Then the walls seemed to fall away altogether, the tunnel opening up behind them like a pair of unfolding hands. Chad slid to his right, leaning into another slave as the truck went down a steep incline. Cindy held on to a strut. Chad leaned harder on the slave. The emaciated man groaned. The descent was so dramatic he could only compare it to a monster roller coaster going down a long, plummeting straightaway. His stomach roiled, and he felt a tickle of nausea in his throat.
Then the descent ended and they were on flat terrain again. Chad became aware of noise all around them. Strange sounds. Something like a carnival whistle. Angry shouts. Threats. The primal sound of conflict. Fists on flesh. A crack of a whip. Voices. A multitude of voices, like at a rock concert before the houselights go down. If he needed any further reminding that he was in a savage place, here it was, the sound of the devil’s playground in full bloom.
The truck slowed as it threaded its way through a milling crowd. Jeers were hurled at the truck. Chad’s heart thumped faster when he realized the epithets were directed not at the driver, a servant of The Master, but at the slaves in back. He turned to stare through the rear opening at the faces of the hecklers.
An old man with a long, tangled beard and a corona of stringy, dirty hair around a bald scalp walked behind the truck, leered in at them, and held his middle finger aloft. He wore a loincloth, and Chad saw a glint of silver at his throat.
Chad squinted, but he couldn’t make out what it was.
The man’s leering countenance receded as the truck pulled onto a rutted track along the cavern wall and picked up speed. A few minutes later they were pulling into an open space that served as a parking lot. The truck pulled to a stop alongside another transport vehicle, and its engine shuddered as it shut down. A door creaked open and there was a sound of booted feet slapping the hardpacked floor. Then a guard’s visor-obscured image appeared through the rear opening.
“Any nonslave personnel aboard?”
Cindy answered immediately.
“Yes.”
The guard scrutinized her. “You bear the mark of a slave. Are you emancipated?”
Cindy nodded. She held her chin high, proudly. “I am.”
“Step forward, please.”
Cindy got up, strode purposefully toward the rear of the truck, and jumped to the ground. She opened her pouch and produced her paperwork. The guard took the folded papers from her hand, opened them, and studied the words printed on them. The guard stared at the papers long enough to make Chad uncomfortable.
At last, though, the guard folded the papers and returned them to her. “I see you’re newly emancipated. Congratulations.”
“Thank you.”
“Do you have a slave on board?”
She nodded, pointed at Chad. “That one.”
“The fresh meat?”
“Yes.”
The guard motioned to Chad. “Step forward.”
Chad got to his feet and shuffled to the rear of the truck. He looked down at the ground, hesitating, wondering whether he was expected to jump with the leg irons still in place. He was still considering this when Cindy grabbed the chain linking the manacles around his hands and feet and yanked him out of the truck. He screamed, struck the ground at an awkward angle, and pitched forward. His open mouth tasted dirt, and he gagged. He groaned, rolled onto his side, and stared through blurry eyes at Cindy, who looked to be reaching out to help him.
Wrong.
Her foot, encased in one of his new Reeboks, drove hard into his stomach, punching the air out of him and sending an explosion of pain through his midsection. She kicked him again, harder, and he curled up, a pathetic attempt to deflect any further blows. She kicked him one more time anyway, the tip of the athletic shoe punishing the hands clasped protectively about his stomach.
Chad cursed her in his head, but he cried out for mercy. Something awful occurred to him. Wasn’t it possible Cindy was fucking with his head? She’d been down here a long time-long enough, perhaps, to have every remaining drop of humanity wrung out of her. Maybe she was a sadist and this was how she caught her kicks-by concocting a carefully wrought illusion of friendship and conspiracy, an illusion she was even now in the process of cruelly destroying.
He couldn’t see her, but he imagined a smirk creasing her lovely face.
The thrashing ceased with a jarring abruptness. Through his tears, he saw Cindy whirl away from him and face the guard.
The guard smirked. “Nice. You have to break them in right.” He cast a sidelong glance at Chad. “Some people just have a knack for this life. I think you’re one of ‘em.”
Cindy only said, “We’ll be going now.”
The guard nodded. “You’ll need to register with Slave Control. There’ll be some more paperwork.” He grinned. “And your letter.”
Cindy’s eyes gleamed. “The mark of emancipation.”
“Yep.” The guard lifted his visor. Chad saw that the man had a prominent brow and a bulbous nose. There was a hulking quality about him. “Will you be at The Gathering tomorrow?”
Shit, Chad thought, the thug’s hitting on her.
Cindy shrugged. “Maybe. We’ll see.”
The guard’s smile faded. “Yeah, sure.” He sneered. “Don’t go getting the big head, bitch. You may be emancipated, but I’m still a swingin’ dick with a big gun.”
Cindy sighed. “Jesus …”
Pitiless laughter trilled out of the guard’s mouth. “Just keep it in mind, whore.”
Cindy parted ways with the guard without another word, came to Chad, and pulled him to his feet by the chain. Chad staggered, his head swimming. A hand snapped across his face, stinging his flesh and clearing his vision.
“Be still,” Cindy hissed.
She knelt before him, extracted a key from her pouch, and unlocked his leg irons. She pulled them free and handed them to him. Then she stalked away from him, and he shuffled after her.
“Hey, hold up.” His breathing was labored. “Christ, this is heavy”
She didn’t say anything.
“Can’t I just drop it?”
She whirled around, and Chad drew up short. Her green eyes flashed with real anger. Seeing it made his knees shake. She twisted a handful of his shirt and pulled him to his tiptoes. Christ, she was strong. He’d forgotten how easily she’d handled him at the holding facility. His chest swelled with pain as panic jolted his heart with the force of a defibrillator. Her face, vibrant with newfound power, was inches from his own.
“You’re letting me down, Chad.”
A helpless sob escaped him. “I…”
“Shush.” Her lips brushed his ear. “Remember everything I told you. This isn’t real. I know it sounds crazy, but you have to let me hurt you to help you. No matter what I do, remember that I… shit…”
Chad wiped his eyes and studied her expression. “What, Cindy?”
Cindy averted his gaze, frowned at some middle-distance point. “Nothing.”
Chad was puzzled. She seemed almost… embarrassed.
But why?
She turned away from him, yanked on his chain. “Come along.” She talked to him over her shoulder. “And remember what’s real. Remember.”
Chad shuffled along after her. He still felt weary, battered, exhausted almost beyond the breaking point, but Cindy’s reassurances made things bearable. They soon passed through the parking lot’s security gate. The lot adjoined a squat, one-level building with the letters SCD crudely painted next to the entrance. Chad assumed, correctly, that this was the “Slave Control” building the guard had mentioned. Cindy shackled him to a rail outside
