by J Boyd Long
The incredibly long day, and the abnormal amount of stress began to catch up with him. He ignored the wires that were cutting into his back and head as he lay there, and by the time he got to his fifteenth inhale, he had drifted into a troubled sleep.
The buzz of the lock brought him to a sudden wakefulness, and he sat up with a start as Bob hopped into the room, sporting a knee brace and a pair of crutches.
“Good morning, sunshine,” Bob said with a grin. “How did you sleep?”
The guard closed the door, and it buzzed again. Bob carefully lowered himself onto the bunk opposite of Quentin, and arranged his crutches beside him. After glancing around the cell, he locked eyes with Quentin, and glared at him meaningfully.
“Remember our mission,” he said. “I doubt that this cell is monitored by audio and video, but we have to assume that it is. So, don’t say anything that you wouldn’t say if Sergeant Wilson was in here with us. The DimCorp brass want an audit on everything we encounter, so that means this, too. We can’t jeopardize our investigation by saying something that we shouldn’t.”
“I understand,” Quentin said, stifling a yawn. “Do you know what time it is? I didn’t even realize I fell asleep.”
“It’s about four in the morning,” Bob said. “I’m glad you got some rest. I know this has been a longer night than we planned on.”
“I must have slept for three hours,” Quentin said in surprise. “My back is paying the price. The bed isn’t exactly comfortable.” He stood up with a wince and stretched. “How’s your knee, anyway?”
“Well, it’s still attached,” Bob said. “They said nothing is torn, so that’s good. Hopefully a few days off of it will get me back in business.”
They fell silent for a moment. Quentin wanted desperately to ask Bob what they were going to do when no one verified their identity. He tried to come up with a clever way to have a coded conversation about it, but the long day and the short nap were taking their toll on his thinking ability. It was safer to go with general conversation.
“So, I have some observations,” he said.
Bob glanced up at him. “Yeah?”
“Well, it’s just that DimCorp headquarters isn’t anything like I thought it would be. I mean, I didn’t really know what to expect, but this isn’t it.”
Bob raised his eyebrows. “Did you think there would be big posters everywhere telling people to obey authority or something?”
Quentin blushed, and looked away. “No, not that extreme, but I would have expected the guards to be a little rougher around the edges. These guys don’t seem much different than the guys I know at home.”
“Oh, I see,” Bob said. “You were expecting the kind of guys that would kick you in the ribs if you fell down, right?”
“Yeah, like that.”
“Remember where you are. DimCorp has plenty of those guys, but they don’t work at corporate headquarters. There’s no reason to have them here. They stay out on the front lines, in other dimensions. It’s no different than the military in your dimension. The guys that guard the Pentagon aren’t the same guys that kick in doors in third-world countries and root out arms dealers.”
Bob’s explanation made it seem painfully obvious, and Quentin was a little embarrassed that he hadn’t figured it out on his own. Still, talking to Bob was a lot less scary than being lost in his own thoughts and worries.
Quentin shifted, and the springs gave a protesting squeak. “I thought their technology would be a lot better, too. They can travel between dimensions, but they don’t seem to have made it past the 1970’s in some ways. I mean, they didn’t do any kind of retina scan, or fingerprinting, or whatever, to figure out who I am.”
Bob let out a surprised laugh. “I guess you’re right, there. Some dimensions have pretty advanced technology, but DimCorp is pretty much just interested in making money. They don’t waste any on unnecessary stuff, that’s for sure.”
Quentin nodded, and let out a jaw-splitting yawn. He was surprised that he could be tired in this situation, but he was also grateful, as it took the edge off.
“I’m going to try to get some rest myself,” Bob said. “I do wish they had a goddamn mattress in here, though. This is a little crude.”
He carefully turned, lifting his injured leg onto the bed, and got himself stretched out. Quentin decided to forgo the bed a second time, and lay down on the floor. After a moment, he sat up and took off his shoes, and arranged them under his head as a makeshift pillow.
“They could turn down the lights, too,” Bob muttered. A moment later, he lifted up his head and shouted. “Guard, turn down the lights, would you?”
He lay back on the bare bunk with a grimace, followed by a deep sigh. The light stayed the same, so he threw one arm over his face to block it out. Quentin followed suit, and resumed his focused breathing as Bob fell silent.
Just as he found his rhythm, the door buzzed again. He pulled his arm away from his eyes, squinting against the bright lights. The guard from the front desk stood in the doorway.
“Okay, guys,” he said. “You’re out of here.”
Quentin sat up with a start. They were being released? Why? How? It didn’t make any sense, and in his state of exhaustion, the best he could do was stare at the guard, slack-jawed.
“What’s that?” Bob asked, working his bad leg off the bed.
“I don’t know how you got things to happen this fast,” the guard said. “Your lawyer is in the waiting room with a letter from the DimCorp Board of Directors.”
