The cell had rough concrete walls and a double layered metallic door with a little squared window at the very top of the 3 meters height of one of its walls, and in the corner sat Sara, if not cuddled up. She was hugging her body despite the mudded dirt stains that covered up most of her shirt and her pants. The scarf on her head was matted to her greasy hair and her body odour was that of the pungent smell of sweat.

She hadn’t showered since her arrival two nights ago. Unfortunately, they’d led her blindfolded through the corridors and she couldn’t map out the place, all she knew was that they’d taken 3 consecutive turns to the left and about a couple to the right. Disappointed as she was about not getting a glimpse of the Separators HQ, the thought of her upcoming doom quickly replaced every other thing she was dwelling on in her mind.

Around her lay 3 trays of food, all of which were untouched until they ran cold. She figured that if the only way to protest while being held captive is to refuse eating their meals, then so be it. The only thing she was cooperative in doing was going to the washroom, which was actually the only thing she asked for about 5 times a day. The guard would lead her to the toilets where she’d be restricted to 10 minutes of doing her business and abluting. She’d come back to the cell, find the qiblah using the compass in her pocket, which was the only thing they let her keep, and then she’d pray the prayer that was on due, and in those five minutes of prayer, she’d talk to her Lord as she wept and asked for the light at the end of the darkness she was in.

It wasn’t like they didn’t mind her praying, in fact they hated how she was not only darker but also a Muslim, but it was more of a helpless situation. The girl had a compass and figured the prayer times from the light that penetrated from the window, there wasn’t much that they could do about it so it was easier to just ignore it.

The gaurd’s knock startled her out of her throbbing head. She kept staring wordlessly at the door as the lock clicked and the door squeaked open revealing the same bored expression she was accustomed to.

“Up and out, squirrel, you’re about to try our not so fancy showers.” He ordered with an expression that feigned indifference.

Hearing that belittling nickname never failed to make her blood boil despite the countless times it had been thrown at her during the last 36 hours. She scrutinized him as she slowly pushed herself up to a standing posture.

Even though she appreciated getting cleaned up, once and for all, she didn’t show it, holding onto that thread of pride in her heart as they both walked silently through the brightly lit corridor.

After a couple of turns to the right, and about another two to the left, they were faced with a grey freshly polished door with a new plastic sign that read ‘Cleansing Unit’ at which Sara raised an eyebrow at.

The guard was getting impatient. “Well, get in, what are you waiting for?”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “I don’t know, for you to bless me with a time restriction, perhaps?” she said, her tone rich in sarcasm.

“Oh,” he said, “30 minutes that is; 10 to wash your garments and 20 to shower, if you exceed that, I’ll have to barge in. Get it, squirrel?”

She scowled at him and decided silence was the best response, maybe then he’d realise how silly he’d been to call another human a freaking squirrel. With her hand on the knob, she pushed the door open and slammed it at his face.

“Your behaviour will only result in no more food, bitch.” He threatened from the other side of the door.

“I don’t need your bloody food, you bunch of bastards.” She snapped back.

“We’ll see about that later.” He warned again, at which she rolled her eyes and started scanning the tiled room instead of giving an answer.

Three open cubicles stood on the left, opposite of which lay three circular white sinks sharing a huge mirror on the wall above. Right across from where she stood was a fresh new bright cyan bathing robe on a hanger, and to her left a washing machine was stuck to the wall of the cubicle next to it.

Her instinct told her to scan the ceiling for cameras, and even though she found nothing suspicious, she still felt watched, as if she were a specimen examined under a microscope, her movements monitored, judged and analysed.

Cautious, she walked the full length of the room and reached out for the robe on the hanger. Putting it on and facing the wall, she started undressing under it. Once done, she wrapped it around her body and picked up her dirty garments from the floor along with her scarf that was lying on the sink as she made her way to the cubicle in the far end.

She threw her clothes in the washing machine, and the moment she turned it on, an electronic voice erupted from it.

“The wash and double dry mechanism has been activated, please wait for 10 minutes before checking back on your items.” At that, a mechanical hum broke the silence.

Shaking her head and slipping under the shower, she couldn’t help but find the technology a bit surprising, if not mildly odd. I mean, it’s not like she had no idea Pallids were developing their lifestyle everyday, she just didn’t know it was up to that extent.

Careful, if not a bit paranoid, she scrubbed her body clean beneath the robe. After applying shampoo to her greasy scalp, she turned the showerhead on and let the warm water soak her from head to toe, the cotton robe heavy on her shoulders. It was so refreshing, she felt her mind untangle. She wondered where Kris might be, would she notice her absence, or had she already? If yes, was she looking for her, or had she decided it wasn’t worth the trouble?

“Your items are ready. Please retrieve them as soon as possible.” Came the female electronic voice of the washing machine, stopping her train of thought.

