The Priest

by Monica La Porta

  The plump guard didn’t even look at him. Good, I get the silent treatment today, Mauricio thought. Pure breed guards came in two different types: the ones who would never acknowledge a slave‘s presence if they could help it, and the ones who draw great pleasure in tormenting men. The plump guard oscillated between the two types depending on the day. Keep minding your business and we’ll both have something to be pleased about today. He blended with the walls while the woman made several phone calls. I’m not here. I’m not here; you can talk as much as you want.

  The plump guard seemed to be following his mental suggestion. “Today, if we are lucky, the whole shenanigan should end. Let’s hope that the brat can keep the baby, and that the President isn’t going to shut us down when she finds out.” The woman paused for a moment to let three busy-looking guards pass them.

  “No, no… the Priestess has personally chosen the best semental we have here to match the brat’s long list of requirements…” The woman involuntarily shot a sideway look at Mauricio.

  Don’t mind me, keep talking, he thought, flattening against the wall.

  “You can’t believe how detailed her list was. The brat wants a baby girl with brown or green eyes; light-brown, straight hair; olive skin, not too dark, not too pale. Ah, and I almost forgot that she also wants her daughter to grow taller than she is and with long limbs.” She snorted at the last comment.

  This baby is going to look just like me. For some reason Mauricio liked that idea.

  “And this is just a superficial recount of what the brat asked. She was in that room for hours writing down every single insignificant detail about her perfect baby girl. Fortunately, we have a semental that fits the bill almost to perfection. Even the facial features are similar to what she asked. Straight nose, big almond-shaped eyes… No, I am not kidding! She went so far as to draw the shape of the mouth.”

  Why would they need a semental? The girl is a pure breed. They don’t need me for that. He was getting more and more interested in the conversation. I can’t’ believe this cow is talking like this in front of me. And the women think we’re the stupid ones.

  The guard paused for a second, listening to the other person’s comments and then she answered a question Mauricio couldn’t hear, “The Priestess didn’t want to take the chance of having to repeat this… I know, it would be a disaster.” Another group of guards invaded the hallway with a machine on wheels composed of a big cylinder towering a medical bed. The plump guard shut up immediately and covered the phone with her hands.

  “Sorry, the doctor is moving the OR to the second floor, and the medical guards are running wild through the whole place. You never know who is listening,” the guard said to the cell phone as soon as the hallway cleared.

  Me, for example?

  “Love you too.” She finished her conversation and directed Mauricio inside his cell at the same time.

  “Hey, Lina!” Another guard approached with a big smile.

  “Oh, hey, Carla! Long time no see. How have you been?” The plump guard turned around to greet the other woman.

  Mauricio acted on impulse. Without thinking, he put the strip of torn fabric he was still holding over the cell door’s lock. The plump guard pulled on the door and waited for the click announcing that the lock had slid into place. The click came, rather muted by the fabric, but loud enough for the guard to leave without double-checking.

  Mauricio heard the two women’s voices getting softer until they disappeared altogether. He waited a few minutes and then gently wiggled the piece of fabric to move the lock. Another faint sound announced that the lock had just been dislodged from its side. Mauricio wiggled the fabric some more, hoping that nobody was outside. The door opened imperceptibly. Mauricio peeked outside cautiously and then gently pulled the door back out, being careful to leave it opened.

  Satisfied with the result, Mauricio took a deep breath. The girl who had taken permanent residence inside his mind was here. And he was going to see her again. The possible outcome didn’t scare Mauricio. He didn’t think for a second that he could get caught. He only wanted another glimpse at her. As simple as that. I should hate you, he thought. Or at least be repulsed by your sight. You are lovely, I must admit… but still a woman. You belong to the wrong sex: your race has doomed me to slavery.

