Fear seized Elliot's face. He froze, his palm pressed to the door.
"It's alright," said Jason. "I won't hurt you."
"I know." He smiled shakily. "My body won't listen to me, though. It never does…" He trembled, sinking back onto the bunk. Leaned his head in his hand, as if he felt faint. "Besides…" he said, his voice hoarse. "They might punish us… we're not supposed to be in each other's rooms at night…."
"There's nothing we can do about it now," Jason said, "so we might as well make the best of it. You can have the bed."
"No—it's your bed." He glanced down at it, as if suddenly aware of what he was sitting on.
"I don't mind. It's nothing special as beds go."
Elliot stood shakily. "I don't usually sleep in beds anyway… it reminds me of…"
"I'll take the bed then." He smiled, though sorrow pierced his heart, unable to give a lighthearted twist to such a thing.
Jason dragged the lavender cover off of his bed. Then he bundled it up and carried it over to the couch.
"No—don't do that," said Elliot. "You'll be cold."
"It's not like it's cold in here. Is there anything else you need?"
Elliot shook his head. "I don't think so…."
"Good, because I'm not lending you my toothbrush."
A small smile lifted Elliot's mouth. He wrapped the covers around himself.
"How about a snack? Some wine?" Jason half hoped Elliot would drink the rest of it. It might be good for relaxing before bed.
"A snack sounds good… They don't leave me much."
"Because you don't belong to someone?"
"I'd rather have the bare essentials the rest of my life than one more minute of her attention."
"Me too…" He dug in the cupboard. "What would you like? Crackers? Cookies? Juice?"
"They all sound good."
Happy he could help Elliot feel better, Jason took the packages out of the cupboard and set them on the coffee table. Then he brought the orange juice out and the block of cheese, as well as two cups.
Jason poured the juice and Elliot reached out of the blanket for his cup. He sipped, closing his eyes. Then he took a flower-shaped cookie, pushed his finger through the hole, and nibbled the edges.
"I used to eat them like that too. We used to make smores out of them."
"We did too. Because we lived in America, I knew about smores. When we came back, I taught the kids here how to make them."
"When did you come back?"
"When I was ten. After communism fell."
"Seventeen years ago."
Elliot nodded. "It was hard leaving all I'd ever known… A lot of the kids thought I was cool for coming from America. But some of them suspected me, just because of my last name."
"But you were just a kid."
"To some people, only the name mattered."
"Did it get better?"
"I gradually became Muldavian. Some people resented us for leaving… for living a cushy life in the States. Maybe they had a point… but there really was no way my parents would've been able to keep fighting. They'd have been put in prison—they couldn't have stayed below the radar, because they were Karl's cousins. It really isn't their fault—he has a lot of cousins. I'm proud of my parents for resisting. So many others collaborated. It wasn't easy for them… they feel guilty, but it was the only thing they could do. They had kids. If they'd have stayed in Muldavia, we could've been orphaned, brought up by the State… I could've been conditioned to support communism. I probably could've been reconditioned since I was just a kid… or I could've ended up on Elena's side…"
"So… she told you about her family, her father?"
"She is very proud of her heritage. It's her foundation for what she's doing…. Tyranny by another name is still tyranny. Communism, human trafficking… it's all founded on one person being 'more equal' than others.
"I was steeped in freedom fighting as I grew up; I could never quite forget my heritage. Sometimes it was annoying. But I realized what my parents were talking about as I grew older. They'd really experienced oppression, though from a rather privileged side at first. They helped people underground and then as they were clearly throwing in their lot with the opposition, they fell to their level and the protection of nobility they'd had vanished. They got out just in time. Sometimes I wish I'd have been able to help… to see what it was like. You can only appreciate freedom fully if you've experienced slavery. I might die of joy if I ever breathe free air again. I'll be able to empathize with the victims I was trying to help before…."
"Is freedom fighting why you chose your major?"
"I was majoring in journalism before. Then I saw a flyer for the Security Service… it hit me. It was like… I was made for being an agent."
Jason's heart sparked with camaraderie. "I tried other things, but they never felt quite right. It's part of me." He pressed his hand to his heart.
Longing sparked in Elliot's eyes. "I wish I could get out… really do some good…. I don't know if I'll be worth anything after this. If I can be a competent agent."
"Markov says you're more than competent."
"What they've done to me…. I don't know if I'm salvageable."
"What you did in there—sacrificing yourself, despite everything…. What you've done for Alelu—You're still yourself. You can get back who you were."
Immense sorrow slashed through his eyes. "I would give anything for that. I feel… so hollow sometimes. As if I'm floating… as if I'm not real."
