warning: offscreen sexual assault of a child

Sometime later, he wasn't sure how long, the door slid open. He shot up to see who was coming, but apparently it had been unlocked remotely.

He slid to the edge of the bed and leaned his head in his hands, feeling weighed down, anything but refreshed, even though he felt he'd slept for hours. Perhaps only several. He had lost most of his sense of time. Now he had no idea if it was day or night, or how long he'd been here.

Although he could probably tell roughly what time of day it was from the shaft of light…

He didn't feel like braving the space outside his cell; Gleb and Kent could be there, lurking, waiting to drag him to the showers, interrogation room, or somewhere else horrible. And the other slaves were out there… He didn't feel like he had the capacity to face their pain. His weariness from being trapped, and from having barely any food to speak of, drained him of energy.

But at the same time… something tugged at him. At least he had a semblance of 'freedom' at the moment, and he could offer kindness to offset the evil and callousness of the guards. At least try. That wasn't futile.

So, his body feeling filled with heavy sand, he shuffled out of the room. He also didn't want to get to the point he felt like this room was a refuge; there was no such thing here. Although he did need some kind of illusion of it to stay sane…

Some people were out in the center room. A little girl and little boy, standing near the light, looking up at it as if mesmerized. The woman he'd almost run into yesterday, wandering aimlessly. A young man sitting against the wall near the entrance to the Mush Room, blue light glowing against his cheek.

And the little girl with green eyes straight across from him, gazing at the mushrooms. She picked one, then inched it toward her mouth.

"No!" Jason shouted and raced over to her.

She dropped the mushroom and shrank back against the wall.

Jason froze. He crouched down, adjusting into as non-threatening a posture as possible, not making eye contact, making sure not to seem like he was cornering her. "I'm sorry," he said. "I just don't want you to get hurt. Never eat a mushroom you don't know about."

She looked at him warily. "Do you know what they are?" she asked.

He shook his head. "I don't think glowing mushrooms are usually edible."

"They…look so pretty." She glanced at them.

"Do you want me to show you something?"

Her eyes widened with fear.

His heart shrank from what his words might have seemed to mean. "No— I… I'm not one of them." He shook his head, leaning back against the wall. "I'd never hurt you. I'm actually a slave like you."

"I'm not a slave!" Her eyes flashed.

"You're right. That's just what they say we are. But we can't give in to what they want."

"They took me away from my family."

"Where are you from?"

She waved a hand. "'Cross the border. I lived in Bratislava. Then we went in the mountains. I missed my friends so I went down in the city one day when my mom and dad were gone. That's when—" She shook her head, closed her eyes, as if wanting to shut it out.

"I'm sorry."

"I'll get back." She stomped her foot. "I just gotta find a way up…" She looked at the shaft of light. "Maybe we can make a ladder. Do you have any rope?"

He suppressed a smile, admiring her determination. "No. But you're right. We have to look for a way…." He stopped, remembering his monitor was on. His voice fell to a whisper. "But we have to be careful. Not speak of it."

"How can we figure something out then?"

"We'll have to figure out some kind of… communication…."

"You mean a code?"

"Shh!" he held up a finger, startling her. "There are some words we shouldn't say…."

She tilted her head. "Good thing you're here. You know about these things."

"I've been here for a while."

"Really?" She searched his eyes sadly.

"I was upstairs before. It was a little better, but not much" His chest tightened. "They caught me when I tried to get away and put me down here. I don't want them to catch you…." His heart felt heavier. "Maybe you should just lie low. I'll figure a way out myself."

"I can fight."

"You could get hurt that way."

"I'll look for some clues then tell you, okay?"

Jason nodded, not wanting to discourage the little agent.

"So what did you want to show me?" she asked.

"Oh." He stood. He gestured to the hallway and he stepped into it beside her and led her to the room glowing with blue mushrooms.

"Wow!" She spun, her arms flung out, her eyes closed in happiness.

They walked along the edge, looking at each of the fungi as she pointed out their nuances. He couldn't stop her from picking some, although he was glad she didn't pop them in her mouth.

A few minutes later, the other two kids appeared. The blond boy and girl were tentative, and seemed more fragile and gentle, but soon they were chattering away with Sasha and Jason stepped back and sat on the bench.

