Chương 3: Cult

Ch 3 - Cult The room is sparse. A bed, a bedside shelf, an empty door-less closet. The window is the same as those in the living area. No hinges or latches, no way to open the translucent pane that is flush with the wall. Cara had cupped her hands on the glass, pressing her forehead close to try to make out anything beyond the pane but the window serves as nothing more than a source of frosted light and perhaps a touch of aesthetic to the dreary room.

A hot flush had surged in her cheeks when she had awoken to find she was stripped down to her underwear. At least, she had reflected, her sports briefs and bra covered more than her regular underwear. Someone had dressed the wounds on her head and applied a thin, clear film over the large bruise that blooms up her ribcage. A rectangular padded bandage covers the cut on her temple, her fingers had probed its unusual rubbery texture.

A supply of toiletries and a change of clothes had been left on a shelf next to the window. Brown fleece-lined cargo trousers, a polyester t-shirt and jumper. Both tops have a spiral logo she doesn't recognise printed on them. Cara had rolled the waistband of the trousers over twice, creating just enough extra fit to feel confident they would stay up. The arms of the jumper ran long over her hands so she had bunched large handfuls of the material around her elbows.

Evidently no one had been able to source replacement shoes as her grubby running trainers had been left by the door. She'd searched the room, including pulling the bed away from the wall and jumping to check the top shelves in the closet. She had found nothing of use, not even some lost coins or a paperclip. Though what she expected to do with a paperclip against the knife that had been on the table she didn't know.

If they persisted with the story about another planet she'd have to hope she could slip away to find a phone, or maybe someone in one of those other buildings would be able to contact the police. Taking a deep breath, she pauses by the door listening for movement on the other side. At first she thinks the door is locked, it takes three attempts to flick up the little latch, and four more attempts at pushing and pulling before finally realising the door slides open.

Slowly and quietly, she makes her way down the corridor leading out to the circular table, pausing just before the light from the room meets the shadow of the corridor. The taller woman with the cropped hair and the young-looking man are in the casual seating area, deep in conversation. Their attention is on a screen on the coffee table.

"See, there's more of this storm to come," the woman says, pointing to an area of the screen.

"There's no chance of us leaving until tomorrow at the earliest, and that's if Wyndeer can get a grade 7 minimum. And it's stronger than yesterday, the Kewdine scale is at 6. 7."

"Urgh, Xiatt is such a shithole," the young man grumbles, slumping back on the couch.

"I've been here twice before and it's always the same story. Either a storm raging or a storm looming, and always one that wants to kill you."

"It's the fissures in the craters here, Erro," the woman moves her hand across the screen.

"They spew hot noxious gasses which then get swept up as they travel across this lowland and combine with the cold air in the canyons." Her arm is clad in the same long cuff as Wyndeer had worn. Its surface reflects the overhead lights.

"At least she didn't arrive in one of the craters, she wouldn't have lasted long enough for us to pull her out, and it would have been incredibly painful." Cara's heart sinks. More talk of arriving in their fictional world. She doesn't understand how this can be a prank, to take it this far was abduction and more. They would have had to seek her permission to participate in a twisted prank reality show if this was being recorded. She watches them study the screen.

They seem invested in the story, continuing the belief even without her presence. A thought forms, dragging with it a wave of dread - invested like people in a cult. Play along, she tells herself, play along until you can escape.

"Perhaps she would have been better off," the young man snorts, sweeping his hands through his short dark hair and cradling the back of his head.

"Noxious gasses might be preferable to Vheece."

"Stop," the woman gasps, giving his leg a light slap with the back of her hand.

"Erro!" a warning voice comes from the other side of the room, out of sight of Cara's vantage point in the shadows of the corridor.

"Thanks to this mission he is now your commanding Green. We're all in his line now so you need to be more respectful."

"I still don't get why Wyndeer took this mission," Erro moans, looking over to whoever is speaking but sitting up straighter on the couch as he does so.

"Wyndeer had very good reasons that are none of your business," Crathsun says, stepping into view. He is even bigger than Cara remembers, his wide muscular back completely blocks the woman and Erro from her view.

"He leads you follow," Crathsun reprimands Erro.

"Yes, Red," Erro affirms, dropping his gaze.

"Joss and I are heading over to the Arra-Osco Central Hub to see what Wyndeer has managed to secure." Crathsun turns. Cara pushes her back against the wall, holding her breath as his shadow crosses the corridor.

"You are both on point. If she wakes up just try to keep her calm, distract her. Magse, Argatta's not keen on medicating her but you have the option if it's needed. Remember the reports said they aren't known to possess any strength or skill. Heck, even Erro managed to disarm her with a swat." His chuckle is accompanied by a woman's laughter. Cara winces, glancing down at the back of her right hand.

There is some redness and a little swelling on the knuckles of her middle and ring fingers where Erro had forced her to release the knife. She isn't looking to repeat the altercation. Erro resumes his relaxed slump on the couch as the metal door clunks shut. Cara lets out her breath and pushes herself away from the wall, forcing herself to step into the room before the urge to run back to her bed overpowers her. If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

"Oh. Hi," Magse says, catching sight of Cara in the doorway and quickly standing up from the couch. They stand in silence. Magse looking from Cara's head wound to the oversized jumper and baggy trousers. Cara watching her, frozen in indecision.

"Magse," the woman says, holding her hand to her chest, as she crosses from the couch to the edge of the large table. She reaches for a jug and cup, "Would you like some water?" she offers as she fills the cup, her eyes never leaving Cara. She holds the cup out and flashes an encouraging smile. Tall with long limbs and graceful fingers, her dark hair is cropped short exposing ears that stick out a little too far to be ignored.

