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The sick ward was abuzz with rumors about the young woman who had been unceremoniously dragged, delirious and barely conscious, into the section of the prison complex reserved for medical treatment. The pair of soldiers who dropped her off muttered a few words about her running afoul of some dangerous male prisoners, then crept back into the prison's military wing.
The nurse assigned to Natalia peeled off the heavyset woman's tattered jumpsuit to reveal the extent of her injuries. Swollen, bloody cuts crisscrossed her body; her nipples were heavily blistered; a mixture of blood and semen was crusted around her swollen labia; and her arms and legs were dotted with second and third degree burns, which looked like they were caused by cigarettes or hot pokers. The resident doctor ordered that the prisoner be immediately sedated.
"Well, either she somehow managed to disappear for an hour in the company of angry male prisoners who got their hands on some weapons and a few dozen cigarettes..." the doctor lowered his voice. "Or the military interrogators really got out of hand with her."
"We had that other girl in here just a day or two ago," replied the nurse. "And she was clearly here because of the interrogators', umm, creative methods. Sounds like the most likely explanation for this one, too."
"Just don't go gossiping about it," said the doctor as he worked over the now-sedated woman. "You remember what happened to the administrator when the military felt she was a little too friendly to the other one."
"Don't worry about me. Nobody deserves to be treated like this, but I find it hard to gather sympathy for terrorists and the people who help them."
The doctor shook his head as he worked. "I hope you don't let politics affect your job, or I'll have to get someone else in here to help me out. You are a medical professional first and foremost."
The nurse nodded silently and continued to assist the doctor in his long treatment of the prisoner.
-----
Komal now sat in an austere cell. Like all of the others in this wing of the prison, it contained nothing more than an old toilet and a metal bench. The only light in the room came through a small barred slot in the door that allowed guards to peek inside to check on the prisoners. With nothing to do and nobody to talk to, she spent all of her time sleeping and massaging her assorted wounds through her orange jumpsuit, which had mercifully been returned to her.
She kept replaying the events of the previous day in her head. She knew that the interrogator was serious about targeting her younger sister unless Komal chose to confess. Her short time as a prisoner taught her that her hatred of the occupying New Russian Union was justified, and there was no doubt they'd treat her sister as badly as they treated Natalia... if not worse. They knew that she had information, and any false intelligence she provided would likely make her sister's torment even worse.
She did what she felt was right, then, and provided some actionable intelligence to the interrogator. She tried to fluff and embellish as much as possible to make it seem as if the information she gave was more important and far-reaching than it really was. But she had little doubt that they'd be able to foil a few plots, or -- even worse -- capture and kill more operatives.
And since she had broken down, she felt even worse about Natalia. Komal dwelt especially on the sight of her friend, who came from a pampered upbringing and wasn't very battle-hardened, enduring the sexual assault, the electric shocks, and the burns. Since Komal ended up confessing, it seemed as if Natalia's suffering was for nothing. Komal wondered if Natalia would ever forgive her... if she even survived the wounds inflicted on her.
Komal would have taken some solace in knowing that as she languished in her cell, guards were hauling her sister Asha's limp body into a military transport. The interrogator ordered that she be given a heavy dose of hypnotic and sedative drugs and returned home. There was no evidence of her association in any dangerous activities, and the drugs would ensure that she hardly remembered anything she saw at the prison. To their credit, the transport crew carried out their task diligently and without committing any of the crimes that had become commonplace in the occupation. Asha woke up in her bed the next day, a bit groggy and vaguely remembering a nightmare of some sort.
-----
Time dragged along as Irina sat in isolation. Without windows, a clock, or any human interaction, she completely lost track of time. At the beginning, she tried to count the seconds as they passed, but she grew bored with the monotony and drifted off to sleep on the metal bench that served as her bed.
There was little else to do besides sleep... and cry. She tried to clear her mind of any thoughts, but horrible images kept creeping into her head. The beatings. The pliers... God, the pliers. The brutal gang rape by the prisoners who satisfied their urges by biting, slapping, and punching her, penetrating every orifice until she bled, all the while as she pleaded with them to stop.
Almost as bad was the fact that she had probably caused other members of her group to be killed or arrested. Secretly, she hoped that if her intelligence led anywhere, her associates were killed. A quick death would be a blessing compared to the hell she had gone through.
And now, a burning thirst had begun. Without a sink in the room, the only source of water was the nasty, ancient toilet... which looked like it hadn't been cleaned in months. Or years. It was totally out of the question. She swallowed a bit of saliva... not much help. She curled back into a ball on the metal bench, hoping sleep would overcome her and make her ignore the thirst for awhile.
