Insurrection [On Hold]

2 Peas

I receive cold glares as I follow behind Nate. Some men and women crack their knuckles and necks, their muscles flexing. This is all better than the alternative, I suppose—a one way ticket to the front lines of a battlefield.

Nate unlocks a door using a scanner. He holds it open for me. Inside a table and chairs stand on the middle of the floor. "Wait here." 

I step inside, and he leaves, locking the door.

I sink onto one of the chairs, laying my palms flat on the table. I'm curious to know his plan for me. I'll be a hostage, yes, but how much will he ask? If he thinks he can be handed the country in exchange for me, he can't be more wrong. 

The door opens, and a new man walks in, holding a bowl of soup and a single cracker on a tray. The top of his head is bald, his dark skin reflecting the dim light. He stares at me like he wants to kill me, which is true. He sets the food on the floor, locking the door on his way out. There's a perfectly good table right here.

Bending down, I retrieve the tray. Not the most appetizing meal, but I might as well give it a try. I raise the spoon to my mouth. The smell of fish swirls around my nostrils and stomach, causing me to drop the spoon back into the bowl. I close my eyes, fighting off a memory of bathing in fish heads.

My stomach grumbles, telling me I need to deal with it. I have to eat. I have to keep up my strength. I know it's not poisoned because killing me now would be a waste for them. Forcing myself to not hold my nose--I'm stronger than that--I shove the spoon in my mouth and swallow.  I repeat the process twenty-five more times, tearing bits off the cracker in intervals.

The moment the bowl is empty the door opens and Nate walks in, an amused expression on his face. "Follow me." He leads me to another door. "I hope you found your meal enjoyable."

"Very."

His blue eyes seem to twinkle in the dim lights. "Was it a meal fit for a princess?"

"Most assuredly."

He lays his hand on a scanner. "Goodnight, Princess." The door slides open, and he shoves me inside. 

I stumble but catch myself and turn around to find the door sealed shut. I brush off my uniform, examining the room. There's a small mattress positioned on a chrome platform in the back left corner. To the right of me is a circular implant in the ground with a line through the center. The lavatory. I see they did not supply any toilet paper.

The cell is basic. I wasn't expecting even the extravagance of a bed, but royal hostages are usually given complimentary toilet paper.

Propped against the deflated pillow is an envelope. I pull out a notecard.

Let's see if you really are a princess. I hope you sleep comfortably.

I roll my eyes, lifting the mattress. The dust that poofs out causes me to cough, but sure enough there is a small green bead. Or should I say pea? I push the mattress to the ground and pick it up, examining it in the light. Seems like someone has a sense of humor.

Returning the mattress to its proper place, I lay down and let out a long sigh, mentally preparing for my potential death or the deaths of others.

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