"I'm not sure I heard you correctly," remarked Dr. Elmer Wilkerson, looking a bit flabbergasted as he stood in the middle of his client's living room. The psychiatrist looked out of place there, totally out of his element. "You say you have a what in your house?"
Andrew Cullins smiled from his seat in front of the fireplace. The flames nearby flickered and popped by his feet. "You heard me, doctor. Now sit down. I'm paying enough for this session, so at least humor me."
"Very well." Dr. Wilkerson sat, choosing the half-moon-shaped leather couch just across from Andrew's large recliner. "You have to forgive me, Mr. Cullins. Someone in my profession doesn't make very many house calls."
Andrew nodded, taking a sip of his gin and tonic. "I suppose I can understand that. Do you want anything to drink before we get started?" he offered plainly.
"No, nothing," said Elmer. "I don't drink when I'm on the job. Now, shall we begin?"
"Definitely. I suppose I'm paying for every minute you're here. I might as well make use of it. How does this work? Do I just start talking, or do you ask me questions?"
"Well, whatever's more comfortable for you," answered the psychiatrist, "but I suppose I'll begin with a simple question. What makes you think you have a tiny woman in your house?"
Andrew sighed and took another sip of his drink. "I don't just think I have one," he replied insistently. "I know I do. I've seen her. Several times. In fact, I'm absolutely certain she's in the room with us right now, listening to this conversation. I wouldn't be surprised if she was laughing her little head off, too."
The doctor paused, straining to see if he could hear anything that resembled a distant giggle. Nothing came to him, though. He heard only the steady crackling from the warm fire near his feet.
"Very well," said Dr. Wilkerson with a patience borne of years of experience, "I'll take you at your word. When was the first time you realized you had a miniature house guest?"
"Late in the fall," came the answer. "When we had that really bad first snowstorm of the season. I didn't know it was a woman at first, of course. I thought I had mice, perhaps, or maybe rats. Food kept disappearing, you see, and occasionally I caught glimpses of movement when I came into a room. A flash of a dark shape near the floor, but nothing else. I even put out mousetraps, but they kept getting tripped somehow, and the bait never got taken. I tried poison and the like, but no luck. Whatever was stealing my food just moved up into the cabinets and started eating from sealed containers. That's when I examined some of the cuts made in the plastic, and figured out it wasn't any teeth or claws that made those marks. More like a teeny-tiny knife."
"I see," said the psychiatrist, not making any attempt to take notes. He simply sat back and listened carefully. "Is that what made you conclude it was a miniaturized woman?"
"I didn't know it was a woman at first," explained Andrew, "but it was definitely a tiny person. It was very cold outside by then, as you know--this is the worst winter of the century, isn't it? I figured they came in here for the warmth, and got stuck here till spring."
"Do you have any idea why a tiny person would be in your house?" asked Elmer, his voice thick with curiosity.
"No, and it's not for lack of asking. I tried to talk to her. Whenever I saw one of those flashes of motion, I called out a great deal of questions. Who are you, why are you here, how can I help you, that sort of thing. I never got an answer. Eventually, though, I got a couple of good looks, usually from around a corner when she didn't know I could see her. That's how I found out it was a woman."
"What does she look like?" asked the doctor curiously. "Describe her as best you can."
"All right," said Andrew, "I'll try. Once, I was watching television and got up to go get a snack. She was in the kitchen, sneaking around on the countertop, probably looking for food. I thought about rushing in to grab her, and probably could've done it, too, but something about her just entranced me. She was dressed all in black, like a little catsuit or something, but with heavy boots and gloves. Her hair was long and blonde, but a bit messy--attractive, but definitely in need of a trim. And from what I could see of her face, she was very pretty. No, not pretty. Beautiful. Gorgeous, in fact."
Dr. Wilkerson didn't reply, but raised his eyebrows in an almost accusing fashion. Andrew immediately nodded and emitted a long sigh. "Yeah, I know what you're thinking--a figment of my imagination, right? A little fantasy elf that lives in my house! Well, she's not in my head, Doctor! She's real. I can't prove it, though, unless she chooses to come out and show herself, but I assure you, she's as real as you or I."