Tears blurred Jason's eyes. He recalled dissociation as trauma. Something he hadn't really felt yet. "It's really hard to recover when you're still—in this situation. That's why we've got to get you out."
"I don't know if I belong out there anymore… They've crushed me and molded me to the shape of this place."
"I'm not going to accept that." He leaned forward. "They've just hurt you beyond all decency—no, decency never was part of it. It's…even hard for me to see it clearly because I'm here, I can't really react normally. In my heart, I want to tear them all down. But I'm trapped and I hate being trapped—" He glanced at the door, claustrophobia threatening to overwhelm him. But he had to keep it together for Elliot's sake. Panicking wouldn't help anything.
"Maybe…if Elena doesn't come back for me…" said Elliot. "I don't know what I'll do if she does what Daric threatened."
"Daric?"
"The Admin. In the cafeteria."
"I won't let it happen."
"She always gets what she wants."
"Maybe I can delay her enough… so we can get out…."
"Don't sacrifice yourself."
"I have some ideas. We have to figure out a way to communicate…" He'd have to dig back into his code-making expertise, which was a little rusty. It'd have to be innovative. Something they wouldn't notice…
Elliot's eyes shadowed. "I… kind of do know my way around Above… If I could tell you without being punished…."
Jason nodded. "If we can pool our resources…"
"They have some powerful fail-safes. The autoshocks, the algorithms, the cameras…. I don't even know where we are."
"She never told you?"
He shook his head. "I do know we're near Valhad because I glimpsed it on the way when they thought I was unconscious. Then they saw I was awake and— knocked me out."
"They gave me a choice of being knocked out or not… I didn't want to feel the ride in the trunk, so I let them give me a shot. I wish I would've faced it… I could've heard something…." He kicked himself for not realizing the intelligence possibilities. But he'd been too distressed by that point….
All the uncertainty would drive him crazy if he thought about it. Same with the draconian controls and the proximity to violence… the constant threat of rape…. The overall oppressiveness of the atmosphere….
"I keep going over and over the day they caught me," said Elliot. "What I could've done differently. I should've seen the signs. Next thing I knew, I was grabbed from behind—I fought, but they were so strong and then—the needle." He winced. "Seems so long ago now…." His eyes flickered with anguish. "My sister, my parents—they've got to be going crazy. Especially now that they know…. Do they?"
"I think Markov told them…."
"And Serafina?"
"Serafina?"
"My fiancée. Does she know?"
"I'm not sure."
"My parents probably let her know…. She'll be devastated. It's hard enough knowing someone you love is gone… but to know they're being held by Yavesh…. I just wish she'd forget about me."
"Why?"
"She won't want me after this. When she knows what I've done."
"It's not your fault."
"Elena is pregnant with my baby."
"It wasn't your choice. She'll understand."
"Even if she does… I don't see how it can be the same again. I've been with another woman. We vowed to save ourselves for marriage. I… broke that pledge."
"You were forced!"
"She might not see it that way… We are a bit more traditional here in Muldavia. There is less of an acceptance that men can be…raped. I've seen men claim to…being assaulted, and their girlfriends reject them."
"If she's the one for you, she will love you unconditionally. And see that it wasn't your choice."
"It sort of was… I mean… I…. I didn't want it, but—I…couldn't resist her. I gave in after a while… I let her…." He took a deep breath, closed his eyes. "Even if I fought in the beginning, just a few touches reduced me to—I was so weak. And then… I craved more, eventually. Because it wasn't pain."
His heart broke for him. "If the only alternative was pain, it wasn't consensual."
Elliot looked at him, as if struck by something he hadn't fully considered. No wonder, since he'd been immersed in Elena's presence so long. He'd assented to the fact he was weak…without realizing what being in the power of someone else could do.
"I wasn't prepared…thought I was strong…. Then she took me apart in one night. I hated her and myself… I couldn't let myself hate the baby, though…."
"When did she tell you she was pregnant?"
"A couple months ago, when she started to show. I wasn't prepared for that. It was devastating… but at the same time, it breathed new life into me. It bound me more tightly to her… but gave me something to care for beyond… all this. Most of all I wasn't prepared to love him." He pressed a hand to his heart. Tears sparkled in his eyes. One spilled onto his cheek. "Sometimes it just hits me, and I can barely stand it I love him so much. She comes to me, and I adore her because she's letting me…be with him. I am so happy she's not bothering me anymore, but I hate how I can't be near him…." He shook his head. "It's all impossible."
"And if we get out…."
