Men like him lived for nights like this, when the city was at its grimiest. Sheets of water poured down from the edges of the roofs, buildings too cheap to have anything resembling gutters. He watched the city through one of these rippling walls of rain, neon lights regularly flickering from the adjacent streets, bleeding into the dark alleyway in which he sat in his van, watching… waiting… Like a trapdoor spider of the asphalt outback, patiently waiting for its prey to wander past. But a spider hunted to survive. He hunted for fun, for the sick, twisted pleasure of tormenting his prey.
He poured another cup of cheap but strong coffee from his thermos and took a sip. It burned his lip, even his teeth. Just how he liked it. Some movement in the sideview mirror caught his eye. He saw that unmistakable hip sway in the tall, slender figure sheltering beneath the canopy of an umbrella as it moved down the alley. Why would a woman walk alone at night through a dark alley in a city like this? Simple: hope. A vain hope that the shady alley will offer her a brief respite from the endless gauntlet of ravenous eyes undressing her on every street. They weren’t stupid, of course. Stupid women did not live long in this city. They knew that it was a gamble. But then every time they went out, leaving the safety of their own homes, was a gamble, when you lived as a woman in a city like this. And tonight, this woman lost that gamble.
By the laser-focused timing of a predator, the van door swung out and hit the woman in both the hips and head, sending her flying across the alley and into a puddle, her umbrella landing nearby but just out of reach. The woman rolled onto her side and looked around, disoriented from the shock, trying to spot her attacker. She was not even sure what had hit her; it had not felt like any weapon she could think of. Then she heard the van door open, followed by heavy footsteps, steadily approaching her. She could see his feet now that she knew where to look, following the sounds with her eyes, but did not move. There was no hope in running, and every woman in this city with any survival instinct knew it. Even if you can outrun him it will only attract attention. Someone else will catch you, and then you have two to deal with. Maybe even more. So your only chance is to stay and fight.
So she lay there, pretending to be out cold, waiting for him to get closer. Closer… closer… Then she struck, rolling over onto her back and going for a leg takedown. Hook one leg behind his ankle, then push into his knee with the other, and… nothing. Panic rose in her chest as she realised: he was wearing body armour. What kind of fuck wears body armour?? she thought, trying again as he just stood there, smirking at her. Seeing that she had another moment while he gloated, she kicked his shin with all her might. He didn’t even wobble. “What the fuck is wrong with you?!” she shrieked, now unnerved at his unmoving stance. She did not want to get up. She knew the smart thing to do was to make him approach. She could still go for the face.
He resumed his walk, feet making tiny splashes in the rain-soaked pavement. Panic filled her, and then the boot struck her in the head, sending stars across her vision. The whole world seemed to tilt, and a pain pricked her scalp all over. It took her a moment to realise what was happening, that he was pulling her up by her hair, and by then she had already been slammed into the side of the van. She was too dazed to resist now, and he tied her hands with no resistance from her.
Suddenly she felt the rain cease. That can’t be right, she thought, and then heard the engine start and felt the acceleration as he drove off, taking her to god knows where. He had not bothered to gag her, because every man in this city knew that every woman in this city knew no one would help them. She could scream as loud as she wanted and as long as she wanted, but no one, not even her sisters, would come to her rescue. They might say a little prayer for her as they heard the muffled cries coming from a vehicle driving down the road, but that was it.
—
She was shivering in her rain-soaked clothes by the time the rear van doors opened and he hauled her out and to her feet. A crowd of figures in silhouette stood in a circle around the rear of the van. A flash of lightning illuminated the scene, and she saw, for a brief moment, the towering roughnecks in detail; every scar, every vein, every crease in the tattooed skin, and all but drooling at the shivering woman before them. Then all went dark again, and the distant sound of thunder rumbled seconds later.
She also saw the dockyards in the background, through the gaps in the ring of hulking brutes. These were not men from around here. They had come from far away overseas, manning one of the massive freight ships, stuck on the ocean for weeks at minimum, and now they were going to make the absolute most of their time on land before shipping off again.
Despite her dire situation, she found herself wondering whether the man who had abducted her worked alone or for a gang. The thought was soon forced out of her mind by a harsh voice in her ear.
“The nice man gave you an order, sweetie,” It was the man who had brought her here, “I suggest you do as they say if you want to get through this in one piece.”
Get through this? she thought to herself. Surely they were going to throw her into the sea after raping and beating her within an inch of her life. Surely that was just something they said to their victims to give them hope, that maybe they would be let go. She didn’t believe it for a second, but she complied out of fear they would put her through even worse if she didn’t play the part of a pliant female.
“I said on your knees, bitch!” one of the seamen barked. She started to get down slowly, one knee at a time, but she was forced down by a large, veiny arm pressing down hard into her shoulder. Her knees both hit the rough pavement together, causing her to wince in pain as her kneecaps crunched.
The ground was damp, but no rain fell on them. She listened intently for a moment and heard, among the hammering of raindrops on metal shipping containers, the softer sound of rain on canvas. They must have set up a cover just for this, she thought to herself.
She felt her mind leave her body as her ordeal really began, brought back now and then by a viscious slap, but only briefly. She would later tell her sisters how she saw herself in flashes of lightning being savaged by these evil men. The physical sensations came to her weakly, as if recalled from a memory: the filthy, sweaty, testosterone-based musk from their hairy loins; the slimy taste of their thick, veiny cocks, enlarging in slow twitches, like fat earthworms pulsing in the open air.
But that lasted only so long. When they threw her on her back, knocking her head on the pavement, the whole world went black. The glimpses of reality that came through were from her normal point of view again; their hot, foul breath in her face; hands on her shoulders, grinding her back into the rough ground; their hips slamming into her most private area, making her feel as if she would be split apart with every thrust.
Eventually it ended. Every one of them came inside her. None of them got creative with their rape. She assumed they must have been so sex starved from weeks at sea that their brains could only think of the most basic sex acts.
Without a word, the ship workers left. Without a word, the man who had brought her to to them pulled her up to her feet by her hair and hauled her back into the van. She knew what would come next. She did not fear for her life. Women in this city knew that, as long as they behaved themselves, they would be left alive. As the stories usually went, women found themselves dumped in an alley somewhere to find their own way home, and hopefully not have a second encounter that night.
She would have to live with the damage. She would be strong, she told herself; she would not take the easy way out, no matter how hopeless life in this city seemed. Even though she may be a target now for repeat customers. The thought gave her pause, that she may find herself kneeling on that same tarmac, looking up into those same cruel faces. She would have to be more careful now, she thought, maybe even carry a gun. No, then the men of this city would kill her for sure. But maybe, just maybe, that risk was worth being the start of a resistance.