Chapter 6

                                    

                                              
There had been a brief pause then the conversation had continued until tiredness overcame them. It was clear their differences outweighed their similarities. Whereas Kira had never known her father and had no siblings, Eliana was part of a large, close knit family. She did indeed live in a city, one she called St. Petersburg. Her family were affluent, and it was clear that, other than revolutionary tendencies, Eliana had never done anything wrong in her life. Her world was a far cry from the scraping by that embodied Kira's.
                          
Kira could hear Eliana's breath over the roar of the motor. She sat in the relative silence and wondered what it would be like to have lived in a city, with a family, and have everything you needed to survive. No matter what she thought, there would be no way she would give all that up, even to make other's lives better. Kira was thankful for what Eliana was doing, but she also thought her to be stupid. Why risk everything for the slums, for nothing more than a bowl of dust?
                          
Kira felt the van slow down. Two large bumps sent her flying off the floor, she winced in pain as her backside landed heavily on the metal underneath and her wrists scraped the insides of the handcuffs once again. The low hum of the motor returned, so too did Eliana's breath. Those jolts had somehow not roused her.

                          
A few minutes later the van stopped and the waiting game returned. At any moment Kira expected the door to slide open and light to attack her senses. But it did not come. The fact Eliana slept through it all annoyed her. She thought of shouting, waking up her counterpart. Only the fact she would not wish to be woken herself stopped her. Once more Kira sat in the dark contemplating her new life. Horrific scenes of starvation and torture played across her mind, somehow the visions were worse than her life in the slums. She made a decision, next time the tattooed man unlocked her handcuffs she would strike him in the one place that would incapacitate him, then run, run as fast as she could. He would not be able to use the electric gun on her if he was crying in a heap.
                          
Finally the door slid open. With a smarmy, self-satisfied grin, the tattooed man said, "time to come out." He looked to Eliana who groggily raised her head. Deciding to give her more time to wake herself, he moved to Kira. With the smile still plastered across his face he grabbed her with his left hand and pressed his other thumb onto the handcuffs. The grip felt strong, but that did not dissuade Kira from her mission. The instant the cuffs clicked open she moved, raising a knee into the tattooed man's groin. Like a skyscraper struck with a wrecking ball he crashed to the ground, a high pitched squeal the only verbal evidence of what happened. Kira did not wait, she darted through the door and out to freedom. A second man stood just outside. Such was Kira's speed she could not stop, in fact she did not try. Her mind one track, focused solely on the path to freedom. She bundled the man out the way and headed for a metal staircase in front of her, all the energy in her body being pushed into her legs.
                          
She had not looked around, not surveyed the scene. Her tunnel vision ignored the metal floor painted in a deep green, the light white walls, also made of metal. It missed the arrows sprayed on the green surface in white, arrows that sat next to words that stated things like 'Deck A,' 'Deck B,' and 'Cabins 1-14.' Her ears too blocked out any noise, they did not take in the loud hum of the engine, the splash of water against the outer walls. They ignored the sound of a man pulling a gun from his pocket, barely audible over the engine. They were too focused to be thankful for the tattooed man shouting, "leave her."
                          
Kira made the stairs. Rather than observed the signs screwed to the wall that told passengers where to go for leisure, where to meet in an emergency and where life jackets were stored, she bounded up the steps two, sometimes three, at a time. At the top she had options; straight ahead, through a sturdy looking door with one small window around her head high, was a dimly lit corridor with doors leading off one side. Another flight of stairs led up further. This level was carpeted and much more friendly than the one below. Kira's decision was made by the natural light that seemed to flow in from the top of this second set of stairs. After the brief, decision making, pause, she ascended once more. Now she had another choice to make. To her right a door led into what appeared to be a waiting area, seat after seat of blue leather arranged in rows. Once again she went with the light, it was indeed sunlight, streaming in through a door to her left. Kira tried to push it but it was cold and stiff, another part of this building made of metal. She gave it another push, stronger than the first. The door slowly opened, it was not broken or locked, it was heavy. As she stepped outside, hoping this was an exit and not just a balcony, she was almost taken off her feet. The wind was fierce, stronger than she had ever felt, the floor seemed to be moving up and down. When steady, she took a few steps to a railing in front of her, white like the deck below and secured to a deep green floor. Confusion set in as she stared down, rather than seeing buildings or, more hopefully, a set of stairs leading her away from this place, there was water. She raised her head, more water. Water was everywhere, it surrounded this place. In panic she fought against the wind, making her way around the front of the building. She hoped to be presented with a new scene, but to her dismay there was yet more water. No matter which direction she looked, a blue haze continued to the horizon. Visions of her Grandfather sprung into her mind, him making small boats out of whatever wood and paper they could find. The two of them sailing them in puddles after the rain. A boat, she was on a boat.
                          
