by King, Sara
“So you don’t know there is a way out? You’re just guessing?”
“Well,” Joel said, “I’d say it’s a pretty good guess, since the Shriekers in there aren’t the same as the Shriekers out here. Different size, different color, tails are thicker. I’m thinking it’s a different nest, and they’re accessing the lake somehow, because they sure as hell aren’t getting fed on our side. Didn’t see any weeds in that pond, either, so they’ve gotta be getting out somehow. Maybe through the river.” He shrugged. “But once you go that deep into the mounds, it’s kind of hard to think, anyway. I might’ve just overlooked it.”
“I won’t freak,” Magali said, looking sincere. “I’ll do whatever you tell me to. Whatever it takes.”
Joel snorted and shoved himself away from the door. “Right, lady.” He turned to grab the knob.
“I’ll tell them about you,” she warned.
“You won’t,” Joel said, glancing over his shoulder. “Because the moment you tell the Director, I’m dead and you’re right back where you started—stuck in the mounds, your mind rotting to Egger’s Wide.”
He yanked the door open and stepped through it, leaving her staring after him.
Joel endured the two hours of laundry duty, then went to find Yvonne and Rachel to play his nightly game of cards.
The two guards were on duty, boredly leaning against the leg of one of the four transport ships they were guarding, smoking. Their faces livened up when they saw him. “Joel,” Yvonne said, flipping her cigarette aside to join the hundreds of others scattered in the dirt beneath the ship. “Thought you got caught in a Shriek or something. How you holding up?”
“Not too good,” Joel muttered, dragging a deck of cards out from where it had been wedged in a crack in the barricade of sandbags and razor wire. “Director used me as stress relief a couple days ago. Haven’t done much of anything since.” Joel dragged two crates of ammo from beside the barricade and stacked them atop one another, then laid a plywood plank across the top.
Rachel winced and ground her cigarette out under the toe of her boot. Pursing her lips, she said, “She break anything?”
He lifted an arm and grimaced as he pointed to his ribs. “Something’s not right in there. Camp doctors won’t look at it, though. Pretty sure the Director threatened ‘em somethin’ horrible if they patched me up.” Lowering his arm, he went back to the barricade and grabbed another case of ammo. He dragged it over, then dropped it beside the table with a puff of dust. As he lowered himself to the crate, he hissed and grabbed his side.
The two guards looked at each other as they pulled up overturned fuel canisters and sat down at the tiny makeshift table across from him. “You know,” Yvonne said slowly, “We might be able to pull a few strings, maybe get you seen by one of our medics…”
“I’d appreciate that,” Joel said, shaking his head, “but if the Director got word of it, you’d be right out there in the stocks with me.”
“Look,” Rachel said. She reached out and touched his arm. “You’re a citizen. You deserve medical attention.”
“No I don’t,” Joel said, mournfully. “I’m just an egger, now.” He held up the deck of cards. “Who shuffled last time? My head got banged around so much I can’t remember.”
Rachel narrowed her eyes. “You’re going to our medic.”
“Yeah,” Yvonne said. “Soon as our shift’s over.”
“Well,” Joel allowed slowly, “It hurts like hell to breathe, and even thinking about laughing…” He groaned and winced. “I guess I can’t argue with a couple of beautiful ladies, now can I?” He gave them his most charming grin, though he laced his dimples with pain.
Rachel was glaring, now. “No, you can’t. We’ll get you to that medic, and damn the Director. I know just the guy.”
“Yeah,” Yvonne said quickly. “He’s a real chump. Would do anything for a couple of pretty ladies.” She and Rachel giggled.
Joel grinned and handed her the deck of cards. “So,” he said, motioning at the two of them. “What we playing to in the meantime? Skin?”
Yvonne grimaced. “How about skivvies? Last time we almost got caught…”
“Aww, ladies, but you know I’m horrible at cards.”
“Yeah, but every once in awhile you whip us soundly,” Rachel said. She pointed a finger at him and grinned. “If I didn’t know better, Joel Triton, I’d say you were a swindler.”
