Her silent wars

"the task ahead"

Mabel was handcuffed, blindfolded, and carried out from the facility where they had been locked for months. The vehicle rumbled down the rough, uneven path, bouncing over roots and potholes that made her wrists sting with every jolt.

“Go down there and handle it. We can’t waste any more time,” said Job Bob’s voice — sharp, deep, and unmistakable.

Mabel stiffened. No one could forget that voice.

After a few minutes, the vehicle slowed, then stopped. She heard muffled voices outside, boots crunching against gravel. When they resumed the journey, the road was smoother, and the air felt different. She could hear faint car horns, the laughter of children, distant chatter — sounds she hadn’t heard in nearly a year.

Tears slipped down beneath the blindfold, soaking into the cloth. It had been almost twelve months since she’d last heard her mother’s voice, or held her brothers close. A year since she had been dragged from her home — her country, her motherland — and stripped of everything familiar. Her heart ached with the memory, but she made a silent vow:

I’ll see them again. No matter how long it takes. I will.

“Number 28! Step out of the vehicle!” a voice barked.

The blindfold was ripped away. Light stung her eyes, and she squinted until shapes began to form. The place was unexpectedly beautiful — trees and flowers surrounded the compound, releasing a fresh fragrance that didn’t match the dread in her chest.

“Hey, you two, take her inside,” Job Bob ordered. “Here’s her file. Make sure she’s ready in two days.”

Two young women who had been watering plants quickly obeyed. Mabel followed quietly as they led her into a wooden house. It looked small on the outside, but inside stretched a long, narrow corridor with several closed doors on each side.

A sudden scream pierced the air. Mabel froze, her breath catching. She turned slightly to look — but one of the maids caught her by the arm, shaking her head.

“Don’t look,” she whispered. “Whatever you see here might haunt you forever. Trust me — you’re better off pretending you didn’t hear anything. Now come on — you smell awful.”

They stopped before a heavy wooden door. When it opened, the scent of food hit Mabel’s nose — roasted meat, spices, and something greasy. Inside sat a large woman, her thick red lipstick glistening like wet paint. Her plate overflowed with food meant for several people.

The maids bowed slightly and handed her a file. “Madam M, this is the file containing her assigned task from the head office. She has two days to prepare,” said one nervously.

Madam M looked up, her eyes sharp and mocking. “Did I tell you I can read, you foolish girl? Now look — you’ve spat all over my food!”

She picked up a plate of tacos and rubbed it against the maid’s head, bits of sauce sticking to her hair. “Here — take your hair and your tacos, eat them together!” she shrieked with laughter.

The maid trembled, her eyes filling with tears. “I’m sorry, Madam M,” she stammered.

“Get away from me, filthy girl!” Madam M shouted. The maid stumbled back beside her companion, shaking.

Madam M turned her attention to Mabel. Her lips curled into a grin. “Now you… what’s your number?”

“Number 28, ma’am,” Mabel said softly, her head bowed.

Madam M flipped through the file lazily. “Ah, another 28. The last one died not too long ago.” She leaned forward, her voice dropping into a dark chuckle. “Let’s hope you last longer, dear. Otherwise—hehehe…”

Mabel felt the chill crawl up her spine. Her hands trembled slightly, but she kept her head down.

“Now, strip,” Madam M ordered flatly.

The maids moved quickly, undressing Mabel until she stood naked and shivering. Madam M’s eyes traveled over her body like a predator studying prey.

“Age?”

“Eighteen, ma’am,” Mabel replied, forcing her voice not to break.

“Do you know how to handle rifles, snipers, and other weapons?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Mabel said, her tone firm.

Madam M nodded, satisfaction glinting in her eyes. “Good. Take her away and clean her up. Burn those filthy rags she came in with — you all reek like dogs.”

The maids took Mabel to a small washroom. The water was cold, but it felt cleaner than anything she’d touched in months. The soap stung against her wrists, still bruised from the handcuffs. When she was done, they gave her a plain white gown and socks.

Moments later, she was seated in a modest dining room. One of the maids — a lively girl with a mischievous smile — placed a steaming plate of food before her.

“Here, sit and eat,” she said cheerfully. “You’ve got a big task ahead of you. Who knows? Maybe your last supper.”

The other maid shot her a sharp look.

“Lennie!” she hissed under her breath.

Lennie grinned. “Oh, relax. I was joking.” She turned to Mabel, her eyes softening. “My name’s Lennie. What’s yours?”

Mabel, her mouth already full, mumbled, “Mabel… Number 28.”

She ate hungrily, not caring for manners. It had been too long since she’d had food this rich. Maybe it really is my last meal, she thought grimly.

Lennie passed her a glass of water. “Here, drink. You don’t want to choke before—” She caught the other maid’s glare and stopped.

“Lennie, enough with your nonsense,” the older maid scolded.

Lennie leaned closer to Mabel and whispered, “Don’t mind her. I talk too much. Sometimes it gets me in trouble.”

Mabel nodded faintly, focusing on her food. Each bite steadied her trembling heart. As she ate, she could feel the weight of her new reality pressing down — the silence, the fear, the uncertainty of what waited in two days.

She swallowed hard. Whatever the “task” was, she knew one thing — it would change everything.