Sebastian's

I was a naughty boy when a kid. Not because of "bad character", but because when you have to live on the streets, spying, listening through doors, opening wallets from strangers or sneaking into some establishment then running away later were essencial activities for a little boy who had to survive by his own. I have learnt that people's private lives were not so important compared to my will and need to know more, and that spy on people is not so difficult. Even if it was, each house that I invaded was worth it, because I had always left smarter and more cautious, and sometimes with a piece of cake hidden in the pockets. That day though I saw myself with 27 years on my back - reputed physician, well-known for long term surgeries and total recovery of lost organs, professional in opening heads, shocking hearts and fixing legs... ready to sneak into my boss' most concealed room.

Sebastian Castle, you have an incredibly taste for enemies. Yes I do, what's the problem? Is my whole future at stake?

"Absolutely", Bridgette's voice was low and grave. I got so scared quick particles of sweat gathered together under my arms. But her speciality was not reading minds, she couldn't have read mine - so I waited until her steps and Snowfields' died, indicating they had entered the room, and I followed right behind.

The room I had just entered was not a room but a big garage. Under the big roof I counted trucks, cars, drones and a excavator (for what, I didn't know, but the machine was so monstrous I was sure it was merely a vision). The walls, ceiling and floor were of gray granite; not shiny, not smooth, just something hard and roughly build around those vehicles. I was in one of the vastest spaces I'd ever seen in Oxygen building and I hadn't even knew about its existence until then. How it is possible to hide such thing from its own inhabitants?

Snowfields and Bridgette were walking past two trucks covered in dirt. Coming closer I saw that the dirt was dry and looked extremely old, stuck on the metal like a second skin. I crept between the cars silently while the only sound we could hear was the ploc-ploc of Bridgette's shoes. Inevitably, they began to drown and ceased. The next thing I remember is looking at something so extraordinary I almost fell backwards. It was hard to believe especially because I didn't know that garage existed in the first place. But well, I was used to national secrets anyways...

Snowfields got closer to the jail. He looked at it for some seconds. He waited until Bridgette stopped by his side, and said: "Good morning, Peter. Did you sleep well?"

I squinted my eyes so I could see better. On the other side of the railing, small and helpless, Peter Filthy stared at Snowfields with dense eyes. He didn't seem to be dirty, but his skin tone was very tanned, almost close to orange. I blinked a few times and forced myself to block all parallel thoughts that were booming my head already, like bombs.

Peter Filthy had been part of my nightmares for years. He was the filthiest, most brackish person I've known. He could disappear from outside your door and appear in your bed holding a knife. Usually his hounding included Oxygen kids and brains. I was genuinely surprised to see Peter Filthy enclosed under our roof. Snowfields' roof.

"I asked if you slept well tonight, Peter." Snowfields repeated.

The prisoner grunted.

"Will you not answer? Okay, then... Worse for you because I was just trying to be nice. As many can notice, I try to be nice albeit all circumstances... did you know your people kidnapped three of my people last week? In Washington, it happened. They executed right in front of the White House - not that I care about the president, but it is fair for you to know."

Peter didn't answer.

"Moreover I shall tell you," Snowfields continued, "that we've gotten a whole new storage of food! A hundred pounds of almonds; good, heh? We've got you some." - and now Bridgette stepped forward, extending a package of nuts. Peter looked at her and then the sac. He didn't seem hungry, just bored. He accepted the offer despite that.

When the almonds were over - perhaps after 2 minutes - he put the sac aside and it was the first time he talked.

"That is a lie."

"What is a lie?"

"My people executed no one."

"That is not what my agents say."

"They are lying."

Pause. I realized my breathing was stagnated, but didn't dare to let it go. They appreciated the silence for a long moment. I was about to say hey guys did you forget your lines? would you continue moving please? , but the atmosphere was so tense and at the same time so casual that maybe they didn't know how to react.

"You are lying", Snowfields said in an unhurriedly voice, marking the word you. "And I will make you prove so."

