Lost draft 1

I stand alone, my hands smoothing the rough woollen blanket on the bed, eyes down.  The others have already shuffled past me and left, clumped tightly together in their relief, only their nervous eyes flicking my way.

Now I’m alone for the first time in days.

And I hate it.

“It will come.”

He stands in the doorway, consuming its space.  I nod, but my eyes continue to watch my restless hands.

“Sometimes the tests have to be taken again.”

His voice is uncertain, and when I glance up I see that it’s written all over his face. 

Even now my body follows old habits and stiffens the spine, bringing my head up high.  We stare each other out.

I’m the first to speak.

“Shall we go?”

He nods and steps aside as I exit.  My skirt brushes against him and he starts.

Maybe he’s afraid it’s catching.

Whatever it is I do or don’t have.

…..



Black.  It was black.  And I could smell burning flesh.

I hoped it wasn’t me.

I panicked and mashed my hand against cold concrete, my head smacking into the floor beneath and legs grating against its stone surface.  My battered hand smacked into the wall and pain shot up through the joints, quelling my fit.  I curled around it and cradled it with my other hand, my body shaking.  My breath slowly warmed it and the hand began to throb.

I lay on my right side, in the foetal position.  The cold seeped through my skin slowly numbing it. 

I lifted my head and slowly looked around, trying to find any source of light.  Nothing.

I leaned my head against the floor.  The where, why and how didn’t come in one big flash.  In fact they didn’t come at all.

Dinner with sister, paying for it again, and then….

Black.

And then here.

Faraway I heard a scream and I hoped it wasn’t her.  I tried not to breath through my nose, but the thought was already speeding away from my senses.  My stomach flip-flopped and I closed my eyes to the darkness and the tears.  The scream came again and I clapped my hands to my ears.  I sobbed into the dark, hoping they couldn’t hear me.

Time is strange, any physicist will tell you that.  And malleable.  I don’t know how long I lay in the dark but it felt like both and an eternity and an instant.  In the distance I could hear distant shouts, screams and a persistent pounding that never seemed to end until it did.  And that smell, that smell never left, always my bedside companion..

At some point a man began shouting “hey” repeatedly, his hand slamming against something solid.  He was close by.

“Hey!” He shouted, his voice almost hoarse.

“Hey!”  I called back.  He paused for a second. 

“Hey!”

“Hey!”  I was a mimic, my own mind scrambling over phrases and words.  “Hey you!”

I reached up with my own hand and touched something solid and hard but hollow.

I knocked on it, and he stopped shouting.

“Hello?”  His voice sounded uncertain.

“Hello.”  Somehow I managed to get that out.

“Who’s there?”

This one completely threw me and my tongue struggled to form my name.  It felt as wide and hairy as a fat caterpillar looking for a chrysalis.  But I needn’t have worried, because after a few moments he began pounding again, his mantra of “Hey’s” filling any gaps of silence into which I could have spoken.

Suddenly I heard a door open above me, and my hand fled back to my side. The roof creaked, taking on weight.  There was a flash of light and then the steps moved on, towards Heyman. 

Something scraped and squealed on it’s hinges. 

Heyman stopped shouting and a low voice spoke quickly to him. Then Heyman man shouted “no, no, no”.  His scream echoed in my cell, and I squeezed my eyes shut.  The low voice spoke again and the man replied softly, his voice hitching a little. Something fell back into place heavily, and the man screamed softly again.  He began to sob quietly.

There was a soft scrape of boots, and his sobs ceased.  Then the boots turned and ground their way back towards me.

I pressed my spine hard against the cold wall.  The cell’s roof creaked and light shone through the crack once more.  The boots paused.  I lifted my head up to the crack.

Two brown eyes, deep set, stared back down.

I dropped down again, my arms wrapped around my body, my head bent.

My breath was loud in my ears.  I waited, the light scalding the back of my neck.

Then the weight shifted off the door, and the darkness flooded back in.  The boots receded and somewhere above me a door closed.

The man began sobbing again.

….



I was the first they came for in that group, and I think that was on purpose.  One moment I lay in the dark, every minute a disjointed chain of seconds, and then my own cell roof was flung open, and the cold air rushed in.  Light burned my eyelids shut.  I lay frozen in the cell.  Rough hands pulled me up, exposing my nakedness. I hung between them, my head against my chest, and my legs traitors to my own weight.

“Are you sure?”  He was so close I could almost feel his breath.  “She’s so short.”

“God, look at her, she’s filthy.”

“She looks like a pig.”

Cold water hit me and I cried out.

“Hold her.”

Something rough scoured my body, as the hose moved from side to side.  I looked down and saw a wide flat hand shifting from side to side. 

Then the hand was between my legs, scrubbing hard. I closed my eyes and bit my lip.

“You like that, don’t you?”  I jerked away from the voice.

Eventually the hand moved away, and the icy water moved in, the force pushing up and in. 

Another rough hand approached, this time with a dirty towel.  It was tanned, the veins poking out of the back of his hand. 