The young man wandered in, his face pale, haggard. He looked at Jason warily. He had red hair, some of it drizzling over his forehead. Carefully he sat down on the bench to the right. He looked at the kids for a moment, then hunched down, fiddling with his hands.

"I'm Jason," Jason said softly.

"Quinn," he replied, without looking up.

The green-eyed girl spun around. "I'm Sasha." She sauntered up to Jason, the other two following her as if already attached to her. Sasha sat down on the bench beside Jason and the others sat beside her, looking at Jason with wide blue eyes. "These are Danny and Pearl."

Quinn nodded at them, his eyes narrowed. Then he went back to twisting his hands in a nervous, random motion.

"Is… there anything I can do?" Jason asked. He seemed in more distress than the children. Perhaps…more had been done to him.

Quinn looked at him sharply, pain in his eyes. "It's probably best we don't get to know each other."

"We can help each other—"

"There is no help here. It's the end—if you didn't realize that yet."

Footsteps clapped on the floor. A guard appeared in the doorway, holding a shockrod at his side. "Alright, who's next?"

Jason stood shakily, blocking his view of the children.

The guard gave him a long-suffering look and turned to Quinn. "Let's go."

Quinn sat there for a moment, unmoving. Then he hefted himself to his feet. Without resistance he let the guard lead him away.

"I'm not going like that," said Sasha.

"Maybe that way's smarter."

She looked at him, accusation in her eyes.

Then Jason shook his head. "I suppose I can't ask you to do anything I wouldn't do."

"You'd fight?"

Jason nodded.

They went out into the main room, and Jason introduced himself to the young woman. She looked at him uncomprehendingly, and he realized she must not speak English at all. He gave her a smile, silently promising to protect her if he could.

A scream rang out, reverberating through the hallway.

Jason raced down the hallway to the door of that medical-looking room, surprised that it opened for him.

In the center was a stretcher with Quinn face-down on it, shirtless. Two people stood beside him, one with a device in her hand.

There was blood on the back of the young man's neck.

Jason lurched forward only to be caught by massive arms, as inexorable as tree trunks. Brack held him by the shoulders and he could only watch as they dabbed at the blood then inserted an IV. Quinn's arms and ankles were trapped by Velcro.

"What are you doing?" he asked hoarsely.

The woman turned toward him, the man tugging on surgical gloves. "Just preliminary procedure." She gestured to the back of her neck. "You had this done too."

The monitor. But they were doing something else as well.

Brack turned him away before he could see what it was. He was already feeling sick; his head spun and he sat down on the floor against the wall as soon as he got out.

The kids had disappeared. He assumed back to the Mush Room. But when he dredged up enough energy to look into it, it was empty.

With a heavy heart, he headed to the intake room.

He checked inside the windows of the cells—several children were in each one, except the cells with one or two adults. All of them listless, despondent, perhaps drugged.

The view into the next one made his blood run cold.

A guard was in it, and so were Danny and Pearl. The guard advanced on both of them; they parted and ran opposite directions.

The guard grabbed Pearl, slinging her up by her arm.

Jason pounded on the door; the guard glanced at him, slightly annoyed, then ignored him. Even as Jason slammed on the door so hard his fist hurt, pain shooting up his injured shoulder.

He yanked at the door handle, but it wouldn't budge.

The guard pressed the little girl back onto the cot

Jason's heart lurched.

He turned away, heart freefalling.

Powerless to stop the horror unfolding right beyond the wall.

He headed back to his room, slammed the door shut, and curled up on his cot. Horror and shock lacing through him, too devastated for tears to fall.

Hours dragged by. He lay on his back, numb, staring at the ceiling. A sliver of him grateful he was so hungry and weak he barely had the capacity to feel anything. There was also a vague alarm—he hadn't drunk anything in a while.

But it all paled in comparison with—

He dared not think of it.

Quinn was probably right… it was best not to get to know anyone… he could try to help, but there wasn't anything he could do against the guards…

He couldn't even shut out the screams as more of them resounded, muffled, through the walls. Seeping under the door. Perhaps filtered in on purpose…..

He huddled up, shut his ears, humming, trying to drown it out, trying to keep his heart from shattering completely.

He heard a creak, but didn't know for sure the door had opened until a shadow fell over him and his heart leapt out of his chest. He scrambled back against the wall beside the cot.