The thought did not have time to sink in before she heard, "beautiful, isn't it?"

                          
 Kira froze, she smelt tobacco, feeling the presence of someone next to her. As her new acquaintance stared out to sea, she took a quick glance across at him. A badly constructed roll up cigarette hung limply from his down turned mouth. A thinning film of grey hair spread across a wrinkled, weather-beaten face. Atop his head sat a blue knitted beanie hat that had seen better days. If he had gone for the weather-worn fisherman look he had pulled it off perfectly. Kira looked away as he realised she was staring at him. "I know, I know. They're bad for you," he said in mock sympathy, pulling the cigarette from his mouth. "And I get the irony, Princips banning them from the cities but allowing them in the slums. Keep the rich healthy and get rid of the poor quicker. Here's me, taking on the system and still smoking. Sometimes on the cold nights it's all that keeps you warm though. That and a bottle of ale. Anyway, I've probably said too much, wouldn't want to step on our Lord and Master's toes. Nope, he'll tell you everything. You'll just have to be slightly confused till then."
                          
Kira mouthed something, she was indeed confused. As no sound exited her mouth, she decided to say nothing. There they stood for some time, leaning against a rail, staring out into the endless blue ocean whilst the wind blew their hair, and they tasted the salty sea air on their lips.
                          
The bobbing of the boat made Kira realise how tired she had become. The world took on a cloudy glaze, her eyelids started to drop. Once more she was woken from her trance by a shout, "there you are." It was not vicious, more relieved. The tattooed man watched as in one motion Kira turned then went to run. "Wait," he cried.
                          
She did not know what made her stop; maybe it was that she thought she was owed an explanation, or that something inside her trusted this man, that she found him attraction or that there was nowhere to run, the sea surrounded her on all sides. To make sure he understood that she was not letting him off the hook, Kira scowled as she turned to face him.
                          
Sadness was painted across the tattooed man's face, like he knew he had done wrong but there was some reason behind this. After a brief pause he managed, "I'm sorry."
                          
Kira could not control herself, "SORRY!" she screamed, "you locked me up, starved me...you...you...you paid someone for my life." She stopped herself striding towards him and striking his face. If she had thought more in that moment, she would have realised it was not because she was scared, but because he was much larger than her, stronger. To hit him would only result in a losing battle.
                          
"I know," he could not bring his eyes to meet with hers, instead opting to stare at the bright green surface on which they stood. "It's not what it seems, you are free here. You can go wherever you want on this ship. Here," he held up a key, the sort that had long been discontinued in the cities, replaced now with biometrics. As the small metal key ticked from side to side like a metronome, he continued, "we have got you a cabin on the deck below." Kira looked back, trying to work out if this was a trick. Her face was easy to read, "it is not a trap, take it." Still Kira stood her ground. "Look, we had to do those things, we had to make you like a slave."
                          
"Why?" Kira's voice dripped with venom.
                          
"I can't explain...well I can, but I am not allowed to."
                          
"NOT ALLOWED TO! You treat me like a piece of dirt and you won't explain."
                          
"That's the Master I told you about," the weather beaten man interjected. Kira span, moving her death stare to him. Holding his hands up he said, "not my place to say anything either. I'll leave you to it." He took the butt of the cigarette out of his mouth and went to flick it overboard, thought better of it, and left as quickly as he could without running.
                          
When he had exited the tattooed man said, "look, you will find everything out when you see Lord De Puteron."
                          
"That murderous beater of slaves!" The disdain dripped from every word.
                          
"He's not that, but it is good you think so at the moment. Just take the key and go chill in your cabin. Get your thoughts together then we will get some food and talk."
                          
Kira wanted to scream, to charge at him, knock him down and thump him repeatedly, but she knew that would not help her situation. Instead she took the key, looked at the cabin number, and left.