Two men stormed into his cell, Hannes was shocked, the men were dressed in black uniforms, had a mask with eye holes on, they grabbed Hannes and put him on his feet. When Hannes' legs buckled in pain, they put him back on his legs, held him tight until Hannes had found a position in which he could reasonably stand. The men attached small plastic plates to him with electrical connections on their tops. Hannes knew they were electrodes. When the men were finished and had left the room, the loudspeaker shouted: "Lie down! Face the ceiling, arms next to your body! Do not remove the electrodes!"
Hannes lay down on the flatbed in the ordered posture. He waited again for the men who would take him to another room now. They'd give him electric shocks there. Hannes waited in fearful numbness. But nothing happened for a long time. Hannes fell asleep again.
He was ripped rudely from his sleep. Two men in the cell grabbed him and put a black hood over his head. He noticed how he was dragged out of the cell, a whole distance over a corridor, many branches, then his arms were turned backward, he was handcuffed, he noticed how a kind of snap hook was hooked into the metal and then his arms were pulled up on his back. He heard another person come in, then he felt something being done on the electrodes. After a moment of silence, Hannes heard a loud humming. A click and the sudden pain was indescribable; Hannes felt his body twitching and dancing across the floor, he felt his arms being torn out of his joints. He didn't last long, everything turned black again.
Hannes regained consciousness in the cell. His shoulders roared in pain. Very carefully he moved his arms and noticed that the pain prevented further movements, but they had probably put his arms back in again. He felt numb. He felt abandoned. He felt lost. Suddenly, he realized he was dying in this cell.
Hannes was thirsty. Not hungry, but thirsty. Thirst like he had never experienced before. He wanted to get up, knock on the door, call for help, drink a little, but he couldn't get up. The pain was too much. It occurred to him that they could watch him in his cell. Maybe they could hear him, too. He wanted to shout "thirst," but all he could get out of it was a long, drawn-out groan. Somewhere along the way somebody came into the cell, Hannes could hardly recognize the figure. "Thirst," he whispered. The figure rose and left the cell, otherwise, nothing happened. Hannes closed his eyes.
He was shocked when two men in the cell grabbed him, put the black hood over his head again and dragged him out of the cell. This time, Hannes noticed that it went in another direction this time. After a while he was strapped to a kind of board, lying on his back, his arms attached with ribbons next to his body. His hood was pulled off his head and a coarse grey cloth covered his face immediately.
He hadn't expected the surge of water. Huge quantities of water hit the cloth, penetrated his nose and mouth, he couldn't breathe, swallowed large quantities of water, tried to turn his head away, couldn't breathe, coughing with the last of the water from his throat. Just when he thought he couldn't bear it anymore, that he was ready to die, it stopped.
Hannes puffed exhausted, filled with horror.
Then it started again.
Later he was taken back to his cell and left on the floor.
"Get up and lie down on the bed," the loudspeaker said.
But Hannes stayed down. He had no strength left. But nothing happened.
Then, after hours, Hannes was able to crawl onto the cot.
Hannes woke up from a bucket of water poured in his face. The men were back. They tore Hannes off the bed, put the hood over his head, dragged him into another room. He's strapped down again. This time the room was brightly lit. Hannes saw a large dark table, behind it the back of a chair. He turned his head and saw two men with masks behind him, holding a short, dark object in their hands. When Hannes heard a door being opened, he turned his head in that direction.
A thin, tall man in a dark uniform entered the room and sat down on the chair. Lean face, a beret on the head, piercing eyes, hardly eyebrows, a thin mouth, hook nose. Hannes saw all this, but he couldn't concentrate.
The man stared at Hannes for a long time.
"You know, Mr. Rachmiel, we've had a long discussion about what to do with you."
He kept quiet.
Hannes raised his head a little. "What is it?"
"You’re going to die now. You've been here for three weeks and we have no use for you anymore. You have done nothing to solve the problem and therefore my superiors and I have come to the conclusion that you should not be a burden to us."
"Why are you telling me this? Why don't you kill me directly," Hannes wanted to ask, "but there was only a faint mumbling coming out of his mouth. The man understood him anyway.