Brack looked down at him, impassive. For good measure, Gleb and Kent hung in the background, although Brack was a one-man show.

Knowing it was futile to resist, on some level knowing he'd have to carefully choose his battles from now on, not risk unnecessary injury, he stood and let them usher him out of the room, Gleb and Kent whispering avidly.

His heart sank when they headed to the interrogation room, although he had expected as much. At least it wasn't the shower room….

The door clanged shut, and the muffled screams silenced as if they had never been.

Brack prodded him forward near the front of the room where Daric waited, sitting at the round metal table, arm draped casually on it. A pad of paper and pencil beside his hand.

"Hello, Jason," said Daric amiably. He waved his hand at Brack. "You may go."

"But—"

"You may go."

Brack nodded and lumbered out of the room. To Jason's chagrin, Daric didn't shoo Gleb and Kent away. They meandered around the room among some of the nefarious-looking devices.

Daric gestured to the chair across from him. "Come, sit."

"I'd rather stand."

Daric smirked. "Of course you would." He turned to the table, picking up the pencil, tapping it on the paper. Then he reached beneath the table and picked up a water bottle and set it on the other side of the table.

"I suppose I need to sit down in order to have that," said Jason.

Daric shrugged. "If you want it, all you have to do is come and get it." He settled some reading glasses on his nose. Looked up at Jason. "We want you to have enough to drink. We're not barbarians."

"Could've fooled me."

Daric chuckled. He wrote something on the pad of paper. Scribbled intently, settling his reading glasses back several times.

Knowing it was imperative to get enough to drink, Jason sauntered over and sat down. He couldn't stay standing that much longer anyway. To keep up some strength, he'd have to take any relief he could get…. Gather as much strength he could to resist whatever this session turned into.

Jason untwisted the bottle cap, feeling as if this were a small defeat, but he couldn't help it.

As soon as the water tumbled across his tongue he forgot everything but his thirst.

Sweet, cool water—flowing down his throat—

After a few moments the water was gone, the bottle crinkling as he sucked the last drops. Then let it drop to the floor with a dull clunk.

Daric set the pencil onto the table beside the notepad. Then he looked at Jason, a spark of apology in his eyes. The contriteness on his face looked genuine. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"For the hand I had in what happened last time. I didn't like what we had to do to you."

"You're the good cop, I get it."

"I want to be upfront with you, not have anything between us before we start."

"You were part of it—even if you didn't—hurt me." Flashes of pain ripped through his mind; just at the edge of his vision, the metal table gleamed, jabbing sharply into him the memory of screaming as the knife sliced down—

"It was necessary."

"That's supposed to make me feel better."

"I wouldn't have chosen that brutal method. Torture is actually unreliable—often people will tell whatever they think the interrogator wants to hear. Then we have to sift through what's true and not true afterwards, and it's not always clear which is which. That wasn't really an interrogation at all, anyway; it was ordered by Elena."

"So… her 'rescue' was all for show."

Daric hesitated, then nodded. "She doesn't want you chopped up too badly—she did have to intervene at that point. But she also wanted you punished. So she set Val loose on you. I wanted to be able to begin the interrogation properly, but she wanted you to feel pain—not just for punishment for attacking Rave and for trying to escape. But also… as a sort of pressure. It was all orchestrated; there's nothing Elena doesn't know or doesn't have a hand in."

"Why the interrogation if she knows everything. If this is even an interrogation."

"She knows in general, not the specifics. She knew about the impending escape. She didn't know how you communicated without setting off the monitors." He picked up the pencil, tapped it absently on the paper. "Elena may order more of this kind of pressure. But otherwise, I'm going to avoid it. I have leeway to conduct the interrogation how I see fit. So I'm not going to hurt you if I can help it."

"If I resist, you'll eventually resort to it." Jason had no illusions; these people were corrupted to the core, and he couldn't trust anything they said.

"I told you—torture is unreliable. I prefer more…subtle methods."

"Like what?"

A smile spread across his face. "That would be telling. Besides… after the initial 'shock and awe', Elena doesn't want you damaged much more, either. And, truth to be told, this interrogation is just a formality for the most part. She knows you can't escape. She has all the relevant information; the others won't be able to escape either. But we have to dot a few i's, cross a few t's…. Make you…uncomfortable. Because—well. She's told you this already. There's one place she wants you to end up." His eyes lifted subtly to the ceiling.

