The Innocent (A 'Finder' Fanfiction)

Gemini - Chapter 8

It was the dead of the night, when Aaron quietly pulled open the steel door, but the prisoner would not be able to tell the time anyway.

He stepped inside, allowed the door to close behind him, and then switched on a small flashlight.

The young man sat in one corner of the tiny room, knees pulled up to his chest, back pressed against the wall as if he wanted to squeeze into it. Yet if instead the door had been yanked open by force accompanied by shouts and curses, then he would lie there, huddling himself into a small ball – just like a hedgehog, only that he had no spikes to protect himself. Whenever the door was opened softly, however, he had come to expect Aaron. And like always, he was not being disappointed.

In front of the prisoner, the Russian crouched, shielding the flashlight with a hand, to not allow it to hurt the other's eyes.

"I need you to be very quiet now, Arata", he whispered, looking deep into the young man's eyes. "We're leaving now. I am taking you out of here, but I need you to be quiet. If they catch us, I might not be able to protect you. I don't know what they might do to you. Or to me."

For a few moments, he let his words sink in. Huge, scared eyes just stared up at him, hardly blinking. There were bruises all over the other's face and the parts of his body that the ragged and torn pajama did not hide anymore. He was dirty, and he stank, and his hair that had grown back since they had taken him out of the hospital was a matted mess.

Then the boy nodded. "Ok", he whispered back. "I'll be all quiet. Just take me out of here, please."

Aaron got back up, moving slowly and cautious all the time. He reached down with one hand to help the prisoner onto his feed, and that hand was only faintly grabbed by some cold, weak fingers. He tried to pull Arata up, but the kid's knees did not give him any support. Then again, he weighed hardly anything at this point after months with little food. Aaron caught him before he fell back down to the ground, and cradled him in his arms.

"I'm sorry", Arata whined.

"It's alright. I've got you", the Russian answered and picked him up.

Through long, empty corridors, he carried him into one of the parts of the basement that had not been used in more than a decade. Dust and dirt and the leftovers of what small animals had brought in here decorated every surface. It stank of mold and dampness and feces. To these parts of the building no one of Chernobog ever went – and that they had to stay away from there this night, they had been told very strictly.

Into the farthest corner of the old warehouse's basement, Aaron carried the boy, who was clawing at his clothes as if he was afraid to fall. He stopped in front of some old, creaking, wooden structure, that looked very much like an oversized shelf. Many, many years ago, this had very likely been used to store whatever goods the factory and warehouse had needed for their production. But today there was nothing of it left. Yet, from up there, the windows above were easy to reach.

Beneath one of those dirty, dark squares of glass, he tried to place Arata down onto the wooden planks of the shelf, yet the boy's fingers did not let go of his jacket.

Soothing, Aaron spoke to the other, cupping his cheeks with his own warm hands: "Arata, you need to let go. I will be right back. No one will find you here. I will open the window and go outside. I will pull you out from there. I might not fit through the windows, but you will. Please ... Arata ... please let go."

There was quite some persuasion required until those fingers finally let go.

"Don't leave me", the young man cried, tears shimmering in his eyes, so Aaron patted his head lightly.

"I will be back in a moment, I promise. I have to get out through an entrance where someone might see me. No one will care if I walk out alone, but I can't take you that way. And I won't fit through that window. I will be right back. I promise. You trust me, right, Arata?"

The boy had grabbed his wrists with all the strength he was still able to muster, but then he nodded and finally let got.

"Please don't leave me", he begged, nonetheless.

"Just close your eyes", Aaron whispered with an assuring smile. "I will be back in a moment."

And then he breathed a kiss on the dirty forehead of the other, even before he had been aware what he was doing. It startled him himself. Oh ... he was becoming excellent at this play!

It took him about 4 minutes to get back and up some staircase that the prisoner had never gotten to see. There was no real need for all of this. He could have walked with Akihito in his arms through the front door, and his men would have grinned at him and the next step of his plan. He might even have squeezed through that window, but it would have gotten his clothes dirty and maybe torn them, and he wanted to look dazzling and bright and clean.

At the end, it was all just for show – and another test.

Outside the window, he waited for another minute, listening to his surrounding and to any noise from inside.

There was some owl hooting very far away in the forests that engulfed and hemmed in the grounds of the factory and warehouse on all sides. This property lay in an eastern suburb of Warsaw where you could still find unpaved roads and derelict buildings while the 1000-year-old city was becoming more modern by the day. Somewhere an animal, a raccoon possibly, or some rats, scurried through the wild, uncut grass that grew everywhere – even in the narrow gaps of the concrete loading ramp and driveway.

From inside the building, however, there was not the tiniest noise to be heard.

Akihito had passed the test: He had not run, he had not screamed, he had not tried to get away himself. He still sat exactly where Aaron had left him, and when he heard his new name called, he answered in a hush right away.

"Arata!"

Reaching inside, the Russian grabbed his hand, then pulled him up and out through the window that was just some inches above ground level. Once he was outside, the boy fell into his arms again, huddled in on himself and clawed at his jacket.

For a few moments, Aaron just let him. He looked up to the night sky above them, which was darkened by clouds that promised rain, and rocked the young man on his lap. Once again, that one was shaking heavily. Slowly, nevertheless, the tremors subsided.

Then Aaron picked him up again and carried him over to one car – an old, brown Mercedes limousine – that had been parked somewhat off and away from the other vehicles Chernobog had brought here.

Onto the back seat he placed the young man and pulled a nice, soft, clean, warm blanket over him, before he got into the driver's seat himself. And thus, they left the prison the other had been in for about four months.

The real prison, however, was still there.

Aaron congratulated himself. His plan was working fine, and he would just fortify it a bit more.