arch ch1

Arch

"Do you know where you are?" The question echoed throughout the foreign room. Alexis Monarch’s hands lie, folded as she looked at the man sitting across from her. Her ears were ringing and there was a sharp pain in the back of her neck. She was tired and confused, but was able to disguise it and, looking calm and aware.  She possessed the rare ability to completely disengage emotionally from her current situation. Something that would prove useful. The cleancut man was wearing a rather fetching three piece suit. Oddly though, he didn't look comfortable at all. There was one door, no table, and a large mirror.  She wondered if there were people watching her through the obviously one-sided glass. Her ankles were tied to the uncomfortable metal chair she sat in, but her hands were free. The man anxiously tapped his finger against his knee, and gazed at the girl. She was tall, nearly 5’ 11 with tan skin and long toned legs. He could have guessed she was a track star without seeing her file. Her hair was long and brown. She was wearing a yellow jumpsuit that was too short, and as she crossed her leg, a tattoo of a Monarch butterfly was on her ankle.
The young man was now staring at the tattoo.
	"Where am I?" Her voice cut the tension like a knife.
	"You're in holding. You're safe.” The man said while quickly focusing on her and trying to reassure her.
“Do you know how you got here-" His question was interrupted as the door opened and a man in a military uniform walked in . Alexis’ attention quickly went to the man who wore combat boots and had stern posture.  He motioned his hand and an even taller man walked in the room. He had dark skin and a blue tie with his black suit. He was carrying a metal chair and moved deliberately, placing the chair beside his partner and then looked quickly at the young girl.
"You're excused," The man in the uniform left the room and shut the door behind him, leaving the dark skinned man and his young partner alone with Alexis. She looked the pair over, an odd duo if she had ever seen. She imagine the older man was in charge, he had big hands with dry knuckles, strong eyes and lines around his mouth. He was outwardly confident and spoke with purpose.
	"Quite cold in here." He declared while pulling the chair closer to Alexis as he sat down with a heavy sigh.
	"My name is Clarke. This is Mr. Loft." He pulled a pair of glasses out of his pocket and cleaned the lenses with his tie.
	"I'll take that file, now." He spoke aloud. A moment later the imposing man in uniform walked in the room and handed a tan colored file to Clarke. Loft looked confused but remained sitting.
	"Thank you. Please wait by the door, Seargent." The man nodded at Clarke and stood by the door, with his right hand holding his left wrist behind his back. Alexis looked at Clarke as he skimmed through the file.
	"You can take her cuffs off." Clarke spoke and the man in uniform took a key out of his pocket and un-locked Alexis' ankles. Her feet were bare, something she was used to.  She used to practice running barefoot, as her father told her it would help with endurance.
	"Do you like living in Barstow, Ms. Monarch?" Clarke looked up from the file and peered at Alexis over his glasses for a brief moment. He flipped to a different page in the file and tapped the heel of his shoe against the floor.
	"You know where I live?" She asked sarcastically.
	"I know a lot of things." He said as he took off his glasses and crossed his leg. His polite tone changed and there was it a sense of urgency in his questioning.
	"There's a lot of trains in Barstow, yes?" He spoke with dominance.
	"Can you remember what you did yesterday?" Loft asked quickly, as if not to be left behind.
Alexis was confused.
	"This morning?" He tilted his head back.
	She thought about the previous day, walking home from track practice at her school.  Her school was just under 4 miles away-the perfect distance in her mind.  When she wanted to, she could flat out run and get from her front door to the parking lot in about 23 minutes. The fastest way, was through the train yard, if she went right through the middle, she could do it in about 12 minutes.
