Cindy clasped hands with him, and they began to make their way through the tunnel again, this time at a slower, more deliberate pace. Chad was so preoccupied by the abrupt change in the tenor of his relationship with Cindy that he failed to immediately notice the widening of the tunnel. He was so immersed in contemplation of the development that the hum of nearby machinery didn’t register until Cindy said, “Slow down.”
Chad looked at her. “What?”
So she said it again. “Slow down. Listen.”
Chad did. He frowned. “What’s that?”
Cindy looked troubled. “Checkpoint. We have to pass through it to return Below.” A shudder rippled through her. “We’ll be encountering some nasty people in a bit, and, well, no offense, please keep your big mouth shut. I’ve been through this before and I can get us through this now, but you need to leave the talking to me.”
Chad shrugged. “Fine.”
The tunnel continued to widen as they trudged forward. The steep downward slope began to level out, only a little at first, then dramatically, and soon they were walking on flat ground. The tunnel’s ceiling became higher, as well, and they began to perceive a glow of artificially produced light. The hum of machinery grew louder. Chad was pretty sure they were hearing a generator. This suspicion was confirmed as they came around what turned out to be the end of this branch of the tunnel. They stepped out of the tunnel and into a much larger area.
“This is the checkpoint,” Cindy breathed.
Chad glimpsed a dark opening beyond the checkpoint and realized his earlier perception hadn’t been quite true. The tunnel didn’t really end. Not exactly. Its dimensions changed here and there, particularly in places where more room had been carved out of the earth for places such as this. There was a shack to his left that looked a bit like a construction site office. A row of military-style transport trucks were lined against the opposite wall. A holding pen occupied the space between the shack and the trucks. Chad counted thirteen people in the pen. Slaves, he assumed. The area was lit by klieg lights, a brightness that approximated midsummer daylight.
Rifle-toting guards patrolled the perimeter of the pen. They wore body armor and black helmets with inscrutable black visors. They were lean and muscular and lithe, and they moved like hungry panthers stalking prey.
Satan’s shock troops.
Chad whispered, “Holy shit. Pardon me while I pass out.” He looked at Cindy. “Please tell me you’re sure they don’t know about…”
His eyes flicked back toward the tunnel. “You know …”
Crimson-tinted images of the holding facility massacre shook him.
Cindy arched an eyebrow. “Of course they know. Don’t be naive.”
A jolt of terror slashed through Chad’s heart and caused his eyes to open so wide he thought they might fall out of their sockets. “What!?” He was still whispering-a guard was approaching them-but he was agitated now. “What the living hell, Cindy? You said you could get us through this.”
“I can. I think.” There was an edge to her tone now, an implied warning. “You just have to shut up and trust me. Now hold tight.”
The guard reached them. He held his rifle in front of him, and Chad noticed his forefinger was curled around the trigger.
The guard’s voice was brusque. “Identification.”
Cindy reached into the pouch at her waist, pulled out a card, and handed it over to the guard, who gave it a long inspection. “I am formerly the property of Overlord Gonzo.”
Chad thought, Overlord Gonzo?
He heard a feigned pride in her voice when she said, “I am an emancipated slave.”
The guard studied the card a moment later, glanced at Chad, and handed it back to her. “And who is this?”
“This is my new slave.”
The guard studied Chad. The scrutiny made his skin crawl. It was like being sized up by The Terminator. The inscrutable visor increased his anxiety level by several degrees. An urge to turn and flee back through the tunnel gripped him, but he remained where he was, counseling himself against acts of impulsive-as well as suicidal- stupidity.
At last, the guards gaze went back to Cindy. “You’ll have to meet with the Stationmaster.” He nodded at Chad. “Your slave will have to stay in the holding pen.”
The holding pen!
Chad looked at the hungry eyes of the slaves in the pen. “Are you kidding? I won’t last ten minutes in there.”
Cindy backhanded him, a blow that rocked his head and sent him staggering backward. She stalked after him, glaring at him with real malevolence, and drove a fist into his solar plexus. He dropped to his knees and gasped for breath. Cindy grabbed a handful of hair, yanked his head back, leaned in close, and hissed, “Mouth off again and I’ll have this man shoot you.”
Panic filled Chad’s soul, wrapped a cold fist around his heart. He had fucked up. He knew that. Cindy’s anger was genuine, albeit for reasons other than what the guard would assume. He’d broken his vow of silence. He had to consciously remind himself she was role-playing-and that she alone best understood what it would take to get them through this place.
“I’m … sorry!” There was a quaver in his voice, and he realized he was close to blubbering. But that was okay. A little role-playing of his own couldn’t hurt. “It won’t happen again, I swear. Please don’t hurt me anymore.”
Cindy relinquished him.
The guard said, “I like the way you discipline.”
There was something new in the timbre of the guard’s voice, a deeper, raspier tone, and he was speaking at a level just above a whisper. Chad had a disturbing notion, an idea that he was beginning to know how Cindy meant to get them through this checkpoint.
He ached for her again.
“And what about my body?” Her tone was matter-of-fact, the voice of a person negotiating a business transaction. “Do you like that?”
The guard chuckled. “Very much.”
Cindy nodded. “You’re Stephens, right?”
The guard licked his dry lips and smiled. “Yes. I’ve been waiting for you. I’m the new Stationmaster.”
Cindy pursed her lips. “And the old Stationmaster?”
The guard’s smile widened. “Hawthorne.” He shrugged. “A real by-the-book, rules-and-regulations guy!” A tone of mock solemnity entered his voice. “Tragically, he just met an untimely end.”
Cindy nodded.
As if the information wasn’t news.
Stephens said, “I’ll just need to discuss some loose ends with you. In private.”
Chad’s stomach roiled.
She wouldn’t really let this happen, he was sure of it.
Stephens slung the rifle back over his shoulder, cupped his hands around his mouth, and called out, “Coleman!”
Another patrolling guard stepped away from the holding pen and strolled over to where they were standing. “Yeah?”
Stephens nodded at Chad. “Keep an eye on this guy while the lady and I conduct some business.”
Coleman grinned. “Sure.”
The guard and Cindy entered the tunnel, and Chad watched them disappear around the bend through eyes blurry with tears. Several long moments elapsed during which nothing seemed to be happening.
And then he heard them.
Dimly at first. Then louder. High-pitched cries of sexual enthusiasm. Cindy. And a lower-pitched series of testosterone-charged grunts.
Stephens.
This went on for a time.