  After taking a good look outside, Mauricio left his cell as if it was the most natural thing to do. He ducked and took cover behind corners every time he heard approaching noises. He made it through all the way to his final destination without surprises. It helped that the guards didn’t expect any slave to act the way Mauricio was acting. It also helped that he wasn’t thinking at all. Otherwise, fear would have frozen him in the act of opening a door he shouldn’t even be close to.

  If the door opens, it’s meant to be. Mauricio turned the handle and then pushed gently. The door swung on its hinges and opened with a whoosh. It’s a sign I am not doing anything wrong. He closed his eyes before taking a look inside. I hope she’s here. She was there. Still sleeping. Still small. The girl was connected to several machines that beeped regularly; she was cradled in a cocoon of wires and covered in needles. She seems… happy. He had never seen a face so peaceful. The men he knew were bitter in the soul and beaten in the body. They were never happy. The women he had the unfortunate luck to interact with were always complaining about having to work with the slaves. They rarely smiled, even to each other.

  Mauricio smiled. He truly smiled, for no apparent reason at all. His mouth moved without his knowledge. It rearranged the muscles in his face in a fashion that was foreign to him. He walked toward the bed, still grinning. She turned her head and a strand of her hair covered her right eye. Mauricio reached out and moved the strand out of the way. His fingers barely grazed her skin, but she turned toward his hand. He stepped back, worried that she was going to wake up.

  “Thanks,” she murmured in her dreams, her voice a whisper. She sighed contently and sank into a deeper sleep.

  Mauricio’s smile widened. I like your voice. There was something refreshing about it—a gentle quality he wasn’t accustomed to hearing in a woman’s voice. He realized that she had never actually talked to him, but he didn’t want to think too much about that. He wished she would sing again. What color are your eyes? I really want to see them. Mauricio was taken by a sudden impulse and acted on it. Lately, he was having a lot of those moments, he realized. He moved to the side of the bed and sat beside it on the only chair present in the room. He took her right hand in his and stroked her skin with light fingers.

  Mauricio couldn’t help but notice the unblemished quality of her complexion against his. His hands were bigger than hers, marred by scars, and dirty. That last realization made him drop her hand on the bed immediately. He tried to clean the palm of his hands on his pants.

  “You're warm,” the girl said without opening her eyes. Her hand seemed to search for the warmth that had abandoned it.

  Mauricio tentatively nudged his fingers close to hers. She grabbed his hand and smiled. He would have stayed there, still as a statue for the rest of his life. There was so much peace in the warmth of that gesture. He knew she wasn’t holding him. I want to be that person you’re dreaming about. Mauricio felt sadness creep in his heart. Why wasn’t I born a pure breed? he thought, even though he knew he should hate them. But he wanted to feel this good again more than he wanted to hate his captors. And the thought by itself was maddening. Hate is the only meaningful feeling when you are a slave. It keeps you alive. It keeps you strong.

  Mauricio removed his hand slowly, conscious that he had soiled the white linen surrounding her delicate fingers. One of the machines connected to her left hand started beeping. He knew that it was time to make an exit. The girl’s lips were slightly parted and Mauricio saw the white of her teeth. There were so many things he wanted to ask her. And he was still curious about the color of her eyes.

  The girl granted Mauricio’s wish right when he decided it was wise to leave. He was
retracing his steps toward the door, carefully avoiding the snarl of cables entangled on the floor, but allowed himself one last glance at her, when she presented him with the most beautiful set of dark brown eyes. The girl stared at him in confusion for a few seconds.

  “Oh my—” Mauricio lost control of his dexterity and his right foot became entangled in the cables. He thrashed around, his arms outstretched to break the fall and a machine went down with him. Mauricio realized one second too late that the transparent pipe that went flying along with the machine was attached to a needle in the girl’s left arm. As it was yanked out, her eyes grew wide, and then she screamed at the top of her lungs.

