World War Four

Chapter Three: The Visit

“We need to talk, privately.” I snapped a glance in the direction of the corner that the guard had disappeared around. “And safely. That is why we are going into the operation room.”

The first to speak up was the big-boned blonde. “They won’t allow you inside with two women. They won’t believe you strong enough to control two women.”

“That’s why I have this.” I pulled out a corner of the master card I stole from the guard a year back, then pushed it back into my jeans pocket. “There will be no need to inform any of this to guards or any lingering supervisors.

“They might hear us.” Her face was hard, but her eyes held fear.

“The walls are sound proof.”

“But the door is not.”

“The door,” I snapped, “is five inches thick, made of heavy steel and is filled with a thick insulation. We will be safe.” I stared at her, daring her to protest farther. She didn’t. I glanced at the brunette and slightly raised my eyebrow in question. She nodded her head viciously. “Good.” I slid the card through the lock scanner and heaved the bar door open. The women passed through and waited for me to close the door and lead the way.

As I walked back across to open the operation room, a few hands stuck out through the bars, all fingers curled in but the pinky. I was surprised. This was reserved only for the brave ones, for the women that were about to do something risky and could get them killed. I responded anyways, and with my index and middle finger pressed together, I slid my fingers over their pinkies. I stopped when I felt a small hand tug at my jeans. I looked down to see first a chubby dirty hand clinging on to my knee. My eyes followed her arm, and came across a toddler with hair hanging in clumps with the weight of sweat and grime. Her eyes were bright and the same hazy mix of green and brown and hints of gold as my own. She stared up at me with admiration, sadness, and that lingering light of hope children held. I squatted in front of the toddler, and let her fit her small hand around three of my fingers.

“Are you our fighter?” With a pang of pity I realized that that was the voice of the little girl that requested the story. I gaped dumbfounded, most probably looking like a gasping fish. She stared at me, her huge round eyes cutting into my heart.

“Yes baby girl, she is.” I snapped my head up and found the toddlers mother. Slowly, she edged forward, and smiled meekly. I saw her hand reach up to stroke my face, but it froze in midair. She then directed her hand to her child’s shoulder and gently began to pull her back. The girl looked up at her mother, then back at me.

“Don’t let them take my mommy away.” Her mother then pulled her to their cot and hugged her, and gave the toddler makeshift dolls made from wood. The mother glanced down at me and mouthed, Freedom is a gift only given by love.

I stood up from the bars and stared at them for a while, swallowing down the tears that wanted freedom. What the mother had mouthed to me was our motto, what we used to keep ourselves going. It was encouragement.

I kept walking, turning corners with my steps mingling with the steps of Finder and Organizer. They lingered behind me, putting as much discrete distance between themselves and me.

“Keep up, we need to talk about very important things before time runs out.” My nerves tingled when we approached the operation room door, and my skin prickled. I pushed forward anyways, not wanting to look weak. I slid the card through the scanner, and the door opened with a small vacuuming sound. The door was heavy , and I pushed it open with my shoulder, right hand gripping the handle tightly. My hair blew forward with the sucking air, tussling wildly over my ears and eyes. I shook my head slightly, then walked halfway into the room. I almost leaned my back against the steel table bolted to the tiled ground. A flash of last night’s nightmare made me jump from the cool metal. The women trudged in after me and let the door shut with a dull thud. The security lock clicked into place, we were enveloped in an eerie quiet. I cleared my throat.