Her large hazel eyes seem to be covered in a thin film as if she is wearing oversized contacts. Still dressed in black, with no labels or logos visible, the plainness of her clothing draws Cara's attention to the long cuff on her outstretched arm. It looks to be a thinner version of the brushed brass ones she had seen on Wyndeer's arms. Cara squints as a thin green dot zigzags across the surface in long swipes, abruptly disappearing before it reaches the bottom of the cuff.

"Drink?" Magse gestures again with the cup.

"Sure, thanks," Cara mumbles realising her tongue is scraping dryly against the roof of her mouth. She hasn't had anything to eat or drink since the night before her morning run. Was that yesterday or the day before? The water is deliciously cool, she resists the urge to gulp down the cupful in one go. There is a sharp tang to the aftertaste. She looks questioningly at Magse.

"Yes, the water doesn't taste great here," Magse sighs.

"The zurillipane dust from the mines gets into everything. It's harmless though." As if to reassure Cara, Magse pours another cup of water and takes a long sip. She waves a hand at the table.

"Same goes for the food unfortunately, even though it's all imported the dust seems to penetrate in as soon as the packaging is opened. You should eat something." Laid out on the table is an assortment of open containers, some more depleted than others. Cara scans the items closest to her while Magse discreetly removes a long black object, handing it off to Erro behind her back. Two open boxes of crackers or crisp breads. A dish of small brown cubes of jelly that looked to have flecks of meat suspended in them.

An oval platter scattered with green sticks, possibly a type of vegetable. A large bowl of gloopy looking lumps in a white sauce. Cara's stomach growls with forgotten hunger but the bile rising in her throat protests at the idea of sampling any of the dishes.

"Try these," Magse encourages, nudging a long thin box towards Cara as she takes a seat at the table. Two rows of white flattened balls dusted with a green powder line the box.

"Don't mind if I do," Erro chirps, appearing behind Magse, leaning over her shoulder to grab one of the balls. His forearm bares the same brassy cuff as Magse. Cara jumps at his sudden appearance. She presses a hand to her chest, feeling her thumping heart beneath. It is an unwanted reminder that the situation is real.

"Shh," Magse chides as she pokes an elbow into Erro who has already dropped down into the chair next to her. He plops the ball into his mouth, dimples appearing in his cheeks as he chews.

"Sit, sit," Magse insists, still pushing the box into the empty place in front of Cara. Cara slides into the chair as she takes one of the flattened balls. It is soft and squidgy, like an uncooked doughball. Its smell reminds Cara of the damp soil of her pot plants after a fresh dousing of water. Hardly mouthwatering but her stomach growls nonetheless. She takes a small nibble, chewing slowly on the glutenous lump in her mouth.

Thankfully it tastes better than it smells, in that it barely tastes of anything other than a hint of sweetness.

"Not bad," she lies, taking another small bite, looking from Magse to Erro. Both are watching her movements, but it is not the oppressive staring of the night before. They are observing her, she realises, as if they were studying a new game.

"It looks like Magse did a good job on your head," Erro breaks the silence, nodding at her bandage.

"It wasn't that deep," Magse shrugs.

"I treated the bruising on your ribs too. I couldn't find much else, but if anything else hurts I can take a look."

"Uh, oh, thanks," Cara manages, sitting back into her chair as the unexpected relief of being treated by Magse rather than the others sinks through her.

"An impressive lack of injuries given the way you hit the ground," Erro adds, reaching for another ball. Cara feels the bandage on her forehead crease as her eyebrows rise, "You saw what happened to me?"

"Yeah, saw you just drop out of the sky out of nowhere." Erro looks up to the ceiling and tracks an invisible object down. His head jolts hard as his gaze meets the table, "Smack!" Cara winces, "Then what?"

"Then we had to navigate between three craters because the coordinates were off. Wouldn't have happened if it was Trisec led."

"Erro." Magse cuts him off with a warning hiss.

"What?" he protests gently, "it's not like she wasn't there."

"You know why." Erro rolls his eyes, "Ah yes. Ask her nothing, tell her nothing." His nostrils flare as he snorts.

"Like it or not they are our orders. Wyndeer's already pissed with the delay, don't make it worse." Magse has twisted in her seat to face him, but Erro's attention is on Cara.

"What coordinates? Who or what is a Trisec?" Cara asks quietly. His eyes brighten at her engagement.

"We are Trisec," he confides, "We are Feilan Security," he straightens his back and pushes out his chest.

"We were sent to retrieve you."

"Erro!" Magse's chair scrapes loudly on the floor as she stands up abruptly.

"Enough!" Erro raises his hands.

"Fine." He pushes himself back from the table and shrugs at Cara.

"No more talking," Magse snaps, pointing to the couch.

"Go file a report or something. Better yet, Central issued a new 18, 000 count security directive, go study it." Erro lets out an exaggerated snore as he retreats. He props his long legs up against the wall as he slouches back along the length of the faded brown couch. After digging it out from his pocket, he casually throws a cube onto the coffee table, a screen glows into life above it. Cara blinks, then squints to correct her view of the coffee table. Magse blocks her view as she retakes her seat.

"What- what did he say Trisec is?" Cara asks.

"We can't discuss it," Magse says flatly.

"But-""Perhaps Wyndeer will discuss it with you," Magse says coldly, her lips pressing together firmly as she straightens her shoulders.

"Now, eat some more," she points to the green vegetables with a breezy change of pace. They sit in a not unfriendly silence. Cara nibbling at the food, Magse staring into space, occasionally tapping her fingers against her cuff. This story they are weaving - this shared lie - Cara corrects herself, it seems so real to them, so natural. Play along and wait for the right opportunity, she tells herself repeatedly, trying to force a confident tone into her inner voice.