"I'm never doing what she wants."

A small, sad smile crossed his lips. "I've seen a lot of people come through here. Elena always gets her way. Eventually."

"I'm the exception."

The smile turned into a smirk. He sat back against the chair. "I'm good—I don't give in easily. But if Elena wanted to, she could wring me dry, twist me into any shape she wanted…. She knows all our pressure points. Plus… her expertise is unparalleled. If you're a straight guy, I don't care what you think your level of resistance is. No man could resist that. She could take you up right now and have her way with you—and you'd beg her for more. But she has her reasons for drawing it out. For one thing, you're special. She wants you for not only her consort, but her agent. Those things are intertwined. And she will have you wrapped around her finger eventually."

"No matter what she does, I'm not giving in."

"I call myself an expert…" He gave a short laugh. "If she wanted, she could come down here and wring truthful confessions from everyone who comes through here. She just usually has something better to do." He folded his glasses and set them on the table. "Alright. Let's get down to it."

Jason braced himself for more pain. But Daric was true to his word. He merely asked questions in an amiable manner while Gleb and Kent wandered around the room with an air of vague menace. It was surreal; echoes of his own screams throbbed in his ears. Tension sent bright bursts of alarm through him—at any moment he would be dragged to the slab and cut apart, or hung from the chains that dangled from the ceiling.

But those things remained only in his vivid imagination and his muscle memory from so many past torture sessions.

Daric asked questions about the escape attempt, and Jason refused to answer. Then Daric would go on to the next question, his feathers unruffled.

He became a little more insistent with some of the questions, such as how they'd communicated without setting off the monitor, but in the end, it was hardly more than an informal conversation. He even let Jason leave without so much as touching him.

Gleb and Kent escorted him out; they began to manhandle him a bit. Forcing him to walk with his upper body leaned forward, arm twisted up his back. Jason did his best to bite back the cry of pain—always that shoulder betrayed him.

Daric grabbed Gleb's arm. "We had a civil conversation; let's keep the rest civil, shall we?"

"But—" said Gleb.

Daric gazed at him over his glasses and Gleb shrank back and nodded reluctantly.

The guards left him in his cell but didn't lock the door. A few minutes later, Brack came in with a paper bag, suffusing the air with a mouthwatering aroma. Jason almost snatched the bag from him he was so hungry.

Jason tore open the bag. Inside was a quiche and some American fries with ranch dressing.

Jason devoured them and sank into an oblivious heaven of delight. The luxury of being able to eat something… that was actually good. To feel that his stomach was full. For just a little while.

After getting some rest, he wandered out into the central room. Dread filled his heart, but he knew it wasn't good to hole himself away in the holding cell. Normally, he'd be filled with the desire to move around in as much space as possible, but this place had changed him. He hated facing the horrors that the slaves were going through, knowing he could do nothing to help them escape it.

But it was selfish to stay away from them too—he couldn't make a big difference, but perhaps he could comfort someone…. As long as he wasn't locked away from them, and the guards didn't surround him and shock him senseless…

About twelve people were out in the central room. Sasha was in the exact center, her hands held out, rays of light playing between her fingers. She stood on the cinder block, reaching as high as she could. Jason's heart twisted, knowing what was beneath it. The crushing darkness.

"Hey," he said.

"Hi!" She glanced at him then looked back up at the ray. It was apparently around noon; bright sunlight filtered down through the distant opening. Jason thought he could almost make out a patch of blue sky… a shadow flitted across it, perhaps a bird… his heart ached exquisitely.

"If I could just jump high enough…" said Sasha.

Jason inspected her subtly for injuries, traces of despondency that came with abuse, but he didn't find any. "Maybe if I lift you up…."

"That would be wonderful!"

"You know you won't be able to get there."

She shrugged. "Pretending is good enough."

I wish it were good enough for me…

He grabbed her carefully by the waist; she didn't flinch or react negatively and so he lifted her up. She flung her arms high above her head, grasping for the light—she yelled with desperate longing, little fingers stretching as far as they could go—

Then she bunched up, wrapping her arms around herself. She shook her head. "I guess not."