"We think they should die knowing that your girlfriend didn't help you. You're terribly uncooperative."
He nodded to the men behind Hannes and they began to beat Hannes with their clubs, targeting legs, belly, chest, back and face.
Hannes realized and tried when the beating started to think about Ibby, about her face, about her eyes, which he could read now, he tried to think about Ibby sitting in the kitchen, he thought about Ibby lying in his arms and sleeping. He smelled the strange smell of her body, which told of long journeys, of spices and something completely foreign.
He felt hardly any pain when the men beat him, but he noticed how more and more life faded out of him.
Then suddenly it was over. Hannes heard something hit the ground behind him. Hannes felt how a large amount of liquid hit on his back, he looked up and saw the head of the man behind the table in a red fog disappear.
"That was a damn close call," said a voice and Hannes felt a needle being rammed into his neck.
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Hannes woke up when something hit the floor and shattered, a glass maybe. He opened his eyes and looked at the ceiling, white, soft light. He turned his head to the left. He saw a window whose curtains were closed. A view to the top left, many electronic instruments next to his bed. He couldn't classify that sight. His head was filled with cotton wool. He felt good. No pain, like on clouds, everything was easy. He turned his head to the other side and saw a door. Through this door came a woman, in a hurry, with a worried look.
Hannes didn't care. Everything was very soft in his perception. The woman's face came closer and he looked into examining brown eyes, the eyebrows skeptically pulled up.
"That's way too early," said the face and walked around the bed. Hannes tried to follow with his eyes, but he couldn't. He heard a peep and slipped seconds later back into the darkness as if carried by a wave.
Hannes felt someone touching his shoulder and moving slightly.
"Mr. Rachmiel, wake up!"
Hannes couldn't open his eyes. The lightness was gone. He was in pain. Not as bad as in his fuzzy memory, but his shoulders hurt, his chest and his back too, but not as bad as his shoulders. It actually hurt everywhere. It's bad, but it's tough.
He shook his head.
"You must wake up now," demanded the voice. He shook his head again. "Are you in pain?" asked the voice, and Hannes nodded. "Well, I'll give you something. But it takes a moment for the drug to work," the voice said.
Hannes heard a beep. After a few moments, the pain disappeared under a strange blanket. They were still there, but Hannes didn't mind them. He opened his eyes. At the foot of the bed stood a nurse. With a white coat and bonnet, older already, a nurse like from a storybook. Hannes had to grin. The woman went to the electronic device, squeezed the screen. A loud beeping sounded, a buzz. "I'm gonna disconnect you from surveillance now." Hannes frowned. "Listen, I want..." The nurse interrupted. "You’ll know everything in a moment. I'm just here to disconnect you." She looked at him. "I want you to shower, shave if you like. I brought you some clothes. "I'd like you to put these on, please." She pointed to a chair on the wall. Hannes saw that there was a shirt, trousers, fresh underwear, and socks. There were boots under the chair.
"The gentlemen thought you'd like to wear this." She pointed to a little camera over the door. "When you're don
e, just sit back on the bed. You’ll be picked up."
With these words, she disposed of the electrodes and the needle in a small bag and left the room. Hannes was alone, but, as he now knew, he was being watched.
Anyway, he thought and slowly swung his feet out of bed. Things went better than he expected. Carefully he positioned himself, waiting for his legs to give way, but he could stand well on his feet. He didn't get sick or dizzy either. He looked around, something crunched in his throat when he turned his head. He took off his hospital shirt and looked at his body. No bruises were visible, he knew he had been beaten, but there were no traces of it. He felt his ribs, they hurt, but there was nothing to see. Hannes took a deep breath, went into the small bathroom and took a shower.
While the water poured down on him, he soaped himself and washed off, then repeated the whole thing, he tried to remember. He knew that he was locked up in a cell for a long time and that he was beaten up. He thought he remembered people asking him something he didn't have an answer to, even the electric shocks were in his memory as schemes, but it was all abstract. The memories were as if it was none of his business.
