Recognition

As the guards walked away, I took a moment to examine my new cell. Unfortunately, it seemed that the only way out was to break the glass. So, naturally, I examined it.

After tapping it, trying to scratch it with my nail, and even kicking it, I came to the conclusion that it was probably something other than typical glass, maybe the bulletproof polycarbonate that the Bureau sometimes uses.

With no way to damage the pseudo-glass or the concrete walls and the lock not having any parts reachable from inside, I sighed and turned to examine my fellow captives.

I was surprised when a vaguely familiar face stepped forward and asked, “Are you American?”

Hearing her speak English, I immediately recalled her face from the pictures David had put up during his presentation. She was one of Mira’s friends, though her name escaped me.

“Yes,” I answered. “I’m Alex.”

“Shit. Are you Mira’s sister?”

“Yeah, that’s me.”

“Fuck, they got you too. Well, this sucks. Anyway, I’m Christy Álvarez. They split me from the other girls when we got here, but I think they’re in one of the other cells.”

In what was, ostensibly, an act for Christy’s sake, I turned and slammed my fist into the front panel, eliciting a deep “plunk” noise and a brief series of vibrations that caused the momentary attention of a guard, but who quickly went back to his patrol.

“Sorry,” I said. “I, uh, lost my temper.”