"We'll have to leave him. Or take them both…. Or wait till he's born…. I don't know what she'll do with him if he disappoints her. Otherwise she'll keep him with her, and he'll be so far from me…. I just—want to hold him in my arms."
An echo of the longing Jason had felt to hold his baby hit him. Something that could never be.
"No matter what," said Elliot, eyes flashing, "I'll never abandon him. Even if…." His voice faltered— "Seraf gives me an ultimatum. I wouldn't blame her for not wanting someone else's baby. But I'm not just—leaving him. He's mine."
"He's more yours than Elena's. What she did to have him… what she'd turn him into…. I bet your fiancée will accept him. She'll have to see it's not the baby's fault."
"Looking into his eyes will remind her of Elena…. But—I don't see how that'll happen with me. I can already imagine him—he has my eyes…" His voice caught and tears streamed down his face. Jason sat next to him and wrapped his arms around him as he cried. Jason couldn't hold back his tears either; they mingled with Elliot's. Some of his tears were for his own loss… He wouldn't let Elliot lose his child, too.
He just wished he could have another chance. Be with Connie… have their own baby… hold him…. perhaps she was pregnant already, and she'd have to raise their child alone….
At least she'll have someone to comfort her. To remember me by.
He vowed to do all he could to give Elliot the chance to hold his child. That would start Elliot's path to healing….
But he could only truly heal if his wounds weren't ripped apart daily. Outside, he'd still have scars, but at least they'd be scars, not open wounds…
He drew Elliot into more pleasant conversation, and Elliot lingered on fond memories of Boy Scouts and 4-H. Climbing trees by the river, swimming, riding horse. After returning to Muldavia, exploring his new environment. His fun in college before he began to focus. Being an agent.
Jason told stories of his agent days, which led to his first mission in Muldavia. He told what happened with Elena briefly. Then he diverted to more missions and his time in Odyssey… the incredible heights of marrying Connie… the depths—losing their son…. Their healing in the palace….
He prepared for bed and Elliot huddled down into his blanket. Jason knelt beside him.
"Dear God," said Elliot, "please, please just let me hold him… that's all I ask. If I can't be part of his life, don't let her claim him. Help him not become…like her. Send him joy and peace, show him who you are."
Jason headed back over to bed. "Maybe if you can think of a name, even if it's secret, it will show you he's yours."
"I can tell him his name when I see him… and he'll find out he doesn't have to be what she tells him."
Jason fell asleep to soft whispers, trilling syllables murmured reverently in the dark.
Jason gasped awake. Someone was screaming.
Elliot was tossing and turning on the couch. The blanket had fallen onto the floor. Jason rushed over to him, not sure what to do.
He whimpered, his brow furrowed, face seized with anguish. "No—please—please don't—"
Jason crept to his side and knelt, not wanting to scare him.
"No!" The cry rang in Jason's ears. "Please don't hurt him! Stop, no—please!"
Jason shook him gently. He thrashed around, gasping. Jason grasped his shoulder. "Wake up. Elliot—it's just a dream."
Elliot jolted awake, eyes wide. He jerked away, hurling himself off the couch. He scrambled over to the corner, shaking. "Don't come near me."
"Elliot— it's okay. It's just me."
"Jason?"
"We're having a sleepover."
"Oh, right." He was breathless, his voice relieved. He shook his head, his shaggy dark hair shaking. "Sorry. It was a nightmare."
Jason gestured to the couch. Elliot crept back to it and flopped down onto the cushions and dragged the blanket onto his lap. Jason gave Elliot one of the water bottles and he gulped it down.
"Thanks." He leaned his head back. "I'm exhausted but I don't think I could go back to sleep…"
"Looks like it's morning anyway." Jason glanced at the wallscreen, which was glowing vaguely—otherwise, he wouldn't have been able to see at all.
Jason sat down in the chair beside him and sipped on some water. He dragged his hand through his hair, wishing it wasn't morning yet.
"Do you need anything else?"
Elliot shook his head. "I just need to get this out of my mind. They were…" He gasped, leaned his head in his hand. "They were—tearing him apart… my little baby."
"They were hurting him?" Jason dared not consider the worst possibilities.
He nodded. "He was like…Alelu's age. And they…decided it was time for him to work. They tied me down and made me watch—"
"Oh, Elliot…." He couldn't imagine something more horrible. "It's just a nightmare."
"I keep telling myself that. But this place… it's a constant nightmare. That really could happen to him." He slid a shaking hand through his hair.
"She seems to have plans…. But we can't really count on anything…." Hatred ripped through him. "We have to burn this place to the ground."
A buzz at the back of his neck. He automatically grabbed for it.
