The Priest (4 page)

“Sorry, the doctor is moving the OR to the
second floor, and the medical guards are running wild through the
whole place. You never know who is listening,” the guard said to
the cell phone as soon as the hallway cleared.

Me, for example?

“Love you too.” She finished her
conversation and directed Mauricio inside his cell at the same
time.

“Hey, Lina!” Another guard approached with a
big smile.

“Oh, hey, Carla! Long time no see. How have
you been?” The plump guard turned around to greet the other
woman.

Mauricio acted on impulse. Without thinking,
he put the strip of torn fabric he was still holding over the cell
door’s lock. The plump guard pulled on the door and waited for the
click announcing that the lock had slid into place. The click came,
rather muted by the fabric, but loud enough for the guard to leave
without double-checking.

Mauricio heard the two women’s voices
getting softer until they disappeared altogether. He waited a few
minutes and then gently wiggled the piece of fabric to move the
lock. Another faint sound announced that the lock had just been
dislodged from its side. Mauricio wiggled the fabric some more,
hoping that nobody was outside. The door opened imperceptibly.
Mauricio peeked outside cautiously and then gently pulled the door
back out, being careful to leave it opened.

Satisfied with the result, Mauricio took a
deep breath. The girl who had taken permanent residence inside his
mind was here. And he was going to see her again. The possible
outcome didn’t scare Mauricio. He didn’t think for a second that he
could get caught. He only wanted another glimpse at her. As simple
as that.
I should hate you
, he thought.
Or at least be
repulsed by your sight. You are lovely, I must admit… but still a
woman
.
You belong to the wrong sex: your race has doomed me
to slavery
.

After taking a good look outside, Mauricio
left his cell as if it was the most natural thing to do. He ducked
and took cover behind corners every time he heard approaching
noises. He made it through all the way to his final destination
without surprises. It helped that the guards didn’t expect any
slave to act the way Mauricio was acting. It also helped that he
wasn’t thinking at all. Otherwise, fear would have frozen him in
the act of opening a door he shouldn’t even be close to.

If the door opens, it’s meant to be
.
Mauricio turned the handle and then pushed gently. The door swung
on its hinges and opened with a whoosh.
It’s a sign I am not
doing anything wrong
. He closed his eyes before taking a look
inside.
I hope she’s here
. She was there. Still sleeping.
Still small. The girl was connected to several machines that beeped
regularly; she was cradled in a cocoon of wires and covered in
needles.
She seems… happy
. He had never seen a face so
peaceful. The men he knew were bitter in the soul and beaten in the
body. They were never happy. The women he had the unfortunate luck
to interact with were always complaining about having to work with
the slaves. They rarely smiled, even to each other.

Mauricio smiled. He truly smiled, for no
apparent reason at all. His mouth moved without his knowledge. It
rearranged the muscles in his face in a fashion that was foreign to
him. He walked toward the bed, still grinning. She turned her head
and a strand of her hair covered her right eye. Mauricio reached
out and moved the strand out of the way. His fingers barely grazed
her skin, but she turned toward his hand. He stepped back, worried
that she was going to wake up.

“Thanks,” she murmured in her dreams, her
voice a whisper. She sighed contently and sank into a deeper
sleep.

Mauricio’s smile widened.
I like your
voice
. There was something refreshing about it—a gentle quality
he wasn’t accustomed to hearing in a woman’s voice. He realized
that she had never actually talked to
him
, but he didn’t
want to think too much about that. He wished she would sing again.
What color are your eyes? I really want to see them
.
Mauricio was taken by a sudden impulse and acted on it. Lately, he
was having a lot of those moments, he realized. He moved to the
side of the bed and sat beside it on the only chair present in the
room. He took her right hand in his and stroked her skin with light
fingers.

Mauricio couldn’t help but notice the
unblemished quality of her complexion against his. His hands were
bigger than hers, marred by scars, and dirty. That last realization
made him drop her hand on the bed immediately. He tried to clean
the palm of his hands on his pants.

“You're warm,” the girl said without opening
her eyes. Her hand seemed to search for the warmth that had
abandoned it.

