The room certainly was an upgrade from their previous accommodations.

Opulent, silk pillows decorated a plush bed. Beads hung across a sparkling vanity. Couches and various bean bags squatted across the room. In case someone brought Marla spiked Tupperware again, she would have a nice place to sit instead of sliding down her door.

Speaking of sustenance, a new assortment of food rich enough to beat out the last supper had been delivered an hour ago. All kinds of fruit from peaches to blueberries to stuff she couldn't name. Cheese, sandwiches, soup, everything. Plenty of drinks. More than she could possibly eat before it all spoiled.

Marla knew what the Sphinx was trying to do. He was trying to get her to associate their upgrade and sweet treatment with him and feel gratitude enough to tell him things.

But, she remembered the truth. If he was the leader, he had gotten them kidnapped in the first place. So, she would absolutely not be a grateful hostage.

Of course, that didn't mean she went on a hunger strike. Just that, as she filled up her stomach, she remembered who the enemy was.

Speaking of food and enemies, the evil spiky fruit sat on the bathroom counter on its handkerchief. Marla had been careful not to touch it on her way back.

It had been hours since then. Scott still wasn't back, and so only alone did Marla battle her decision.

If she pricked her finger, would they use her blood? Her DNA?

Maybe it was poisoned and a prick would knock her out.

But, it just seemed like there were easier ways to do that. If he wanted to kill, maim, torture, or do anything to her, he would have done it.

So why include some twisted mind game?

Did he really believe this fruit cloned people?

Because Marla would've gone for a more realistic lie if she wanted a prisoner to touch some random fruit. Something like 'here take this, it's delicious.' Or something like 'you're my prisoner, so I can physically force you to touch this fruit.'

With her limited knowledge, Marla tried to make deductions to explain this decision. For example, the Sphinx was the leader of something important enough to have a stone dungeon, so he must have been some type of smart to get to where he was. Hopefully.

What was he playing at?

Did he just want her to go insane deciphering his motives?

In that case, would pricking her finger be the best thing to do? She could disprove his theories in one fell swoop...but she hated going along with his instructions if she couldn't parse the reasoning behind them.

What if she was doing something irreversible and that she couldn't possibly understand the consequences of?

When someone's actions seemed to not make sense to Marla, that usually meant that their complete motivations were not yet unveiled to her. For the most part, people didn't just do stupid things. There were reasons.

She wished Scott were here to ground her. This decision was difficult to make alone. Plus, the longer he was gone, the more paranoid she got. What if she never saw him again?

Marla had tried knocking on the door earlier and opening it, but to no success. The room might be pretty, nice, and comfy but this was still a locked cell. There was no leaving.

Marla peeked in the bathroom. The prickly fruit still sat on the counter. No change.

With socked feet, she created rivulets in the carpet from her frantic pacing.

She was Eve. That was it.

She was Eve, Scott was Adam, the Sphinx was the devil, and this fruit was the apple.

So, she shouldn't give in. She should wait for Scott to return. But, what if he was never going to return? Or what if they were withholding him because she didn't prick her finger yet?

It was impossible to know, especially without knowledge of how much time had passed. She didn't have a clock.

Marla had considered using the sink in the bathroom to create a water clock where she manually counted how long it took to fill the sink and then base her time-keeping off of that. But, it seemed too impractical.

Of course, she did have a lot of time to kill. Probably. She still didn't know how long it had been or how long this prison stay would last. The Sphinx had said his war was ending soon, but she was not inclined to believe anything he said.

Marla entered the lavish bathroom. The forbidden fruit sat in front of her.

Though, what would happen if the Sphinx was right? Marla didn't even want to give thought to that, because it felt like she was allowing herself to be brainwashed. She would be a citizen of Jonestown to drink the Koolaid.

But, the longer she stood there staring at the fruit, the more her thoughts muddled.

Should she just do it?

Marla approached the counter. The fruit looked the same as it had back when she was with the Sphinx. It was purplish in color with orange-y spikes poking out. Altogether, pretty otherworldly.

She hovered a finger above a spike.

Was she insane?

Was she really about to do this?

She took a deep breath, hovering her fingertip.

She dropped it down. There was a slight prick like a needle, and a bubble of blood formed on her finger tip. She wiped it on her jeans.

Marla inspected the fruit. There was no change at all.