"They must be warning you. Those combinations of words are forbidden."
"Oh." He almost thought of saying it again—screaming it—and it would be worth the pain. But better would be to bide his time and actually plan….
I wish I were better at patience… it's so urgent that this be stopped, but we can't take it down in one night. Merely improvising won't cut it.
"There was…one good thing about it," said Elliot. "I knew his name, in my dream. At first I was with him… I was talking to him…." He spoke as if just remembering. "I can't remember his name though…. It's right at the edge of my mind—"
The wallscreen burst into a pulsing glow and chimed. "Good morning," said Tamara's pleasant, sensible voice. "Time to get up! Breakfast is in half an hour."
Jason ruffled his hair into a semblance of something decent, though he didn't care much what he looked like. He certainly wasn't preening for Elena's sake—in fact, he should make himself look as unattractive as possible. He didn't have the energy for that either, so just did the things that made him feel better. He washed his face and nibbled a cracker then sipped the bottle of wine.
"Would you like some?" Jason asked, even though it probably wasn't too appetizing anymore. But it wasn't like they weren't in close quarters; they probably shared the same germs anyway.
"A little early for that, isn't it?"
Jason glanced at the bottle, which was almost gone. "Just a little sip is good for you, you know."
"It can help settle your nerves…. Just so you don't rely on it…. It might be their plan."
He almost snapped at Elliot but realized he was probably right. Jason hated that there really was nothing here he could count on not being a manipulation. Couldn't he just pretend he had something to himself for a moment? But he didn't want to become dependent on it… then they could use it to control him even more…. That's what they did anyway. So why shouldn't I drown myself in it.
To be clear-headed. To escape. Don't retreat now. Even if I don't deserve to escape, the others do….
What if I'm not up to it?
I have to be. At least play my part… whatever that is.
In the hall on the way to the cafeteria, he was surprised to see Serhii being supported by Zakhar. Serhii waved at Jason and Elliot, his face rather weary but his eyes sparkling.
"Let me help you," said Jason.
"Thanks," said Zakhar breathlessly as Jason took over for him, sliding his arm under Serhii's shoulder. "I wish they'd just let him stay in his room…"
"Maybe I can walk on my own." Serhii slid his arm away from Jason's and took a step, then slumped toward the ground. "Oh—guess not."
Jason caught him and helped him up. Serhii supporting himself with his other hand against the wall, Jason shuffled toward the cafeteria.
Jason sat down beside Kara. Elliot sat down beside Alelu. Zakhar sat on the other side of Serhii, who leaned against the table, hand in his close-cropped hair.
Zakhar was about to get up, but he looked faint. "Hey—I'll get you your food," said Jason, and rushed off before they could protest.
This morning, breakfast was particularly soggy scrambled eggs. Toast with some kind of dark bluish jam. He took the trays that had toast that wasn't drowning in the eggs, set them on the table, then got his own. He was starving; he gobbled down the food, not minding what its form was on the outside.
Serhii and Zakhar seemed to improve as they ate. Serhii's cheeks bloomed with a healthy pink. His wrists were bandaged, and some bandages continued beneath his shirt. There was a bandage on his temple and other smaller cuts across his face. After the injuries Jason had seen, it was a marvel he was able to move at all.
"They barely gave me any food," said Serhii. "Otherwise, it was a nice vacation."
"They treated you okay?" said Kara.
He nodded. "I barely knew what was going on the first day. Then with the lower dose, it started to hurt… But I'll take that a hundred times if it means not belonging to anyone else. No matter what he says, Zar doesn't own me. Whatever it takes, I'll resist, I'll tear pieces off him till there's nothing left."
Sahara smiled. "You actually got in a shot at him. Even being tied up."
"No matter what they do to you, you can still fight. There's always your teeth." He grinned.
"You have to get past the taste," said Sahara.
"He was pretty vile, I'll say that. But he'll think twice the next time he gets near me."
"You can't afford to get hurt like that all the time," said Zakhar.
"I do have to measure my attacks. I don't want to be too incapacitated. I wouldn't put anything past Zar. But he'll be licking his wounds for a while, believe me."
"It was good to see them get hurt for a change," said Sahara.
"There's a lot more we need to do," said Serhii, grim determination in his eyes.
We have to collaborate somehow… today if he's up to it.
"So, how did you manage it?" Serhii whispered to Jason.
"What?"
"Unless I imagined it—and I might have—the two of you were in the same room last night."
"It just—happened. Elliot was helping me, and he got locked in."
"That happened the first week Zakhar moved in across the hall. I was visiting him and—the door closed." He closed his eyes. "They shocked us for hours. We'd start to go to sleep, and—" A quiver ran through him.
