurry of thoughts, and emotions choked her. The hill. The red pick up truck. Pavol. Sylvia. Snow. Cold. "Sylvia! Where is she?"
"You should have never told her about this place," a figure came out from the shadows standing next to Simon. The ex-Interpol agent sighed, and rolled his eyes.
"Robert? What are you doing here?" Genevieve sat up, staring at the tall, salt and pepper haired man before her. He wore a dark beige trench coat, and navy blue blazer.
"Your boyfriend told me there was a ninety-five percent chance that Sylvia was here. That's statistically significant in my book," her ex husband explained.
"I'm not her boyfriend," Simon had already regretted bringing Robert along.
"She is here! I've spent that last two days with her. Hugging. Playing. Sleeping in a cot with her. Oh, she is here Robert! She is," Genevieve smiled. "This is the room they've been keeping us in at night. Why are we here?" Genevieve began to look around the room, and she noticed that it was cleaner, "how long have I been out?"
"A little over twenty four hours. We think you developed a moderate case of hypothermia," Simon purposed looking at his phone, specifically Web M.D.
The two men regarded her as if she was deranged. Robert folded his arms. Simon stood up and began pacing. " Genvieve, this is going to sound odd, I'm sure, but truth be told, we've found nothing to conclusively determine that Sylvia was here."
The mother, who felt like she'd been to Hell and back, could only respond back with, "What? Are you crazy?" Genevieve couldn't believe what these two were saying.
That can't be, she thought to herself, and then quickly analyzed what that would've meant.
"You said it yourself, Gene. My description of Sylvia wasn't too descriptive," Simon looked at her pensively, "have you really been with your daughter or someone who was lost, and forgot what their mother looked like? I've spoken with some of these children. Most are very emotionally, and mentally damaged. Maybe, you wanted to find Sylvia so badly that you began loving somebody who just looked like her."
"It's just not possible," Genevieve claimed out of disbelief.
"Oh, c'mon Genevieve! We all know you've had problems with alcohol, and drugs over the last eleven months. It doesn't take Inspector Clouseau to detect what's really going on here," Robert yelled.
"We have all had problems this past year. Forgive me if I'm not taking them out on a blonde, twenty-something year old in the bedroom," Genevieve snarled back.
Robert muttered something to himself, but Genevieve could care less. Simon decided to pick it up with his question, "what do you know about this man named Pavol?"
Genevieve rolled her eyes, and sighed, "he's a really big, creepy guy. He carries a gun?" She just wanted to know where Sylvia was. She didn't care about the town. She didn't care about Robert. She didn't even care about Pavol.
"The reason I ask is because he's been very cooperative, but very smug. What else do you know about him?" Simon questioned.
Genevieve shrugged, shivering.
A few moments later, Robert, and Simon, walked out of the room and down the hallway. Sitting in the room with the burning trash cans, there was a brutish man tied to a chair with a military buzz cut. A gun lay in pieces near him, but just out of reach. A tall, African man greeted them carrying an AK-47 slung around his shoulder, "he has not said anything since."
"Thanks, Kofi," Simon acknowledged and then turned to Pavol, "you know why I did that? Took apart that gun in front of you?" Simon provoked Pavol grinning. "Because, everything in your life is in shambles right now."
"I told you everything. This place is for child slaves. That is all. The gypsies bring them here, and people come to buy them. What else do you want from me?" Pavol explained with a blank stare, and a monotone voice.
"How about some decency?" Kofi smacked him upside the head. "The decency to tell us the truth. The decency men ought to have. Child slavery? What the" Before Kofi could go off on a tangent, Simon got back to the point.
"If that's true, that you sell these children, I think it's fair to say 'export in', why are my ex-Interpol bodies not coming up with evidence to support that?" Simon questioned, pacing the floor.
Pavol was silent, and he took a deep breath. He looked at Kofi, and then back at Simon with an insidious grin, "you can't begin to believe what this is."
Robert tapped Simon, "may I?"
Simon nodded. Robert took out his cellphone and squatted near Pavol, "Look, pal, can you answer me a question. Have you seen this little girl here?" He showed Pavol a picture of Sylvia on his phone.