“Shuffle,” Joel said, nodding at the deck. Then, grinning, he said, “What makes you say I’m not?”
Both Yvonne and Rachel burst into guffaws. “Well, considering how you walk outta here bare-assed about two thirds of the time…” They looked at each other and giggled. “Yeah. You’re a real swindler there, Joel.”
Joel sighed. “You two beautiful ladies should have more confidence in my abilities.”
“Oh, we ain’t sayin’ nothin’ about those abilities, Joel,” Rachel laughed, as she started to deal out five hands. “Just face it. You ain’t that good at cards.”
“I am the greatest poker player in the Outer Bounds,” Joel said regally.
Yvonne peered at him. “My God. He actually said that with a straight face.” The two women started to giggle again.
They heard the sound of ammo crates dragging and two more women sat down on either side of Joel.
“What we playin’ to?” Cara asked.
“Joel wants to do skin,” Rachel said.
The whole table giggled. “Of course he does,” Hannah said. “Every once in a blue moon, he’ll actually win a hand.”
“I say we do skivvies,” Yvonne said. “Last time we almost got caught…”
“Who’s on guard this time?” Joel asked.
“Ming,” Cara said.
“Yeah, she’ll do,” Joel said. “Who was it that almost got us all flogged that last time? Josylin?”
There was a table full of eye-rolls. “No, Tracy,” Rachel said. “She fell asleep on post.”
“Either that or she just let them past without saying a damn thing because she wanted someone to nail us,” Cara snarled. The look of hatred on her face was real. This far past the Outer Bounds, cliques commonly formed amongst the soldiers and there was a very real problem of rivalries escalating into mini-wars, left unchecked.
Since Cara was one of the ranking clique members of the female side of the camp, Joel felt sorry for Tracy. She would probably put in for a transfer soon, if she hadn’t already.
He cleared his throat. “So which is it, ladies? Skivvies or skin?”
Rachel licked her lips, a predatory grin her eyes. “I say skin. I haven’t seen you naked in awhile, Joel.”
Joel snorted at their hoots. “It’s your funeral, Rachel, darlin’.” He grinned at her.
He was still grinning at her when he was the only one fully clothed, and everyone else at the table was down to skivvies—except Rachel. She had a sports bra and underwear…and CAT tags.
Losing another hand, Rachel grimaced and reached up for her CAT-tags.
“Jewelry doesn’t count,” Joel said, unable to keep the dimples from his cheeks.
Rachel smiled at him and tugged them off her neck. “It ain’t jewelry. It’s a curse.”
“You girls don’t play fair,” Joel complained. “I finally get a good string o’ luck and y’all start bending the rules.”
“Uh-huh,” Rachel said, but she was grinning at him. “I’ll get ya next time, Joel. You can bet on that.”
Joel laughed, motioning at her state of undress. “That’s interesting, coming from a gal who’s one hand shy of—”
“What in the Hell is going on here?!”
Everyone at the table scrambled at the sound of the Director’s voice. Joel, who was the only one fully dressed, was nonetheless the first one the Director’s six cronies grabbed and threw to the ground.
“Joel Triton,” the man with his knee in his spine was saying, “You’re under arrest for smuggling, conspiracy, theft of government Yolk, and murder of a govern
ment officer.”
“What?” Joel stammered. “I don’t know—”
The Director yanked him up by his hair. “Don’t know what, Runaway?” She gave a mirthless laugh. “How much Yolk you’ve been running out of here the last three years? Or that Gayle died last night, from the head wounds you gave her?” The Director snorted and narrowed her eyes. “I should’ve put it together a long time ago, considering how many times you tried to run away.”
She told, Joel thought, stunned and furious that Magali had betrayed him. The vindictive wench told.
The Director released him suddenly. “Take him back. I’ll get to him after I deal with these four.”
Then Joel was being shoved back into the camp at the head of a laser rifle in his spine. They marched him past several curious-looking eggers, but one of them stopped to stare at him, her mouth ajar, as they passed her.
