Dura

Part 8

My voice echoed into nothingness. The Neanderthal commander lit a cigarette. According to these people, I had to assume, it didn't matter how young the girl was as long as she was fertile. I refused for three days. Both the girl and I was dying of thirst. Most likely, they wouldn't let me die, but I was pretty sure they would sacrifice her. In the end, I couldn't let that happen. During the three days, I tried to communicate with the girl. Of course, we didn't understand each other but we did learn each other's names. Her name was Dura.

I cried for the third time during the act. I shut my eyes and tried to imagine something... someone else. But, of course, there wasn't any pleasure. All I felt was anger toward my captors that silently watched us. On the fourth day, they came inside and got the girl. I tried to tell her I was sorry and although she didn't understand my words I think she understood.

The next day, I was given a pretty substantial meal. This time, they even added fruits. They looked alien to me, but I wasn't surprised by that. Most fruits I was used to had been domesticated – cultivated – for millennia. By humans... It was natural for another hominid species to do it differently than us. There was a bitter taste to most of the fruits, but it was still an improvement to what I had been given so far.

Several months passed. I did my best to forget about Dura, constantly trying to convince myself that I didn't have a choice. The endless examinations and interrogations continued. From time to time, new officers and researchers arrived to pick my mind. I always complied. Occasionally, I tried to ask them about the whereabouts of Alex, but without success.

Each time they took me to the examination room, I tried to find weaknesses in their security. I counted the guards, the doors and tried to come up with a plan to escape. But in my weakened condition, and given their superior physical strength, I didn't have a chance. I slowly gave up, crying myself to sleep every night. But one of those nights everything changed.

I was awakened by the sound of a gunshot. Someone screamed, and then there was another gunshot. Everything went silent for a minute. I sat up and tried to listen. Nothing. All I heard was my frozen breath. Then the door to my room opened. A heavily cloaked and veiled figure appeared.

"Who's there?" I asked.

The figure grabbed my arm. I tried to fight it off, but then I saw who it was. It was Dura. She wanted me to come with her. Although I was confused about what was going on, my instinct immediately told me to take this opportunity. I covered my body with the bedclothes and followed her down the corridor. She was wearing one of the soldier's guns. I had no idea how she got her hands on it, but given the circumstances, it was clear to me that she had escaped somehow. A researcher, shot to death, lay in a pool of blood on the floor. Dura was quick. Although I could only see her eyes under her hood, I could tell she was determined and that her life depended on her success in this attempt. As to why she had chosen to save me – if that was what she was doing – I had no idea. She had stolen some kind of card and opened door after door.

She stopped and signaled me to do the same. Around the corner, I could hear radio chatter. Dura shut her eyes for a few seconds, then she loaded the rifle in a swift motion and stepped around the corner and pulled the trigger.

"Shit, shit, shit..." I whispered to myself as I followed Dura around the corner. The guard was shot in the head, right between the eyes, and blocked the door to the elevator that had brought me to this place. She picked up the rifle, checked if it was loaded, and gave it to me without hesitation. It was heavy, but that might just have been because of my weakened condition. As soon as Dura pulled the lever to the elevator, an alarm sounded and red light filled the corridor. Her escape must have been reported now. Just before the platform descended, a group of guards came running toward us. Luckily, this elevator had a roof which made it impossible for them to shoot down at us from above. Dura reloaded her rifle again and when we approached the bottom floor – the garage – she sat down and pointed the rifle in front of her. She gestured toward me, seemingly telling me to sit down behind her. I was too afraid, or too frantic, to use the rifle in my hand. I just covered behind her.

The alarm echoed through the garage. Four guards waited for us a few meters away. Dura immediately shot one of them and ran to the right. I followed. The other three guards yelled and began chasing us. They both fired upon us, but missed or perhaps more likely chose not to hit me because they wanted me alive. I turned around and fired my rifle holding it to my belly, hitting one of the guards in the leg. It was pure luck. I hadn't aimed at all. Dura stopped next to one of the cars, shot the door handle with her rifle and entered it. I sat down next to her. I could see more guards exit the elevator. However, as Dura drove off – ramming the road barrier – the guards didn't try to come after us. I hyperventilated as Dura sped up to almost 100 mph. The engine rumbled and roared like an angry beast.

Dura steered to the side, and half a second later a group of Denisovan slaves swished past us. They were walking in the middle of the road. Next, I saw the door to the room where they had taken Alex. I yelled for Dura to stop, pointing at the side of the tunnel. She looked at me confused. We didn't have any time to stop. I felt like I betrayed my friend, but I didn't have a choice. Most likely, I thought, they had taken him somewhere else by now anyway.

We came upon the bridge from earlier. The sound of the falling water drowned the sound of the raging engine of the car. Dura hit the brakes hard. I almost flew through the windshield. We spun out of control on the wet, slippery road and then – in an instant – came to a full stop. Dura stepped out on the road. I didn't understand what was happening until I got out. The water vapor formed such a thick mist around us that it was difficult to breathe, and behind all that mist, on the other side of the bridge, I saw it: a barricade that had been set up to stop us. Dura stood in front of me, her rifle over her shoulder, and stared at the shadows behind the mist. We couldn't go back from where we had come. I had no idea how we would get out of this situation. Dura didn't share my uncertainty. She turned around and walked toward me with assertive steps. I was confused, scared and ready to give up, but Dura still seemed to know exactly what she was doing. She grabbed my hand, said something I couldn't understand, and dragged me to the ledge of the bridge. Without hesitation, she climbed up on it. I looked around. The cars on the other end of the bridge started their engines. They knew what was going on, and so did I even though I didn't want to believe it. I climbed up next to Dura. I took her small hand in my own and looked her in her eyes. And then... we jumped.