Russell lifted his fists into a fighting stance. “Come on. Come on,” he taunted.
Hanna jumped out of the path. Dimitri leaped forward with a wide swing. Russell easily blocked the punch with his left arm and swung toward Dimitri’s head with his right. Dimitri was quick to respond. He moved his head back. Russell’s fist sailed by his face, missing him by inches. Dimitri pulled back and countered with a right hook, clipping Russell on the tip of his jaw. Dimitri made a second assault with his left. This time, Russell was more than ready. He quickly blocked Dimitri’s fist with his left forearm and sent a beefy right hook down on top of the young man’s head for a second time. Dimitri crashed to the floor. He reached his hand up, clutching the top of his head in agony. The impact was much worse than any face hit. This second time felt like a concussion. Dimitri shook off his daze and tried to get back up. Russell stepped in and pushed him back to the floor with his foot. It was pointless. Russell had still managed to win.
Gail lifted herself up from the floor. She was back in her own body.
“Stop this!” she demanded.
Everything in the room went still. Not even the sound of a breath followed her words. Everyone stood frozen. Gail slowly investigated the back of her neck with her hands. No blood. Her A perplexing scowl covered her face.
“I’m OK,” she reassured the others.
Russell’s attention faltered. He slowly stepped back to the door and rubbed his fists. His face sunk with regret. Although he had followed protocol, he couldn’t help feeling he had crossed the line. He glanced back to Hanna, who avoided eye contact.
Dimitri slowly climbed back to his feet, wiping the dazed look from his unshaven face. Determination continued to radiate from his weary eyes. He was getting out of that room come hell or high water, even if he had to kill somebody. He needed to be ready.
CHAPTER 6
A lingering sense of hostility kept the room in a persecuted state of silence. The things that had led the four strangers to their moment of conflict seemed a lifetime ago. Just an awkward feeling of gloom and segregation remained. Time didn’t matter anymore. It felt like an eternity since they had seen sunlight. Perhaps it didn’t even exist anymore.
Russell tried to make himself comfortable as he kept the door barricaded with his back. He nestled his head between the door’s two metal plates. It helped keep his head from bobbling. He had to find some comfort in his position. He wouldn’t be moving for a while.
Hanna glanced over the room, unable to sleep. She couldn’t contain her resentment for the situation. She had lost her ability to think. Exhaustion coupled with dehydration was also wearing her down. I can’t take this much longer. If there is a hell, this is it. The room was becoming stuffier and hotter as the breathing of human carbon dioxide started to mask itself as bad breath.
The sound of a throat clearing stabbed the silence. Hanna looked over, reacting to the noise. It was Dimitri. He was sprawled out on the floor. His head rested against a rusty filing cabinet. He looked far worse than she did.
Hanna’s expression seemed to remind him how ridiculous he looked lying there. He slowly rose from the floor and paced over to a small air vent located on the wall above the desk. He raised his hand to the vent. The look on his face was grim. There was no airflow.
Dimitri’s actions were curious to Hanna. He couldn’t sit still. Despite his obvious fading physical state, he remained determined. His persistence was anything but humbled by the situation. True to his job as an engineer, he was investigating and making calculations. Hanna carefully glanced over to Russell to see if he was paying attention. He was out cold and completely oblivious to Dimitri’s movements.
Dimitri’s face soured as his fingers twiddled above the vent. He looked back down to the floor with a perplexing glare. He shuffled over to the desk and plopped down on the corner with a heavy sigh. We’re fucked.
Hanna narrowed her eyes with suspicion. She gave one last look back to Russell before making a move. She slid across the room quietly and nestled her shoulder up against Dimitri’s. Leaning into him for a whisper, she gently spoke. “What’s up?”
Dimitri said nothing. His silence indicated something had gone wrong.
Hanna pressed on. “Seriously. What’s up?”
Dimitri sighed with defeat and sat up, clearing his throat again. “Generators shouldn’t be running. It means there’s no power on the base. The airflow is weak, and eventually, it’ll stop pumping to us. We’ll suffocate,” he explained nonchalantly.
Hanna’s attention drifted up toward the inconspicuous air vent on the wall. Dimitri’s prediction was alarming. She couldn’t find the words to reply. All she knew was that she believed him. Their time was now under an hourglass.
“What do you remember from this morning?” he asked.
Hanna was taken aback by the question. Dimitri was serious. He was trying to get at something. She pondered it over for a moment. She shrugged. To her surprise, her memory had escaped her. A disorienting moment had somehow blocked her consciousness. She couldn’t answer his question, and she fumbled for words. “I don’t remember anyone drugging me or bringing me here. That’s for sure,” she replied. She narrowed her mouth slowly with a troubling realization.
“What day is it?” Dimitri asked with a bit of a snicker, almost as if testing her further.
Hanna replied sharply, “Thursday.”
“No. It’s Monday.”
Hanna looked back at him as if he was insane. It was impossible. There is no way it can be Monday. She laughed to herself. He’s lost it. She had already worked earlier in the week. She remembered the flight from DC. It had been on a Wednesday. She remembered flying commercially to Las Vegas and then taking a private charter jet to the base. The flight had been less than forty-five minutes. Once they had deplaned on a hot, dusty runway, she had been taken with a dozen other visitors by bus for another thirty minutes to a set of administration buildings. Surely Dimitri was mistaken about what day it was.
Something on Hanna’s face told Dimitri she didn’t believe him. He nodded casually and took in a deep gulp. “This morning, I had breakfast with my younger brother,” he replied as his voice faded off with a depressing memory.
Hanna looked on. She was not sure what to say. That didn’t sound like a bad thing. Why is he so troubled? The comment didn’t seem to hold any importance to the debate over which day it was. Hanna waited for Dimitri to finish his thought.
“He’s been dead for five years,” the Russian reluctantly continued.
Hanna scoffed at the comment with disbelief. How could that be? She held for a moment to see if the man would crack a smile. He held steady. This wasn’t a joke to him. Shit. He’s serious. She couldn’t find words to reply to his comment. Maybe something happened to his brain when Russell hit him.
Dimitri looked back at her with utter seriousness. “This morning didn’t happen the way we remember it. Frankly, I have no idea how long we’ve been here. I’m starting to think our consciousness is an illusion.”
His words seemed to take the air out of her lungs. What if he’s right? How long have we been here?
Dimitri slowly pivoted away and returned to the comfort of the hard concrete below the desk. Hanna sat quietly, grappling with the man’s claim. As ridiculous as it sounded, something about that idea seemed to make sense.
Across the room, Russell’s hand lay limp over the top of his knee. His wristwatch dangled around his wrist. The second hand was dead still. The wristwatch was stuck at three fifteen. Time had frozen.