How she wished she was alone. Her unbuttoned blouse provided the only window to her fair skin from neck down to the navel, breasts hidden beneath the double stitched seams of the white cottons. Knee-length pants completed her dress, showing off her small feet, the fingernails untrimmed.
Had she been alone, she would shed everything and lay down naked, enabling the searing heat to tan every part of her body. In her mind she saw the image of a baked river trout, its skin turning brownish gold and crunchy crispy.
She wondered why her bunker mates seemed unperturbed and nonchalant in going about their business. Not that there was much to do other than loiter and talk and scream and shout and shed tears. Was nonetheless glad the heat had managed to keep Saari all quiet and sober.
For how long? She didn't care. It didn't matter to her.
So long as it kept his hate-filled face away from her, she's fine with it. Didn't think she could live with the face being in her view as the seconds turned to minutes to hours. She wondered if him maintaining the glare wasn't tiring when it would've been so much easier to let loose instead. She pitied him.
With the thought came a sudden sensation of her body being wrapped in a calming ocean breeze as her mind's eye saw her favorite singers in George Michael and Andrew Ridgeley gyrating, their groins thrusting back and forth with sensual lucidity in tandem with the song she could now hear clearly, as she began to slowly hum: "…Club Tropicana drinks are free…", her body involuntarily moving to the forming rhythm.
****
Even at his age, Mohir could not but be stirred when confronted with such a lurid spectacle as his junior colleague began to sway her body and unbuttoning her white blouse. He could see her growing agitation prior to her surprising break into a dance routine. Everyone in the searingly hot bunker could see that.
She had earlier gone to the thermostat a couple times, pushing the temperature setting when it could go no lower. He saw Rahman looking on in bewilderment, then perhaps excitement, glancing at him and Saari, seated on his bed as usual and the young chap Sivanathan somewhere he neither care to question nor discover.
He watched in awe, his throat dry, seeing her singing "… like a virgin…", her hands going all over her body. The act made him feel uncomfortable in his groin as there she was, staring at him. Him. Not Rahman, not Saari, but him, UNCLE Mohir. Her lips, pink, wet, suggestive. He could glimpse the soft silhouette of her breasts beneath the flimsy cotton as her body swayed to an unheard music.
Mohir so wanted to join her, but Rahman and Saari were suddenly besides him. Their strong arms twisting his own feeble limbs behind his back and forcing him to the bunker's floor. They couldn't stop his eyes from continuing to watch Bernice's lurid show though. He wanted to scream out in joy, exhilaration and yet no word came out. Eyes wide open and bulging, he stared at her unblinking. Wishing she would come and release him from their stranglehold. Saw Bernice taking off more of her blouse to reveal warm, smooth skin. In his mid, a chanting had begun in earnest.
dirty old man dirty old man dirty old man dirty old man dirty old man dirty dirty
****
what is the measure of a man do you even know it you're such a wimp
The thought had played on Saari's mind, as he laid in bed plotting his revenge against Syafa and Sivanathan. The buzzing in his head was no longer an irritant, but a comfort, a distant drone providing a sense of direction of a life aimless.
take on the bitch and the bastard show them you are the main man here that you're the one Syafa wants you are him
Yes. I am that man… Am I not?
you're a wimp don't know why she is in love with a pathetic excuse of a man
… I'll show you why…
Saari steeled himself as he stood up from his lying down position and walked straight to Sivanathan and Syafa. They sat on the stools at the makeshift pantry, all smiling and chatting and touching hands, and smacking lips. The bastard and the bitch.
I'll show them…
show me what you can do weakling
"Look at that... So bloody happy together. Have you no shame?!"
that's right show them who's the main man show them teach them
Saari saw Siva and Syafa stopping their cheery reverie to face him, their faces contorted, a mix of emotions.
Anger? Fear? Loathing? Yes. It was loathing.
They despised his breaking their happy moment.
I'll show them!
"You're itching for a fight, Doctor? A death wish, is it? You want your child to become an orphan so early?" said Sivanathan, looking (lovingly? The bastard!) at Syafa, adding, "He wants to show you his manly side, love!"