"Worth a try."

He set her down on the cinder block. She hopped off of it and skipped over to Quinn, who was hunched over on a bench along the wall. She stood near him, hands clasped, as silent as a shadow. As if she were literally just being there for him.

Eventually he unfolded himself a little and looked at her. His face etched with suffering. His eyes narrowed. "What are you doing?"

"Are you okay?"

"No, I'm not okay. They stuck me with needles… put something inside of me…. I'm trapped here…."

She laid her hand gently on his shoulder. He flinched. She leaned her forehead against his. "It'll be okay. You'll see."

"I don't see…." His voice was hoarse with pain.

"There's always a way out." She lifted her hand gently from him and spun away, whirling back to Jason who caught her. He held her, marveling at her free spirit.

"You're a little ray of light, Sasha."

She smiled brightly. "That's what Mama says." Then a shadow filled her face. She wriggled out of his arms and sat down on the block. "I… it is my fault." She crossed her arms. "That's why I have to get back. I have to get back to Mama and Papa and tell them. Tell them I'm sorry." Her eyes filled with tears. "If I can make it up to them… if I can help other people too…. Maybe they'll forgive me."

He took her hand. "They love you. They're worried about you. They've already forgiven you."

Her eyes searched his for a moment, then she nodded. "I don't deserve them."

"Love isn't about deserving."

She hung her head, dark hair falling over her face. "I couldn't sleep….everyone was screaming, crying…"

He laid his hand on her shoulder. "I heard it too."

"They… didn't get to me yet…. I deserve it more than they do. Because I ran away. I heard how the others were just caught or trapped… But they're ignoring me and hurting the others and I should be happy they're not hurting me. But…." She shook her head. "I just…wish I could help them."

"They're not hurting me either for some reason…. That's it's own kind of torture."

A flash of gold from the edge of his vision. His heart lurched—gold was a kind of mild trigger now.

But it was only the little boy he'd seen yesterday—Danny. He was approaching from the dark hallway.

His face was tearstained, deathly pale. He hesitated, then held out his hand weakly. "Can you help me?"

Jason's heart leaped. "What's wrong?"

"It's my sister. She won't move."

Jason took his tiny hand and went into the dimness of the intake hall. Some of the doors were open, some shut. He led Jason into the one he'd been in last night.

At first, the cell looked empty. Then, behind the door, he saw little Pearl. She was huddled into a ball, her face hidden, arms wrapped around her bare knees. Scrapes marred her legs.

Unbearable agony gripped Jason's heart, but he crept forward, crouched down, trying not to throw a shadow across her.

The gray shift she wore was speckled with blood.

He trembled, not knowing what to do for her.

"How…long has she been like this?"

"All night." Danny's voice shook. Tears spilled onto his cheeks. "Th-that man, he—" His voice caught and he bowed his head.

What could he do? He didn't even have access to clean water. And he didn't know if it was best to check for serious injury or… let her rest.

But maybe she'd feel better somewhere else—

It hit him.

She'd be safe with me. Safer than here alone, anyway. I could at least try to protect her.

If only I could bring all of them….

The guards will probably come after me but. I can't just leave her here.

Jason crept forward, dreading the possibility of traumatizing her more. Carefully, he slid his hands under her shoulders and legs. She was totally unresponsive. He lifted her; she was as light as a wafer. Danny following, he carried her out of the room.

We could all come to my room—band together…

Quickly, he set Pearl down on the cot, and to his relief and alarm, she stirred a little, huddled down into the mattress. He spread the blanket over her.

"You can stay in here. I'll… try to protect you both."

"Thank you," said Danny, breathless. He wiped his cheeks.

"Try to be as quiet as possible. So we don't let them know you're here."

Danny nodded.

"If we hear footsteps—why don't you hide under the bed. Then hopefully they'll look somewhere else." Jason headed to the door and left it open just a crack.

He longed to gather more slaves to protect, but he couldn't leave Pearl and Danny. He wouldn't be able to protect them all. But if some of the stronger ones could help… such as Quinn, if he could push past the pain…

What would it accomplish? Just delay the inevitable.