What did you think they were going to do? Joel thought, glaring at Magali. Ask me to work for them?
The six guards led him right back to the same cell where he’d kneed the Director in the face, then shoved him inside. Then, as two of them stood guard outside, four of them began a round-table of beatings that, while nothing compared to what the Director had done, left him in a fetal position and babbling incoherently by the time they finally decided he’d had enough.
As they filed out, Joel noticed that one of the guards was limping. When Joel looked up and saw the big man’s face, he froze. He’d seen the same seven-foot hulk three years ago, standing behind Geo’s desk.
Martin waited until the others had left, then he squatted by Joel’s head. He took his head in both meaty hands and tugged it off the floor. Tensing his shoulders, Martin said, “Say hello to my Mama for me, Joey-baby.”
He’s going to break my neck. Oh dear God, he’s going to—
“Dude, she’s coming.”
Martin froze and looked up. A guard at the door was motioning him out of the cell with hurried hand gestures. Martin glanced back down at Joel, a thoughtful expression on his face, clearly debating.
Then, palming the top of Joel’s skull in one big hand, Martin patted a cheek with the other. “I’ll see you again soon, Joey-baby. Pro’ly sooner than you’d like.”
The huge man stood and, as he hobbled past Joel, he stopped just long enough to kick him hard in the thigh before stepping from the cell.
Joel felt Geo’s wound re-open before the Director’s shadow darkened his door once more.
Chapter 15
Striking a Bargain
Anna sat on the bathroom floor, staring at her feet.
Asshole robot, she thought.
It hadn’t moved. Not in two and a half days. It was still leaning against the desk, arms crossed, head cocked, watching the door of the bathroom. And, she had realized, probably listening, too. The first time she had emerged from the bathroom, she had made damn sure to get rid of the tears, but sure enough, the idiot creature had taunted her about crying. Anna had been quiet, too. The only way he could have known was if he had amplified his hearing to super-Doberman levels.
Anna shuddered and drew her knees tighter to her chest.
It really could kill her. She had no doubt about that. In fact, when she weighed the alternatives, she wondered why it hadn’t, already. She would have, in its position. Besides, she knew it could get away with it. What was one more egger disappearance? Happened all the time. Poor little girl got caught in a Shriek, that’s all. Too bad, so sad, dead Anna.
Anna was walking a very thin line, and she knew it. She was surprised the damn thing had left her alive this long. What was it waiting for? Surely her sister would have filed a complaint by now. Even with the bureaucratic clusterfuck that was the Coalition government, Magali could have gotten someone to listen. Unless her sister was serious when she said Anna was on her own—
Crushing a palm to her temple, Anna tried to think. Her mind had been going over the robot’s question again and again, and she hadn’t managed to come up with a solution.
Robot: 1
Anna: 0
She narrowed her eyes and let her hand drop. There had to be a way out of here. She could probably get out the air vent—if she could somehow climb up there before Super-Robot-Doberman-Doggie broke down the door, stormed inside, dragged her back out by one dangling foot, and gutted her.
She’d checked the kitchen, of course. The robot had been telling the truth. It had scoured the place for anything combustible and had carted it off before dropping her inside. It was obvious it had been planning on kidnapping her for awhile, now. At least long enough to take away all the aerosol and matches.
It had even taken the hair dryer.
That had been a disappointment. It was possible to produce a weak electromagnetic field with a hair-dryer, and if she could re-wire it and amplify it to monster proportions, it might have been enough to stun the bastard thing long enough to drag a kitchen stool into the bathroom and climb into the air vent.
But it had obviously thought of that, too. It had taken everything electronic, even the toothbrush.
And there had been a toothbrush in the place, at least until very recently. She saw the toothpaste residue the moment she washed her hands in the sink.
Anna groaned and slammed her head against the wall behind her.
“You can always come out and talk,” the robot said.
“Screw you, Tinman,” Anna shouted back.