She laughed.

Great. She was crazy to even consider anything else other than nothing happening. Of course some fruit wasn't going to grow and clone her.

Whew. Marla was glad that was over.

──────

Hours later, a loud noise jerked Marla awake. She flew to a sitting position and patted the comfy couch she had fallen asleep on. In the split second she resolved her confusion about her waking place, a mountain of emotion slammed onto her chest. The kidnapping, the cell, the conversation, it was all real again.

She looked up. It was Scott, shutting the door.

"Scott!" Marla ran to him and cupped his cheeks, showering kisses all over his face. She wrapped her arms around him. He had a bandage wrapped around his head, but otherwise he seemed fine. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. Relief flooded her senses and she smiled despite herself.

"The nurses just discharged me. This is our new room?" Scott looked around and whistled.

"Don't be fooled. We're still prisoners." Marla pulled herself out of the embrace and tried the door handle to prove her point. Still locked. "I talked with the cult leader while you were getting treated. I have a lot to tell you."

It took Marla an hour to explain all that she had learned and longer to articulate her analyses. There were many tears especially as Marla related the story about Kendra.

"Is the fruit still in the bathroom?" Scott asked once Marla was done with her debrief.

"Yeah." She nodded and stood. "I'll show you."

When Marla rounded the bathroom door, she paled. The fruit had grown from the size of her fist to her toaster back home.

"I'm guessing it was smaller before?" Scott trailed his fingers over the large fruit flesh.

Marla nodded, her mouth open. This couldn't be. It had been smaller before. Hadn't it been? Yes it had. What...

"Maybe they switched it out while you were asleep," Scott said.

"Maybe." Her voice was quiet. Logic had fled her at this moment. Surely she could discover logical solutions, but those would squander the hope she had foolishly let grow.

"Could you imagine if they stuffed a wax figure of you in here?"

Marla stayed silent. Scott looked at her face and his expression crumpled. She couldn't help it. She couldn't help what she thought.

"Marla..."

A tear slipped from her eye and she hated herself for believing in this dumb hope. She was better than this. She wouldn't succumb to some crazy brainwashing accompanied with a dumb magic trick. But she was succumbing. And that was the horrible truth. "But if it's true, our baby girl could be alive."

Scott cradled her in his arms and Marla sobbed as the suffocating longing to have her baby back in her arms opened the floodgates. She was Eve, Scott was Adam, and the Sphinx was the Devil.

She had bitten the apple.

And she was fine with that.

She would accept humanity plunging into new depths of horror as long as the Sphinx held up his end of the deal. She would crucify for her crimes as long as she saved her progeny from the same fate.

To have them in her arms, to brush Seth's hair from his forehead, to massage Kendra's head as to lull her to sleep during a bout of sickness...

Oh, to be their mother again. She would give everything else away.

Scott kissed her head of hair damp from his own falling tears. "This is just cruel."

──────

Later that night, Marla shuffled in her sleep and stole more of the blanket away from Scott. The two of them had cuddled up on the humongous bed and placed the growing fruit at their footboard so they would hopefully be awakened if it cracked. Also, so no one could come in the night and switch it out without having to at least tip-toe around their sleeping forms.

Marla floated to the edge of consciousness and burrowed deeper into the heavy comforter. While she briefly wondered about the time, a sharp crack sent lightning through her body. Her eyes flew open and she fumbled for the bed table's lamp cord. With a pull, she illuminated the bed. There, the fruit was, large as an adult human, with a huge crack in it.

This couldn't be happening. No. There was no way. Was this a dream? This had to be a dream. She was not awake...no, no, no, crack!

"Scott!" Marla shook his shoulder.

His eyes stayed closed. "Hmm?"

"Goddamn you, Scott! Open your eyes!"

Marla added being a heavy sleeper to her personal tier list of sins. A new crack came and split the top of the fruit. There was a slight ravine towards the top now, hidden by shadow, like Pandora's box. She bit the apple, she opened the box. She swam with millions of allusions of women sacrificing humanity. Were they ever given any other choice?

Scott pushed himself up. "Is that?"

"Yeah."

"Is it?"

"I think so."