"They didn't punish us yet."
"Hm…. Either they're delaying it for some reason, or you've got a guardian angel."
"Fallen angel, most likely," said Sahara. "Breaks her own rules all the time."
Serhii's eyes clouded. "Oh. I forgot who claims you."
"I'll never be hers."
"We've got to keep that spirit alive in our hearts. Never give in, never give up. Freedom is here." He pressed his hand to his heart and winced, gasping.
"Are you alright?" asked Jason.
"Just…" He smiled ruefully. "Zar focused most on my chest. I'll have some nasty scars that'll make him think he's marked me as his. But to me they're just random cuts. Bought in battle." He pursed his lips, eyes shadowing, drifting away as if in memory. "I was rather spoiled… thinking I could get away without scars just because Misha didn't want me 'messed up'. Unrealistic to think that I wouldn't get another master… It's not like I thought I was privileged. I hated every second with him." His eyes burned.
"Masters might vary," said Sahara, "but it's true, they're awful in one way or another… No one can really envy anyone else's situation. Even if they treat us relatively well…. We are still their 'property' and they can do with us what they want." Bitterness cut her voice.
"Even if I was privileged in a way before…. I doubt anyone would trade places with me now."
"I would," said Zakhar.
Serhii laid a hand on his shoulder. "No," he said softly. "Zar's even worse than Michelle."
"He said something about his father wanting him to participate more in the business," said Jason. "So maybe…."
"Ah, I hope he is occupied more often. He often spreads his attention around, like Michelle…. But no one can say they prefer that. It does give us breaks – but sometimes it's worse, knowing someone else is getting tortured in our place."
Serhii nodded. "At least being in the war hardened me. I learned how to detach my mind… a good thing once I got here." He set his jaw, glaring down at the remnants of eggs. "Even that isn't quite enough to fill in the gaps… I can't escape it all the time. But I'd rather it was me than any of you." He looked around the table, his blue eyes piercing.
"Maybe…you can keep delaying him," said Zakhar.
"That's my plan. I've also put some fear into him. He doesn't know what I'll bite next." He grinned. "He'll probably punish me, but it'll be worth it. Anything short of being permanently injured or getting someone else hurt. I'll avoid degradation for as long as I can. I…was sort of able to detach myself before…. And Misha didn't force me often. But when he did… it was worse than all the other humiliations…" He shook his head. "I'm still getting used to his absence. I expect him to call me up…. Mostly he just wanted me to serve him. Wait on him day and night like he was some great lord." He shuddered. "Sometimes he made me actually act like a serf from former days and got off from ordering me around. Did things that didn't make sense… tied me up…." Hatred filled his face. "I had to act a certain way, or he'd punish me… the suspense went on for days, and then finally he'd— At first it was a relief because I was expecting it that whole time. Just get it over with. I didn't know at first how just that simple act presses you down… makes you undone as if you're totally hollow…. As if he owns every cell of you…" He clenched his fists. "But I fought back. I would not let him win. Especially since he was russian. I molded it into another version of the fight. I'd been captured, after all… taken away… made to serve a russian, the worst possible thing. But it didn't mean I was beaten. My heart was still mine. It still beat with freedom. And so I resisted him in any way possible. I dragged my feet. I did anything short of getting severe punishment. When I'd just been punished and needed to recover, I obeyed—but didn't put any effort into it I didn't have to. And all the while I thought of ways to kill him. I did not respect him in the least. He wanted me to call him Mikhail Ivanovich or 'master'. Every time I said his name, in my mind I would say 'Misha' instead. I will never honor him with his real name, even on my lips, now that he is dead, except for explanation's sake. And when he…tried to crush me…. I immersed in images from the war, from times I killed russians, and times I will kill them in the future. It's hard not thinking of myself being degraded, touched by such a being. But even if I sometimes can't get out of those feelings of being less, of him hollowing me out… nearly crushing me…. I think of how much less he is. I think of who I am, what I have. The beauty in the world. The things he could never feel or appreciate. I remember I am so much more than this. And I think of you, and you keep me sane. Relatively." He smiled, glancing at each of them, tears glistening in his eyes. He looked at Zakhar, whose eyes were gleaming in a desperately pale face.
"Zakhar—" he said. "Are you alright?"
Zakhar nodded but swayed a little.
"Hey—you don't look so good." He grasped Zakhar's arm, holding him up. "We need help." He patted Zakhar's cheeks. "Stay with me."
Zakhar nodded, grasping the corner of the table with his other hand.