All of a sudden, the three men heard screams coming from the room down the hall. Robert stared at the brute, Simon's head was already racing down the hallway after the terrified noises, "Genevieve." He left the room, leaving Kofi and Robert there transfixed on the mysterious Slovakian.
"Hey! What's wrong?" Simon knelt down next to Genevieve's cot. "What's wrong? What's the matter?"
The older black man looked upon the woman who basically had the covers up to her nose resembling the WWII drawing of Kilroy. "IIIIIIIIIIIII... sawwwwwwwww... ," the way Genevieve's teeth chattered made it seem like an earthquake was erupting in her mouth. She couldn't speak, but only a few words, if not just certain letters.
"What? What is it? Tell me," Simon tried softly holding her. She was shivering, but not in the way one shivers when they're cold. Petrified. It was fear. Pure, unbridled terror making the poor woman shake under her sheets. That's when he got the idea to look at her face, because it was like she was ignoring him for something else in the room. Simon looked into her eyes, following their captive gaze .
They were looking directly at the corner of the ceiling behind him.
Of course, there was nothing there, but the way Genevieve was acting, the ex-Interpol agent got a disturbing feeling, "is there something there, Gene?"
That's when she fainted. "Genevieve!" He checked her pulse, and then kissed her forehead. "It's probably better if you weren't here for a little bit." He regarded the corner closely. It was white. The pant was peeling, and the drywall was exposed. Cobwebs.
Simon walked out of the room, and back to the room with Kofi, Pavol and Robert. The scene he walked in on was shocking: Pavol tied to the chair on the ground with a black eye, and a bloody lip while Robert stood over him with white knuckles and a guilty expression on his face. "What do you think?" Pavol muttered.
"About what?" Robert asked out of breath. Kofi had just stood there. Between Kofi and Simon's "good cop/bad cop" routine it was clearly Robert who was the best interrogator.
"We should talk to someone else. I think this guy has said all he wants to say for right now," Simon nodded at the Robert, "leave him on the ground though."
Robert, Kofi, and Simon locked the door, and headed downstairs. There was a big black helicopter out in the distance, parked, where a few other agents hung around.
"What are we doing here, Simon?" Robert stared out into the vast nothingness of the mountainside. Blood had dried on his fists.
"I don't know. I should've never told her about this place. I really believed Sylvia was here, and that Genevieve had found her. Now, I just... I don't know."
"Where are those thirteen kids we saw sledding when we found Genevieve on the hill?" Robert took out a cigarette, and lit it up. He offered one to Simon, who refused, and to Kofi, who accepted.
"We got them into protective services earlier this afternoon. Slovakian authorities picked them all up in vans a couple hours ago. Can you imagine? Thirteen families getting what they want most want for Christmas this year? This whole thing hasn't been a total loss, at least."
"It's the fourteenth kid I care about." Robert scowled, exhaling smoke through his nostrils. "You said upstairs something interesting. How his story doesn't add up. You know, the whole child slavery thing. Why is that?"
"There's no record of a trafficking outpost out here. It would've just had to have started recently. I don't buy that. I think these children are leaving here somehow, but it's not because of a business transaction," Simon indicated in the most unsure, and unconvincing way. "I think the big picture take away from all of this is that we found these kids. Even if it wasn't Sylvia, Robert. Everything here going to have to be investigated, and examined to provide a through conclusion on what this place was."
"I want to stop by Pavol's home, and look around. I bet we'll find some answers to our questions down there. Do we need a warrant for that?" Robert questioned.
"We're a long way from America, Robert. Kofi and his men will escort you. I'll check back up on Genevieve and stay with her until you guys return," Simon said.
"I'll round up the agents and head down that way," Kofi suggested. Him, Robert, and the Interpol agents headed down into the town.
Meanwhile, Genevieve had been dreaming. Gears grinding. Electricity surging through cables, and humming. Naughty children on a worn conveyor belt. Then, something swooped in and removed one. The mother's view was still obstructed. As she stepped forward to get a closer look, Genevieve tried to scream but all that blared out of her mouth was silence.