This particular afternoon, she had a lot on her mind, yet she decided to take the shortcut.  She had done it so many times, into the parking lot and behind the portable trailer, through the broken fence, over the four sets of tracks and just around the garage. Alexis was walking home on autopilot when she noticed a train with black box cars, maybe twenty or so stopped directly in her path. There was something different about the train as it sat unmoving a quarter of a mile before the loading station.  The cars looked brand new. No rust or graffiti blemishes, it had no company name and was obviously forgetful.  She had heard stories of people working in the train yard and stupid accidents, or people who decided they would take the easy way around and climb a stopped car rather than walk around. While she was fully capable of traversing the cars, she had the time and started to walk towards the end. As she walked around the other side of the last box car, she noticed the door was slightly cracked open. Curiously, she extended her hand up, she could feel the latch and pushed the door wider. Suddenly she could hear two men arguing about something or other and their voices was getting louder. Despite the fact her uncle was a yard master, she had gotten into a fair amount of trouble making her way through the yard in the past, and she wasn’t too keen on the idea of explaining to her father what she was doing helping herself to a shortcut again, so pushing the door open ever so slightly, she climbed into the black cold box car. The smell of drying paint filled the air. It was too dark to see anything so she held out her fingertips; feeling metal boxes and crates. She opened the door ever so slightly, letting in the heat of early summer resonate in the boxcar and shine some light. As she turned her hips and walked slowly around the crates, she noticed a much larger one in the back.. It was a large rectangular box, locked securely with chains and a single lock. The words ‘Charlie Charlie Delta’ were written on the face of the box. As she looked around, noticing that the other boxes had no words written on them, the sound of the two mens footsteps crunched in the dirt, coming towards the train. Unsure of what to do, she ducked down behind a box and waited.
	“Ready?”
	“Yeah. Hey, did you open the door?”
“Yeah, did you load up the second crate?”
“Not yet, it’s over there, help me get it.”  One of them stepped into the rail and reached up towards the latch. A man wearing khakis and a black shirt stepped up and opened the door wider. She was too scared to move.  Her eyes flickered around, hoping they couldn’t see her. The second man came toward the train, guiding a large rectangular box on a dolly. It was similar to the one that was chained and had military phonetic lettering. They both grunted as they lifted it up onto the boxcar. The first man stopped and pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket, wiping the summer dust out of his eyes. He looked around, each box was in it’s place, but something was off.
“That it?” He wiped the sweat off his forehead with his wrist. The other man nodded. They both stepped down and began talking as they walked away. The door was shut and the overwhelming absence of light was unsettling. She sat up and looked around. Her breathing was shallow and she felt tired, the heat and dust made it difficult to breathe in the position she was in. She got to her knees and put her hands on the boxes, trying to scout a way through. Each step she took, something scraped her ankle, then her knee, then shoulder, and she soon realized she couldn’t stand up. She was surrounded by boxes, with no way out. She reached inside her back to trying to find her cell phone for illumination. it wasn’t there.  Did it fall out while she was getting in?  How did the two men miss it? She started to think about calling for help but was unsure. Before being able to ponder such a thought, the train made a groaning noise and started to move.
"So, do you remember anything?" Clarke spoke. Alexis was distraught as she rubbed her wrist
with her thumb. She wanted to speak of what happened but was afraid of the consequences. She looked at Loft. His eyes were distant, but he looked keen. Clarke bent his head left to right, cracking his neck. He was now visibly agitated. He looked over a shoulder to Loft.
	"How did I get here?" She looked at Clarke, who looked at the man by the door then back to Alexis.
	"You arrived in our supply train... passed out on the floor of a box car. You were unconscious for a few hours, then you were moved here."
	"What day is it?"
	"Sunday. Our train arrived Friday evening." Alexis was startled.
	"Where am I?" She asked firmly.
	"You're in holding-"
	"Where... is holding?" She looked at Clarke. He looked at the door behind her.
	"She's ready for transporting." Clarke stood up and the door opened. Mr Loft was caught off guard, but quickly got out of the way as two other men in uniforms walked in. Alexis stood up and backed away. Her back was suddenly pressed up against the wall and before she could raise  her hands in a feeble attempt of self-defense, punched one of the men right in the throat.  This caught him off guard, and he was stunned momentarily.  Not to be deterred by a young woman half of his weight and seven inches shorter, he and his partner grabbed her and put a bag over her head. She felt a sharp pain in her shoulder. It felt like a shot at the doctors office. She was no longer confident and able to hide her emotions as she felt her legs give way and a cry pierced the room.
	The men escorted her out of the room, she knew she should try to fight away, but they held her arms firmly.  The men stopped and started one last time.  They laid her down on a plastic mattress with paper sheets and removed her cuffs and the bag off her head. She looked around the new room. she could just see the painted night sky through the window just above her head. She felt her breathing growing shallow. She tried to move her hands but they didn't move. Her legs started going numb, and the door was shut.