While he was drying off, he remembered that he hadn't thought about Ibby or Helge. A horror went through him. What about her, he wondered, how was she? What about Helge? Were they both intact? Or were they just like him somewhere and also beaten and tortured?
Hannes hurried to get ready. He ran out of the bathroom and dressed hastily, pale of terror.
He sat down on the bed and not a minute later two men were standing in the door frame. Both in a probably very expensive dark suit, that was noticeable at first sight. A man, tall, with a three-day beard, wearer of glasses, with a bit of wild hair that could not be tamed with a comb, the other man small and round, half bald, round face, Pat and Patachon, Stan and Ollie, Lolek and Bolek. Hannes had to laugh. Lolek and Bolek fit.
The two men laughed too.
Then the little one asked, "What's so funny, Mr. Rachmiel?"
"You remind me of two cartoon characters. Don't hold it against me."
"No, no way," replied the tall one, and they both stepped into the room. They walked up to Hannes nervously sitting on his bed. "Don't be afraid. You're safe."
The tall one reached out his hand. "Sergej. Colonel Sergej Igorovich Vavilov." Hannes slowly grabbed the hand and shook it. The big one pointed at the little one. "This is Major Alban Vllasi." The little one stretched out his hand with a smile and Hannes shook it.
"Your name is well known by now, Mr. Rachmiel. I would suggest that you accompany us, and we have breakfast together in the conference room first. You must have a thousand questions that we are only too happy to answer," said the great.
Hannes looked into both faces, suspicious, skeptical.
The little one nodded confirming. "We will answer your questions." He spoke with a strong accent, but Hannes could understand him without problems.
The two went to the door and Hannes rose up and followed them. The three went through a row of corridors, always with junctions, many doors all closed, bright neon light, shiny matt grey floor, no one to be seen, but in places people could be heard through the closed doors, they talked or phoned. Then they reached a door at the end of a corridor, a double door that was already open. When Hannes on the threshold somewhat hesitated, the two other men entered the room and sat down on the chairs. Hannes entered slowly, saw several screens on the wall, on which a kind of test picture was to be seen, at the ceiling a round light was attached. The light was bright, but not unpleasant. The table where the two sat was a dark round table, a chair was free on the opposite side of them. Hannes sat down.
The tall one pulled out a smartphone, wiped and typed briefly and the door closed. "Bless modern technology," he said, smiling at Hannes. The fat man took off his jacket and hung it over the back of his chair.
"Mr. Rachmiel, do you agree that we should interact casual? That's a bit more familiar and perhaps makes things a little easier," the fat man asked. Hannes nodded. He looked at the armchair with its upholstered armrests, rocked up and down for a test, everything was very comfortable. "Yes," said the tall one, "the chairs are really good. They are designed for very long conferences, so that no one needs a break, with the excuse that he can no longer sit. But, Hannes, don't you want some breakfast? You haven't eaten anything decent in a while."
"What about Ibby?" Hannes wanted to know. "What about the E.B.E.?"
The fat man raised his hands to make a soothing gesture. "We'd suggest we eat first and have a good cup of coffee. We'll answer all the questions!"
"I want to know what's wrong with her," Hannes replied and sat up straight. The tall one looked into the little one's face, then at Hannes. "She's fine. Your friend, Helge, he's called, is fine too. Details later. So, for breakfast, I can recommend hash potatoes, scrambled eggs and bacon. Good British Army breakfast. Coffee, hot, black and strong. What do you think?"
Hannes let himself fall back in his armchair. "Good. I'd like some breakfast. And coffee. And cigarettes."
The fat guy was happy. "Very good. You'll like the breakfast. But I'd consider the cigarettes if I were you. How long have you been..." "Alban," the tall one hit him, "Quiet!”
The fat man closed his mouth with an exaggerated gesture and nodded. Hannes frowned. "How long since I've smoked?" he wanted to know.
"All in good time," Sergej said, "We'll sort this out in a minute." He tapped around on his smartphone and after a short time, a soldier in a green uniform and a little cart entered the room. He set the table and put bowls of potatoes and scrambled eggs on the table, along with a large plate of fried bacon. Hannes got a big cup, not metal, but earthenware, knife, and fork. Then the soldier put two thermos jugs on the table, grabbed the cart and left the room.