It wasn’t the only thing poking out.

The hand rubbed me dry, delaying over my breasts and the soft cleft between my legs. 

“That’s enough.”

Something soft scraped against my skin and I cried out. 

One of them laughed. 

“Take it.”  It was a long blue tunic. They let go of my arms, and my legs sagged.  I grabbed at the material as I fell, clutching it. One hand grasped me under the armpit.  His knuckles rested against my breast.  It moved back and forth, and I shivered. 

“Get dressed.”

I scrambled into the dress, my eyes furtively looking around.

There were at least five of them, all dressed in faded denim and a black top, their heads covered with balaclavas.  They seemed impossibly tall and impossibly wide.

“Look down, bitch.”

A hand slapped the back of my head and I fell forward, missing the hole by inches.  I was picked up like a rag doll and shaken.  One of them stepped forward, his body brushing against mine.

“We’ll have no trouble from you, will we?”

I shook my head slowly, soft droplets falling from my hair.  His hand smoothed out the front of my dress.

“We won’t hurt if you do everything we say.”

I nodded again, my eyes fixated on his black shirt. 

I hoped he was telling the truth.



……



We caught up the others when they hit the foot traffic at Temple Square.  It was triangular in shape, tapering to a point and a narrow alleyway.  It was covered with stalls selling a variety of figurines, food and colourful cloths.  We walked past one stall that seem to exist in a haze of burnt incense so intense my eyes watered.

The others were joining a crowd gathering at the far point.  They were hard to miss with the women in their voluminous blue gowns and the men in their white tunics with gold beading.  They looked like school children on a class outing, and people openly stared or nudged one another as we walked past. Never before have I felt so conspicuous and more like a bug under a microscope.



Once we had joined the group we were all soon pressed together as we moved towards the narrow alleyway. Steve drifted over towards me.

“I brought something to show you.”  He opened his vest and lifted out the little blue booklet the others had been given.  It was blank on the front except for a white sticker with a number on it. 

I wondered if that was Steve’s Code.

“It’s basically a license to shag.”  He grinned, and I laughed.  I felt Khepri shift behind me and sigh. 

We rounded a corner, and I got my first look at the temple.  It towered above us, sitting on white sandstone steps.  To me it looked like a gigantic wedding cake, with several tiers stretching upwards.  It was topped with an ornately chiseled dome that looked like leaves falling growing over the top of it. Each tier was ringed with statues in various states of decay and large windows were spaced evenly around it. The steps were full of people heading up towards the temple. 

"Wow.”

"Yeah, wow. "  I turned to look at Khepri.  He smiled down at me.  "And that's an understatement."

Each step was at least a foot high, and Khepri offered me his hand.  I took it gratefully, carefully lifting my gown as I stepped up.

"This was built centuries ago to house the priests and priestesses of the families.  Each storey represents one of the Families and their continuing gift to west."

He pointed halfway the structure. 

"See the lady with the wreath?"

I scanned the dome, but some of the statues were so weather beaten it was hard to even tell they were human.  He saw my confusion and moved me in front of him.  He leaned down and pointed.  His soft shift brushed against my cheek, and suddenly I was aware of how close he was to me.  I could feel his breath on the back of my neck, and his presence was like a hot wall behind me.  He smelled sweet.  It was uncomfortably pleasant.

I focused on what he was trying to show me.  In profile and about four storeys up a weather beaten statue leaned against the building.  The face had been eaten away by time but the torso was still mostly intact.  It had a long tunic that cinched at the waist, and in its hands it held a wreath.  Ivy stretched out from the wreath and wrapped their vines around her forearms.

"She is one of my foremothers, one of my Families First," his breath tickled my neck, sending tingles up and down my spine.  My body shifted instinctively toward his warm body.  Then he straightened, and the heat receded.  I turned around to look up at him.

"It’s very weather beaten." 

"She is one of the First, and therefore, untouchable.” 

And that answer was supposed to be enough, because he turned around and scanned the crowd below.  "Today is a special feast day for the Families.  We celebrate our creation, and it's often used for weddings."

I looked out at the massive crowd climbing the steps.

"How do they fit everybody in?”

"Each Family head celebrates on their level of the temple."

"So, are we going up there?”  I nodded up towards his Family’s level, but he shook his head. 

“Not today.”

He didn’t say anything else, but he really didn’t need to.  The reason hung between us, like a cobweb binding us both together.  We looked out at the boiling mass of people below us, silently. 

"Shall we go?"  Khepri offered me his hand.  It was rough and warm, enclosing my little pale hand inside of his. 

“There’s only one fault with this temple.”  His eyes flashed at me, but I continued.  “It’s a nightmare to get in and out of with the narrow entrance.”

Khepri nodded seriously.

"I think that's the point."