  “It’s okay; I’m not going to hurt you. I’d never hurt you. Please, keep it quiet,” Mauricio said, horrified by her reaction. The girl screamed louder. Mauricio stood there, thinking of the best way to calm her and lost precious moments he should have used to escape. He moved a step closer to the bed and the girl’s eyes reflected how terrified she was of him. Mauricio felt a sting of pain that wasn’t physical and he jumped back toward the door as if a jolt of electricity had shot through his body.

  A moment later, a nurse appeared at the door. “Mistress, what’s wrong?” the woman asked and then screamed when she saw Mauricio. Her hand reached for a button on the wall. “I need help. There is a man inside the room!” she yelled loudly at an intercom that had started pulsing red.

  “Stop where you are. Don’t move,” the nurse ordered Mauricio. She looked at him with a mixture of fear and disgust, and then she seemed to remember something. She fished in her apron’s pocket, and from the look in her eyes, she found what she was looking for.

  “Don’t move,” she said again before aiming a Taser at Mauricio.

  Chapter 4

  I must be alive. Mauricio woke up with one of the worst headaches of his life. It took him several minutes to get his bearings, and even when he did, he couldn’t be sure of how he was faring. His body was aching everywhere, and after a cursory inspection, he found that the left side of his face was swollen. “I’m sure it could be worse,” he said just to hear his own voice.

  When he tried to stretch his muscles, he realized that his left leg was shackled to the wall. Where am I now? He wasn’t in his cell, from the little he could see in the dim light. He hadn’t slept on a bed, hard or otherwise, but on a wet floor. “I’m not going to look down, I’m not going to look down”, he repeated, but he did look down and immediately regretted it. .

  Then, finally, when the fog had cleared, he wondered why. Why am I still alive after the nurse found me in the girl’s room? It just didn’t make sense that his life had been spared. Unless what they want to do to me is worse than death. Mauricio shuddered with foreboding. The girl was the President’s daughter, after all. He shouldn't be alive.

  No, he thought with terrifying clarity. It isn’t as simple as that. The nurse had Tasered a slave who was attempting violence against the President’s daughter. The girl had been screaming as if he was attempting to hurt her. His only hope was a quick death.

  Mauricio was left in that dark cell so long, time simply ceased to have any meaning. The only interaction with other human beings was thrice a day when the guards brought him food. The women were under orders not to speak to him, for any reason. When they were around him, the guards didn’t even speak to each other.

  He was permitted a few minutes of walking every other day, the only physical activity he was allowed. The women never beat him, and the food, although bland, wasn’t disgusting, but the isolation almost did him in.

  Time passed; the shackles anchoring him to the wall were removed; the pain became bearable.

  Mauricio realized one day how long he had been confined there when he ran his hand through his hair and found that he could tie it in a ponytail. He still didn’t have a clue why the women hadn’t killed him already. The longer they left him there to rot, the more his imagination ran wild, conjuring tales of such horror that once or twice he broke into tears.

  Finally, the day came when his future would be revealed.

  Nobody told him anything, but the electricity in the air was palpable. He could see from his cell the guards moving around purposefully. The metal bars prevented him from sticking his head out when nobody was close, but he saw enough. And what he saw gave him pause.

  Maybe dying isn’t that bad, he morosely thought. If I’m lucky, being dead is a permanent state. Compared to what the guards wanted to do to him, it was probably the best option. Maybe it’s just a bad dream, and I’ll wake up any moment now.

  When an older woman appeared before the metal bars of his cell, his worst fear took shape. He noticed that she was wearing a billowy, colored dress and a headpiece. The older woman raised one hand and several golden armbands slid down her arm. The gesture meant something because several guards appeared at her side.

  He nervously tugged the rigid collar around his neck. He felt oddly reassured by the tingling sensation bordering on pain, but it also meant that he wasn’t having a nightmare.

  “Please, kill me as fast as possible,” Mauricio pleaded. He knew it was a useless attempt, but he couldn’t help it. He would have killed himself if he had a way.