"I believe you," said Elmer with an even tone that didn't suggest one way or the other that he meant what he said. "But back to your story. You said you had a chance to capture her, but didn't. Why is that?"
"Well," admitted Andrew, "I was kind of stunned by how beautiful she was, and how amazingly small. Yeah, I've seen the pictures and read about miniaturization, but I never saw anyone like that for real. She moved with complete grace and confidence, too. I suppose I would've expected somebody three inches high to be scared or bewildered, but not her. She looked totally at home--like being that size was completely natural."
"And you didn't reveal yourself?"
"No, but she spotted me very quickly. As she ran across the counter, she kept constantly looking around, as if afraid she'd be attacked at any moment. I suppose at that size, she had to be worried about such things. She had several weapons I could see, including something long and sharp in her right hand--a needle, I think. There was a little backpack, too, made out of folded-up cloth.
"Anyway, after she got past my dish drainer, she spotted my head peeking around the corner. The instant she saw me, she reversed course, running with amazing speed back to the counter's edge and disappearing from sight. I thought she must've jumped, but when I got over there, I found a line of thread attached to a tiny grappling hook made out of a staple. She must've slid down and darted under the counter somewhere. I tried calling out, appealing that I wouldn't hurt her, but I got nothing. I've tried talking to her a lot, you know. Not just questions. Sometimes I just tell her about my day at work. She never replies."
"Did you try calling the authorities?"
"No," answered Andrew, sipping once again on his drink. "I suppose I should've, but what good would that do? She obviously doesn't want to be found. I don't think she's a spy--I'm fairly well off, but I'm a simple businessman without any secrets to steal. Something must've happened to her that put her on the run, and that's how she wound up here. If I call the police or anyone like that, they'll just tear my place up looking for her, and she'll probably flee out into the snow. I wouldn't want to be responsible for driving her out into that bitter cold."
"All right," said Dr. Wilkerson, "what is it you want from me, then? I must admit I'm a little bit confused. You insist she's real, and yet you won't call the authorities...I'm not entirely sure how I can help you."
Andrew set down his drink. "Oh, I'm afraid I haven't made myself quite clear," he replied with a smile. "You're not here to help me. I want you to help her."
That time, Andrew distinctly heard something behind him--almost inaudible, but there nonetheless. A gasp of surprise, perhaps? Andrew grinned and looked to see if the doctor noticed, but Elmer didn't seem to react, except to raise his eyebrows with renewed interest. "Help her?" he asked curiously. "In what way?"
"Well, I've had a lot of time to think about it," Andrew told him. "I kept wondering why she wouldn't come out and talk to me, no matter how hard I tried. That's when I decided I needed you. I want you to convince her to let me see her. Just talk face to face. After that, if she wants to stay hidden, she can have the run of the house and I'll leave her alone."
Dr. Wilkerson sighed. "I'm not sure how I'm supposed to do that, Mr. Cullins. Most of my job depends on me being able to listen to another's problems. If she won't speak to me, I can't see how I can help."
"Just try, Doctor. That's all I ask."
Elmer narrowed his eyes, considering the request. Definitely the strangest house call I've ever made, he thought to himself, but it's Andrew's money, after all. What can I possibly say, though…?
He tried to put himself in the place of a tiny woman taking refuge in a wealthy bachelor's house. Why wouldn't she come out? If Andrew gave an accurate description, she didn't seem all that afraid of being small. On the other hand, if she was as beautiful as Andrew suggested, perhaps she had something to be afraid of after all. Maybe she'd been abused in the past, and feared the same thing might happen to her again.
"Okay, I'll try," the psychiatrist said after a long delay. "Miss, I don't know if you can hear me or not, but I believe I understand your difficulty. You're very small, and you don't know if you can trust this man. Perhaps you've had a bad experience--I've read about some of the things tiny women like yourself have had to put up with. I can understand that. You can't keep hiding, though. Sooner or later you're going to have to trust someone."
He listened for a reply, but heard nothing except the faint crackling of the nearby fire. Andrew gave a kind of half-grin and looked over at Dr. Wilkerson. "I'll play Devil's advocate, if you don't mind," he said wryly. "If I were her, my question to you would be: Why should I?"
"What do you mean?" replied Elmer. "Sooner or later, she's going to need help."
