Walking the Ruins

A cell, and faint light in the dark

I take a few steps through the darkness of my cell towards where I expect the door to be. My hands touch the cold metal bars. I grab them, holding them tight, trying to weather the waves of nausea. My head still hurts from Jan's blow.

Once my eyes get accustomed to the dark, I recognize a weak shimmer of light, and the floor and walls of the corridor in front of me begin to take shape. The light enters through a gap below the door that separates the cells' corridor from the rest of the bunker.

The bars of my cell form a black grid of horizontal and vertical stripes.

Shit.

Caught in a trap like an animal. Caged like an animal. A dumb animal, full of fear and totally helpless. At the whim of my captors.

I shake the bars, and they rattle, but the door remains closed.

My gaze turns back into the cell. I recognize the contours of a bunk. I approach it and sit down. There is a faint whisper of air circulating and sometimes, from the distance, I hear wisps of voices and the occasional clang of metal.

Jan will implant one of those chips in my brain. He will turn me into a vegetable, without will and spine. A servant. His slave to fulfill his every bidding.

I shudder. The memory of his grin makes my belly cramp. I'm lucky that my stomach is nearly empty.

I rise again, go back to the door, and pull and push its bars methodically, but it does not budge. I take a few steps back, then I ram my shoulder against it. The door does not move, but now my shoulder hurts even more than my head.

Hours pass. I sit in the cool, moist darkness and listen to the sounds reaching my lonely cell, trying to figure out their origins and to make sense of them.

Unsuccessful in my endeavors to acoustically explore my surroundings, my thoughts reach out to the forests of the valley, the river, and the lake beyond. I long for our little house on the beach, where I imagine Kevin and Rose to wait for us with growing concern. I long to sit on that bench in our garden, limbs warmed by the kiss of sunshine. I long for the company of my friends.

Suddenly and without a warning, the light is turned on again. It takes some seconds for my eyes to get accustomed to the harsh glare of the lamps.

The small guy with the beard enters the corridor. He carries a bowl and a bottle in his hands. Without looking at me, he stoops down and places the two objects on the floor. Then he pushes them into my cell, through a gap below the bars.

"Thanks," I say, feeling strangely happy to see someone.

"Mm," he answers and turns to leave.

"Hey, wait!" I shout, louder than intended, frantically searching for something to say. Something that will keep him here. I don't want him to leave, to leave me alone in the darkness again.

He halts, looking back at me. His eyes are nearly hidden beneath a bushy monobrow. He says nothing.

"What will you do to me?" I ask. It is the first thing that comes to my mind.

He shrugs. "You've t'ask Jan."

For a moment, I am tempted to ask him to get Jan, so I can ask the questions I have. But the mere thought of the blond president makes me queasy. I discard the idea.

"What's your name?" I ask instead.

"Rbrt," he mutters, sounding as if he abhors vocals. Then he turns for good, leaving the corridor, closing its door behind him.

Really, I think, what an idiot. I wonder if he's chipped as well.

Then it turns dark again.

In the weak shimmer of light, I grope for the bowl and the bottle. I realize how thirsty I am and drink avidly.

Then I take the bowl and find a spoon in it. I sit down on the bunk and start eating. It's some kind of stew. Vegetables and probably some meat, cold and bland, but I am hungry and eat it all.

Some time later, the guy returns. I try to remember his name. Rbrt – Robert?

"Dishes!" he says eloquently, reaching out his hand through the bar. I give him the bowl and the bottle, both of them empty. I leave the spoon lying on the floor.

"I have to pee," I say. It's the truth, and it may delay his departure.

"Wait," he says and leaves with the dishes. His bad breath lingers.

The light stays on. Nothing happens for a couple of minutes. Then he returns with the short-haired pistol lady in tow. She carries her weapon in her hand.

"Hi," I say, "my name's Leona."

She studies me, her face neutral. "I'm Emma."

Robert has a key and opens the door to my cell. He points towards the end of the corridor, opposite the entrance. "The loo is over there," Emma explains.

I leave my cell and open a narrow door at the end that Robert had pointed at. It takes me to a small cubicle. The toilet has no seat. But the thing can be flushed, at least. I look out for anything that might help me to escape, but apart from the toilet, the chamber is bare.

As I emerge, I look at Emma and repeat the question that Robert did not answer. "What will you do to me?"

Emma hesitates. Her face is still neutral, but her searching eyes tell of the curiosity of the mind behind them. "You will have to ask Jan about that."

"When will I see him?"

"Tomorrow. And we're not allowed to talk to you," Emma answers. She points towards my cell, and I enter.

Robert locks the door behind me. Then both of them leave without a further word. The light is switched off.

I sit down on my bunk.

Tomorrow, I will talk to Jan. But I doubt that talking is all he'll want to do.

I think of Steve and Jenny. Did they spend their last night in this cell, as well? Their last night before being chipped? I remember their blank faces the last time I saw them.

"I'd rather die than being turned into something like them," I tell the uncaring darkness that surrounds me.

Then I lie down. 

The bear before me studies me attentively. I know I should be afraid, but I am happy to see the animal. Kill me, I tell it in my thoughts. This will take me away from here. The bear snorts and turns its hindside on me.

I hear laughter behind me. Turning, I see Jan. He stands between two women. One of them is Anna, my former hostage. The other is Emma, the short-haired pistol lady. Jan has his arms around both of them. Their faces are devoid of emotions, like those of the villagers.

I notice that I am between two people, too. One of them is Robert, who brought me the food. The other one is the curly-head that I saw jogging with Anna. He scowls at me.

Robert's bad breath enters my nostrils, and I have to throw up.