The interior was as impressive as the outside, but much better kept with new tapestries lining the walls.  Pillars ringed the walls and four stood like sentries in the centre.  In total there were four doors, each evenly spaced, and I assume they would have followed the compass lines here.  Each column was flanked by marble statues, and I thought of them as Romanesque, with their flowing tunics and bared breasts.  Some were bent over holding urns, while others held children in their arms. Immediately at the entrance a staircase wound upwards, and a steady stream of people climbed its steps. Khepri led me through the crowd to the opposite door, where our group was attracting notice.  The door looked out onto the teal harbour below, with its white ships bobbing in the water.  There were no steps here but only sheer cliff.  This door was flanked by two statues grasping spears in one hand and hiding a child’s face in their long robes with the other.  The group stood in front of them, shifting nervously.  Our companions stood between them and the crowd, but it was obvious the pointed stares by the crowd unnerved them; particularly Linda, who seemed determined to twist her fingers off.  Thothlian stood in front of her murmuring gently and slowly rubbing her arm.  Ptathram glared at those that stared, daring them to hold his gaze for more than a few seconds.

None did.



Suddenly a distant bell sounded from us, its deep tone calling out across the harbour and bouncing down the cliffs.  Almost immediately the crowd paused, transfixed, and then began to press further back. 

From above another bell sounded, lighter in tone.

I looked at Khepri.  He leaned into me.

"The Families are being called to pray."

The bell rings continued to descend from above, and people began to coalesce into orderly circles, looking inwards.  Khepri touched me and moved me a few steps to the left, pointing down at the small triangles etched into the floor. 

“This is your place.”  I nodded. He stood beside me, his warm presence only inches from mine.  Steve was positioned next to me.  He nudged me.

"What’s going on?"

Before I could answer a bell sounded underneath our feet, making me jump.  Khepri’s mouth twitched.  Behind me, I heard someone moan, and I turned around.  Linda was sitting on the floor, her head between her legs.  I moved towards her, but Khepri took my arm.

“Leave her.  Thothlian will look after her.”

I stared at Khepri.  He continued to hold my arm gently but I knew he was so much stronger than me.  I nodded slowly and turned back to face the centre.  He released my arm, and we separated once more. 



The tide at the stairs had died to a trickle.  A woman in a long, red tunic stood at its base turning away those that attempted to climb.  Her dark hair was piled high in curls, exposing her white skin and long neck.  Deep blue jewels gleamed at her neck, reflecting her eyes.  Jealousy gets you a lot of places, and that woman would make you travel far and wide.

It was hot in the temple; even with the doors wide open to the sea breeze. 

The bells began to sound again, their sound falling over us.  Between the columns at the centre, figures in white began to appear.  They were all stunning with their perfectly arranged hair and flawless complexions.  No wonder people stared at our motley group, we must have been the ugliest people they have ever seen.  The bell beneath us rang out again, this time into silence.

The women wound their way out of the columns and through the crowd, their voices singing out in harmonious union.  There was just enough room for them to pass between each row.  Each held something in her arms, and I realized they matched the statues that ringed the temple.  At the front a woman held a golden tablet inscribed with incomprehensible hieroglyphics, and the woman behind her held a pale, white urn.  They circled around the crowd, winding their way out to the outer circles. 

They processed past us, and the men bent their heads in reverence, but we all simply stared, decorum lost.  The last five or six of the women in procession were dressed in a finer cut of our dresses, spears clasped between their hands, golden ivy circling up their wrists.  Their stomachs were rounded and protruded through the cloth, and I suddenly felt sick.

Whatever we were now, that was what we were meant to be.

They passed us by, but when the others processed outside, they stayed inside, circling the room.  I wondered if they were for our benefit, but Khepri was so intent on the ritual I didn’t dare ask.

The woman in red now stepped forward, and Khepri suddenly shifted, alert.  His eyes were fixed on the figure in astonishment, watching her every move intently.  His expression was unreadable.

She began to circle inwards, following the path the others had taken in reverse.  The priestesses were still singing, but now the rhythm had become more urgent.  She continued her slow walk around the circle, her skin untouched by the heat of the day.

She passed by us, and the men bent their heads again.  I saw Khepri glance up as she passed, and something hot passed between them.  Her mouth twitched a little but her eyes never left their faraway focus.  I watched her process past. Khepri glanced up again to take in her receding figure, and right then I felt hot, fat and damp, like a melted chocolate in poorly wrapped tin foil.  I shook my head to rid myself of my buzzing thoughts, and Khepri looked at me and frowned. 

Right then I would have happily scratched his eyes out. 

I lifted my eyes to her receding figure, and unhappy thoughts swam out of the humid air. 

How did this happen to me?

The singing ceased as she reached the central columns.  Silence fell except for a few rustles as people adjusted themselves.  She stood, frozen, at the apex.  The silence was almost complete.

The bell sounded under us again, and then the other bells responded.  Then the sounds collapsed into music, ringing out across the harbour.  The hollow temple acted as an amplifier, and the noise was a harmonious cacophony.

