A Different Call

10. Escaping the Red Room

  "Run like hell, Barton."

She should have taken her own advice.

She started to, once she knew the bomb was secure. Upon exiting the boiler room, Natalia slowed to a stop. In the edges of her flashlight beam, pale faces and glittering eyes reflected the white glow back at her. The girls lay so still, they could be mistaken for dead. Natalia focused the beam on the bed closest to her. The girl squinted in the harsh light, proving life. Her expression was neutral, passive. Natalia had no doubt the girls knew what was happening, but they were not afraid. They were trained to not know fear.

Natalia wasted precious seconds studying the girl. Her wavy blonde hair was fanned out on her poor excuse for a pillow. Both her wrists were locked firmly to the bed posts by cuffs. Like Natalia's, her wrists were red from the chaffing of metal against skin. It couldn't be helped in sleep, especially against nightmares. The girl squirmed once beneath the thin blanket under Natalia's scrutiny, then stilled again. Her green eyes studied Natalia in return, waiting and watching.

The girl looked no older than fifteen. She looked like what Natalia imagined Yelena looked like at this age. She imagined Yelena lying there, trapped and minutes away from death. The pang of compassion in her chest surprised her.

Natalia jogged down the row of beds, ignoring all the eyes following her. Hanging by the door was a ring of keys. Thankfully, the locks on the handcuffs were all the same and she made quick work of unlocking them. One by one, the Widow trainees slowly swung their legs over the side of the bed and rubbed their raw wrists as they watched Natalia free the next girl. As the number of able-body Widows multiplied in the room, Natalia grew more wary.

At last, all twenty girls were free. They stood at the foot of their beds in their white nightgowns, staring at Natalia with blank faces that sent a chill down her spine. Natalia cursed herself for starting with the girl closest to the exit and working her way down, leaving twenty future assassins between her and the door.

"Here." She thrust the keys at the fifteen-year-old that reminded her of Yelena. "The bombs will go off in about seven minutes. Take these and free the others, then run."

The girl didn't move. Impatience rising in her chest, Natalia jingled the keys with urgency. The girl blinked, then slowly reached for the keys.

She snatched Natalia's wrist and yanked. A strong kick met Natalia's midsection and she gasped as the air was forced out of her lungs. She stumbled back, dropping the keys to hold her stomach. As she struggled to draw breath, the other girls surged forward while the blonde one slowly crouched down and picked up the keys.

Natalia raised her arms to protect herself from the onslaught of blows. She blocked two punches and dodged a kick by rolling across the floor. The space she gained opened her up to make her move. Natalia kicked one of the metal beds as hard as she could, sending it flying into the swarm of potentials.

"Please," she tried as those who had avoided the attack moved towards her. "I don't want to hurt you. I'm trying to help." She stepped back for every step forward they took.

Natalia didn't blame them. She knew better than anyone how the Red Room brainwashed them. If it hadn't been for Barton's offer, she would still be under their control.

Then a desperate plan came to her.

"Hawkeye?" she called into the comm as she ducked a punch. From the other end, she could hear grunts, panting, and the exchanging of blows. "Hawkeye, come in!"

Her head suddenly snapped to the side. Distracted by Barton's absence, a girl no more than eight landed a slap on Natalia's cheek. A Widow's slap was no pathetic, ordinary slap. Natalia's cheek stung then burned as she felt blood well from the scratch left by the girl's fingernails.