A hand popped out of the crack and pushed down at the fruit flesh. Another followed and soon a woman pushed herself out onto their bed. She looked exactly like Marla down to the bitten fingernails. She looked around and smiled towards them. Was that how Marla looked when she smiled? Wow...she was more beautiful in person than the mirror.

"Holy shit!" Scott yelled. Marla stayed frozen in stupor.

The clone laughed uncomfortably. "Hi Scott. Hi Marla. What are my directions?"

There was no way. There was no world in which that could happen. Marla wanted to pull the clone closer and scrutinize her freckles. Scrutinize everything. If this was possible by whatever means, how was Marla supposed to trust anyone or anything ever again?

"It's funny having your memories right now, Marla. I totally understand exactly how you feel about magic." The clone tilted her head. "Isn't that so curious?"

Before she could answer fake Marla's insane question, the door burst open. A cloud of darkness accompanied a short man who rushed over to their bedside.

Just like before when Marla had encountered the dark cloud, she couldn't think or say anything. If Marla could think, maybe she would add this to her evidence that something a little hanky was going on. But, of course, her mind was frozen and only her surface-level thoughts could penetrate the fog.

"Your orders are to impersonate Marla Sorenson. Convince everyone you meet in Rochester that you're going to move to Connecticut and live with your in-laws to process your grief," the man said.

The clone shrugged and slid off the bed. "Okay. How do I get to Rochester?"

"We'll send you there by plane. Don't worry about that now," The man said to the clone. Then, he turned to address the paralyzed prisoners. "The Sphinx will speak to you two later this week."

Neither of them could even nod until the clone, the man, and the cloud of darkness left the room.

Once they did, Marla collapsed onto the bed. Scott kicked the pieces of fruit shell onto the ground before sliding back under the covers.

This couldn't be real. It couldn't be. But it was...and if it was...

Marla returned to Scott's arms under the plush comforter. "Our baby," she said.

Scott nodded and held her closer.

"Our baby."

──────

When the Sphinx entered their room the next week, Marla looked up from her notepad that she had found in the nightstand drawer. She had been making a timeline of the information she knew and bullet points of what were facts—which were few. A fun, new thing was that they were at least far enough from Rochester that the Marla-clone needed a plane to get there.

Besides the investigative note-taking, Marla had also needed to write down her thoughts to understand them. Currently, she had burned through the thick notebook and had three pages left. She set it face down next to her and sat up straight on the couch.

Scott walked out of the bathroom with shaving cream on one side of his face and a razor in the other. If there was one thing Scott lacked, it was good timing.

"Good evening," the Sphinx said.

Marla itched to grab her notepad and add a new note to her timeline. Evening.

Scott ducked into the bathroom to put the razor down and wipe his face with a towel. He then sat down next to Marla and put his hand on her knee. They were a unified front, unlike when she had had to face the cult leader alone. "You must be the Sphinx."

"Good." The Sphinx smiled and sat down in the loveseat across from them. "You've talked."

"There isn't much else to do," Marla said.

"Oh? I tried to provide amenities," the Sphinx said. "I am trying to accommodate you two as much as possible. I truly have nothing against you. You just happen to make valuable hostages."

Marla mentally rolled her eyes at the back-handed compliment. She entered her professional mind and began to go through the questions she had drawn up for the man.

"You've mentioned a war before. Could you explain?" Marla asked. Her voice had taken on a more authoritative tone.

"Of course. You can grab your notepad and take notes if you want. I'm not concerned with any intelligence you might gather."

Marla begrudgingly grabbed her notepad and clicked her pen to add her notes. It was meant to be discouraging—the idea that she could take her silly little notes because none of it mattered. But she wouldn't fall victim to his mind games. She wouldn't.

"I'll continue. There are two distinct sides. One is the side to emancipate all magical creatures. That's my side. The other wants to imprison innocent creatures, some of which have sentience on the level or higher than of humans. For example, dragons are often thought to have the same increase of sentience from humans than humans have to a lizard."

"Obviously, we had a fruit give birth to a clone of my wife several nights ago. But, dragons?" Scott scoffed. "I mean, come on, man."

"What happened to my clone?" Marla asked. Those thoughts had eaten at her the past several days. That was real to her, not some mention of dragons.

"She is fulfilling her orders. Everyone in Rochester will believe you have gone to live with your in-laws to grieve sequestered."

"But, Mom and Dad won't believe that," Scott said. "They'll know."