Other figures began to emerge from the columns, tall wide men clutching immaculate women dressed in white finery.  As they stepped through the column they bent their head to the woman in red, who touched their faces before they began to move through the circle.  In each pair the woman led the way, the man touching her shoulder.  Voices swelled from the congregation as they slowly made their way through the spiral.  Khepri lifted his head and sang, his voice a clear baritone.  His eyes stared into the centre of the room, and I turned my eyes away to watch the pairs' process.  The women were merely girls and barely eighteen, their eyes bright with tears and mouths wide with smiles.  Their companions were about the same age, but walked more solemnly, their eyes on the backs of their partners.  As they passed through the crowd flowers were dropped at their feet, sending up the sweet scent into the close air of the temple.  As they came to the bend that would bring them to us, they moved through the side doors and out onto the steps.  Thunderous cheers rang out, before the vast voices began to sing once more.

Khepri shifted and wiped at his eyes.  I kept my eyes on the procession, leaving him to his moment.

The priestess followed the last pair out into the sun, and the singing came to an end.  Everyone around us began to seat themselves, and I turned to look at Steve.  He nodded at me and we both bent to sit down. 

And that’s when it happened.

As Steve bent to sit on the ground his little blue booklet fell from his jacket pocket, sailing out into the temple.  He fumbled for it like a clumsy cricketer, but it bounced off his fingers and landed over into the next row.

If you’ve ever seen your keys swing shut behind a locked door then you know what this moment felt like.  Time slows to nothing, edges punch out of reality, and every colour is bright and unrealistic.  Your own body betrays you in this moment, stunned by the transformation, and merely stands, frozen.  As the booklet sailed away from us, across the immense distance of a foot, I felt my hands reach out for it and catch it, but it must have been my own imagination for when the moment ended my hands were still clasped in front of me.

It landed directly between two women, and they froze, staring at the innocent looking blue booklet with its little numbers stamped on the front.  One of the women, an elegant blonde covered in jewels, glanced up at us, and I think that was when she realized what had just flown into her grasp.  Quick as a cat she snatched the booklet from the floor and turned away from us, her fingers already rummaging through the booklet.

Steve and I looked at one another, a mirror of each other’s shock Khepri sat and gestured for me to do the same.  I knew he was telling me not to get involved, but I really didn’t understand why.  Surely, they had victims like us come through all the time if raiding was so prevalent?

The woman pointed out something in the booklet to the other woman, which made her blush.  A slow chant began outside, and the rest of the temple began to clap to its steady rhythm.  Steve still hadn’t moved, frozen at the moment of loss.

Khepri tugged at my dress.  He was grim, and his voice was full of quiet command. 

“Sit down.”

It was Steve who sat, not I.  He covered his face in his hands.

Khepri tugged at my dress again and gestured for me to sit, but my attention was on the women. 

They had glanced back at us, and it was the look that did it. She looked ill, as though the booklet contained some kind of contagion.  I’d never seen a look like that before, and it took me a moment to realise what it was - repulsion, loathing and hatred.

I’d like to say that it was the heat, or the overwhelming week that was behind me, or that I was ill, but I truly think it was indignation that caused me to do what I did next.  The paper bag princess in me rose up to claim its rightful place.

I quickly covered the distance between the women and I, ignoring Khepri’s grab for my skirt. 

They looked up as I approached, the booklet half open on a diagram that certainly looked anatomically correct.  I had the height advantage for the first time since I’d arrived in this city, and I took it.  I held out my hand imperiously and simply waited for the booklet to be handed over.  The booklet’s pages flicked from her hands, and I saw another anatomically correct picture, this time involving more than one body. 

She had remained staring up at me, but now her mouth had formed a thin line.  My surprise advantage was slipping, and I could feel the cold reprimand forming on her lips.  So I simply snatched the booklet from her fingers, turned heel and marched back to my seat.  I tucked the book under my bottom as I sat down and bent my head as though in deep prayer, clapping when the temple clapped. 

For me it was the end, and I was making that clear to anyone who wished to argue the point.  I could hear their fierce whispers in front of me, but then someone quieted them close by and that was the end of the matter. 

Steve reached out and touched my knee, but I concentrated on the shifting patterns of dust on the temple floor.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

I simply nodded, and Khepri sighed.



I kept my head down for the rest of the ritual, afraid to meet those women’s eyes, but perhaps also afraid that I would catch Khepri’s eye and perhaps receive a silent reprimand.  Crazy, I know, to want the approval of this man, but as my sweat dripped softly onto the dusty floor I had to admit to myself that it did matter, and a lot.  Whatever I felt, it was no longer mere gratitude or resentment; there was an added element hidden inside the turmoil that I didn’t like, and I could no longer ignore it.

A sudden cheering erupted from outside and swept through the temple. Khepri took my hand as I stood, and at the same time reached under and took the booklet.  We nodded at each other, a truce agreed upon.  He looked past me and as he tucked the booklet into his vest pocket and buttoned it closed and frowned at Steve.  I guess the matter would be dissected later, in private.



