THE HIT BACK SERIES (Order From Chaos)

Chapter Fourteen

   {Nur’s P.O.V}
Twice in few weeks, I’ve found myself in an all-fucked up situation with these two. It was the most I’ve been so unlucky in my whole entire life. And a sock right to the face for me, who hasn’t been at the mercy of any for a long time now.

The trip over to Yakeen’s had been just my type. I’d enjoyed the hum of silence and the darkness afforded by the hoodwinks.

I had my defenses up soon as the ride came to a final stop, and my reflexes on a par-high through the short walk off-road. On arriving on site, I noticed two things: first, the record-high increase of the tension in the air, which was normal given the shady enterprise they had going on in there. And the incessant beep of the device used in frisking us.

After being shepherded by a group of militants for over thirty minutes or so, I can say I had my first visual perception of my immediate environment soon as a strong hand removed the hoodwink from my face.

And whilst we have traveled under new identities and documents, courtesy of our Guardian angel and the ‘House’. I knew given my new name was a fail-safe. And that there was nothing to be afraid of. Nothing.  

I stayed within the terbanacle of our sleeping quarters for most of the evening. Raised a prayer at dusk, and was tucked in bed at exactly 21:00.

The only interference in my sleep came around midnight when Mingh jolted from his sleep with a shout. Though awake, I laid still in bed, watching through thin-slitted eyes as Afati tended to him.

Having seen more than enough of the tender loving care exchange between them, it was only a matter of minutes before I drifted back to sleep.
                   {Moawad’s P.O.V}

It was the first time I heard both their names, fake or otherwise. And I guess that has nothing to do with our abductors but us; we were content at knowing nothing about each other. I bet that paid off pretty well until now.

Having given my name earlier, I stood there nothing short of a mannequin, taking stock of the little exchange between Yakeen and his henchman.

It lasted but a minute and gave us our deserved victory as he gave the directives for us to be marched into the inner cavities of the building.

This brought enough relief to snuff out every tension building of recent. And while we’re been herded deeper into the building, I took the extra-mile effort of registering every turn and possible point of exit as we coursed through the intricate network of hallways.

Ultimately, I ended up in a suite with my new-found friends; a run-down apartment of some sort, just like the rest of the building.

Alone now in the company of my confederates, I sat through the rest of the evening, trying my daring best to feel comfy in my new home.

With night cornering the little light that remains of the evening, it was time for a good night's rest. Only that the best part of my sleep was short-lived, soon as Mingh saccaded up from a nightmare with a hysterical shout.

Callous as I was, I couldn’t help but pity him at one glance. His eyeballs had puffed twice to their normal sizes, and he was literally soaked in torrents of his own sweat.

Being a victim of nightmares myself, I knew the more your demons, the scarier your nightmares come. My impulse kicked in once and before I could process, I drew him into an embrace, stroking at his back and shushing him for good.

I never knew what the dream was about, but my best guess was something ugly. Neither do I know what sort of war was waging on in his head. However, what I did know was I’ve played the big brother role and I don’t know why.
{Caleb’s P.O.V}

It all began in that dreary old place; wide, cold, and rusty. The four walls of the big hall were washed and the paint on it had chipped off just as I remembered. There were hospital beds, several of them angled in all directions around the hall. The metronomic drip-drip of IVs was on loop and played in the backdrop. Everything was as it used to be in that cold room. Only that this time, I was alone and cold than I’ve ever felt. I’ve fallen off my bed and now sprawled haplessly on the cold concrete slabs of the floor like some Mesozoic reptile. And worse, I can begin to feel a shift in the air, as thousands of symbiotes ooze out from somewhere in my spine and instantaneously morphed into a gigantic, saw-toothed beast.

My flight induction kicked in before long and I picked a race in a crocodile crawl since I couldn’t walk try as I might. I pushed my body to its limits, dragging the bulk weight of my torso with the ladder-like climbing motion of my arms.

The beast on the other hand kept up with me at an awing pace, taunting me with its bared fangs, and the faltering gait of its overtly elongated legs.

I realized earlier on in my panic race for dear life that I didn’t stand a chance. Not ever. And sadly, that the beast was only making fun of me. For one, I couldn’t stand on my feet which meant bad for surviving. And even if I had my legs in working order, it still wouldn’t have changed a thing. Or would anything have mattered against an adversary as such?

Though hating it so bad, I decide right on to give up on the lost cause of fleeing and wait for my eventual end to come.

In a flash, the beast had me cornered at a spot. And while I closed my eyes, expecting the inevitable, it took some more time to salivate before the initial kill. What’s the point in killing if you can’t take some time to enjoy some?

With mouth opened to an unbelieving length and black syrupy droplets drooling out the edges of the orifice it has for a mouth, the beast bent down and made to give the killing bite.

The bite never came, however, as I yanked awake from the dreary nightmare in sweats and shortness of breath. On first thought, I was afraid I had woken half the building. But to my relief and surprise, it was meanie, who I’ve come to know of recent as Moawad that jolted awake.

He knocked my socks off even further, soon as he pulled me in for a hug. I reacted quickly myself, melting into his arms and sobbing quietly onto his shoulder.

Having a shoulder to cry on was something I’ve been deprived of since childhood. And finding one in him, the urge to purge my soul out once and for all was tantamount.

I want to tell him I was agoraphobic. I want to tell him I feel unsafe from my ‘Safe Haven’. I also wish I could tell him places like this are very much my triggers. Even so, I would have loved to tell him that I thought I’ve gotten past it all since the panic attack had ceased since I signed up for NLP [Neurolinguistics Programming]. And more than ever, I would have loved to tell him those images had been the recurring theme of my nightmares.

But since he seemed content with shushing me and made no point in hearing me out, I figured it wasn’t time to out my most guarded secrets.