Breaking Point

V: Qiao

             He didn’t slip away gently into sleep this time.  It felt like he had just lost consciousness and stayed out.  He didn’t dream or even feel the passage of time.  It was the kind of sleep you get when you’re overtired and overstressed, or when you have a splitting headache.

He opened his eyes briefly and the persistent daylight penetrated into his eyes.  “God, go away!” He muttered as he rolled onto his side.  He did the best he could to shield the light from his face, but it still leaked through no matter what position he tried.  He thought about covering his face with the cushion cover, but his body was too tired to move that much.  At least his headache had subsided significantly, though its memory still resonated in his brain.

He fell back a sleep quickly.  This was more peaceful and profound than before.  His dream was sporadic and incoherent.  He saw fleeting images of people from back home.  He had short, meaningless conversations that weren’t worth remembering, then, his mind jumped to another one in a different time and place.  It wasn’t particularly painful or happy.  It just was.  Like normal erratic dreams he had had back home. 

At one point he had a pleasant conversation with Qiao, but they were speaking the same language.  He didn’t know what the conversation was about, but they laughed and smiled at each other affectionately.  They were having lunch in a crowded food court, perhaps a mall, but she was still wearing her jungle bra and loincloth.

***

That was the last image he saw when he woke up, and the only one he could remember.  He felt the others fresh in his memory, but as he tried to catch them they ran away like a startled rabbit and melted into the woods.

He rubbed his eyes, sat up on the couch, and looked around the cage.  Qiao was safe.  She was sleeping on the mattress.  Everything else in the room was exactly the same.  The dull buzz of the force field massaged his ears. 

He walked up to Qiao, making as little noise as possible.  She was on her side, facing away from him. Her black hair sprawled out around her head like a blot of ink.   Her breathing was fast and shallow.  He kneeled down next to her and touched her shoulder gently.  Her body jumped and she exhaled sharply.  She rolled on her back and met his gaze, she looked wide awake.

“Flansis,” she said quietly.  With just her arms, she reached out and grabbed his forearms.

Francis’ heart skipped a beat as he took her hands in his.   “Shhh,” he tried to comfort her as he rubbed her arms.  Her skin was soft and smooth, but ice cold.  “What happened?” he asked.

She looked into his face.  Her reply was long and frantic.  Her soft voice cracked with emotion as it rushed through a series of events and talked about how they made her feel.   While Francis couldn’t understand the specifics, but her intonation created the structure; “After you left… then they came back … then they took me… where they…  It was horrible, I was so scared when they… finally they… and I was brought back here."

He looked into her tear filled eyes and tried to convey sympathy, sadness, rage, and every other emotion he was feeling.  He held her small hands in his firmly to demonstrate his conviction.  He would do everything in his power to get her out of this.  She squeezed his hands back.  He wouldn’t do it alone.

She lay back down on the mattress, pulling him next to her.  She squeezed his hands as her eyes closed.  After a few minutes, he felt her grip loosening as she fell into a peaceful sleep. 

He wasn’t tired, but he lay their holding her hands for a few long minutes, not wanting to disturb her.  He looked into her face.  She was pretty, her face had the smooth, wrinkle free look of youth, but she had the strong lines and defined features of an adult.  She was probably in her early 20s, about his age.