"Your whole family is quite aware of this pretense."

"Isn't that bad for you?"

"No." The Sphinx smiled with satisfaction. "Your role is to keep your kin from going into deep hiding with instruments precious to this war. Insofar, it's working."

How precious were the instruments? Precious enough to justify ruining their relationships, their careers, and uprooting their lives?

Marla was being silly. He didn't value any effect on their lives at all.

She pursed her lips. "Are we really as vital as you say?"

The Sphinx laughed. It fed her anger. Logically, she knew that he had kidnapped and imprisoned her. But, the illogical human part of her loved his conversational tone, his easy laughter. It just sucked when someone Marla hated acted like a charismatic, funny person instead of a cardboard cut-out of the devil. "You have no idea. Your children are possibly the two most powerful mortals in this war. Stan is the leader of a resistance movement against me. To upset and control them with your imprisonments is priceless. Again, I believe you will never leave this prison unless I say so, and for that, I am liberal with information."

Marla was coming around to some higher science or supernatural force working the miracles she had witnessed. However, her family lying to her? All of them? For years? That was even more unfathomable. She didn't believe it. Even the thought strangled her heart ruthlessly.

"I want to see all this magic you talk about," Scott said.

"Unfortunately, you are unable to perceive most magic without the aid of certain magical substances." Despite the somber, angry mood, the spark of mirth those words ignited within her brought humor to her lips.

"Let me guess..." Marla started and looked to Scott to finish her sentence.

"Cocaine?"

"Mushrooms?"

"Heroin?"

"Marijuana?"

The Sphinx grinned. "I'm sure with psychedelics and mental illness, you could explain away most of my evidence." At Marla's look of displeasure, he attempted to smother his delight. "Forgive me for finding amusement in you two. I have always lived life with magic entwined, and it is a great diversion to witness your vehement non-believing."

"No worries. I love amusing my crazy, psychotic kidnappers," Scott said.

"It's my favorite pastime," Marla added.

The Sphinx grinned. "The Sorensons are just a gift that keeps on giving. I'm sure Kendra has said something similar to me before."

Marla knitted her eyebrows. She hated when he brought up her children. However, this reminded her of a question she had held since the first meeting. "Did you kidnap her too?"

"I did. However, she is alive," the Sphinx said.

It was suffocating having the Sphinx as her only source of news. It went against all of her instincts as a journalistic editor. With no way to confirm or deny his statement, the only way to preserve her sanity was to accept it as truth or to forget it. Not to agonize over it.

Scott leaned forward. "Do you have that picture?"

The Sphinx nodded and handed it over. "You can keep it."

Marla let Scott take it, she had already seen it enough. It was a false promise, a paper rendition of her baby girl. They had displayed a million photographs of Kendra at her funeral; it hadn't brought her back. There was only one way Marla wanted to confirm her daughter's status. "If you have Kendra too, at least let us meet."

"I don't have Kendra. She has been with your in-laws for the past week and a half."

That was before Marla and Scott had been kidnapped.

The slight tension in his face worried Marla. That displeasure—it made it seem almost...

"No," Marla refuted. "That isn't true. They would have told us. Seth would have called."

The Sphinx pursed his lips. "Maybe they couldn't reach you."

"No." Marla stood up and shook her head. She was getting too antsy. He was getting to her. But, she couldn't accept this. It was more outlandish, more cruel than everything else. More cruel than some thought of some magical joke everyone else was in on. "My family wouldn't do that. They wouldn't let me grieve over my baby girl. Kendra wouldn't have allowed that. She would have called."

The Sphinx shrugged. "Would you have believed them?"

Marla hesitated. In that moment, the Sphinx swooped back in like a hawk.

"You don't understand. We are at war in a world you are not a part of."

That was it.

"Oh, shut up! You are not going to tell me I'm not a part of my children's world." Marla stomped her foot. "Do you have children? Do you know what it feels like—to pour your heart and soul into your child? Do you know what it feels like to bury your child? Do you know what that feels like?"

Marla's voice mounted higher and the tears that hadn't fallen in two weeks burst forth in an angry thunderstorm. "I wanted to put myself into the ground beside her! I wanted to...Goddamn it!"

Marla grabbed a pillow on the couch and threw it at his face. The Sphinx didn't flinch. That made her more angry than anything else. She wanted to hurt him and inflict the same fiery grief she had to suffer on him.

