Soul Connection

“Hiya”

“Hi, may I help you?”

“Yes, I lost my room key, are you able to give me a new one?”

The sound of bubble gum popping. Then, after a moment’s silence, “Sure, name?”

“Elisiana Tugab”

The rhythmic tapping of acrylics on an old-fashioned, worn-in keyboard accompanies the usual din of a hotel lobby. The marble floors wink at me, reflecting the light cast by the majestic chandelier up ahead. Only one day here and I already know I will miss it when I leave in a week. Rio De Janeiro has invited me warmly, its city lights serving as a lighthouse through its meandering alleyways and roads. 

“Sorry, I seem to have forgotten my room key at breakfast this morning, do you by any chance have a spare?”

The request comes from my right; a lady leaning over the register table, a worried look plastered on her face while she gestures to the man seated at the table in front. I turn to her and smile. 

“Me too. The city seems to have stolen not just our hearts but our minds too!”

She smiles back. A friendly, showing-all-teeth kind of smile. 

“Ah, you as well?” she says. “Indeed, Rio is incredibly beautiful.”

I sigh and look out of the floor-to-ceiling glass doors at the front of the lobby. The sea is just visible; a mass of black peeking out. Wait. Black—

“Hands in the air, everyone on their knees,” a voice booms out from where I was looking only moments before. 

Ten armed men, all clad in black storm in, rifles pointed at random chests around the room. The lobby is frozen, like a bustling market suddenly hushed by a thick, woolen blanket dropped on top. Nothing moves apart from multiple pairs of eyes darting around the room, looking for any familiar faces or any way out. 

My own heartbeat seems to drum right out of my chest, my legs turn to wobbly jelly. 

He barks at us again, repeating himself. “Now, I won’t say it again! Hands in the air and get on your knees.”

He uses the second person this time, the result making his statement more direct and degrading. I turn my head an inch to my right, a sudden flurry of movement catching my eye. The lady who had just asked for a spare room key - now on her hands and feet, trying to get away. The chestnut-colored table in the middle of the lobby serves as her shield - from where they’re standing they won’t be able to see her. 

Smart.

Without a second thought, I’m on my hands and knees, desperately crawling on all fours to catch up to the woman. She stops suddenly; there’s only so far the table can stretch to cover us. She curses silently under her breath, muttering to herself. 

I assess her; there’s no way she’s from a safe place; she knows way too much about acting fast. She turns her head and sees me. I expect her to frown, maybe even scowl - but she gives me that friendly smile again. I’m unable to return it, fear clouding my face like a grey cloud threatening to wreak all havoc loose. 

She beckons for me to crawl beside her. I breathe in her flowery perfume and a bit of normalcy is restored within me. She leans into my ear, cups her face with a steady hand like how we used to spread gossip in elementary school. I shake my head to rid myself of such an arbitrary thought among a time like this. 

“See the exit over there?” she whispers, pointing up ahead to a green neon sign that says ‘EXIT’.

I nod. “Yeah, but how will we get there?” 

I grimace; unsure of why I turned it into a ‘we’ but too late now.

“I’ll create a diversion and you run.”

“What? No. No way.” 

I shake my head furiously, sweat now beading at my lip as if just realizing the magnitude of the situation at hand. She looks me up and down as if sizing me up.

“You’ve got lean muscle and strong legs, good for sprinting. Perfect.” She seems to be talking more to herself than to me.

The men are now ordering everyone to shuffle forwards on their knees, hands still in the air. 

Dark green crosses my peripheral vision. A gunshot rings through the air, the reverberations perpetuating through my ears, my heart thudding louder by the millisecond. 

Contrary to the sudden chaos seen in movies after the first gunshot, everyone stays still—even stiller than before it seems. A pin would be heard if dropped. 

I beg my breath to slow down—it sounds impossibly loud. Squeezing my eyes shut, I hear a muffled sob somewhere behind me. 

“Okay, on three.” 

The woman seems unfazed by the gunshot. I gape at her; wondering what on earth happened in her past for her to be so persistent.

“1,” she whispers, taking in a deep breath. 

“2—”

BANG! 

Instinctively, we both cover our heads and crouch into a ball. 

BANG!

I can’t help it, I grip onto the woman tightly now, fear snaking into my body, entering my heart. 

The lobby seems to have exploded into pandemonium, people running and shrieking, gunshots piercing through all the noise and sending fresh waves of fright rippling through the crowd. The men have put the lobby on lockdown, no one out or in, although I see cars pulling up outside. 

I feel a tug on my shoulder, someone pulling me to get up. The last two words emanate from the woman’s voice, the urge apparent in her now-shaky voice. I rise; feeling as if in a dream, not trusting anything my eyes choose to show me. 

I look into her eyes for a split second and they scream one thing: Run.

So, I run. 

My sweaty palms balled at my sides, following closely behind the woman, keeping my head down and body moving, trusting this stranger with my life. Logical thinking wouldn’t be able to explain my actions; it is as if our hearts spoke directly and connected under the veil of mayhem. 

She reaches for the door and I aid her in pushing the heavy mass open. To our surprise, it isn’t locked.

We stumble out into the open air and tears stream down my face, the joy of being free too overwhelming to keep inside. But we aren’t done yet. 

The woman has already started running; shoes pounding on the concrete floor, the sun beating down on us. We run for what feels like an hour, ragged breathing blocking out any screams or shouts that trail behind. 

Eventually, we stop to take a breath and an almost-awkward tension falls upon us. Realizing that I haven’t even properly introduced myself, I extend a hand. 

“I know this is completely reversed, usually people introduce themselves and then become friends, but anyhow, I’m Elisiana.”

Still catching her breath, she manages to let out, “Catarina.”

Before thinking of what I’m doing, I step forward and embrace her, liking the comfort of a friend after all the events that happened. She goes rigid for a second, and I tense up thinking of how weird it will be after, but then she slacks and seems to seep into my hug.

This bond is unlike any I’ve ever made before, but somehow, although I don’t even know her place of residence or her pets’ name or her favorite ice-cream flavor, she feels like the closest to me, like the bond between best friend’s but more covert.

Soul connection is what I decide to label it as.