If only the damn place had a window. Throwing something big through a window was a quick, yet effective way of getting attention. That, combined with a long, childish scream, and the robot wouldn’t dare kill her, because it wouldn’t have time to clean up the body.
Flooding would also get the attention she needed, but she was pretty sure the robot could get through the door before the water was noticed by anyone who happened to live beneath her prison, and the robot had already told her what would happen if it caught her trying to cheat.
Anna banged her head against the wall twice more, harder. Think.
But she had been thinking. And she was pretty sure her sister was too stupid to realize that Anna had been kidnapped by a robot. That left nobody but the Doberman to know what happened to her. After all, eggers disappeared all the time…
Circles, she thought, disgusted. I’m going in circles.
She was so tired. She had considered using the bed, but the idea of sleeping with that thing out there, watching her, she couldn’t handle it. Somehow, she felt safer with a wall between them, even if it was a puny bathroom door. So, shivering, she had slept on the floor, her back pressed up against the bathtub.
It hadn’t been a good sleep. When Anna looked in the mirror, her crap-brown eyes had crap-brown rings around them the size of her palms.
She could think better if she could just get some sleep.
Miserable, Anna hunched in on herself and closed her eyes. Her breathing slowed. She just began to fall under…
“You’d be more comfortable on the bed,” the Doberman said.
“Did I ask you to talk?” Anna snapped back.
The robot laughed. It laughed at her. She wanted to kill it so bad it was a burning ache in her gut. She squeezed her eyes shut to keep from crying again.
Then, from right outside the door, the robot said, “Come out here.”
Anna gasped and scooted away, her heart pounding. Staring at the door, afraid to breathe, she said, “No.”
She heard the robot touch the doorknob—insert a key—and the door swung open.
The Doberman stood in the doorway for a full minute, leaning against the frame. Its dirt brown eyes were utterly unreadable. Then it said, “You have two hours.”
Then it turned and walked out of view. Anna heard the creaking of the desk as it took up its position at the door once more.
“Two hours?” she shouted, “For what? To sleep?”
But Anna knew what the time limit was for. The robot was telling her how long she had to live.
She waited for confirm
ation, but the Doberman didn’t bother responding. It knew that she knew, and it wasn’t going to waste its breath.
Anna slammed her head against the wall again, but her little mental clock had already started its countdown, leaving her with one more thing to run her in circles.
Two hours quickly became one and a half, with no other alternatives in sight. Anna had already spent the first day giving the Doberman every single possible deal she could make, but the Doberman had simply watched her, giving no indication it was even listening.
In fact, it had been so utterly motionless throughout that Anna had begun to believe it had turned itself off. She had even slipped in a little comment about watching his circuits fry in a toaster, just to see if he was paying attention.
He had been. He’d smiled.
She had actually watched the ninety percent become ninety-one percent.
Dammit.
One and a half hours became one, and then one half.
“Have you found an acceptable assurance for me yet, Anna?” the robot asked.
“Silence yourself, dumbbell,” she snapped. “My time’s not up yet.”
“No, but it will be. Soon.” Then the Doberman went silent again.
Anna got to her feet and started to pace. Twelve minutes left, give or take twenty seconds. Twelve minutes to bargain for her life…and she couldn’t think of a damn reason not to kill him.
Because she couldn’t think of a damn reason not to kill him when she got the chance, she sure as hell wasn’t going to be able to convince him she had a good reason not to kill him. He was probably a Gryphon or a Ferris, which left him with a pretty good array of sensors to pick up heartbeat and temperature, and he had certainly done a very good job of leaving her rattled, so it was going to be hard to keep her biorhythms under control, since they were always the first to go in these sorts of situations. And without any sleep, her poker face was well and truly screwed.
Damn!
Six minutes. And she hadn’t even started talking to him yet. It took six minutes just to explain semi-complex subjects like plans and deals. To elaborate on something like trust…
At two minutes, Anna knew she had to finally face the music. She stepped out of the doorway—