The priestesses with their long golden spears took the lead as the couples re-entered the temple and walked through us.  This time they passed in front of us, but they only had eyes for one another.  I could honestly say that each and every one of those couples were devoted to one another, and it made me a little teary. 

It had been a long day. 

They walked back between the columns and disappeared inside.

“They will go and feast with their relatives,” Khepri whispered in my ear.  “There is a large hall on the opposite side of the square where they will all eat together.”

The crowd around us began to disperse.  The women in front of us turned and looked back as they moved away, whispering together.  I had an urge to poke out my tongue, but thankfully managed to keep my composure.  I simply turned my back.

Ptahram stood glaring at Steve.  Now he took a step towards him, and I thought for a second he was going to hit him.

“It was a mistake,” Steve’s voice was whiny and frightened.  Khepri shifted beside me, and I wondered if he would stop Ptahram, but there was no need to find out.  Ptahram stopped inches from Steve.

“We will discuss this later.”  He then looked at me, and I knew that I would be involved.

What’s that sinking feeling Captain? 

Oh, just the ship hitting an iceberg.



Khepri turned me to him and kissed my forehead, then stared over my head at Ptahram.  I didn’t need to see the looks that passed between the two; they joined them and made them one.  Then I felt Ptahram move away, and I knew that I’d been claimed.  A happy little thrill rose up inside me, and my heart ricocheted off my ribcage, overloaded with thoughts.

I just needed time and a moment alone to assess those thoughts.

Something I didn’t get a lot of anymore.



The temple cleared quickly, although the steady stream of worshippers from above continued for sometime.  We were mostly ignored; our novel costumes were no competition for the stirring breeze and cooler exterior. 

Two priestesses entered from the right door, one carrying a pale porcelain urn and another a bowl engraved with nymphs.  They walked to the columns and faced us.  They blanked us, as though we didn’t exist. 

Then the priestess in red entered.  She strode quickly and with assurance, her posture like a queen's, high and straight.  She turned to face us.  We looked back at her, and once again I couldn’t help but feel like the fattest, ugliest girl in the room.

“Come.”

The others stepped forward, but I was reluctant to move forward.  Khepri stepped behind the others and held out his hand, which I reluctantly took.  Perhaps I was getting sick of being moved around like some helpless puppet, but I simply wanted to leave.  That was obviously not going to happen.

We were paired as we had always been paired, but this time it had a sense of ritual to it. Steve stood besides the still scowling Ptahram, Rosa with her tall god Teweret, unstable Linda with the patient Thothlian, and me and Khepri.

“Not so many this time,” she observed.  Her voice was husky and deep, the kind girls mimicked in their bedrooms and hoped cigarettes would accomplish.  She seemed perfect.

She gestured to the priestesses.  The urn was tipped over the bowl and clear water flowed out.  My throat closed and opened involuntarily.  It had been a hot day and a long time between drinks.

The priestess passed the bowl to the woman in red.  She held it above her head.

“Divine blessings for travellers,” she intoned.  Ptahram pushed Steve forward gently.  The woman lowered the bowl and spoke to both of them quietly.  I couldn’t hear a single thing that was said, but Steve laughed and took the bowl, sipping it slowly.  When it was finished, he handed it back to her, and they went to stand to one side.

It was Linda who was next, poor nervous Linda.  She seemed to be shaking, even though Thothlian gently soothed her.  The woman bent towards her and took one hand while the bowl was refilled.  Whatever was said, Linda settled and took the bowl, slowly drinking its contents.  When she walked to the side to join Steve she even had a smile on her face. 

Rosa was next, and she stepped boldly up to the woman in red, her back straight and head high.  The priestess spoke to Rosa quietly and the defiance slowly softened into acceptance.  She even managed to look chaste as she drank from the bowl. 

We were the last to approach, and her eyes were only for Khepri.

“Ah Khepri, I never thought we would see you here.” 

“Semolina.”

The hug was almost pornographic, their bodies moulded into one, his hands pressed against her shoulder blades and his head buried into her shoulder and long neck.

I bit my lip and reminded myself that I wasn’t here of my own free will, and that whatever Khepri did or felt was not of my concern. 

It almost worked. 

When they finally pulled apart, she turned to me and coolly assessed me. “And this is your Mea-tet?”

“I’m Maria.”  There was no need for him to answer for me.  We owed each other nothing. 

Well, other than a life.

Her eyes narrowed a little, but her smile remained fixed in place.

“You’ve had a feisty one chosen for you, I can see.”

Khepri placed his hand on my shoulder.  That act of ownership played twisted my emotions into one indecipherable knot.

“We suit each other rather well, I think.”

Semolina arched her eyebrows, and the knot tightened in me a little more.  After a moment she turned back me, obviously keen to get back on script.

“I know you must find this all so confusing, but we hope we will serve you as well as you will serve us.”

“Well you could do me a great service by sending me back home.”

