You Must Remember This

Chapter 8 - Into the Hydra's lair

Undisclosed HYDRA base, Siberia, October 14th, 1945

Evelyn's head was throbbing. She dared to open her eyes just a sliver but had to shut them immediately again. A bright light burned into her retina. Everything spun around her.

Okay, let's try this again, thought Evelyn. Slowly now.

She blinked against the light and turned her head. She was in a medical room. An IV was standing near her. She felt the tube against her arm. What the hell had they done to her? Evelyn carefully pushed herself up from the bed, still groggy from the sedative. She felt nauseous, but the saline drip kept her from retching. How long had she been out? And where the hell had they taken her?

"Guten Tag, Fräulein Roth."
(Good day, Miss Roth.)

Zola appeared in the corner of Evelyn's eye. He helped her sit up and offered her a glass of water. Evelyn eyed it suspiciously, making Zola smile.

"If we wanted you to sleep more, Fräulein, we would not have allowed you to wake up."

Seeing the logic in that, Evelyn took the glass from him and drank carefully. Zola, in the meantime, removed her IV.

"The headache and nausea will pass within an hour at most."

"How long was I out?"

"Little under 24 hours. I apologize for it, Fräulein, but as I said during our talk, HYDRA cannot be discovered just yet. Discretion is required."

More like secrecy if you ask me.

"What is this place?" asked Evelyn, looking around for any clues.

"Many things. But mostly, we do research here. Intensively."

"Research for what?"

"I cannot say yet. You still need to complete the second phase of our interview."

Just then, an orderly came in, carrying a tray of food. Evelyn realized then that she was starving. She looked up to thank the orderly when he put the food on the table beside her bed. The sight of him kept her quiet. He was of average build, had green eyes, and cropped black hair... and a big jagged scar that ran from his ear to his mouth. It was well taken care of, but it still looked raw.
Zola kept the orderly from leaving the medical room and took out a notebook from his white lab coat.

"Your first test, Fräulein. What can you tell me of this injury?"

Evelyn's eyes went from the orderly to Zola and then back to the orderly. The guy just stood there, hand around his wrist, waiting for her to speak. Clearly, he'd been placed in this position before.

All right, then, thought Evelyn. If that's how they play around, I'm game.

She got up from the bed and stepped up to the orderly. She reached for the wound. Scarface stayed perfectly still as she traced it with her fingers. The injury was maybe a few weeks old. Something sharp had cut through the jaw. But it wasn't a clean cut. Far from it, in fact.

Oh my God...

"What language does he speak?" Evelyn inquired.

"You are not permitted to pose questions," said Zola.

"I don't want to ask him a question; I want to give him an order."

"Russian," replied Zola after a brief hesitance.

"Откройте рот, пожалуйста."
(Open your mouth, please.)

The orderly glanced over to Zola, who nodded. Even without a light, Evelyn saw all she needed to see when she tilted the orderly's head back.