Something was hanging upside down from the rafters, and among the shadows. It was black, and had sharp claws. It would lift the children buy the shoulders of their shirts. As they'd go up, they'd disappear in the shadows, and along with a pair of tiny legs kicking back and fourth. This was all followed by terrible crunching, and crackling sounds, characteristic of sticks burning in a fire.
Then, the conveyor belt ran out of children. Genevieve looked down the one end where they'd been coming from, and heard the sound of car doors shutting, and the sounds of vehicles driving off. Whatever lurked above, crawled slowly upside down around on the ceiling. It muttered to itself in a deep, disturbing voice that sent a chill down Genevieve's back.
Then a hand grabbed hers. It was Sylvia's! Her daughter pulled her into the shadows, and said, "follow me." Eventually the shadows turned brighter, and brighter until they were out on the snowy hill in her past dreams. She turned around to face Genevieve. "Do you believe, Mommy?"
"Believe?" Genevieve asked either her daughter or a figment of her imagination.
"You've got to believe. Tell Daddy. Tell Uncle Simon. Believe, mommy. You all have to believe." Then they both heard the crunching and crackling sounds again. It was coming from under the snow beneath their feet. Something was moving below them. Sylvia was then dragged down through the snow like cold, white quicksand.
"Ahhhh!" She woke up frightened as the mid afternoon sun was starting its descent from the sky. Genevieve looked around the room, and spotted Simon napping on a cot in the bed next to hers. Taking care not to wake him, she got up and walked out of the room.
Down the hallway, she found Pavol red eyed, and crying. Genevieve also noticed his gun in shambles in front of him. She said, "hi."
"Hello," he was surprised to see her.
She pulled up a chair in front of him, and leaned forward. "Tell me something, what did you mean when you kept saying 'we'll let you go as soon as this is all over? You know, back when I first came here?"
"I'm not talking to you like this, woman! All of the children are being taken back. You win. Happy? It will be looking for our children next," Pavol responded back angrily.
"You held my daughter captive here for months, and as soon as I find her she disappears again. Now, my ex-husband and friend are trying to tell me they can't find any evidence of my daughter here when you and I both know that's bullshit," as Genevieve was speaking, her eyes had fallen upon the gun on the ground.
All of a sudden, she lost sight of what she was talking about and became transfixed on an idea. "Believe," she thought. Genevieve picked up the pieces of Pavol's disassembled gun and began tinkering. After a few short moments, she snapped the last mechanism into place, and held the gun in her hands. Even more dumbfounded at her gun assembling skills than herself was Pavol. His eyes had practically popped out of their sockets.
"I did it! I believed and I did it!" Genevieve said looking at Pavol holding the gun in front of her. It was strange being on this side of the firearm. She kind of liked it. There was no logical explanation for how she could have done that, but there she was, "tell me what I want to know. Start with the children. Why were they here. Why was Sylvia brought here?"
"They're... evil. Evil children," Pavol acted like he's just encountered rotten eggs.
"That's it isn't it? You all believe these kids are naughty? But, they're just kids. They don't know any better. They're no different than your own children. How can you punish something that's more innocent than yourself."
"To protect our own children, and children around the world we offer them to the beast to keep it at bay. These children are born evil! They deserve what they get! They deserve to be taken by the... Krampus. Your daughter most of all!" Pavol provoked Genevieve. "The gypsies told me about the day on the hill. Surely you remember? It was the day your son died, too?"
"You shut up!" Genevieve shouted.
"Your husband. He loved his son. His daughter ...was a mistake!" Pavol kept going.
"Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!" Genevieve cocked the gun. Her finger on the trigger.
"Your daughter let her brother keep going on the sled, into the lake behind the hill. She could've saved him, but instead she let him drowned, and didn't call for help until it was too late."
Genevieve lost it, and fired the gun at Pavol.
Simon heard the gunshot, and jumped up out of his chair and towards Pavol's room.
"Simon? You there? We fond the missing children. It's awful," Robert had also texted simultaneously as Simon walked into the room where Pavol laid on his back in a shallow pool of blood, and Genevieve's gun blazing.