Mauricio tentatively nudged his fingers
close to hers. She grabbed his hand and smiled. He would have
stayed there, still as a statue for the rest of his life. There was
so much peace in the warmth of that gesture. He knew she wasn’t
holding him.
I want to be that person you’re dreaming about.
Mauricio felt sadness creep in his heart.
Why wasn’t I born a
pure breed?
he thought, even though he knew he should hate
them. But he wanted to feel this good again more than he wanted to
hate his captors. And the thought by itself was maddening.
Hate
is the only meaningful feeling when you are a slave. It keeps you
alive. It keeps you strong
.

Mauricio removed his hand slowly, conscious
that he had soiled the white linen surrounding her delicate
fingers. One of the machines connected to her left hand started
beeping. He knew that it was time to make an exit. The girl’s lips
were slightly parted and Mauricio saw the white of her teeth. There
were so many things he wanted to ask her. And he was still curious
about the color of her eyes.

The girl granted Mauricio’s wish right when
he decided it was wise to leave. He was retracing his steps toward
the door, carefully avoiding the snarl of cables entangled on the
floor, but allowed himself one last glance at her, when she
presented him with the most beautiful set of dark brown eyes. The
girl stared at him in confusion for a few seconds.

“Oh my—” Mauricio lost control of his
dexterity and his right foot became entangled in the cables. He
thrashed around, his arms outstretched to break the fall and a
machine went down with him. Mauricio realized one second too late
that the transparent pipe that went flying along with the machine
was attached to a needle in the girl’s left arm. As it was yanked
out, her eyes grew wide, and then she screamed at the top of her
lungs.

“It’s okay; I’m not going to hurt you. I’d
never hurt you. Please, keep it quiet,” Mauricio said, horrified by
her reaction. The girl screamed louder. Mauricio stood there,
thinking of the best way to calm her and lost precious moments he
should have used to escape. He moved a step closer to the bed and
the girl’s eyes reflected how terrified she was of him. Mauricio
felt a sting of pain that wasn’t physical and he jumped back toward
the door as if a jolt of electricity had shot through his body.

A moment later, a nurse appeared at the
door. “Mistress, what’s wrong?” the woman asked and then screamed
when she saw Mauricio. Her hand reached for a button on the wall.
“I need help. There is a man inside the room!” she yelled loudly at
an intercom that had started pulsing red.

“Stop where you are. Don’t move,” the nurse
ordered Mauricio. She looked at him with a mixture of fear and
disgust, and then she seemed to remember something. She fished in
her apron’s pocket, and from the look in her eyes, she found what
she was looking for.

“Don’t move,” she said again before aiming a
Taser at Mauricio.

I must be alive
. Mauricio woke up
with one of the worst headaches of his life. It took him several
minutes to get his bearings, and even when he did, he couldn’t be
sure of how he was faring. His body was aching everywhere, and
after a cursory inspection, he found that the left side of his face
was swollen. “I’m sure it could be worse,” he said just to hear his
own voice.

When he tried to stretch his muscles, he
realized that his left leg was shackled to the wall.
Where am I
now?
He wasn’t in his cell, from the little he could see in the
dim light. He hadn’t slept on a bed, hard or otherwise, but on a
wet floor. “I’m not going to look down, I’m not going to look
down”, he repeated, but he did look down and immediately regretted
it. .

Then, finally, when the fog had cleared, he
wondered why
. Why am I still alive after the nurse found me in
the girl’s room?
It just didn’t make sense that his life had
been spared.
Unless what they want to do to me is worse than
death.
Mauricio shuddered with foreboding. The girl was the
President’s daughter, after all. He shouldn't be alive.

No
, he thought with terrifying
clarity
. It isn’t as simple as that
. The nurse had Tasered a
slave who was attempting violence against the President’s daughter.
The girl had been screaming as if he was attempting to hurt her.
His only hope was a quick death.

Mauricio was left in that dark cell so long,
time simply ceased to have any meaning. The only interaction with
other human beings was thrice a day when the guards brought him
food. The women were under orders not to speak to him, for any
reason. When they were around him, the guards didn’t even speak to
each other.