"Marla," Scott said. Ever the calm, the studious, the well-adjusted one.

Well, Marla wasn't calm. She couldn't handle this. She wanted answers that were more than a carrot dangling in front of her eyes. A picture, a promise. That meant nothing.

"I have lost a child," the Sphinx answered. "Many, many years ago. However, I have killed many more who were children or parents or loved ones of others. Even still, people have killed my loved ones. When you've been around as long as I have, death doesn't seem so insurmountable."

He looked 30, maybe 40. And he was diminishing her baby girl? He was telling her to get over it? That death wasn't so insurmountable?

Marla sobbed and swept the vase off the end table. Glass sprayed everywhere and the guts and water and flowers spilled out. "Let us out!"

She wanted to lunge at his face. She wanted to rip off his serene face with her fingernails and teeth. This wasn't fair. He wasn't going to tell her that her baby was alive and well but she couldn't see her. He wasn't going to tell her that she didn't understand why. She understood just fine!

She would do anything to see her children again. To feel their face, their joy, their sorrow. There was no cause that she would sacrifice her children for. None. It cut her heart deeply that perhaps her relatives didn't feel the same way.

"My apologies. I had assumed that telling you of your daughter's health would be good news."

Anger choked Marla and she sobbed more. She couldn't breathe and she couldn't speak. Scott grabbed her hand.

Marla was so tired of resisting hope. She wanted to believe in this guy's stupid magic and stupid clones and give in. She wanted to have a world where her baby was okay. But, she was just so terrified that whenever some FBI squadron airlifted them out of this place, it would all turn out to be some hallucinogen-induced experience and she would have to confront her loss all over again.

She didn't think she could survive that.

"It would be good news if she was in our arms," Scott said. His voice was thick. "Otherwise, we cannot believe you that she's okay. You are a kidnapper and a self-admitted murderer. Listen to my wife. Get out."

"I will warn you two. If you do not remember your place as prisoners, I will put you in an environment to remind you."

"You could put me in Hell for all I care and I would be happier than here," Marla hissed.

"You amuse me by thinking that is something out of my control. I have developed an incredible sense of patience and simply put, this display is not terribly moving. I will abide by your wish if it is not to see me again." He sighed. "It seems I will have to procure new subjects for my experiments with magic exposure if I wish to continue them. You both are simply...too disturbed."

He stood up and left.

──────

Daily, they parsed out the details of their captivity and of this magic. They came to the conclusion that a shared hallucination even with spiked food was unlikely, and that there was something at play. That they would continue to question the information presented to them but generally take it at face-value. They had no other option.

Days passed without any notable interruption. When they talked of Kendra, they used the present tense. It was an open secret among themselves. That they would think of Kendra as alive and deal with the consequences later.

Days of hoping turned into weeks of worry melted into months of doubt. Scott had grown a beard. Razors, glass, and anything that could become a sharp object had been taken away after that meeting with the Sphinx. It seems that their captors were concerned with their mental state. Well...Marla's mental state.

Sometimes packages arrived like new clothes or new coloring books or other simple diversions. Marla resented them. She resented the façade presented over their cruel reality. Sometimes, the pretty pastels and fluffy bed felt crueler than the cell had.

However, boredom became the new cruelty.

Almost three months later, sounds of ruckus awakened them and abated their boredom. For the next week, loud noises continued above and below their floor. There was a new energy in the air.

Tension, anxiety, hope, and excitement filled their thoughts. Was this it?

It was not.

They stayed imprisoned quite possibly due to their unimportance. Their names weren't in the dungeon ledgers and their quarters were out of the way in one of many rooms. Few were aware of them or their insignificance, and with the Sphinx deposed, no one cared to check on them. The kitchens kept sending food, of course, to Room 457 but the occupants were none of their business.

The food they sent was a variety, but there was one constant: an apple.

One of those days, many months in, Marla held that day's apple in her hand. The red skin glistened, smooth and tight, over the fruit. It was a perfect little apple. Gorgeous even. She could imagine the rich, sweet taste.

She didn't eat it.

Instead, she threw it at the door. The flesh broke open and pale tender fruit splattered on the door, the wall, the carpet.

Marla slid to the floor and sobbed.