and head back to the interstate. We’re not accomplishing anything by staying out here and freaking each other out.”
Dream glanced at the fuel gauge. “That’s not an option anymore.”
The needle was already at a dangerously low level, and it dipped a little lower as she looked at it. Another increment lower and they would be running on fumes.
Alicia leaned over to have a look. Concern-and maybe the beginnings of true panic-creased her brow. “Aw, shit.”
Karen groaned. “We’re about to be stranded, aren’t we?”
Alicia settled back in her seat. “Shit, shit, shit.”
“This can’t be happening.” Karen’s voice edged closer to a whine. “Why isn’t there anything at all out here?”
Dream put the Accord’s brights on again and took the car around another curve. The smooth glide of tires on paved road came to an abrupt end, and they were jouncing up and down in their seats as the car rumbled over the ruts of a dirt road. The road still wound through dense stands of trees, but the darkness was no longer quite so impenetrable.
The car’s interior resounded with gasps and shouts.
Dream detected a twinkle of light through the trees.
She cleared her throat. “Hey, guys-“
“Turn us around!” Karen yelled. “Fuck getting us back to the interstate-just get us the hell out of here.”
But Dream took the car around another bend in the road, and the light through the trees grew brighter. The road rose around the mountain at a steep angle, and when they entered a straightaway, they saw a gleam in the middle of a large clearing, barely visible over a hill. Dream pushed the accelerator to the floor again, and the car held steady on the hardpacked dirt.
Alicia gripped her shoulder. “Dream? What the fuck is wrong with you? Turn us around, or so help me-“
The Accord crested the hill and the terrain leveled out.
Karen whistled. “Will you look at that?”
They looked.
The protest at the tip of Alicia’s tongue went unspoken.
The Master’s house loomed before them. An array of klieg lights illuminated its exterior. As they neared the house, a big stone mansion, Dream’s friends reiterated their desire to flee this place, but their pleas barely registered. Dream was looking at the Doric columns rising from the ends of a long porch and bracketing a big balcony that overlooked the front yard.
It was imposing.
A grim sentinel hunched against the mountain.
And yet…
Dream experienced a moment of vivid prescience.
A frisson of familiarity.
She had never seen this house before, had never glimpsed its gambrel roof and gabled windows, but this first peek elicited an odd-and undeniable-feeling.
She felt as if she belonged here.
As if she needed to be here.
She drove on.
The man behind the desk possessed the aloof air of every coolly efficient bureaucrat Chad had ever encountered. He was tall and thin, gaunt-looking, with bony hands and the dark, predatory eyes of a wolf. He wore a black suit over a crisp white shirt and a narrow black tie, the sort of ensemble an undertaker might wear. His bored expression managed to convey impatience, disdain, and haughty superiority all at the same time.
“So,” he said, addressing Cindy in an oily, insinuating voice that made Chad think of Peter Lorre. “I have before me a petition for emancipation .” He nodded at Cindy. “And you, I understand, are the party petitioning for emancipation.”
Cindy nodded. “Yes, sir.”
The man, who Chad had gathered was a warden of sorts, chuckled without humor. “And what have you done to merit this privilege?”
“I’ve served The Master well for three years.”
Cindy strode closer to the warden’s desk. The armed guards flanking the desk watched her with suspicion. This, after all, was a woman who’d just physically subdued and murdered a man in her cell. She made them uncomfortable, anxious and edgy, but Cindy seemed oblivious to the danger.
She indicated Chad with a nod. “I have an endorsement from Overlord Gonzo, and this one can take my spot in his herd.”
The warden lifted a single sheet of smudged paper off his desk, glanced at it, and flashed those predatory eyes at Cindy. “Do you mean this endorsement? Signed, I see, by your owner and several witnesses.”
Cindy’s eyes narrowed. “Yes. Everything should be in order.”
Chad could not believe what he was hearing. They were speaking in very rational, measured tones-civilized tones-about things medieval and barbaric. The warden’s office added to this perception. It was a large, dimly lit room with an absurdly high ceiling. The desk was the only piece of furniture in the room. The walls were painted a dark green. Chad thought of hospital walls. Prison walls. Institutional walls. Images from movies. The world of make-believe was the only apt frame of reference, he decided. This place was just too surreal. He noticed a coiled hose attached to a spigot in one corner of the room and a rust-flecked drain set in the floor below it. His gaze shifted from the drain to a set of shackles and chains affixed to wall mounts. Then he saw the coiled whip that hung from a peg behind the desk.
He began to tremble.
The warden’s thin lips formed a wet slit of a smile, and he held the piece of paper so Cindy could see it clearly, gripping the upper corners with the thumbs and forefingers of his hands. The multiple signatures were legible from where Chad stood.
The warden tore the piece of paper down the middle, then folded the separate pieces together and tore them again.
And again.
Cindy shook with silent rage.
The man pursed his lips and stared hard at her over steepled fingers. “Oops, I seem to have misplaced it.”
Chad’s mouth opened in an astonished expression of righteous disbelief. He couldn’t believe the audacity of this man. He wanted to say something, to protest, but could think of nothing that wouldn’t sound foolish or naive. He was clearly in a place where the normal rules of decorum didn’t apply. Hell, rules at all didn’t seem to apply. Apparently, if you occupied a position of power in this place, you could just make them up as you went along. Chad’s tolerance level for brazen abuses of authority had always been low, but there seemed no means of recourse here.
They were at this man’s mercy.
Whose distinguishing characteristic seemed to be a lack thereof.
Cindy began to move toward the desk. The tall man’s eyes widened slightly, but he was never in any real danger. A guard interceded, clamping massive hands around her upper arms. She struggled in his grip, realized instantly it was useless, and gave up.
“This is wrong,” she whispered. “Wrong, wrong, wrong.”
Chad despaired at the defeated tone in her voice. It was disheartening to see someone so strong and so spirited beaten so easily. He didn’t much care for what it seemed to portend for him, either, which was total subjugation. He was no coward, but he was self-aware enough to know he was likely no match for anyone down here.
The tall man made a tsk-tsk noise and shook his head. “Such a stupid cunt.” He smirked. “You should know better than to threaten your betters.”
He pushed away from the desk and stood up. Chad was unable to suppress a gasp. The man was even taller than he’d guessed. NBA tall. He removed his jacket and draped it over the back of the chair, then he unbuttoned the