He was permitted a few minutes of walking
every other day, the only physical activity he was allowed. The
women never beat him, and the food, although bland, wasn’t
disgusting, but the isolation almost did him in.

Time passed; the shackles anchoring him to
the wall were removed; the pain became bearable.

Mauricio realized one day how long he had
been confined there when he ran his hand through his hair and found
that he could tie it in a ponytail. He still didn’t have a clue why
the women hadn’t killed him already. The longer they left him there
to rot, the more his imagination ran wild, conjuring tales of such
horror that once or twice he broke into tears.

Finally, the day came when his future would
be revealed.

Nobody told him anything, but the
electricity in the air was palpable. He could see from his cell the
guards moving around purposefully. The metal bars prevented him
from sticking his head out when nobody was close, but he saw
enough. And what he saw gave him pause.

Maybe dying isn’t that bad
, he
morosely thought.
If I’m lucky, being dead is a permanent
state.
Compared to what the guards wanted to do to him, it was
probably the best option.
Maybe it’s just a bad dream, and I’ll
wake up any moment now.

When an older woman appeared before the
metal bars of his cell, his worst fear took shape. He noticed that
she was wearing a billowy, colored dress and a headpiece. The older
woman raised one hand and several golden armbands slid down her
arm. The gesture meant something because several guards appeared at
her side.

He nervously tugged the rigid collar around
his neck. He felt oddly reassured by the tingling sensation
bordering on pain, but it also meant that he wasn’t having a
nightmare.

“Please, kill me as fast as possible,”
Mauricio pleaded. He knew it was a useless attempt, but he couldn’t
help it. He would have killed himself if he had a way.

The older woman looked at him with mild
distaste and a great deal of curiosity. “Clean him and bring him to
the lab,” the woman said to someone else out of Mauricio’s sight.
He thought that the request was odd. If they were going to torture
him to death, why bother with a clean body? Mauricio looked on
quietly from his corner while the cell was opened, and he stood
still as one of the guards came closer, hooking a chain to his
collar. He finally followed the guards outside without attempting
any other conversation. Nothing he could say would make the
slightest difference in any case.

The elegant, older woman led the small army
of guards ahead. Mauricio tried to straighten his body, but the
muscles in his legs were trembling, and the guard holding the chain
yanked him forward several times, making it impossible for him to
keep up. After a few minutes of walking, he started seeing dark
spots on the wall and fell twice, annoying the guard. He stood up
immediately after she struck him with a short whip.

“What are you doing? You’re damaging the
semental,” the older woman said without turning around. Mauricio
wondered how she knew. “Don’t strike him again or he’ll faint, and
I need him awake,” she added, shaking her arm with a distinct sound
of bells.

“Apologies, Priestess,” the guard said. And
then added under her breath, “He doesn’t walk fast enough. What am
I supposed to do?” She gave him a vicious tug. “Don’t make a single
noise, or I’ll come visit you later.”

Mauricio distractedly made the mental
connection between the older woman leading him to his death and the
Priestess who had been mentioned by the guards before.
I finally
make your acquaintance
, he thought.

“Give him something to eat, before you take
him to the deposit room.” The Priestess disappeared behind a door
opening like a square of light into the dark and cold hallway.

Mauricio was utterly confused; he didn’t
understand what was happening and that scared him even more.

The guard used the chain as a leash and
pulled him inside another room. “Wash your sorry self and do it
fast.”

I could use a shower
, he thought.
Water isn’t hot, but it isn’t cold either; it could be
worse,
he tried to convince himself. Mauricio massaged his
muscles to ease the tingles of pain shooting through his legs and
arms. The water wasn’t warm enough to ease his aching muscles or do
any good other than cleansing his skin. In any case, he wouldn’t
have been able to relax even if the water had been hot. Mauricio
took the shower with his back to the wall, keeping an eye on the
guard. The suspense of not knowing what they were going to do to
him was wearing him out. Finally, the guard told him to stop. She
gave him just enough time to dry what he could of his body with a
small towel and then pointed one finger at a corner. Mauricio
understood the order and waited for what was next.