Fighting this is never in vain. Perhaps delay long enough until we're found… our investigation outside is ongoing…. They're searching for me… it's only a matter of time…

We just have to be careful. Not risk people. But do as much as possible to keep the evil from them… keep more—like this from happening…

A crinkling sound. Danny was cautiously looking in the empty paper bag. He reached in and picked out little crumbs.

Despite how glorious the meal had been, Jason wished desperately he'd have been able to share it… the thought hadn't even crossed his mind….

Next time. If there is a next time.

Jason sat down, keeping alert for any footsteps. Weariness dragged at him.

Danny sat across from him, his head barely emerging above the table.

"Are you okay?" Jason asked. "Did…they hurt you?"

He shook his head.

"That's good. Just being here is awful enough." He couldn't imagine the terror the little boy had been through. And his sister… so small and fragile….

Anger laced through him, riving a path through the weariness. His fists clenched, nails digging into his palms. He longed to smash that guard's face in. Make sure he could never hurt a child again.

Danny shrank back, fear in his eyes.

Jason forced the violent feelings back, though they simmered just beneath the surface. He grabbed the paper bag and crumpled it up into a ball. Then he rolled it across the table. Danny caught it just before it rolled off, and a spark of happiness lit his eyes for a moment. He turned the ball over in his hands, as if realizing what it had transformed into. Then with a small smile, he rolled it across the table. It stopped in the middle. His face fell.

Jason snatched up the ball, then rolled it back. Danny caught it.

"Good job!" said Jason. "You must play soccer or basketball."

A flicker of reminiscence crossed his eyes. "I play soccer."

"I bet you're good at it."

"I'm the best! I get a lot of goals."

"Did you…play with your friends?"

"Yeah. I played at school. But mostly I played with…my sister." Anguish filled his eyes and he looked back at her still form.

"Hey," said Jason softly. "I'm going to do everything I can for her. I'll protect you."

Danny nodded, his eyes wide and trusting.

They kept playing the game; sometimes the ball would fall onto the floor and Danny would look crestfallen. But Jason encouraged him each time. He was glad to be able to keep his mind off the horror for a little while.

Eventually, Pearl stirred, moaning in pain. Jason rushed over to her; she cringed away from him and he knelt, making himself look as unthreatening as possible, and Danny crept over to her and crawled up in bed beside her. She reached for him and he held her, tears streaming down his cheeks as she trembled uncontrollably beneath the blanket. Eventually the shivering subsided and she looked calmer—perhaps she was actually sleeping now, rather than in a near-catatonic state. Danny fell asleep too.

Jason walked back to the table, leaned his head on his arms, and pleaded with God to heal her body and mind. To keep anything like that from happening again.

To any of us.

He woke in the dark, lifting his head slowly from his arms. There was just the smallest hint of light filtering in from the crack in the door. His heart thudded hard as he listened for footsteps, but it was silent.

He looked over at the kids and could just make out their outline in the darkness. Their breaths rising and falling steadily. Both still in basically the same position, clinging to each other for comfort.

He felt like getting up and stretching the creaks from his joints, but he didn't want to wake them. So he settled back into position and tried to sleep.

He was just drifting off when a soft shuffling sound woke him. He thought it might be his imagination, but a few moments later, the door creaked open, and there stood Gleb and Kent, silhouetted against the dim blue light in the hall.

"All right, let's go," said Gleb, swinging his shockrod.

"But—"

"Let's go."

Jason's heart flipped over; he hoped they hadn't seen the children. He got up, angled himself so they wouldn't see the cot, and swiftly headed out the door.

They brought him through central room where the light spilled from the opening, pearlescent with a hint of moonlight.

It's still really early… or late, depending on how you look at it…

They brought him through the intake room to the elevator. The guards gazed at him silently as the elevator rose three floors and opened on a dim hallway Above. They prodded him down the hallway; his heart sank as a large entryway opened on the Above Cathedral; vivid images flashed through his mind, along with the pain. Glimpses of a brilliant light… water and stone… Serhii lying there on the marble, nearly ripped apart.

They stepped through the opposite doorway into the curved hallway. A cloying heat roiled from the room ahead of him. Mist filtering out into the hall like insidious tendrils of enchantment.

A regal figure stood ghostlike inside of it, a shadow cutting into the amorphous white.

The guards shoved him inside and shut the door.

And he came face to face with Elena.