Murmansk-13

“Cells,” Dr. Smith said, waving the pistol at a second Plexiglas and steel door, beyond which Tala could see a cluster of uniform cells with barred frontages.

Arty began entering the keycode, “Katja stays with us,” he said as the door slid open.

“No!” Cried Katja in response, like the rest of them she’d been quietly resigned as they were led from salvation back into the station, now she appeared crestfallen. Tears welled in her tired eyes.

“I agree,” replied Dr. Smith, glibly. “She could compromise the mission.”

“She needs medical attention, Rebecca.”

“So do my friends,” Katja began sobbing, Tala turned to comfort the girl but paused, Arty stared at her with malice or envy in his narrowing eyes as Katja fell into her arms, hands drawn up about her face.

“So what?” The doctors face flushed with anger, “the pickup is in tomorrow, after four years, do you want to fuck it up now?”

“You’re overstepping your jurisdiction, Doctor. This is my project and my decision.” Arty squared his shoulders in defiance and puffed out his chest. He still didn’t cut a threatening figure.

“Project?” Katja repeated quietly into Tala’s chest.

Dr. Smith eyed him with contempt. “You overestimate your importance here, Arty. You’re just his apprentice,” she gestured vaguely to outside with her head.

“It’s my decision,” Arty repeated.

“For now,” replied Dr. Smith reluctantly standing down. “The rest of you, cells.”

“What about my friends!” Katja wailed and stamped her feet in tantrum, breaking from Tala’s arms and staring at Arty. “They need medical attention more than me!”

“Katja,” Arty cooed soothingly, stepping toward her.

“No, Arty,” Katja replied, stepping back. “Either they’re treated or you imprison me as well.”

Arty’s face became sad, but his voice was flat, “Katja, you will die, and I cannot let that happen, not after all this time. You have lost a lot of blood, you need help.”

“So do my friends,” Katja looked over her shoulder. Oleg was already cradling Jamal over his shoulder, Tala stood confused and frozen by her competing emotions and the context of the situation, a nascent headache began pumping in the front of her skull. The obvious familiarity and affection between Arty and Katja was apparent, she’d spoken about him saving her during the outbreak. But she’d also believed he’d died, instead he’d survived and become another unknowable entity of Murmansk-13. Tala also feared he was correct; Katja shook, her lips appeared bruised and her eyelids sagged half open. She was dying, like everything else around them.

“Go with him,” Tala said, closing her eyes even as she spoke, a chill passing up her spine.

Katja stared at her stupidly for a moment, as if not comprehending. “No, I want to stay with you.”

“You don’t know me, Katja. I’ve just managed to keep you alive long enough to be imprisoned on the same fucking station and if you don’t go with him you’ll die and it will have been for nothing,” Tala hated each syllable that parted her lips. She knew there was no longer any choice.

“But it’s not just about you…”

“I’ll be fine,” slurred Jamal, sleepily he looked at Tala with a knowing eye. He wouldn’t be fine.

“But Tala, I thought you cared about me. I lov…”

“Don’t fucking say that,” Tala squared up to Katja, cutting her off. “Don’t.”

The girls lip trembled, Tala fought to stop hers from doing the same. Stabbing pains wracked her starving stomach, but she suspected they had little to do with sustenance. Arty brushed passed her, condescending and smug. Dr. Smith was shepherding the rest of the group into the cells, their expressionless defeated faces slipped past Tala. The doctor pointed the revolver at her head and indicated for her to move with the others. Tala did, turning away just as Katja’s shoulders sagged and Arty wrapped his arm around them.

“You can trust me, Katja. You know that,” Tala could hear Arty speaking to Katja. “I’ll take good care of you, like I did before.” They disappeared behind an unseen door.

I wouldn’t have been able to save her, our worlds are too different, she would have just added complications to my plans, she would have just got bored of me. As Tala tried to rationalize the decision, she wondered if she would ever see Katja again.

She bowed her head and closed her eyes, a stiff arm pushed her into a holding cell. Even though her sight was rippled with tears she could see Tor standing insensible, staring at the bulkhead. Diego sank to his haunches, head cradled in his arms. The door slammed shut behind Tala, a key rattled in the lock. She didn’t even entertain the thought of resisting.

In the corridor beyond the bars, Oleg kept Jamal upright. The big Belorussian glowered at Dr. Smith, who casually pointed the gun at him.

“When did you get that cut?” She asked.

“What cut?” Oleg cocked his head insolently.

“That cut on your little finger.”