Her face crumpled. "Yes."
He pulled her close, tucking her face against his shoulder, stroking her back soothingly. "I will protect you, Claire. On my honor."
Claire nodded, but she didn’t believe him for a moment. He was one of them. He only said it because he was trying to convince her she could trust him, that she was safe with him.
The problem was, she was afraid it was beginning to work.
Chapter Four
Claire wasn’t entirely certain when the stroking of his hand ceased to be a gesture of comfort and became something else entirely. She felt warmth seep into her slowly, felt the tension gradually ease from her body as the coldness of fear ebbed. She wasn’t really aware of him except as comforter, however, until she noticed the rhythm of his heart against her ear, the change in his breathing, the faint tremor in his hands.
Her body responded before her mind grasped the change in him, flooding her with a different sort of warmth. As she felt his lips along her cheek, the heat of his breath on her ear, however, she stiffened instinctively.
He went perfectly still, almost seemed to hold his breath. After a moment, he shifted, settled her on the bunk and, rising, strode from the cell.
Relieved, Claire turned over, putting her back to the door and resolutely closed her eyes. She was hungry, but found that she was far more tired than anything else, and finally, she escaped into her dreams, hoping that she would wake in the morning and discover it had all been a terrible nightmare.
When she woke sometime later it was to the disheartening realization that it hadn’t been a dream at all. She didn’t even need to open her eyes to know that no sunlight filtered into the room. Like a dungeon, the place where she was held captive was a place of unrelieved gloom.
She searched her mind for some reason to get out of bed and discovered she couldn’t find one. What, she wondered, could she do? She had no idea of where she was being held. Even supposing she did, or could discover it, would it help? They’d told her it was the rebel camp. She’d seen at least a dozen men in what she supposed must be the communal dining room the day before. More than likely there were many times that number in the compound.
She had no weapon to defend herself with. She hadn’t consciously looked for one the day before, but a thorough search of her memory failed to produce anything she’d seen in passing that she might hope to use to protect herself.
Eros had said her best hope—her only hope—was to convince the rebels she was willing to embrace their cause. She might have that much acting ability—given her dire situation she was certainly willing to do her best—but she didn’t think she could convince them that it was something she really wanted to do, to produce enthusiasm. Would cooperative be enough?
Had she already bungled the chance, she wondered a little fearfully?
After thinking it over, she decided she might still have a chance to convince them. Her reaction had been natural enough, given her circumstances. Surely they would’ve expected it to take some time for her to adjust?
But, were they even that reasonable?
She would’ve considered any group of terrorists crazy, but this bunch seemed a bit beyond fanaticism.
Alice must have felt like this when she fell down the rabbit hole, she decided, wondering if they were all crazy, or if it was her.
She sat up when she heard the door to her cell swing open, trying not to look as petrified as she felt. It was some relief to see that it was Eros—not much, but some.
A jolt went through her when she noticed that he was clothed. It was no more than a loin cloth, to be sure, but far less intimidating that seeing him stride around with nothing at all. Without a word, he deposited her clothes on the foot of her bunk and left again. She watched until he’d closed the door leading to the corridor outside and then tossed her blanket off and scurried into her clothes. She felt better almost immediately, less vulnerable, less threatened.
He’d left her cage open. She sat staring at it for a while, wondering if it was a trap to see if she would try to escape—a trap that, if sprung, could get her killed, or worse, tortured.
She shuddered at that thought, but as time ticked by and no one came, she began to wonder if it was actually an invitation. She was hungry. She hadn’t eaten since breakfast the day she had come home and found Mark in bed with Melissa. She’d dropped by the apartment on her way back from running errands, before her lunch break, and she’d been so stunned by her discovery that she’d fled blindly for the beach.
The terrorists had been eating when she was shoved into the room the day before.
Maybe they’d meant for her to join them?
She had absolutely no idea of what time it was. Assuming she’d fallen asleep at her normal time, and woken at the time she usually did, it should be nearing lunch time.
But that was a big assumption. Her whole life had been turned upside down. She’d been an emotional wreck before these—terrorists—had scared her out of her wits. She might have slept purely from emotional exhaustion.
She finally decided to chance it. Leaving the door open had certainly not been an oversight. If she left the cell in search of food she surely couldn’t be accused of trying to escape. Hopefully, she would get food—not killed.
If she saw what appeared to be an opportunity to escape, she would know it was a trap and ignore it, but if the man who called himself Zeus meant what he’d said, he wanted to entice her to willingly join them. This could be their way of extending an olive branch—and if she at least gave some appearance of being open about it, then that was her best chance to learn if there was any possibility of escaping.
Cautiously, she moved to the door of the cell and looked around. The room seemed to be primarily used as some sort of storage facility. If they really were rebels, and not escapees from some mental hospital, the boxes and cases could be filled with all sorts of weapons. It didn’t seem worth the risk of checking, however, particularly since she didn’t know one end of a weapon from another.
Instead, she went to the door and checked it. She didn’t know whether to be relieved or alarmed when she found that it was unlocked. It could mean that she’d been right about the open door being an invitation—or that it was a test she could fail by opening it.
