Could You Please Repeat The Question? ~ a short story

“Could you please repeat the question?” Her voice was barely above a whisper.

He leaned forward, his silhouette illuminated by the red lights behind him – the only light source in the room. “What is the FDIC?”

She struggled to keep her breathing steady. Out of her peripheral vision, she noticed a sign to her left. Red letters illuminated the message WE WILL FIND YOU OUT.

No, she reminded herself as her heart rate sped up. Stay confident. Don’t let them get to you. You can’t let them find out.

“I - I don’t understand.”

“How do you not understand?” His tone was mocking but also … saddened. Like he was disappointed she couldn’t answer the question.

Then his voice was steel again. “Name.”

“Beverly Compton.” Her hands shook under the table. At least the use of her alias was becoming more natural now.

“Why are you here?”

“Business.” Nunya business. She bit her tongue from revealing unspoken thoughts, the pain calming her heart just a little.

“What business?” He enunciated every syllable, and she could tell he grew impatient.

Remember. English. “I am here to meet Sergei Dmitrenko.” She winced inwardly at her awkward American accent, but hopefully it didn’t sound too faked. “He’s a representative of –”

“Spell.”

“S-E-R-G-E-I –”

“You spelled it differently last time.”

Her hands shook, as she reminded herself that this was just a tactic. He was just trying to scare her, trying to mess with her head. “No, I didn’t.”

He took in a breath and glanced down at his paper. Her eyes trailed down, but she couldn’t tell what was written on it. “You are a loan officer, yes?”

“Yes.”

His eyes flicked up to her. “What is the federal income rate?”

She struggled harder now to keep her breaths at a regular pace. In, out. In, out. Her hands shook harder and she could feel her pulse beating through every inch of her body. Every bit of research she’d done scrolled through her brain, searching for anything on something called the “federal income rate”. Maybe she could make it up…

“It’s –” her mouth couldn’t form words, and her brain felt blank. “Could you please repeat the –”

The guard held up a badge. “Red card.”

She exhaled and relaxed. A tear found its way down her cheek, then another, and another. Red card. They were out of scenario.

The guard looked concerned. “Are you okay?”

She shook her head.

He gave her a bottle of water and let her sip it for a moment. She was all too aware of yet another guard sitting in the back of the room, probably watching the entire time. The guard who had interrogated her last time, who was even more intimidating than this one.

“Do you know what the federal income rate is?” He said it calmly this time, a reminder that they weren’t in scenario. The “game” was paused. It was okay for her not to know.

She shook her head again. He gave a short and simple definition, but her brain was scattered in so many places all she really heard was something about the number 6. Maybe.

“Now. Do you want to keep going, or do you want to be done?”

She took a deep breath. This was her last chance, maybe ever. If she was done now, she’d never know what would have happened if she stayed. But if she kept going, she might make another mistake and humiliate herself.

It was worth it. “I’ll keep going.”

“Okay, are you ready?”

She nodded.

His voice turned sharp in an instant. “What is the federal income rate?”

She tried to remember. 6. “It’s – it’s – ” she sighed, feeling deflated. Her only hope was improvisation. “I don’t understand. I’m not a mortgage loan officer, I do commercial –”

“You are a spy.”

She stiffened. This was how they all ended.

“Get out.” He pointed towards the door.

Not bothering to wipe away her tears, she grabbed her bottle of water and started towards the door.

“Wait. Red card.”

She turned back around, wondering what this was about. She was just supposed to leave and finish the mission with her team. He wasn’t supposed to red card again.

“I want to tell you,” the guard said, “I’m impressed. Do you know how many people, in all my years doing interrogations, have kept going after I red-carded?”

She shook her head, confused.

“One.” He pointed at her. “That’s you. Really, I’m impressed.”

She smiled a little. “Thank you.”

As she exited the room, the other guards’ yells to leave didn’t even bother her this time. She’d failed her interrogation, that was for sure. The guard found out she was an American spy, and if this was real life, she’d be dead by now.

But she’d kept going. And that fact baffled her. She didn’t realize how far she could go until this very moment.

You don’t know what you’re capable of until you try. So go out and try new things. Hard things. See how much you’re stretched and see just how far you can go.

-- Sorry for my disappearance these past two months! I've been busy with summer camps, writing projects, and unsuccessfully attempting to reduce the number of books on my TBR. This snippet is based on an... interesting experience I had at a camp I got back from recently. It's not exactly word-for-word, but I wanted to try my hand at a new style of writing, because I don't normally do non-fiction snippets. (And I found it's very fun to refer to myself in the third person!)