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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/books/entry_id/785894
Rated: 13+ · Book · Action/Adventure · #1940898
Take a ride on the Dawnrunner in the not-to-distant future.
#785894 added August 16, 2013 at 10:05pm
Restrictions: None
Chapter 10
My eyes open to a small, dark room, aware only of Rachel’s hand resting gently on my head. There are no lights except for a faint glow from outside the window and a golden sliver from underneath the door. My head is pounding and there are sore red marks on my wrists.
“Here,” says a voice in the darkness, “drink this.” For the first time I realise there’s someone else in the room with us, and I jump instinctively.
“Shhh, it’s ok, it’s ok.” Someone has me by the shoulders as they try to calm me down. My heart is still racing as my eyes refocus and I make out a face in the dull light.
“Christy! Is that you?” My throat is so dry it hurts.
“Yeah Carliah, it’s me. You don’t remember? Anyway, drink this.”
I take the cup of water from her and sip it gratefully. Sitting up straight I can see them both staring at me.
“What do you remember?” Rachel asks. I try but there’s a fog in my mind that I can’t seem to clear.
“Just that Commander getting shot. After that…” I shake my head slowly. The room looks like it belongs in a mid-level hotel: carpeted and sparsely furnished with a small desk at one end and a bed at the other. In the corner I can make out an oddly-angled ensuite, presumably the source of the water I’m drinking.
“Rache, what happened?”
The pair of them glance at each other for a moment, deciding who should talk first. Finally Rachel starts to explain.
“After they executed Rayne, they took the GE soldiers back in the direction of the station. I heard someone saying there’s some kind of prison there, where they keep the people they want to interrogate.”
My already sunken stomach drops another few inches. “What about us: what is this place?”
This time it’s Christy who speaks. “After that guy Lazarus stopped talking, they untied us and brought us here. It’s just across the street from where we were… you can see that lady statue from the window, and what’s left of the fire.”
For a brief moment my mind burns clear: Lazarus, the face from the security bulletin, the man with the eye patch.
“Is this a… hotel?” I ask weakly, feeling the carpet underneath my hands. Looking up I realise the light bulbs have been removed from the fixtures in the ceiling.
“Yeah,” Christy answers, “but it’s a prison too. The doors are locked and there are guards outside in the hallway.”
Rachel fixes me with a look I’ve never seen before, an intense mix of fear and relief. “You were unconscious when they bought you,” she says. “I was so scared you weren’t going to wake up.”
I lean in and put my arms around her. “It’s ok, I’m alright now. As long as we’re all together we’ll be ok.” She pulls back and even in the darkness I can tell she hasn’t sleep in days.
“You need to rest,” I say, laughing pathetically. “You look terrible.” She manages a small smile at my little joke, then stands up and slowly collapses on the bed.

Christy is across the room fiddling with her phone. I haven’t turned mine on since we were taken from the Dawnrunner. I know that it will show me the two horrid words ‘No Connection,’ when all I desperately need is for it to reach my family back home. I look over at Rachel, finally asleep, and think about what she must be going through not being able to talk to Vincent. I think about my mum and wonder what they’ve told her by now. Do they think we’re dead? Or are we just more people lost to the badlands? Christy makes a noise somewhere in the area of a frustrated shout and throws her phone across the floor. It bounces off the wall and lands harmlessly on the carpet.
A heavy lock turns in the door, waking Rachel instantly and setting all three of us on edge. Light from the hallway floods the room as the door swings inwards, revealing the silhouette of a broad man in military fatigues. He stands to one side to make way for a tall woman with straight blond hair wearing body armour. On her shoulder she is wearing the symbol of the two crescent moons I saw on the flag hanging from the statue of Sofia. She doesn’t seem to be carrying a gun. The man is silent as leans down to pick up Christy’s discarded phone. He hands it to the woman, who examines it briefly then speaks in a thick Russian accent.
“Bring the small one,” she says.
Christy screams as the guard pulls her arms behind her back and drags her towards the door. I’m on my feet before I know what I’m doing and try to chase after her. At first the woman doesn’t move, until out of nowhere her palm collides with my chest and I land hard on the floor. By the time Rachel is at my side the two soldiers and Christy are gone and the door is once again bolted shut.

Half an hour passes in which time Rachel and I barely speak. Neither of us has the strength to say what we’re thinking or what our imaginations have conjured. In silence we pray for the return of Christy, unharmed. The bolt in the door slides away and once again the room floods with light. The woman enters before the guard, pushing Christy in front of him.
“The redhead next,” the woman says in her accented voice.
My heart stops entirely as the guard grabs Rachel and leads her towards the door.
“No!” I scream as I try to follow. “You can’t! Stop!” The blond woman positions herself between me and Rachel and I flinch, remembering the brutal hit to my chest. As the door closes behind them I throw myself against the wood, and for a few seconds I can hear Rachel’s protests as they take her down the hall.
“What happened?!” I yell to Christy, “What are they going to do to her?!” I run over to where she is sitting on the carpet, clearly shaken. “Please,” I beg, “tell me what happened. Did they hurt you? Are they going to hurt Rachel?” Christy looks at me like she seeing me for the first time. My mind goes into overdrive as I think of all the things she could say next.
“Nothing,” she says. “They did nothing to me. They just asked… questions.” Her voice is cold and distant, but her words have the power of an electric shock. All at once I feel my heart start beating again and I manage some semblance of a breath. I take Christy into my arms and hold her, for both our sakes.
“You’re ok? They didn’t hurt you?” I ask again.
“No, I’m ok. And they won’t hurt Rachel either. He said they wouldn’t.”
I push away far enough to see her face in the shadows. “Who said that?”
“Lazarus.”

Time seems to stop within our room, totally suspended as I wait, helpless, praying for the safe return of my friend. Lazarus, the man who hijacked the Dawnrunner, the same man who shot Commander Rayne in the back of the head without a second thought, is interrogating her. Relying on whatever connection exists between us I beg her through space not to do or say anything that would provoke them, provoke him, willing her just to cooperate long enough to get back to me safely. Part of me is aware of the fact that when she does get back they will probably take me next, but I don’t care about that now – I can’t care about that now. She’s like my sister: I need to see her again, need to know she’s ok.
The sound of the moving bolt drives all sane and rational thought from my mind. I’m completely paralysed with fear, prevented from moving, speaking, even breathing. All I can do is stare at the door. Light floods the room once more, temporarily blinding me. When my eyes clear I see Rachel being pushed inside. I throw my arms around as she lands on the floor in front of me.
“Are you alright?!” I scream as I lift my head to look at her. There are fresh tears in her eyes but no injuries that I can see.
““Carli, It’s alright, I’m ok!" she yells back. "Just do what they say!” Strong hands grab my arms and I’m pulled to my feet.
“No, put me down!” I scream as we move to the door. In the distance I can hear Rachel telling me to be calm but every part of me wants to fight in any way I can. I buck my shoulders and pull against the grip that holds me as we move into a long hallway and the door to our room slams shut behinds us.
The lights in the hall burn my eyes but still I make out a large set of wooden double doors at the far end. Two guards with rifles stand aside as we approach, but neither one looks down at me as the doors open and I’m lead inside. From within the dark room a deep, familiar voice calls out to me, chilling me to my spine.
“Hello, Carliah.”
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/books/entry_id/785894