Finally, she opened it and looked around the corridor outside cautiously. There was a man and two women coming along the corridor toward her. Except for glancing at her disinterestedly, however, they paid her no attention. Placing a hand over her frantic heart, she breathed slowly and finally left the room, stopping to use the facilities the woman called Diana had showed her before.
Bracing herself afterward, she made her way down the hallway and opened the door where she’d seen so many of the rebels gathered the day before. The room, she discovered to her dismay, was full of people. As she stood nervously in the doorway, watching them eat, she caught the attention of several. Zeus was sitting at a table set apart from the others. He lifted his arm, motioning to her. She glanced around and then behind her, but since there was no one else anywhere around her she decided he must be summoning her.
If it had been possible, she would have pretended she hadn’t noticed and scurried back to the cell. It seemed more dangerous to ignore him and risk angering him, though, than to move among the rebels. With an effort, she pried her cold fingers from the door and crossed the room.
Zeus beamed at her. "Have you slept well?"
Claire merely stared at him, wondering if she was supposed to pretend she was a guest who’d been questioned about her comfort, instead of the prisoner she actually was. Suppressing the urge to give him a sarcastic retort, she forced a stilted smile. "Yes. Thank you."
"Sit. I will have someone serve you."
She sat, glancing nervously at the other people at the table. Unlike the previous day, they were clothed—really strangely—but she realized she hadn’t seen anyone since she’d come in that was completely naked. Most of them appeared to be wearing robes or something like a to
ga and she wondered if it was for her benefit.
Zeus grinned at her. "In a sense, yes. More than that, however, your—uh—discomfort emphasized how out of touch we have been. We wish to join the outworlders in the world above us. We must learn to adapt to their ways if we are to blend into the population."
Claire stared at him blankly. Uppermost in her mind was the fear that she’d spoken her thoughts out loud, but the entire statement flustered her. They thought wearing togas was going to keep them from sticking out like a sore thumb?
A glitter of anger entered Zeus’ eyes. "We are well aware that our costumes are sadly outdated, but the transition will not be easy for anyone. Clothing is so--restrictive—and those such as you wear far more so even than these."
Unnerved that her thoughts were so obvious, Claire flicked a glance at those nearest her. "Everyone here is telepathic?" she asked, as much because she needed to know how dangerous it was even to think freely as to distract him from his anger.
His brows rose, but after a moment he nodded. He was thoughtful for some moments. "This is something else we must become accustomed to. I had thought our circumstances were such that we had accustomed ourselves—but old habits die hard. It is good to have an outworlder among us to point out areas of weakness."
She could tell he was just thrilled about it. She wasn’t too thrilled herself. She’d almost convinced herself that he was just very good at reading things from her expression. His affirmation deprived her of that comforting thought. He hadn’t just seemed to know her thoughts. He did know them. "Er … the guard told me that telepathy didn’t work here."
He studying her assessingly for some moments, then seemed to dismiss it. "Eros?"
For some reason she didn’t particularly want to explore, she was reluctant to acknowledge him by name. To keep her distance? She shrugged. "We weren’t actually introduced."
A faint, knowing smile curled his lips. "He is slipping."
Several of the other people at the table snickered, and Zeus glanced at them, obviously pleased that they’d appreciated his humor. Finally, he returned his attention to her. "It is true to an extent. We have devised a material to prevent brain waves from traveling far, as protection, but it also retards the flow within the compound—even I find it difficult unless I am in close proximity to those I wish to converse with. To begin with, we saw it as a severe set back, but I soon realized that it was an advantage, as well. As I said before, we must learn the ways of the outside world if we mean to join them."
Claire didn’t know what to make of that, but she thought it just as well not to try to speculate in his presence. Thankfully, her food arrived at that moment. It was a welcome distraction.
"Eat. When you have finished, I will give you a tour of our humble accommodations."
The food was good, but either because her stomach had shrunk from not eating in so long, or nerves, or possibly the two combined, she found she could barely do it justice. Feeling vaguely nauseated, she forced herself to eat at least half before she pushed the plate away.
Zeus lifted his bushy brows at her, but didn’t comment. Instead, he rose and held out his hand. Claire pretended she didn’t notice and focused on pushing her chair back in. Almost as if Zeus’ rising was a signal to everyone else that the meal had ended, everyone got up and began to clean the room and quickly departed.
Zeus took her hand, looped her arm through his and placed her palm on his forearm. It was a strangely ‘old world’ sort of gesture, courteously and far more intimate than strangers generally behaved, but not threateningly personal. Still, Claire would’ve far preferred to put more distance between them--a hundred miles or so.
He was either unaware of her discomfort, or he simply ignored it, leading her from the room and down another corridor on the other side. "We are below the city here. It is ironic that we, who so desperately wish to feel the sun and wind of our world, must burrow so deeply that we can not even enjoy the illusion Atalantium provides."
"The city?" Try though she might, Claire couldn’t keep the hopefulness from her voice.
"Oceanus."