She sighed as she turned off the showerhead and stepped out, her figure dripping water on the tiled floor. It didn’t take her long to slip back into her now fresh garments, in fact, she was clothed and ready, her scarf safely wrapped around her head, but something about her reflection in the mirror made her stop. Give it a couple of minutes of staring at it without even a string of thought, no questions on her mind, no astonishing realisations, just the intense hesitation of what awaited her at the other side of the door, whether or not it was worth it after all. Her subconscious led her to believe that the longer she stared at herself in the mirror, the closer she was to escape. Her rational mind didn’t give a damn and decided to sit back and watch instead.

A sharp knock sounded on the door, and then another.

“What?” she yelled in mild irritation.

“It’s about time, squirrel, get the hell out of there!” the gaurd’s annoying voice served as something she both detested and felt grateful for. How else could her anxious stance be broken? She hadn’t even realised she had been anxious until her fear paralysis was over and she could move her feet again.

She turned the knob and stepped out, rolling her eyes at the guard as he ushered her in the direction of her cell. As they made their way through the ignited corridor, she glanced around her, listened to the thumping of their footsteps, the click clacking of heels somewhere in the distance. There were no windows, she noticed, at least non barred lower than 4 meters high ones, hence she couldn’t hear the birds’ tweets or the ghostly scream of the wind, that she was disappointed about.

But then, she saw him. His eyes glazing over at her as they made eye contact, his mouth in a smirk. She scanned him from head to toe, analysed his fresh uniform and the gun in his holster, getting more and more disgusted by the second that she couldn’t help spitting at him.

She felt a gun at the back of her head.

“Behave, or I’ll shoot.” The guard warned, Mike’s smirk growing, smooth and mischievous.

He moved towards them, and in a cold carefree tone he said, “It’s okay, Richard, leave her to me.”

She glanced between him and the guard before looking him dead in the eye, saying, “You can’t get away with this, Mike, you won’t. The rebels are coming, Kris will find out your filth, you sunken bastard.”

He chuckled to himself, in a way so odd it made her wonder if she’d cracked a joke without noticing.

“What’s funny?”

For the first time since she caught his eye that afternoon, his expression grew stern, serious, and cold all at the same time.

“Oh nothing, perhaps the fact that they’d already made it here.”

Her heart fell and she forgot how to breathe. “What?” she muttered out.

He retrieved his smirk once more, “Get her back to her cell, Richard. Make sure she behaves, I’m tired of her attitude problem.” He ordered, not even looking back as he walked away, far into the distance.

“Yes, Sir,” replied the guard as he obliged and pushed her forward.

Her mind was a haze. What could that possibly mean? She knew the answer, of course, she just dreaded articulating it, it was that hard to believe. It wasn’t their safety or freedom that was at stake now, it’s the whole mission, the whole vision that’s in danger.

Killing all of them or imprisoning them meant the death of an idea, a solution to an upcoming apocalypse. The thought of that made Sara’s heart sink deep down, as if drowning in a vast ocean of dread.

__________________________________

The rebels were trapped in one cell, yet each of them was separated from the other’s direct contact through metal bars. It was kind of sickening, how they could all see each other suffer and not be able to soothe one another through it.

Kris was pacing in her confined space when the lock on the main door clicked open, the door swinging a second after revealing a smug looking guard.

He took a few steps in for everybody to see him.

“Anybody up for a shower?” He asked.

They all exchanged glances, except for Vienna who kept her head on her knees and refused to glance up in his direction.

Silence was all he got in response.

It didn’t take him long to notice their hesitation, but before opting for the casual reassuring words, he seemed to notice Vienna’s little act of protest as he tilted his head in her direction.

“You,” he called, his voice tainted with mild offense.

Kris looked back and forth, not knowing what to do or what to expect, she just knew she had to do something, say something.

“Hey!” she yelled at him, gaining his attention, “she’s just tired, leave her the heck alone!”

Vienna’s head rose up in a second, her eyes flaring in anger as they met Kris’s confused ones.

“I’m not tired, I don’t want to hurt my vision with the sight of your like, you-” her confident outburst immediately stopped the second she turned to face the guard, and oddly enough, Kris noticed his expression growing rigid, frozen all of a sudden.

“What? What’s wrong, Ven?” Charlie intervened, his alertness mirroring Kris’s.

Cory watched in undivided attention, seemingly trying to analyse the situation through his lens.

At last, Vienna spoke.

“Richard?”

The guard’s body went stiff, as if being hit by something he dreaded so bad.

“Vienna?” he exclaimed.

“Wait,” Kris started, trying to make sense of it, “What is happening here, how do you know each other?”

Vienna swallowed, closed her eyes and answered.

“He’s my brother.”

Those three words shook the ground they were standing on. Sometimes, coincidences are a blessing, other times, they’re nothing but a curse. Right then, however, Kris couldn’t tell to which criteria this one belonged.