Black Sun

CHAPTER 10

Danielle stood in the darkness, the filth in the air surrounding her. Hearing more movement, she stepped back in a defensive posture, waiting for something or someone to attack her.

“Show yourself,” she demanded.

A voice called out to her. “You disturbed our rest. So why don’t you show yourself.”

An oil lantern was lit, lending a fraction of light to the room. As her eyes adjusted Danielle saw a figure moving forward: an older Asian man, with a scraggly beard and mustache. Four or five bodies lay on the floor around him, covered with filthy blankets. She guessed they were sleeping. Beyond them were more stone walls and the remnants of cast-iron bars rusted and flaking.

“What is this place?”

“This is the brig,” the older man said. “You cross Kang, there is no court of law. Just this place or worse.”

“Stop talking, old man,” a stronger voice demanded.

Danielle looked and saw another prisoner, younger and larger. He studied her in return and she felt certain that his intentions were anything but pure.

“Who are you?” she asked bluntly. “And why the hell should he do anything you say?”

The younger man seemed insulted by the directness of her questions, but that was the point, to establish dominance or at least a position of strength.

He stood up, throwing off his blanket. He was at least a foot taller than she was, and probably seventy pounds heavier. In comparison to the others, he looked well fed. She guessed that he stole their food. That made him the head rat in the cage.

“You call me Mister Zhou,” he demanded. “You’re going to be here with us a long time. Better you learn right now, how things are.”

He stepped toward her and Danielle prepared for the fight.

“Stop,” the old man said. “No fight, not now.” He pointed toward the far wall. Through thin slits that might have once been gunports, the blackness beyond had turned a shade of blue. The day would be breaking soon.

“They feed us now,” he said. “No food, if we fight.”

Danielle stole a quick glance at the old man. He was skin and bones. She turned back to Zhou, and with her eyes locked on his, she stepped backward toward one of the stone bunks.

Zhou sat back down, waking another man and pointing Danielle out to him.

A few minutes later, as thin slivers of light crept across the stone wall, the rest of the prisoners began to wake. It seemed she had six cell mates: the old man, Zhou and his friend, an Indian woman who did not speak or make eye contact with anyone, and two others, who appeared to be Caucasian: a male child who looked about ten to twelve years of age and a man in his early sixties. He was short but stocky with broad shoulders.

He did not rise or look particularly well. In fact, he seemed to be dying.