Claire looked at him blankly, trying to think if she’d ever heard of the place before. "This isn’t in the U.S., I guess?"
He let out a bark of laughter. "Alas, no. Although there are some who feel we should annex ourselves to the U.S. when we have achieved our goal. For my part, I consider it imperative to remain independent of any other country."
Embarrassment colored her cheeks. "Where is it then? South America?"
Again he chuckled. "This is the ‘lost’ continent--Atalantium."
Chapter Five
He’d seemed perfectly—almost perfectly—sane. It was really unnerving, Claire thought, to find herself among so large a group of delusional people.
Zeus shook his head. "I would be insulted save for the fact that I understand how difficult it must be for you to accept. Unfortunately, I can not show you Atalantium—just yet. We are not ready. When the time is right, I will show you the world that lies above us. For now, I will only show you the compound itself and tell you our sorry tale—if you are interested?"
"I am curious," Claire said hesitantly, because she knew that was what he expected her to say, but she found, too, that it was the truth. It was all very well to discount everything as delusions, hers, his, theirs—but there were some things that defied that neat little slot, try though she might to stuff everything into it. Clearly they could, at least some of them, communicate telepathically.
Zeus nodded, gesturing toward a barracks-like room lined with narrow bunks, chests and little else, and then guiding her through it to another room where men and women were in the process of practicing hand-to-hand combat—with swords. They stopped there for some time while Zeus studied his army and Claire tried not to look as horrified and revolted as she felt, and finally moved on again, down yet another corridor with doors on either side. Finally, Zeus opened one of the doors and led her inside.
To her surprise, she saw that it was a large apartment and very comfortably furnished, but obviously the living quarters of a single individual. Uneasiness assailed her when she dawned on her that he’d taken her to his private quarters. She didn’t quite know how to handle it, or even if she could object. Finally, she sat on the edge of the couch he’d indicated, knowing she must look just as she felt, frozen with fear.
To her relief, he took a seat in a chair across from her.
He studied her for several moments. "You have heard of Atalantium?"
Claire relaxed fractionally and finally shrugged. "Most people have, I guess—except I’ve never heard anybody call it Atalantium. They call it Atlantis--people have been trying to prove that it actually existed for years, but most people don’t really believe it ever did."
He frowned, but it was more contemplative than angry. "I perceive this might present some problems for us. It could be more difficult to find acceptance than I had thought—but we will face that when it comes." He looked her over confidingly. "Atlantis is the capitol city of Atalantium. History is a bit like gossip—corrupted by whoever does the telling, I’m afraid."
Claire eyed him skeptically.
Amusement danced in his eyes. "We are the most advanced civilization of this world."
"Were, you mean? According to the legends…."
"Are," he corrected.
Claire opened her mouth to dispute it, but, fortunately, it occurred to her that she wasn’t likely to make points with him by arguing over it.
He smiled faintly. "We outstripped other civilizations on this world long, long ago--so far they began to believe we were gods. Some Atlanteans, I’m afraid, actually began to see themselves as gods, unfortunately. The time came when we were more feared than respected. We finally realized that we would have no peace if we continued to live among the war-like population. As savage as they were, they had begun to roam the globe, endangering our civilization. The council decided that we must remove ourselves beyond their reach. At the tim
e, I agreed with them."
"You agreed?" The exclamation was shocked out of her before she had time to consider the wisdom of it.
He shook his head. "I could explain, but I doubt that you would be able to fully grasp it."
Claire was torn between indignation at the insult to her intelligence and … indignation at the insult to her intelligence. She was no rocket scientist, but she thought she could grasp any explanation he was likely to come up with—but it was equally insulting to be thought to be so gullible. He’d have to be hundreds of years old to have been around since the days when the legend of Atlantis was born.
"I was born, and grew to manhood, in the golden age of Atlantis—when it was yet young in the world. I have lived for almost a thousand years—but time means little to us. We are time walkers. It is this that made our advancement in technology possible. We have always taken what we pleased in time, learned what interested us, adapted it for our own use--you have not seen the like of our facilities before?"
Claire shrugged, unwilling to admit she hadn’t.
"This comes from a technology far into the future—developed because the time will come when our world is dying from the depletion of its resources."
It sounded so possible, Claire felt a wave of sick fear wash over her.
"The lighting, as well."
"Sooo… what you’re saying is that Atlantis didn’t sink beneath the sea because of some terrible disaster, as legend has it. The people of Atlantis moved the whole continent forward through time."
"Atlantis sank, but not because of some natural disaster. We built a dome to protect us and sank it ourselves—and we could not have moved it through time even if we had wished to do so. We are time walkers—time exists at once, on many planes. We merely move from one plane to another. Even we do not have the technology to move objects through time, certainly not an entire continent, as small as ours is."
Enlightenment didn’t dawn. The tale became more incomprehensible and bizarre, rather than less so. Claire supposed after a moment, however, that there were two possible explanations for a thing being incomprehensible—either one’s mind simply could not grasp it—or it just plain didn’t make any sense because it defied logic.
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