Quentin was stunned to hear Eissa’s voice ringing down the hallway. “Let’s go, people, I don’t have all night.”
The guard glanced down the hallway, and then back at them. “She said if you aren’t out there in two minutes, she’ll have me transferred to some undeveloped dimension with no electricity. She’s kind of scary.”
Quentin and Bob glanced at one another, and Bob shrugged.
“Well, you don’t want to end up in a place like that,” he said casually. “Put your shoes on, kid. Break time’s over.”
Quentin grabbed his shoes and shoved his feet into them, his thoughts racing. How in the hell was Eissa here, and how did she convince the guard to release them? Instead of finding clarity, he was becoming even more confused.
The guard came over and helped Bob to his feet, and handed him the crutches. The three of them left the room and made their way back out to the front entrance. When they came through the door, Tocho and Eissa were standing in the foyer. Quentin resisted the urge to smile, and tried to act like this was just business as usual.
“I apologize for the delay in getting here,” Eissa said curtly. “Have you been mistreated in any way by the security team?”
Quentin glanced at Bob, hoping he would take the lead.
“No, not at all,” Bob said, not missing a beat. “They’ve been very professional in their conduct.”
She glanced at his leg brace. “What happened to your leg? Did the security team injure you?”
“No, no, I fell down and twisted my knee when they came into the room. It’s okay, it was my own clumsiness.”
Eissa gave Bob a scrutinizing look, then swung around to the guard. “Arrest reports. Now. And this injury better be documented.”
“It’s not like that,” the guard said. His face turned crimson as he shuffled through the papers on the desk, and finally found the ones he was looking for. “I mean, they weren’t arrested. They were just detained, and since neither one had any ID, all we have on the paperwork is their names.”
Eissa reached her hand out, and the guard gave her the paperwork. She glanced at it briefly before turning her glare back to him. “If it comes out that your department injured someone while detaining them, I will come down on you like a hellstorm. Do I make myself absolutely clear?”
“Yes… yes, ma’am,” the guard whispered. He stared fixedly at his desk, sweat running down his cheeks.
She shoved the reports under some other papers on her cl
ipboard and turned to Bob. “Do you need a wheelchair?”
He shook his head. “No, ma’am, I can get around on the crutches.”
“Fine,” Eissa said. She glanced back at the guard. “I trust that we’re done here?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said.
“Excellent.” She turned on her heel and opened the door, waving Bob forward. “Let’s go. My DimGate is downstairs in the control room. We’ll use it to transport out.”
Quentin was stunned. He had known Eissa since they were little kids, and while he knew she was a badass, he had never seen her like this. He was simultaneously filled with pride and a sense of inadequacy. He never would have been able to step up like this if the tables had been turned. Hell, he was still shaking like a leaf, and he hadn’t even had to say anything.
They walked back across the street, and Bob led the way on his crutches. The guard at the kiosk inside the main building stepped out and held the door for them as they approached.
“Just step right on through,” he said. “Dispatch already notified me that you aren’t to be logged in the register, and I’m to forget that I saw you.”
“Thank you,” Eissa said. “We’d like to use the elevator, since we have an injured party. Do you have a key?”
“Ma’am, I’m sorry, but the elevators aren’t operating yet. They’re still under construction.” The guard looked uncomfortable and glanced down at his feet as Eissa paused in front of him.
“Are you sure that none of them are operating?” she asked with an edge to her voice.
“Yes, ma’am,” the guard said. He appeared to be on the verge of folding up in the fetal position on the floor. “I’m really sorry.”
Eissa glared at him a moment longer. “Alright.”
They made their way across the floor to the corridor on the right. Once in the stairwell, Eissa took the crutches, and Bob slung an arm over Quentin’s shoulder, and the other around Tocho. They hobbled slowly down the stairs, one step at a time. Quentin’s legs were still sore from dragging Bob through the control room earlier, and it didn’t take long for them to start burning again. Just as he decided that he couldn’t go any farther, they made it to Level B1.
“Whew,” Tocho gasped, bending over and putting his hands on his knees. “I think I’m going to need the crutches next.”
Quentin joined him, his chest heaving. “Me too,” he panted. “Nothing like an early-morning workout. I’m really out of shape.”
“Let’s go,” Bob said, swinging his head around. “We’ll rest in a minute.”
They crossed through the double doors and into the corridor beside the control room. Bob paused when he reached the corner.
“I assume the gate is still active?” he asked Tocho.
“Yes, it’s closed, but active.”
Bob took off across the floor, his crutches squeaking on the concrete, and disappeared around the end of the first row of doors. The rest of them hurried to catch up with him. He waited in front of their door until they were all together.
“Tocho, I think you ought to scope things out,” he said. “Just a quick look around to make sure everything’s kosher. We’ll wait here.”
Tocho nodded. He cracked the door open, peered around, and stepped through. The jungle foliage behind the door was lit up by the light from this side, but beyond that it was darkness. Tocho closed the door behind him.