"I'll get help!" said Kara.
"I will," said Jason. His heart thumping in his ears, he strode over to the guard pacing among the tables. The woman who had been with the Admin yesterday.
She planted her hand on her shockrod as he approached. "Watch it," she said.
Jason gestured to Zakhar. "He needs help. Can you call Med?"
Her brow furrowed angrily. "You can demand nothing. Only we determine if you need any care. He looks fine."
"He could have a fever."
"Not my problem."
"Don't you want us to stay alive?"
She shrugged. "There's always more where you came from."
"You have to help him."
"I don't have to do anything." She slid the shockrod from her belt. "Get back." She brandished it.
He backed away. If only he had the cellphone or the credits for the payphones… He headed back to the table.
"It was worth a try," said Serhii. "The monitors will probably pick up on it. I wish they'd get down here… In the meantime, we have to get him back to his room."
Jason helped Zakhar to his feet. He grasped Jason's arm weakly. "I—I don't feel good…"
"Let's get you back to your room. You'll feel better there."
Jason helped him out into the hallway; he shuffled slowly, Serhii at his side.
His head lolled. He collapsed into Jason's arms and Jason leaned against the wall to keep him up. Despite the weight he must have lost here, perhaps even more since he'd gotten sick, he was still quite heavy. Serhii tried to help but Kara slipped in and carried him under his other shoulder. She was surprisingly strong and resisted Karim's requests to help.
Carefully they laid Zakhar onto his bed. His eyes flickered open, then shut again. Serhii pressed the back of his hand to his forehead. "He's burning up." He touched his face near the slash on his cheek. "Probably from Michelle."
"I tried to clean the wounds…" said Jason. "Gave him salve… Must not've been enough."
Serhii looked at him intently. "Did you get to all of his wounds?"
"Well… nothing past his waist."
Serhii nodded. "Probably one of those."
"He said he was going to take care of them."
"Maybe didn't get around to it. Or too wounded. It could…." He looked down at Zakhar with intense empathy. "I know what she does to her slaves. Beyond anything I would have imagined…" He pursed his lips. "Of course he wouldn't let you look at him there. And of course he'd act all tough and think he could power through it… or ignore it…"
"Michelle sent him down here without any medicine. That's why I had to tend to him."
"None at all? Such wounds need tending immediately. Especially if… those areas are so delicate and then when you add…." He swallowed, looking sick. Tears spilled from his eyes. He looked at Jason, his eyes full of anguished horror. "She uses spikes… serrated tools…barbs…" he whispered. "No reason except she likes it…" He collapsed beside the bed and knelt, holding Zakhar's hand. "We have to get his fever down." He attempted to get up again.
Jason laid a hand on his shoulder. "We'll take care of it."
Kara and Karim nodded.
They did what they could; Jason got an ice pack from his freezer and wrapped it up, laid it on his forehead. Kara swiftly undressed him; he suspected that she was a nurse. Jason gasped at the wounds—he'd only been marginally right when he'd said his legs weren't as bad as his back or chest. They cleaned the wounds, examined them, spread salve on them; Karim followed her lead efficiently. They were such a good team that Jason didn't have much to do except sit beside Serhii and comfort him.
After they finished, Kara washed and dried her hands and said, "I didn't find an infection. Just minor… and healing."
"So—" said Serhii, sounding faint.
She looked down, then gazed at him sympathetically. "It's probably… internal."
"Oh." He leaned his head in his hands. A moment later he looked up. "Can I help?"
"No, I can do it," she said. "I was training for this, after all. At least I can do some good with it…" She turned to him and gestured for Karim to turn him over.
Jason looked away, feeling queasy. He led Serhii over to the couch and he lay back, staring at the ceiling, a tear rolling down his cheek. "She'll tear him apart… we have to get out… back to our beautiful Ukraine…"
"Is he from Ukraine too?" He seemed to recall Zakhar mentioning Russia.
Serhii shook his head. "Never been there. But he wants to go there. I cannot go to Russia, so he must come there…" He glanced at Jason sharply, then looked away, eyes shadowed, guarded.
"It's time to end this," said Jason. "We can fight them."
He smiled at the word 'fight'. "Better to die fighting. I hope we can get out, but if not…"
"We have to do it carefully. Not speak of it openly. Use all our strengths. A foolproof plan."
"Yes—that's what Zakhar would tell me… I just want to—" He clenched his fists. "But I have to rely on my training… in intel you don't just go charging in…. I used to know that; it's just that this place—it rubs you down to your raw essentials… it's all I can do just to keep from ripping them apart—what I'd do to Michelle next time I saw her—" His eyes danced with rage and eagerness. "You're a spy too, aren't you."
