Encephalon: Emergent

Chapter 11

The next morning, the light stirred and Elena refused to open her eyes, not just yet, not just yet.

A moment later she opened them and found herself once again in her warehouse room, furniture barricading the door, which she had rushed to assemble after Quinn had vacated the room the night before. The intrusive memories flooded back in and she found herself paralyzed with fear and anger, lying alone in this strange bedroom. Quinn was back in her life, somewhere here in this complex in a room of his own, and Justin and his friends were going to train him the same as her; the man who had attacked her, pinned her down and-- She stopped herself from thinking about it. It was enough that the man who had caused her such pain, stress and suffering these past however-many-years was here right now. Whatever recourse for justice she had was now solely in her own hands, if she wanted or was able to take it.

She rolled over closing her eyes, her body hyper-alert, listening to every sound from through the door and down the corridor trying to get a sense of who was up and awake and moving about, but nothing was discernible. The unease grew until finally she convinced herself to get up, place her bare feet on the cold cement floor and keep her anger and fear contained. She took her time moving about the room, pacing, limbering up as she had done trapped in her cell, trying to get out of her head and back into her body ready to step out for the tests she knew lay ahead. She changed into some comfortable clothing, ready for any physical activity, and moved the barricade away from the door then hesitated, giving herself a final moment of encouragement. But today was going to happen whether she liked it or not.

She stepped out into the corridor where she heard low, bassy voices coming from the kitchen, and braced herself, aware that each step was taking her closer to him. As she turned into the kitchen she breathed a sigh of relief; he had either not arrived or had left already, several dirty plates stacked on the side.

"Morning," Moscow Mike greeted her.

"Get you some breakfast?" Rob asked, getting up to plate her some food.

"Thank you," She nodded, sitting down, realizing she did not have nearly enough mental or physical energy to help, her limbs moving at half speed.

Rob handed her the plate, a selection of fruit, bread, ham, cheese and pastries, Moscow Mike poured her some coffee and they sat down together, one big happy family. Though she was robbed of her appetite, the food looked good.

"Continental," She said, referring to the breakfast.

"It's German," Rob answered, "Nothing beats a bit of home comfort. Thought you could use it."

She moved the food around on her plate, not yet ready to eat. "You're German? I could've sworn you were from New England."

Without a beat Rob switched over to European Spanish, his accent impeccable, "Would you prefer I speak in another tongue?"

It made her smile slightly. "You speak like a conquistador," She said switching to her native language.

"Perhaps something closer to home then?" He said mimicking her accent and speaking in a Spanish that could have come straight from the streets of Brooklyn or the Bronx or anywhere in the Five Boroughs.

She was impressed, he sensed it and launched into Mandarin, Hindi and Swahili before switching into his native German, smiling as what passed as a small party trick in the circles he was accustomed to left her with a look of wonder on her face. Moscow Mike joined in and together he and Rob gave Elena a sampling of exotic tongues, arguing over which was their favorite, the most romantic, most lyrical, most expressive, before they returned back to English and adopted accents from all over the United States and beyond. It worked, providing enough distraction and intrigue for Elena to regain her appetite and shift to a lower-level anxiety in the pit of her stomach about the day ahead.