His laughter stung Saari. Seethed as he waited for Syafa's retort, which he knew would follow.
"What manly side? He hasn't got the balls to even bed me. I slithered all over him and yet, nothing. He's limp and dead down there, Siva. Manly? Hah!!"
"Bitch!!"
Something in Saari finally snapped and he lunged at the smirking Syafa, going for her soft neck just below those luscious red lips. His fingers slammed into a forearm seemingly made of steel. He turned towards the man blocking him and bewildered to find himself looking at Mohir. Not Sivanathan but old Mohir.
"This is not your fight, old man. Get out of my way!"
"That's right. It's not mine but his," Mohir said, nudging his head to Saari's left.
Sivanathan?
Again it's not him, but Rahman, whose fist crashed hard into Saari's forehead. An uppercut then cracked into his jaw. Saari buckled from the sharp pain. Unable to control much of himself, he lifted both arms only to double up in pain as suddenly Syafa joined the fray. Her legs slammed into his groin, followed with a crunching knee to his face.
float like a butterfly sting like a bee you're the man ha ha ha
His young mentee came at him again, slamming both her palms into his cheeks. He felt his jaw coming loose. Saari tasted blood on his tongue, but it was nothing compared to the pain all over his body as all three then worked on him. Kicking every part of his slumped body. Through the thuds of kicks, he could hear Syafa saying, "What a wuss! One night with me for the one who teaches him good!"
He could hear his bones cracking under the intense assault. How many are there?
Saari could only feel his muscles turn to jelly as the blows rained on him and the laughter of men and women intermixed in the chaos. He wanted to plea for them to stop only to realize his mouth was sewed shut. No one could hear him whimper.
****
The staff on duty monitoring the remote cameras for the Radian's staff bunker stared at her monitors. Aniah Wahidon had been briefed to simply be on the lookout for something out of the norm and alert her supervisor should that occur. At least she had company for her shift unlike the person before her, who had to be in the room alone. She wondered if he really manned the computers whilst on duty.
Two hours into her own, and Aniah found herself itching for some action amongst the quarantined scientists to break the monotony of her task. She thought then of having caught a glimpse of something seemingly out of sync.
"Dr Yusliana? Could you look at this?" she said, spinning her swivel chair to face the only other person in the room.
Yusliana Suhair got up from her chair, walked over and stood next to her staff, left hand on the headrest. Aniah replayed the sequence, controlling the progress manually as they both watched the screens, seeing three men and two women inside a huge square building with no windows. Two men stood while one sat on the floor. A woman stood while another huddled in her bed.
"Aren't we supposed to be looking at four men? Where's the other one?" asked Yusliana.
"I'm not so sure. They are the only ones captured within the viewfinder at this point of time," said Aniah.
Yusliana peered through the grainy images, scanning the screen to see if she could spot anything out of place, a nagging thought in the back of her mind saying there was something wrong with the whole scene.
Five days after the Ministry had dropped the Radian team on her lap, she had resigned to ending up watching endless reruns of scientist types doing nothing but get agitated and stressed out. Exactly what had happened thus far under her care.
Her brief was to keep them under constant observation. On day four, Yusliana had watched with bated breath as two of the men glared at one another like gladiators in the ring. She thought the lanky, good looking one in the white shirt would not last a single round if they really had a go at each other.
Was the stand-off over a woman? How typical…
She had to admit the two women in the team were both beautiful and attractive to be at the center of a love tug of war, one masculine, the other, sweet and innocent. Yusliana pursed her lips, aware of Aniah looking at her instead of the screen. Then it hit her hard, and a cold shiver went up her cheeks.
"Get Miss Maria on the line. Tell her something's happening to her team."
Stunned, Aniah paused the frame, asked: "What is it, Dr Yusliana? What did you see?"
"Zoom to their eyes. They're all whites. And they have not moved an inch since the first frame. Make the call now, Aniah. We may already be too late to do anything."