“He’s not going to be able to see a thing,” Quentin said. “He could walk right by a whole company of tanks and not know they were there.”
“Oh, Tocho will surprise you,” Bob said. “If there’s someone over there, he’ll know.”
Eissa looked doubtful, but held her tongue.
“How in the hell did you do everything you just did?” Quentin asked. “I mean-”
“Not here,” Bob cut him off. “Just wait until we get across.”
“I’m sorry,” Quentin said. His face turned red, and he silently berated himself for not thinking before speaking. He was dying to know what happened on Eissa and Tocho’s side of things.
A minute went by in silence, and he began to get nervous. What would they do if there was a squad of soldiers on the other side? Maybe the release from jail had been a setup, a ruse? He shook his head, trying to snap the string of negativity. At last, Tocho opened the door.
“All clear,” he grinned, waving them through. “Sorry it took so long. It’s a bit dark.”
They crossed through the DimGate, and Bob hopped around the side to the panel and disabled it.
“Okay, let’s get up to the cabin, and then we can hear all about how this rescue operation came together. I’m curious to know, too.”
Tocho produced a flashlight and lit the trail for them. They made their way slowly through the vegetation, and once they got into the clearing, the moonlight lit the way. Quentin was exhausted, emotionally and physically, and it was an effort just to keep walking. If he had to choose between hearing Eissa’s side of the story, and going straight to bed, it would be a tough decision. At last, they entered the cabin, and collapsed.
Chapter 20
Quentin sprawled out on his side of the bed, his hands clasped behind his head. Just being there made him feel better, as if he’d been carrying a heavy load and had finally set it down. His inability to write the virus code was like an elephant in the room, at least in his mind, but the rest of the crisis had been resolved, and that was an incredible relief. Bob sat on his bed, his leg propped up on a pillow. Quentin watched in amusement as Tocho fussed around Bob, making sure he was comfortable and situated.
“Now then,” Bob said. “Let’s have it. How did you spring us like that?”
“Oh my God, that was so awesome.” Eissa giggled. “That was the most exhilarating and terrifying thing I’ve ever done. I mean, I’ve jumped out of an airplane before, and that was a rush, but this… this was a whole new thing. I want to do it again.”
“Uh, I got arrested, and had to sleep on a bed with no mattress,” Quentin said. “I thought I was going to be tortured and shot by tomorrow morning.” He was grateful that she had rescued him, but he didn’t feel like she was really appreciating the trauma that he had been put through, which was typical of her.
“Oh, ye of little faith,” Eissa said, sticking her tongue out at him. “So, when that squad came through the big door, Tocho and I hauled ass back here. Well, I came over. Tocho went right back to the other side to try to see what happened with you guys. I’m not sure what all he saw.”
“I managed to get pretty close to the door, once they were all inside and focused on you two,” Tocho said. “I could hear most of the conversation, enough to know that Bob was still playing the role of executive consultant. Once I realized they believed you, and just needed to verify your identity, I came back here to work out a plan with Eissa.”
“The letter was my idea,” Eissa said proudly. “I’m going to frame it and put it on the wall as my greatest work of art. Well, my acting was the real work of art, but the letter was pretty good, too.”
He had to admit it was a good idea, and he probably never would have thought of it. If the situation had been reversed, he would have spent a week looking over the blueprints that Rupert had gotten them back in the day, and tried to figure out how to climb through an air duct, or drive a forklift through a wall or something. It was hard for him to take second chair, as he liked being the best at everything he did, but Eissa had clearly handled this in a way that he couldn’t compete with. It was only right to let her have her moment. She had earned it.
“Where did you write the letter and print it out?” Quentin asked. “And how did you get all the right names on it?”
“I used the same computer you were working on,” Eissa said. “They have everything you need right there. The names are bullshit; Tocho and I made them up. Like, who knows the names of Board members, anyway?”
Quentin’s OCD nature would have had him searching the DimCorp network for a list of the actual board members to put on
the bottom of the letter, wasting God knows how much time, and the guards probably hadn’t even glanced at them. Eissa 2, Quentin 0. He grinned, shaking his head in admiration.
“She played an excellent lawyer,” Tocho said. “I told her that she needed to be a combination of tough drill sergeant and arrogant executive who’s used to getting her way.”
“That was the fun part,” Eissa said. “That’s the part I want to do again. We walked up to the security guy at the door, and I was like, ‘Take us to the security headquarters, right the fuck now,’ and he was like ‘Yes ma’am, please don’t kill me, yada yada.’ The guy at the desk was even better. He didn’t even read the letter.”
“She told him to stand at parade rest,” Tocho said, snorting with laughter. “He was sitting there, and she said, ‘You better stand at parade rest when you address me, mister,’ and he said ‘what?’, and then she just tore him apart. I thought he was going to cry.”