Khepri’s grip tightened on my shoulder.

“You will be polite to Semolina.  She is the chief priestess of the Populace.”  His voice was hard.  My heart thumped loudly in my ears, and I knew I was doing my favourite party trick and backing myself into an indefensible position.  It had taken me years to learn to control my tongue, and now, in one week, all that hard work had been destroyed. 

“Forgive me Semolina.  I’m still a little shell shocked.” 

This really looks like an apology on paper.  It really didn’t sound like one, even to me.

I’d obviously knocked the priestess off course, because when she turned for the bowl, she knocked it, spilling half of the contents onto the temple’s floor.  She didn’t bother to refill it and simply thrust it at me.  Khepri’s heavy hand lay on my shoulder, and I knew there was no refusing. 

It tasted bitter and metallic, like a bowl full of iron shavings mixed with almonds.  I don’t know how the others drank the whole bowl, but I struggled even with the paltry amount left.  Finally I was finished, and I felt Khepri’s slide off my shoulder. 

I was my own person again.

I nodded to Semolina and turned to go, but her voice called me back.

“We cannot send you home and for that I apologise.”  Her eyes glanced up at Khepri, and I saw something in them I didn’t like.  It was a knowing, gloating look.  Even though I didn’t want to I glanced up at Khepri, but I couldn’t see his expression as he had looked away.  “I hope you will soon feel differently about this place, and perhaps, Khepri.” 

She finished her words on an upward inflection, the threat unfinished.  She didn’t need to say it; I had seen enough to know that my position here was precarious at best.  But I still didn’t drop my eyes from her as I moved away, instead keeping her in my vision, like a snake pointed out in high grass.  There was so much to contemplate and to adjust to. 

I just needed time and space.

And that was something in short supply in this crowded city, amongst these strange people. 



…..

“You didn’t tell us we had to leave them behind.”

As soon as the words were out I regretted them.  They might be nice kidnappers but they were still kidnappers.

Four pairs of eyes moved from an ashen Steve to me.  He glanced at me, his eyes wide with fear.

I glanced at Khepri, who shook his head slightly

“What did you say?”  Steve’s handler, Ptahram, took a step away from him, turning towards me.

Rosa and Linda shifted away from me.  Khepri frowned.

It was an expression he was going to have to get used to.

“You gave us the booklets just before we went to the temple and told us to read them.  No one said we had to leave them.”

Khepri looked away and down, his mouth twitching.

“It’s true.”  I looked up at Steve surprised. He had more guts than I first thought. 

Ptahram wheeled towards him, and Steve stepped back.  He wasn’t a small man but all four of our captors made him look like a prepubescent boy.  Ptahram’s fists were clenched, his veins easily traceable.

Steve’s frightened eyes looked back at me. His mouth swung open but I knew little good was going to come out of it.

“We’re not psychic you know.”

At least Thotlian, Khepri and Teweret were distracted.

“How can we obey you if you don’t tell us the rules?”  I hated what I was saying but I hoped it would save our bacon.  “You can’t punish us for being ignorant.”

Khepri nodded, but the others only stared, like I had sprouted two heads.

“I can punish you for whatever I feel like,” Ptahram stepped forward.  Now there was an abyss between me and the other women.  It was Thotlian who grabbed his arm.

“She’s right.”  Ptahram swung back and glared at him.  “We failed to tell them of the danger.”

Thotlian continued to stare at Ptahram.

“I agree,” Khepri chimed in.  “We must be clear with them in the future.  We have a duty to protect them.”

“Of course you’d agree with her.” 

He swung around, almost knocking Steve to the ground.  Thotlian caught him and gave Ptahram a stare.  Steve almost leaned on Thotlian. 

Teweret handed the booklet back to Steve, who quickly tucked it into his coat pocket.

“That never goes out in public.  Ever.”

We all nodded.

“It’s for your own protection.  If they found out what you were you’d be torn to shreds.”  His face was serious, almost scared.  If it was an act he was missing his calling in life.

“What are Bessian’s?”

Frying pan, fire, me.  It was one of those nights. It was Khepri who spoke.

“They describe a group of women – and some men – who live East of here, near the portal.”

Khepri’s eyes glanced away from me to the others and back again.  I don’t think he’s a very good liar.

“We’ve disguised you as Bessian brides – and husbands.  It is very common for them to marry outside of their clan as they lack what we have and there aren’t many left.” 

“If you are asked again you reply yes, and that you’re to be married.”  Ptahram spoke.  “You understand?”

This was directed at me but the others replied quickly.  I nodded.  He sighed and looked over at Khepri.  He almost looked sorry for him.  He turned back to Steve and offered his hand.  Khepri looked surprised and then his face became blank.  He was easy to read as well.

“I’m sorry we were so rough with you.  We were worried that they would report you.”  We?  I only saw one person haul Steve across the room like he was paper caught in a strong breeze.

“Teweret is right.  If they found out you weren’t from here they would kill you.”  He looked at each of us slowly, to make sure we understood.