  The older woman looked at him with mild distaste and a great deal of curiosity. “Clean him and bring him to the lab,” the woman said to someone else out of Mauricio’s sight. He thought that the request was odd. If they were going to torture him to death, why bother with a clean body? Mauricio looked on quietly from his corner while the cell was opened, and he stood still as one of the guards came closer, hooking a chain to his collar. He finally followed the guards outside without attempting any other conversation. Nothing he could say would make the slightest difference in any case.

  The elegant, older woman led the small army of guards ahead. Mauricio tried to straighten his body, but the muscles in his legs were trembling, and the guard holding the chain yanked him forward several times, making it impossible for him to keep up. After a few minutes of walking, he started seeing dark spots on the wall and fell twice, annoying the guard. He stood up immediately after she struck him with a short whip.

  “What are you doing? You’re damaging the semental,” the older woman said without turning around. Mauricio wondered how she knew. “Don’t strike him again or he’ll faint, and I need him awake,” she added, shaking her arm with a distinct sound of bells.

  “Apologies, Priestess,” the guard said. And then added under her breath, “He doesn’t walk fast enough. What am I supposed to do?” She gave him a vicious tug. “Don’t make a single noise, or I’ll come visit you later.”

  Mauricio distractedly made the mental connection between the older woman leading him to his death and the Priestess who had been mentioned by the guards before. I finally make your acquaintance, he thought.

  “Give him something to eat, before you take him to the deposit room.” The Priestess disappeared behind a door opening like a square of light into the dark and cold hallway.

  Mauricio was utterly confused; he didn’t understand what was happening and that scared him even more.

  The guard used the chain as a leash and pulled him inside another room. “Wash your sorry self and do it fast.”

  I could use a shower, he thought. Water isn’t hot, but it isn’t cold either; it could be worse, he tried to convince himself. Mauricio massaged his muscles to ease the tingles of pain shooting through his legs and arms. The water wasn’t warm enough to ease his aching muscles or do any good other than cleansing his skin. In any case, he wouldn’t have been able to relax even if the water had been hot. Mauricio took the shower with his back to the wall, keeping an eye on the guard. The suspense of not knowing what they were going to do to him was wearing him out. Finally, the guard told him to stop. She gave him just enough time to dry what he could of his body with a small towel and then pointed one finger at a corner. Mauricio understood the order and waited for what was next.

  “Eat.” The guard dropped his food i
n front of him.

  Mauricio wasn’t hungry. Since the three meals a day he had been receiving weren’t large, he should have been starving. He had even lost weight. But the impending death sentence wasn’t doing miracles for his appetite. He sat on the floor and ate what he could, anyway. There was no point in arguing with a guard. The gooey porridge stuck in his throat, and he choked.

  “Drink.” The guard promptly poured some water in a metal bowl.

  How humane of you, Mauricio thought while drinking the water from the bowl. He didn’t give her the satisfaction to gulp it. He had very few things left in his life, but one of those was pride. He fervently hoped that when the moment came, he could withstand torture with the same spirit. By the time he had finished with his meal, Mauricio was so nervous that his stomach started clenching.

  “I think you are refreshed enough. Back to work.” The guard yanked his chain and dragged him outside and into the hallway again.

  “Move, idiot. And to think that the little brat needs you!” The guard seemed truly annoyed with Mauricio. He was too taken aback by her last words to pay any attention to her mood. The guard didn’t feel sympathetic to his woolgathering and kicked him in the shin. He howled in pain; she had been careful to hit him with the reinforced tip of her boot.

  Heavens forbid any more personal contact, like a sane, old-fashioned slap.

  “I warned you,” the guard said, satisfied that the slave was finally moving at her pace.

  But, I haven’t said anything! He remembered the woman’s earlier threat.

  She opened a door and let Mauricio in. “Go and do what you are supposed to do. You know the drill.” The guard took a last, disgusted look at him and then closed the door behind her.