He glanced over at Bridgette - I couldn't see his expression - she returned the glance at the same time. With one hand, she picked up a squared device the size of a phone, and typed something on it. Two doors, one at each side of the cage, opened slowly. What came next was as inexplicable as the whole scenario: a child around 9 years old jumped towards Peter with opened arms and tears and sweat splashing around the collar of his shirt. Peter gasped with the bodies' impact, and then started smoothing the child's back while they both sobered.

From the other door came a woman, very thin and pale, who couldn't keep herself still properly. Her knees were big and bony, and her arms were very thin. She might be sick - or just hungry. She might have bulimia or any other type of disease I could easily treat if...

"How dare you, Peter, lie to me all this time while I have your family down here too? I honestly don't know where you want to get. The quicker you answer, the quicker your kid will see the sun again." Snowfields paced slowly up and down the edge of the cage Peter and his family were, like a wolf surrounding his prey. I finally received some light about why they were there and all the purpose of that scary place.

In some point in time, Oxygen had the opportunity to catch the leader of the rebels. They did so, very fast and unnoticed. They haven't just brought Peter Filthy but his whole family with him, under the command of Snowfields, who made sure a whole secret structure was made to accommodate the Filthy family. He probably found it best to keep an eye over him and try to suck information instead of showing the world he'd captured the enemy. That was Snowfields' way of ruling: he'd prefer intelligence over strength; and control over turmoil.

Not that I don't agree with that, but simply by the fact that it is Snowfields' personality, I knew that someday his actions would turn out to be flawed. Now I knew he was used to having all types of dirty secrets he kept away from his own people and with no reason.

I felt pity towards the family. They had no chance against Snowfields except telling him what he wanted to hear. Whatever secrets they had, it was best to share than to keep. Maybe they had been stuck under there for days, maybe weeks. Peter had his arm around the kid, protectively while the thin woman had taken a small spot beside them to sit her weak bones. She looked helpless... but Peter didn't; he looked just tired. What must be passing through their minds was impossible to know - Snowfields had them trapped inside his hands and they knew it was the end.

I looked around one more time because my instincts were already pointing existence through the unsteady beatings of my heart. We've been there for a long time and that conversation wasn't leading anywhere. I was afraid of the possibility of one spot me before I could think of a reasonable excuse to why I was there. The nearest exit - where was the nearest exit? - might be the same one I entered, which meant it was a little far. I was feeling a little nausea, too, because of the point things were going and the uncertain future I had since then, and suddenly a noise sneezed into my right ear. Ftssss! , making me realize that I was near a huge pipe of which transported some kind of gas. There were pipes everywhere around the place, all of them gray and with no distinction of content. Usually pipes are coloured red or blue or yellow depending of the substance carried, so perhaps those were only gases. But which gas? Oxygen?

🔸🔸🔸

I knew I had discovered something pretty awful when I followed my leader through halls because of pure curiosity. The more I thought about it, worse those hours became - and better was the possibility of not opening my mouth to anyone: Snowfields had an enemy trapped in the basement? His problem. But if I didn't, no-one was going to advise Angelina about her boyfriend while I sat back and lost battle for him. I cut Mrs Dubose's abdomen and started digging her flesh, fast and dirty. The day before I had missed a transplant because I was late. I could have arrived earlier but wasn't with the brains for it anyways. Now Mrs Dubose was in my hands (for the third time that year) and again, with some painful germs around her ribs. It squeezed at my mind, should I keep it; should I tell her? I had to either follow my guilt or pretend it never happened.

Right was, we were living under a fraud's orders and I was the only one who always knew it and now had proof! The closer you were from him, the worse his lies became and more suffered life was. Angelina had the right to know and I was the only one who could provide her the truth. I had to open her eyes, but how? It was a suicide letter. Mrs Dubose gave a deep breath through the ventilators. Sffhhh... I was sitting on the fence - in one side, the lightness of my stable life at Oxygen; in the other, the heaviness of having such critical knowledge.