Suddenly Hannes felt an incredible hunger. His stomach began to grumble and grumble, in his mouth saliva collected. Greedily Hannes reached for the bowls, filled a large portion on his plate and began to eat. The fat one stood up and grabbed the pot, poured the cup full.
After three huge portions and several cups of coffee, which was incredibly strong, Hannes pushed the plate away and groaned tiredly. He leaned back in the armchair. The soldier reappeared and cleared the plates, put another pot on the table, then disappeared.
Suddenly a tremendous tension could be felt in the room. The fat one, Alban, exchanged a long look with Sergej, then he looked at Hannes.
"I'm sure you'll want to know why you're here."
"I want to know what's going on with my girlfriend," Hannes replied.
"She's fine," Sergej said, "and we'll take you back to her later. But we need to discuss a few things first. Important things."
Sergej took off his jacket. "You need to know that the presence of this E.B.E. is really causing us problems." Sergej looked at Hannes. "And a few details. We only know what species it is. This species is known under the name "hyenas". That's a very inaccurate translation. We've discussed for a long time how to explain everything to you, Hannes, to give you a basis for your decision."
"What kind of basis for a decision?" Hannes wanted to know. "What do you want me to decide?"
"We'll start differently," Alban decided. "We'll bridle the horse from the beginning." He grinned. "Hannes, I'm sure you've noticed some strangers about your girlfriend. Right?"
Hannes nodded.
"You will have noticed that your girlfriend is very often naked or lightly dressed, won't you?"
Hannes didn't react.
"Likewise, you will have noticed that your girlfriend doesn't like to eat in company, do you?"
Hannes nodded.
"You must have noticed that she's very strong."
"No, I didn't miss that," Hannes said, trying to strike a mocking note.
Sergej interfered, lifted a remote control, a screen turned black, then showed a photo of a muscular, well-built man looking into the camera with a friendly smile. The photo was a color photograph, grainy, the colors overdrawn. In the
background, a wide landscape was to be seen, snow-covered trees. The man was only dressed in a shirt and slip. He stood barefoot in the snow in front of a block of wood, an axe in his hand, logs around him. The man's face was well-formed. Triangular, but well-shaped. Without eyebrows, black eyes.
Hannes looked irritated at the photo, then to the two of them. He was electrified. Alban pointed to the photo with a big gesture. "Here's a documentation of Adam. That's what the woman he found shelter with called him. That's what we called him. We had a chance to examine Adam a little. He is, as you can easily see, another specimen of this species. Unfortunately, Adam had a problem with vodka, so he died shortly after this recording and any further examination became impossible."
"Details please," demanded Hannes, who became uncomfortable.
"Good," Alban said, "Details. Here you go. As you wish." Alban poured himself a cup of coffee. "We got evidence from the population that a certain Aviafa Dezhneva, aged 42, widowed, was living with a strange man. Russia is small, even though it is so big. The world is just a chicken yard. This man, we were told, was incredibly strong, incredibly handsome, and one would not understand what he would find in Aviafa Dezhneva."
Sergej pressed the remote again. Another photo became visible. A small old woman could be seen feeding chickens. The woman looked into the camera and gave the impression of a cat who had just licked the cream pot, a very contented facial expression, a radiant smile, even her bad teeth did not disturb. She had bright blue eyes.
"This woman made a very satisfying impression when we were there. The neighbors told us that almost every night in this house there was a lot going on. That made them both "suspicious". Sergej smiled. "I just suspect envy."
Hannes had to smile, too. "That could be."
"In any case, we were able to have some sort of conversation with the two of them. The old woman said the man nodded or shook his head when we asked him a question. The two agreed to visit us on our base and perhaps stay awhile. We assured them both that they could leave at any time, that if they wanted us to, we would take them back to their village. You don't have to grin like that, Hannes, we did that when the two of them wanted to."
E.B.E. 21- the Hunt Page 26