We understood. 

I looked at Khepri, and he nodded, assenting.  I nodded back slowly.

Thotlian clapped his hands together, and we all jumped.  Rosa let out a little scream, and Thotlian grimaced apologetically.

“Shall we break fast?  I’m starving.”



…..



It was a beautiful night, cloudless with no breeze.  It was warmer here (to the West).

Khepri and I sat on the back stairs of the (Prison) hostel, him on the step below me.  The moon hung pregnant and full over the city, obscuring the stars. 

Out of the corner of my eye I could see him looking at me. 

A picture perfect lover admiring his chosen one.

I sighed.

“Your code will come.”

He took my hand, and it looked like a baby’s inside his callused hands.

Perhaps not everything was a lie then.

“That’s not what I’m worried about.”

He arched his eyebrows and the moon played in his pale eyes.  God he was good looking.  His hand stroked mine slowly, and I felt the old familiar rush. 

This was bad.

“Have you ever heard of the Stockholm Syndrome?”

“No.”  His voice was mellow and deep.

His hand stroked across the back of my hand again, and the tingle came again.  I didn’t pull my hand away.  It was nice to feel something other than fear.

“It describes the attachment a captive develops for their abductor after a couple of days, particularly if the abductor shows them some kind of special treatment.”

Khepri lifted his eyebrows and smiled.

“Really?”

His finger traced a line down the back of my hand again.

“Yes.”  I pulled my hand away.

He smiled.

“And you’re worried that you have these feelings?”  He leaned closer, his hand on the step beside me.  He was only inches from me.  I breathed him in, and he smelt good. 

Enough.

“I know I have these feelings.” 

Khepri reached forward and wrestled my hand from me again.  He sandwiched it between his, encapsulating it in warmth.  The little thrum in my groin began to beat again.

“Is there a name for when the abductor feels an attachment to the captive?”

I snorted, but the thrum was between my legs intensified.

“It’s called the reason they abducted them in the first place.”

He laughed and then quickly kissed my palm. He glanced up at my face and laughed again.

“It’s not funny!”  The tears edging into my voice surprised me.  The smile stayed on his lips, but his eyes burned with intensity.

“I guess it at least guarantees you at least one fuck.”

He drew back.  He wasn’t smiling anymore.  He let go of my hand and I put it back on my lap. It looked diminished somehow. 

“It will be easier if you don’t fight it.”

“I know.”

He leaned against the wall, looking out over the city. To me it looked like a bed of multicolour stars.

I wondered if he could see more than me.  They seemed to be created from hardier and more beautiful fabric than us.

“The others will leave tomorrow.” 

“I can arrange for you and Steve to be alone if you wish.”

His cheeks were a dull red, but his expression resolute.  His gaze was on the city below.

“I’ve seen how close you are to him.”

He’s jealous.  MY CAPTOR is jealous.

My life really was on full tilt now.

 

He seemed to be waiting for a response.  I didn’t know what to give.

“Thank you,” I eventually managed to get out.

He grimaced.

“I will arrange it then.”

Suddenly I laughed, and he turned shocked.  I was all the colours of the rainbow tonight.

I wonder what colour hysteria is.

The laughter almost choked me.

I patted him, trying to control myself.

“It’s ok, I don’t want Steve.  But thank you.”

He simply stared at me.  Eventually he nodded. 

“If that is what you wish.”

I snorted once more and shook my head.  Maybe there was some kind of reverse Stockholm Syndrome. 

Now that was like icy water on sunburnt skin.  I shivered a little.

“Is Steve safe with Ptahram?”

Khepri pressed his lips together.  He obviously wanted to forget that man as much as possible.

“No more than he was.”

“What does that mean?”

He looked at me, and then down at his hands.

“We are charged with protecting you.”

“But –“  He held his hand up, and I knew I couldn’t push it. 

He stood and offered his hand.

“Come, you should get an early night.  Once the Code comes we will be travelling a long distance.”

“Khepri, what happens if my Code doesn’t come?”

I couldn’t see his face in the dark.  Somewhere a bird called.  I’ve never heard its like before.  It sounded like the loneliest bird in the world. 

“I need to know.”

He bent down and took my hands, lifting me up gently. 

“Come, let’s get you to bed.  You need your rest.”

And for once, I obeyed. 

Maybe I didn’t really need to know after all.

….



I was dragged through corridors, my bare feet skipping over cold concrete.  The world was flashes of light and noise.  I was shoved through a doorway, and I sprawled onto the concrete floor.

Someone laughed and then the door slammed behind me.

I lay there for a bit, my cheek pressed against the cool concrete.  I didn’t want to get up, didn’t want to open my eyes and deal.  I just wanted to wake up.

Suddenly icy cold water hit me.  I gasped and scrambled away.

“Get up!”  Someone grabbed my arm and propelled me forward. Pain shot through my shoulder, and the solid concrete wall loomed.  My feet found the floor, and I was able to stop myself. 