Jason nodded.
"Then…we can have this kind of subcommittee of intel agents… I don't know if anyone else is…."
"Elliot."
He looked surprised. "There's our core group. Perhaps others who are naturally talented…. We can't go too wide, or we'll be found out."
"First we have to make a… signal. To speak with."
Serhii nodded with understanding. "I'll work on one. Unless you'd rather—"
"I'm a bit rusty."
"It wasn't long for me… but it seems a lifetime…"
A thought struck him. "Do you know sign language?"
Serhii nodded. "Yes—I see where you're going…. We need something so esoteric and unbreakable…. Yet efficient…" He looked back at Zakhar, who was now covered with a sheet. "Just need a bit to get my head on straight… can't linger too long or… best medicine for him is to—not be here at all. These meds aren't helping my mind." He tapped his head in frustration.
Jason helped Serhii over to Zakhar and he knelt beside him, held his hand.
"I've done the best I could," said Kara. "The salve should help with the infection."
"Thank you," said Serhii. "I'm so glad he was out for this…"
"We've got to watch him… it's too bad we can't give him meds to bring down his temperature."
"What…" Serhii closed his eyes. "What did she do to him."
"It…" Kara looked down at him, immense sorrow in her eyes, "probably needs stitches. I know they would never let us have a needle. I hope they take him up to Med…. She used something…sharp… but not…irreparable damage."
Serhii murmured something in Ukrainian and leaned his forehead on the bed. Jason caught a word that was similar to 'never' in Russian.
Since the door was locked for 'rest time', they sat in the living room to wait. Jason learned Kara had lived in Japan, studying to become a nurse while taking care of her mother, who was sick. She'd borrowed from the wrong people, and one day when she went to bring them a payment, they took her instead. That was about a year ago. She was passed around for a while and finally ended up here. At first, no one had claimed her, and she'd been bound for the harem, but before she could get there, Michelle snatched her up. Then it had been a living nightmare.
"I know… what Michelle can do," she said, glancing at Zakhar. "If I hadn't learned how to stay objective as a nurse, I…wouldn't have been able to do this."
"That's got to be a superpower," said Serhii. "Zakhar said it's too hard for him to examine people…. And he was training to be a paramedic."
"She's harder on him. I don't know why. She sort of…treats me like a fragile princess…for me it's more…humiliation than anything. Maybe she has something against men. Maybe she just…wants me around longer." Bitterness clung to her words.
"I keep hoping she'll get tired of you," said Karim, his hand close to hers, almost touching, on the armrest of the couch. "Then you can go to the harem."
"I won't be able to see you then."
"But you'll be safe."
"I don't want to carry someone else's baby." She looked at him, her eyes striking against his.
"That's…not possible."
"Maybe… someday…" Her hand crept closer, touching his.
"Maybe it's best we're apart until—"
"I don't want to wait for" She signed—something Jason couldn't decipher. "With what they do… it might be all we have. I want at least us to know we are," she signed again.
Karim nodded and spoke with a combination of euphemisms and signs, and she replied. It was so fluent and natural; Jason couldn't keep up. But through it he got the impression how close they were. What they dared not show in public.
Serhii glanced at Zakhar. He gave a small smile then leaned forward. "I think we have our" He trace in Cyrillic, shifting slightly and leaning over to shield them. "Should probably develop, adapt."
"Maybe you should take care of that," said Jason. "You've got more expertise."
"I don't know about that… you were a spy for years."
"I was with the NSA for eighteen years."
"Wow."
"I'm that old."
"You wouldn't guess. I mean—you can see that experience, but you actually look younger than you are."
"Thanks."
"A sort of vibrance. Like— that picture I saw of St. John once that looked like it was in motion."
Jason laughed. He knew which picture he was talking about. "I don't feel so vibrant now…."
"No one does, here."
"Even before. It's amazing I didn't get captured."
"You weren't captured?" His brow furrowed.
Jason told him about how he had ended up here. Broad strokes in the beginning, then more detail as he got closer. He was shaking as he told of the night on the rooftop, of severing himself from Connie for the good of the king and the country.
Deep admiration showed in Serhii's eyes. He smiled sadly. "You would have been a good addition to our team."
"Your army?"
He nodded. "Our guys were the best. Are. Unfortunately, they weren't equipped that well in the beginning. That was part of our downfall. And I… I think it was partly my mistake. What got us captured. I can't think about it or… I just have to tell myself I did my best.
