Akeldama | lrh

nineteen - karachi

Hatred is a very underestimated emotion.

-Jim Morrison

•••

I don't recognize the voice that yanks me out of unconsciousness.

It's manly, but it's not young. It's not Luke, not Michael.

It's the guard's, you dumbass. Wake up.

My eyes open, but it's like I'm in a dream. I don't jerk awake, despite the very strong hands holding me up by the elbows, dragging me forward. I don't make a sound. Instead, I focus on my boots, the heals of them knocking over the rim of the hovercraft door. My hair hangs over my face, obscuring my vision from the sides.

The air is crisp and clean. So unlike the smokey, polluted, hot atmosphere I've been in.

Some foreign feeling is telling me that I don't need to move. These people think I'm knocked out. It's the only advantage I have over them.

I swallow hard, and taste blood. My head is still throbbing. I manage to shake some of the hair out of my face without my captors noticing, and with my eyes still squinting, I'm able to take in some of my surroundings.

They're dragging me over dark concrete illuminated with sunlight. When I glance upward, I see the very thing that's been hidden behind clouds of smoke for two weeks in North America. The warmth of it almost soothes my nerves. Almost.

Before me is a huge stone archway. It's a deep red color, the Asian flag painted at the top. We seem to be on a type of bridge, because if I look down, hundreds of tiny buildings span out over the landscape.

When my eyes flit upwards again, it takes all my willpower not to gasp.

The archway is only part of the massive castle before us. It's crimson as well, with high billowing towers and beautiful glass windows. Red banners hang down from what I can see of the front entryway, red banners with pictures of an Indian woman and the Asian flag.

Nasim Kieran.

Karachi. We're in Karachi.

Karachi is the capitol of Asia, the center of all government activities. The Superior house and the Superior herself reside here. I have heard of the grand castle, even seen pictures online, but it's far more extravagant than I could have imagined.

Anger boils in my chest. This place is gorgeous, healthy and full of life. And it destroyed my home. It destroyed everything.

One of my captors shifts his hold on my arm, and I close my eyes for a split second just to be safe. When I open them again, we're at the archway, and I watch silently as my feet drag out of the sunlight and into shady cobblestone. 

The pathway is lit by red torches, paintings of past Superiors and Superior councils lining the stone walls. I swallow down my fear as I catch sight of two large oak doors at the end.

The guards restraining me are whispering, talking quietly about cells and orders and chains. I don't catch much of their conversation. I'm too busy catching glimpses of my friends being dragged in behind me in the reflection of the paintings. If I strain hard enough, I can hear their boots sliding against the stone floor.

We reach the wooden doors. One of the guards scans his fingerprint on a small panel mounted on the wall, and they open inwardly with a low creak. More guards await inside, four of them, I think, and I try my hardest to remain limp as we pass them.