The Slide: Part 2

Chapter 10: The Return — (the present)

Fantasy: Farha Captured

She was saturated with sweat. The woman’s deeply black skin glinted with purple radiated light from the anvil of the sun. Her ankles and knees were shackled and chains anchored them to the stone floor of the terrace, while her wrists were bound to a metal rod that kept them a fixed distance apart — and chained to the stone floor. She sat on the splintered wooden bench in tattered clothing, whistling. There was a ligature wound that had started healing on her neck.

The video operator in a windowless interior chamber of the castle stared intently at the monitor, watching and listening to the “happy” whistling.

“Magistrate, please come look at this,” the operator implored, speaking into a microphone at his station.

The Magistrate, with hair gone white and deep olive skin, burst into the room in a dramatic style and was caught by the whistling. He halted. Momentarily confused and disoriented, he staggered forward.

“Do you hear that? She seems to be enjoying herself.” The operator seemed frustrated, perhaps angry.

The Magistrate leaned over his shoulder.

“Zoom in and boost the volume.”

“Grotesque, she’s drooling,” the Magistrate turned away. “Interesting, though.”

“She could be scamming us, sir. She is known for her manipulation,” the operator remarked.

“I know that!” the Magistrate snapped. “Let us give her the benefit of the doubt as a sole survivor of this last expedition into the Slide. She needs our compassion.”

“And maybe some data about what’s inside the Slide, too.”

“There is that,” the Magistrate sighed as he pondered what the operator had said.

“Do we give her the memory extraction drugs now?” the operator asked.

“No. We introduce the questions,” the Magistrate continued and added: “Call the guards and have her brought down into the Tan Chamber.”

“Yes, sir.”

Two guards opened the large metal doors, and the Magistrate negotiated his way forward with a cane to a small wooden desk where he sat. He turned to the guard, facing him directly and said, enunciating slowly and clearly,

“Stand outside the door, but don’t close it all the way. I will call you if I need you with the red-light flasher.”

The guard nodded. He was deaf, specifically chosen by the Magistrate with his deaf twin brother. The guard exited and pulled the heavy door to within inches of being closed.

Farha sat on a bench in the center of the room. Lights illuminated the space through the floor and ceiling along the edges. The lighting was soothing. The Magistrate wrote some notes long-hand in a notebook, occasionally glancing up at Farha, whose head was covered in a prisoner’s hood. He appeared to be waiting for her to speak. She mirrored his inactions.

“Tell me your first and last name,” he whispered.

Farha swayed her head from side to side. He tapped his fingers on the desk.

“You already know my name. You’ve known me since I was six. And my name is in your notes,” she said with weary irritation.

“This will be easier for you if you cooperate with me,” he paused and clears his throat. “I am not the enemy.”

“Farha Izem,” she said, her head swaying forward involuntarily.

“What’s the last thing you remember?”

“Do you mean with Uncle Tem or after?”

“First tell me after Uncle Tem.”

“I was carried by a big Bedouin marauder to the lower door on the north side of the fort and left there, I think. It’s vague and swirling…”

“And with Tem before the Slide?”

“We were in a domed globe in the desert inside Zone Two. We were discussing ways to access four of the six observed portals into the Slide,” Farha said as she swayed and passed out yet remained upright.

“Do you remember walking up to a portal or entering the slide?” Magistrate asked gingerly.

Farha’s breathing became labored.

“I know you heard the question, please answer,” the Magistrate used his patronizing voice.

Nothing. The Magistrate’s face grew red.

“Answer me this instant!”

Still nothing. The Magistrate struggled to rise with the assistance of his cane and hobbled to her.

Carefully, he lifted her hood and was aghast. “Oh!” and he stepped back, as her eyes were rolled back in her head.

Farha detected light and with her inner eye, she saw the room saturated with a rich purple light. A ghostly image of one guard at the door entered the room.

The Magistrate turned as the door swung open. One guard stood there for a moment.

“Do you need help, sir?” he asked with his motor-assisted voice.

“No,” The Magistrate turned. Farha saw a red spine inside the Magistrate glowing and flashing in different shades of red. “Close the door.”

Her head swayed as a kaleidoscope of images accosted her like a machine gun strafing her being. A hoard of big men running down a slope in a sandstorm, thrown to the ground, assaulted, and gun firing. Blackness.

Her head bowed as her body slumped into unconsciousness.

The sun had risen, but Farha was unaware of the passage of time.

The Magistrate sat in his office reading a report. He scratched his head and depressed a switch on the intercom button and yelled into it:

“Get that nurse in here. Now!” he boomed.

Ten minutes passed as he paced the room. His secretary announced the nurse through the intercom.

“Where is the doctor? Can you explain this report on Ms. Izem? The medical examination you did? Please explain.”

“The doctor is en route with the Specialist. They should be here in 24 hours.” Yes, I did the examination. It was inconclusive.”

“Inconclusive for what?”

“Yes, that is the question. I don’t know, and I don’t want to guess.”

“If you did guess, they would be educated guesses based on your training and experience. Is that right?” he asked impatiently with rising irritation.

“Yes, sir.”

“Give me an educated guess, then. Now!” The Magistrate shouted.

“Well sir, this would need to be confirmed by the doctor,” she said as the Magistrate nodded vigorously. “She may have been pregnant and delivered a child.”

“How can that be possible? She and the team have only been gone six months. Was the baby premature?”

“No sir, not premature. That’s why I think I am wrong, sir.”

Part 1 — Chapter 1: The Slide: Audacity Part 1 — Chapter 9: Aftermath

So it begins Part 2 of The Slide. I appreciate your support and any comments you may have. If you do not wish to be tagged let me know.