River People 3: Far from the River

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The guards literally grabbed us and pulled us out of the room; four of them stayed inside and two of them forced Kristy and me to run down the corridor and towards the stairs.

I heard shots being fired behind us – a lot of shots – and then there was this loud shrieking noise; like chalk on a blackboard, just many times louder. By the time we were at the stairwell there were screams as well, but they ended pretty quickly. The guards nearly kicked us down the stairs, but honestly they looked more terrified than Kristy and me.

I still don’t know who those guards were. They must be working for a government agency because they work together with the police, but they weren’t wearing any badges or agency logos on their clothes. They were all dressed in black and had heavy flashlights and machine guns, and at least two had belts with a range of metal utensils.

There was apparently no one else in the hotel. I am sure that when we arrived there were plenty of staff and some guests, but while we were rushed out of the hotel there was no one else – just the guards and Kristy and me.

I think they must have evacuated everybody else while we were waiting for the officer to question us. But that makes this whole situation just more insane – are we the problem? Did they evacuate everybody else in order to get them away from Kristy and me?

They ordered us in a black van and we drove for at least an hour. It was pitch black and still raining when we arrived, so I don’t know where we are, but this place is huge, it looks like an industrial complex. We are in a room without windows; it looks nearly like a prison cell. There is only a single bed and the incredibly dirty toilet is right next to it. I’m sure this room wasn’t made for two people.

We were locked in here all night and morning; Kristy has been crying most of the time. I left my laptop in the hotel and the mobile signal is pretty weak here; I hope I even manage to post this. Calls don’t work at all and I’m not sure whether the internet works properly. I wrote at least twenty emails to friends and family but not a single person responded. Websites still load fine though.

They took me in for questioning around 1pm and it lasted a bit more than an hour. They asked a few more questions about what I saw and how the creatures looked, but mostly they asked me about Kristy. They asked me whether she often stays out at night and whether she ever had an affair and whether she valued money a lot. They asked that again and again, even when I said that she is absolutely not like that.

I don’t know if they are trying to drive us apart or something, but this is just horrible. I don’t doubt Kristy at all; I’ve never doubted her and I won’t start now.

I don’t understand why they don’t tell us anything. They keep treating us like criminals but we haven’t done anything wrong. They just command us here and there and never answer a single question. These men – and they are all men – seem like robots; they don’t care at all about us and they keep trying to press information out of us.

By the time they brought me back to the room Kristy wasn’t there anymore. I’ve been here for three hours and she’s still not back.

Most of the times there were footsteps outside the door. About an hour ago there was this loud sound again, the chalk-on-blackboard sound that we heard in the hotel, since then it’s been quiet. I’m locked inside this room and it seems impossible to open the door from inside. Even the peephole must be one-way because from inside I can’t see anything except the bright yellow light of the corridor.

I really hope somebody gets me out of here. This room is driving me insane. The more I’m locked in here the more I convince myself that the toilet water has the same color as our river and I slowly have the feeling that it smells like mud in here.

And I’m not sure if that’s my mind going crazy from the silence or whether I actually hear footsteps outside the door. It sounds like really quiet ones, as if someone is trying not to be noticed.

I think I end this here. There’s not much more to be said, except that I feel like punching the wall.


Update: Dry River

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  1. Pingback: The »River People« series | Anton Scheller

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