Science Fiction Thriller
Chapter Eight — Part One The Time It Takes to Die
Captivity
Dim glow-bars outlining the ceiling of the curved room cast the only light in a bleak concrete space. A raised platform jutted from the base of the wall furthest from the thick steel door. A bare unlit bulb in the center of the impossibly tall ceiling added to the feeling of being cast into the depths of an oubliette.
The platform and a bare shower spigot high on the wall next to an exposed chemical toilet in one corner were the only other relief in the layout of the otherwise bleak, featureless room. And the surveillance eye… The green light atop the surveillance eye lent no light to the room.
The eye followed her every move. When she’d first been imprisoned in this room, she hadn’t noticed it. The sound its servos made as it swiveled to follow her drew her attention.
That watching eye… never wavering from fixation on her… the old crushing weight of disdain, of being nothing rose in Yianelle again. It was as if she was watching… she… she… she — Mother was judging again. Yianelle lay down, musing on old fears, with rising resolve.
Yianelle barely stirred as the light from the door clanging open flooded the frigid room where she was being kept. She just flung an arm over her eyes and turned away from the light. The thin pad under her shifted so that she was half on the hard cold concrete of the platform which served as the bed for the cell.
The bare bulb flashed on, glaring more light on the scene. When the guards ordered her up, Yianelle flung up an arm, aggressively flipping the bird at them without turning over. One of them crossed the room and grabbed her wrist, snatching her off the platform. Though she fell hard, she came up swiping.
The guard lurched away from her clawing swipe. Yianelle kicked out at him. The man narrowly dodged a groin kick, deflecting it with a meaty fist. The second guard darted in and jabbed her with a shock-stick. She convulsed as she collapsed.
The first yanked her up again and slapped her backhanded across the cheek. He caught her right across the highest part of her cheek bone. Pain like fire blossomed across that whole side of her face. The pain rang in her head and thudded in her eye socket.
While the first guard still held her, the second snapped a band around her neck against her resistance. Yianelle felt a static thrum against her skin. Then, the man snatched her blouse and pants off of her, tearing them away.
“The professor wants you clean and kitted before he starts on you,” he said, dragging her toward the shower spigot.
A third guard who’d remained hovering at the door, walked to the platform cum bed and dropped a pile of cloth on it. “Put this on when you’ve washed.”
He stepped over to her and tried to hand her a bar of soap wrapped in a terrycloth rag. Yianelle spat in his face. The guard who held her raised his hand to strike her again. She glared at him with a venomous glare. But, before he could strike, the third guard stilled his meaty hand and called him down.
“Enough,” he commanded. “The professor wants her unharmed for now.”
That first guard flicked on the spigot and shoved her under the pelting rush of freezing water. The third guard held out the soap and rag again. Yianelle wrapped her arms around herself and turned away from him, resolutely uncooperative.
The first guard grabbed the soap and snatched her around to face him. He started aggressively scrubbing her, punching the soap up and down again painfully across her exposed breasts. She lunged against him, shoving him away with her body.
He fell backwards, but lurched to his feet toward her again. But, she’d snatched the soap from him and started washing herself as ordered. And, the third guard ordered the man to stand down. Then, the men left her alone to complete the required toilette.
More coming soon… Well… soon-ish.
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