The opening of the metal cell door roused her from the nap. Her throat still burned, and her belly was grumbling. Eagerly, she looked to see if the person at the door had food for her. No luck.
"Good morning prisoner. I trust you slept well?" asked the prison guard who stood in the door frame. Irina didn't know what to say in response, so she just nodded.
"Well, I have some updates for you. First, your intelligence led to the
elimination of your terrorist cell and the capture of two of its members, who
have since been interrogated successfully.
Second, your tribunal date has been set: Two weeks from today,
"Until then, since your interrogation has been completed, you will be incorporated into the general female population in the military wing of this prison. It is now time for showering, followed by the morning meal. I will release escort you to the showers. Any resistance will result in you being confined to this cell for the remainder of your stay here."
Already going mad from her short time in solitary confinement, Irina chose not to resist. She stood up and followed the guard down a series of hallways, all lined with cells similar to hers. The guard stopped at a door that looked much like the others, and unlocked it; inside was a fairly large room containing several benches and doorways leading to other rooms. The guard left Irina in the care of the attendants -- all of which were, much to Irina's relief, female.
"All right, newcomer, let me tell you how things work around here," said one of the attendants, a bored middle-aged woman who, nonetheless, looked formidable. "You give me your uniform. We quick-launder it, while you go into the open doorway past me into the showers. We'll give you a towel and a razor so that you can clean up as you see fit. Once you're done, bring us back the razor and towel, and we'll give you back your uniform."
Irina nodded. Just a few days ago, she would balk at the orders to strip on command. Now, she the idea of doing it for a group of uninterested women rather than men with bad intentions reduced her nervousness. Irina unzipped the jumpsuit and stepped out of it, handing it to the attendant while trying to avoid eye contact. The attendant gave her an old white towel and a cheap-looking safety razor.
She was the only person in the shower room, which lacked any dividers or curtains for privacy and contained eight solid-looking shower heads embedded into the tiled walls. She chose a shower in one of the corners and turned on the handle. The water was lukewarm, and the water smelled strongly of a detergent mixed in with the water to eliminate the need for bars of soap. But... it was still a shower. Irina tilted her head back and let the water run on to her face. Definitely the most pleasurable experience she had since she was brought in.
The entrance of several other prisoners into the shower room roused Irina from her relaxed state. They were all there for the same purpose though... no real reason to be embarrassed. In the opposite corner of the room, she spotted a familiar face: The female prison officer who had possibly saved Irina's life. She was shocked that the occupiers had actually followed through with their threat to try her with treason... despicable. The warden -- Irina thought her name was Maria or something like that -- looked downtrodden and defeated. Hopefully they hadn't been treating her poorly.
Maria saw Irina and, without making direct eye contact, nodded in acknowledgment. Irina did the same. She began scrubbing her hair with her fingers when she saw somebody else she knew enter the shower room. Komal, the woman who recruited her into their little rebellion, limped to one of the shower heads.
Irina felt somewhat exposed seeing someone she knew in the shower with her, so she turned away before calling out. Komal turned towards the corner where Irina stood, and reacted with surprise.
"Irina! I thought you were dead... you never came back! What happened?"
Irina tried to explain her situation, but found herself choking up with tears. "I... I can't talk about it right now." She quickly shaved her armpits and legs with the razor, turned off the shower, wrapped the towel around her body, and walked into the waiting room where she received her freshly cleaned uniform.
"Have a seat on the bench and wait until the other prisoners are finished," said the attendant after handing back the uniform. "You will all be escorted to the mess hall together." Irina nodded and sat down on one of the benches after slipping back into the orange jumpsuit.
Irina sat, knees pulled up to her chin and her face in her hands. Another prisoner sat down next to her. It was Komal.
"I screwed up," muttered Irina. "They caught me red-handed. I tried to lie, I told them you were all hiding in one of decoy safe houses. I paid dearly, and they made me break down. I think... I think I'm the reason you're here." She put her chin up to her mouth and started shaking, tears dripping down her face.
Komal tried to hold back any anger she felt at Irina. True, she was now incarcerated because someone she recruited failed on her first solo mission. But... that was the risk in the activities they participated in.
"I can't help but feel a bit frustrated, but I'm not in any position to criticize," Komal said as she put her arm around Irina in an attempt to comfort her. "They got information out of me when they threatened to torture my sister in my place... but before that, they did the same to Natalia and I let the poor girl suffer before my face."
"Natalia's here too...? Anyone else?"
"Just us right now, everyone else managed not to be taken alive..." Her voice trailed off as the two of them silently wondered if they would have been better off killed in a firefight as well.
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