3. Juliet
She tries her hardest to ignore all the questions that bubble away at her surface. She wants to know more, a lot more about this bunker that she's been taken to, who built it, why it's there, what does it do? She understands of course that these people are in no stable frame of mind to answer anything that she wishes to know. Having already tried to make polite conversation with them, dropping hints to try to gain a better insight whenever she could, she falls back into her quietness, allowing them to decide amongst themselves about what they're going to do with her.
There're no introductions, apart from one. The sincerity of the tall American has thrown her off guard, not expect his voice to soften like it has. Apparently his name is Jack. It only comes as an afterthought though, she suspects, since she told him not to address her so formally by her surname, but still it's encouraging that she can now apply a name to one of four remaining faces. The French woman has long since disappeared, Erica can't even recall seeing her following them to the underground bunker, yet she notices that none of the others seem all that concerned that one of their people has just disappeared at their own whim.
There's a low mumble from the younger woman straight after the American gives his name, she doesn't catch what was said, but isn't foolish enough to believe it was anything nice. She can remember hearing the woman's first words back in the jungle, it had taken a while for her to voice her opinion, but when she did her condemning words were full of resounding judgment, as though she had measured Erica up in the first few moments of seeing her. She assumes she's American too, from the small phrases she's heard, but she can't be sure.
She finds herself warming instantly to the caring nature that Jack has shown her in the small amount of time of knowing him. He's the only one who has seemingly taken any interest about how she might be feeling after several days without any proper food or water, immediately informing her that he'll bring her some food. She's grateful for his kindness, comparing him to the other much colder faces that stand accusingly in the room, and deciding that she definitely has a lot more common ground with this young American than any of the others.
The darker man stiffens quickly at Jack's peaceful promise of food, tugging at his arm harshly and pulling him away from her. "We have to talk Jack, now, shut the door and lock her in," he commands Jack sternly, making her wonder who is exactly in charge around here. She watches the reluctant glow overshadow his dark eyes, before Jack gives a regretful wince and shuts the door behind her. She understands more than he realises, she admits to herself.
She catches the painfully narrow eyes of the younger woman just before she's blanketed in a softened light from within the confined room. It's a threatening glare she receives from the brunette, nothing new from when Erica first saw her at the netted trap, but yet there's a tiny detail that seems to be present there that wasn't before; caution. Maybe that's why she refused to ask her any questions, maybe that's why she's stayed quiet on the whole for most of the time, Erica comes to conclude. It's different with the others though. They're busily still trying to sum her up, working out the structured risks from trusting her as apposed to not trusting her. But with her, this younger woman, it's almost like her mind is already set on sabotaging any chance of Erica finding salvation amongst these people.
The stealthy darkness wraps her up beyond the faint orange glow of the overhead light, and she's aware that the room is no bigger than a typical closet. She's never noticed until now, how the small space seems to grip at her lungs every time her eyes scout the four narrow walls. Never before has she felt so incredibly trapped. Even inside the netted prison hanging from one of the trees in the jungle hadn't been so terrible for her, at least she had been able to breath in the fresh island air blowing in from the coastal shores. This room is suffocating, the air growing thin and warm with every breath she dares to take.
She lied, she would have preferred to have stayed out in the cooler elements, watching with an anxious gaze out into the jungle's wilderness, instead of cooped up inside this damp, windowless cell, afraid of who might open the door next. She doesn't have to wait long at all for the wooden door to slide open sharply. The sudden burst of light almost blinds her, but she shows nothing in her face to suggest the vividness is hurting her eyes.
Her fraying smile looses its edge at the corner of her mouth, startled to see the young, nameless woman entering her prison with a look of pure revulsion painting her pale skin. She doesn't say anything, she doesn't even attempt to say anything to her, instead she slams the plastic tray that she's been carrying complete with a plate and a cup of water, down onto the small table. It's only piece of real furniture in the room, there's nothing else, no basic comforts of a chair or bed.
Erica's blue orbs travel across from her pale hands down to the tray, eyeing up the food hungrily, not quite believing how famished she actually is. But her calm and collected interest reverts back to the woman, curious as to why she doesn't have any questions of her own, or at least appears to not have any questions for her. She watches quietly, as the woman disappears out of the wooden door as quickly as she had appeared from it, but not before she sees the glimmer of fear slip in between the girl's darkened pupils.