"I was responsible for recon, or part of it anyway. I took a group of men out, but we were ambushed. There were too many of them—they came out of the trees, and we had only a chance to get off a few shots when they surrounded us. I had to give the order to surrender." His jaw clenched. "That was the worst moment of my life. I'm cut off from my people…from my boys…. From my family. I have to hope I'll be back with them soon."
"My brother was in army intel," said Jason.
"Really?"
"In Vietnam, he did a recon mission and ended up being captured. They tortured him. His translator happened to be a beautiful young woman who reminded him of…someone who he wronged earlier. She was compassionate to him… and eventually helped him escape. Later, she did a spy mission of her own and he got to know her. They fell in love and married. So—even in the depths of such horror, beauty can emerge."
Serhii smiled. "It is true. The things I have seen here… such horror, but unexpected beauty. I hope that story is a template for ours." He glanced at Zakhar. "That we not only find wonders here, but that we ultimately get out. And everything is new …. No more pain…."
"There has to be some sort of break from all this…." Even though it's my choice I'm here…. coming to the worst for the sake of good. It's not always rewarded on this earth…. It's just that I've had my fair share of heartache. "You'd think it would balance out eventually."
"We've had our fair share, that's true. There may be good things, but eventually… there's only so much we can bear. We can't live without freedom. There's a reason that people who have been here over a year give up. They become ghosts of themselves and they're either discarded or taken to the harem, where it's not as strenuous. It depends… but those who are here a few months still have some fire left in them. The others… I wouldn't even think of asking them."
Jason tilted his head toward Kara and Karim, who weren't speaking anymore, just gazing into each other's eyes, Karim softly caressing her hair.
Serhii nodded. "I do have to be a lot more careful than I've been…. I've got to get myself back in spy mode. Where is your brother now, by the way? If you don't mind my asking."
"He… didn't make it."
"Oh." His face fell. "And his wife?"
Jason shook his head. "I only just got a very delayed letter from Jerry. That's how I learned what happened. They were…so happy." Sharp sorrow stabbed his heart. "She was discovered. But not before she had a baby."
"Do you know where the child is?"
"He lives in the Philippines. He had a child of his own."
"You will go see him?"
"I want to. But he… is a drug addict, and his suppliers took his little girl as payment. There's no telling where she is now. She could be…in a place like this." To know this before was agony. To know it now…seeing firsthand what was done to people, to kids—
It made him sick. He leaned his head in his hands, praying desperately that Mai would escape.
Dear Lord, if it comes down to it—free her instead. If it means her or me. Please, please free Mai.
Serhii laid a hand on his back. Jason didn't move and so Serhii rubbed his back gently and Jason was grateful for the comfort.
If only I knew where she was…. I have to believe she will escape. How can I bear it if she doesn't have a happy ending? But I may never know what happens to her….
The chime rang for lunch. Serhii insisted on staying with Zakhar, and Jason argued with him, saying he would be punished. "It's worth it," he said.
Jason was about to go without him when several guards came with a stretcher. They carried Zakhar down the hall and Serhii watched until they disappeared up the stairs.
Jason laid a hand on his back, and they turned to head to the cafeteria, just as more guards approached.
At lunch, he learned about Karm's past—he had fled Syria during the war and lived at a refugee camp for years. As a teenager, he did odd jobs around the camp. About a year ago, someone came and offered him a job. But instead, they took him away. Karim was shuffled around a bit before ending up here. He was only twenty years old, but there was a wisdom and suffering in his eyes beyond his years. He sat far from Kara this time, but there was this electric energy between them. Just looking at them, you might think they were related in some way, despite their differences. There was the same calm gentleness, yet a deep inner strength. Both reserved and sensible yet empathetic and fun-loving. Jason hoped that the guards didn't see what he saw. It was painfully obvious they were close. Knowing they were in love, he was rooting for them. Fighting against the odds in this place.
They deserved to be as close as possible. To be able to love openly.
After lunch, Tamara announced the showers. At least now he knew the slaves wouldn't harm him, probably wouldn't even look at him. And he was off-limits to the guards. But you never knew if an Admin would come in….
In the shower room, as he was about to grab a towel and undress, someone tapped his shoulder.
He whirled around.
A guard stood there, two others behind him. "You are required for an examination in Med."
"Another one?"
The guard prodded him with his shockrod, sparking him warningly with the lowest setting. "You are not to question us."
Jason joined them and wearily he trudged up the winding stone staircase to the right. At least he wasn't going to the left, the residential area. The last time he'd been to Med, he'd ended up staying for the party. He hoped desperately they'd let him go back down as soon as he was done. But he knew enough now he couldn't count on any of his wishes being honored.