“Turn around!” 

I turned, shivering in the bright light,. The cell was maybe two metres squared, but the hulking black mass in front of me filled it. 

“Straighter!”  He hit me around the leg with a thick piece of leather.  I cried out and pulled myself up further.  tried to stand straighter.  He stepped closer, our bodies only inches from each other.  He seemed to be smiling through his mask.

“You will not move from this spot..”  Then he stepped forward, closing the gap.  My body automatically leaned away from his but he pressed harder.

I could tell he was excited.  I daren’t look him in the face.

“Understand?”

“Yes”  It was barely a whisper. He pressed harder against me.  His breath smelled of garlic.

“What did you say?”

“Yes.” 

He reached up with both hands and placed the leather strap on my throat, pinning me to the wall. 

“That’s yes sir.”  The strap dug into my skin and I gagged. “Say it.”

“Yes sir.”

He stepped away a little, and adjusted his trousers.  He saw me looking and smiled.

“Don’t worry sweetheart, you’re not type.  Too small.”

Then he left the cell. 

I stayed standing against the wall, not even daring to lift my arms to wipe away the tears.



You can’t stand like that forever.  It’s impossible.  But every time I sagged the cell door would swing open, he would enter and snarl orders, snapping his strap at my exposed arms and legs.  And you straightened yourself once more and begging with yourself not to cry.  You stood until you fell over or your body cramped, and then cover your head and pray he didn’t hit you too hard. 

Not all prayers were answered.

At some point they dragged another woman in.  She wore a dark blue tunic as well, her stick figure arms and legs poking out from it’s mass.  Her blonde hair was matted and wet.  In every day life she would have been stunning but now she looked like a misused rag doll.

They dumped her on the floor and left.

“Hey,” I whispered.

She lay prone on the floor, her body a tangle of limbs.

“Hey,” She stirred a little.

“Hey.  Get up.  They’ll come back.”

Nothing.

I stood paralysed against the wall.  As soon as I stepped towards her I knew that cell door would open, and he would re-enter arms swinging.  My limbs ached enough from the strap without adding more pain.

Then I heard a door open somewhere, and his massive boots begin their trek down the hall.

“Oi you!”  She raised her head.

“What?”

“You’ve got to get up.  They’ll come for you again.”

“Whaaaa?”  Her head was drooping towards the floor again. I could see him moving along the corridor, the thick strap swinging side to side. 

I stepped forward quickly and grabbed her arm.

“They’re coming.  You’ve got to get up.”

Finally it clicked, and she stumbled to the wall. 

The cell door swung open, and he stood there, one arm holding a large bucket of water, which was swinging upwards.

The strap was in the other hand.

He looked down and saw she wasn’t there.  The bucket stopped halfway and slopped over his boots.

He looked down, staring stupidly at the water running down his trousers.

She laughed.

The head came up fast, but she didn’t stop laughing.  It seemed like she couldn’t.  He stepped forward, closing the gap between us in two easy steps and slopped the water all over her.  She gasped as it hit her, drenching her dress.  It clung to her torso, revealing all her curves and breasts.

“Funny now, bitch?”  Then he reached out with his right hand – the hand with the strap in it – and slapped it across her arms.  She cried out and turned towards me, cowering.  He whipped the strap back and hit out at her exposed arm.  She screamed a little, and it seemed to egg him on.  He hit down across her body, leaving little red welts that would last for weeks afterwards.  She tried to avoid his hits but he always found unprotected exposed flesh.

He stopped, panting.  She had begun to cry softly, crouching on the ground, her dress covering her body.

“Get up.”

His voice was quiet. 

“Get up.”

The strap twitched in his hand.  I crouched down beside her and grabbed her arms.  She looked at me, and I nodded.  She was a mess, her face screwed up and blotchy from crying, mucus hanging from her nostrils.  I pulled her up by her armpits.  Then I turned back to see those icy eyes staring at me.  Then the strap hit me across the breasts, and he shoved me against the wall. 

After that, there was blackness for a while. 



When I awoke the girl was bending over me, wiping my forehead with her wet dress.  She smiled.

“Thank God.”  She wiped my brow again.  “Don’t move.”

I didn’t think I’d even twitched a muscle but I said nothing.  I was still trying to work out where I was.

“Shit, I know I’m supposed to ask you a bunch of questions to see if you’re ok, but I wouldn’t know if they were the right answers.”

“I think I’m ok.”

I reached up and touched my forehead gently.  It was smooth.  And now damp.

“I’m Rosa, anyway.”

I pushed myself up slowly and reached behind.  My head swam and I touched the back of my head.  There was a rough round bruise on the back of my head.  Rosa nodded towards the cell door.

“He left, after you hit your head.”

I nodded.

“Do you remember your name?”

“Maria,”  my voice was croaky. 

“Hi Maria.”  She smiled uncomfortably.  “How do you feel?”

“Like crap.”

We both smiled at each other.

“Well, guess that’s two of us.”