"Not necessarily," Andrew replied, imagining what the tiny woman might say in her defense. "What if she's perfectly fine being small? What if she didn't think she ever needed help from anyone?"
"I see," Elmer agreed, nodding and once again turning to address the rest of the seemingly empty room. "All right, miss, let's assume that's the case. You don't feel like you have any need for help. You're invisible at your size, and totally self-sufficient. You have weapons to defend against animals and insects, and can scavenge for food to your heart's content. Think about it, though. Surely that can't be all there is for you--endlessly moving from house to house, hiding from everyone, stealing what you need to survive. What if you get hurt or sick? What if you make a mistake, and someone or something catches you? What if you just get lonely? You have to know that sooner or later you'll need somebody. No one is an island, no matter how small they are."
Again, nothing happened. They waited for about a minute, the silence broken only by a burnt-out log shifting in the fire. "Very good, Doctor," said Andrew after a while. "Now let me add one final thing, and you can go." He turned in the general direction of the gasp he heard earlier. "If you can hear me out there, I make you this promise. I just want to talk to you, nothing more. I'll help you if you want, or leave you alone--whatever you choose. Just let me meet you, face to face. If you don't trust me, I'll understand. You can stay near one of your escape holes the entire time. I haven't tried to close them up, you know. That should count for something, shouldn't it? Just give me a chance, okay?"
Again, silence reigned. Andrew waited another minute, and finally let his shoulders slump. After sucking down the last of his drink, he set the glass aside and got to his feet. "Well," he said resignedly, "it was worth a shot. You can go, Doctor. Thanks for your time this evening. Be sure to add a ten percent tip to your bill when you mail it to me. I'll cover your driving expenses as well."
"Of course, Mr. Cullins. Good evening to you."
The psychiatrist pulled on his scarf and heavy coat. Andrew showed him to the door and watched as the aging doctor wearily made his way through the foot-deep snow to his car and drove carefully away. Andrew shook his head and tried to imagine a tiny woman trying to slog through what would to her be towering snowdrifts. There's no way she'd ever get more than a few dozen feet before freezing to death.
He sat back down in his chair without refilling his drink. The fire flickered warmly nearby, coating his entire body in a yellow-orange glow. Idly, he wondered if his tiny houseguest enjoyed the comforting heat as much as he did. Perhaps she lurked underneath his chair even now, basking in the glow of the flames a few feet away. He liked the idea that she appreciated it, but he didn't quite know why.
Sighing, he settled back into the seat. Why did he care, anyway? What difference did it really make if she came out or not? He'd gone for almost a month now without one word from her. Why did it matter?
Truth be told, Andrew was lonely. His 40th birthday loomed ever closer with each passing day, and he had no family to speak of. Although he dated in his twenties, he never found the woman for him, and not for lack of eligible applicants. He just never saw the need to take a wife, and still didn't have any interest in that sort of thing. Still, every time he finished a long day at work, he always came home to the same empty house. Now, for the first time in years, he had someone else here with him, and the building didn't seem all that empty any more. For some reason, he liked that feeling. He liked it a lot.
As he mulled that over, a very light tapping sounded from close by his feet. He froze, listening to the noise over the crackling of the fire. Footsteps, he thought. I'm sure of it. The little patter made its way across the bricks in front of the fireplace and stopped close by the protective screen. He waited, holding his breath, but heard nothing more.
Carefully, cautiously, he lifted up his head to peer over the armrest. To his surprise, a tiny figure in black stood silhouetted in front of the flames. Her golden hair glinted in the dancing lights. She didn't look his way at all, but kept her back to him, staring into the flickering flames. After a taking a long moment to gather her thoughts, she finally spoke. The voice sounded very light and airy, and only barely audible.
"All right," she said in a resigned tone of voice. "You can talk to me if you like. I think you earned it."
"Face to face," he replied slowly, trying to steady his wildly beating heart. She's finally responding to me! "That's the deal," he added insistently.
She turned. Those lovely, angelic little features stared back at him, tiny mouth curled up in a faint smile. Eyes of glittering green flashed up at him as she spoke. "Very well," she agreed, sitting down on the bricks and crossing her legs. "Talk all you want. Just don't try to stand up. If you move, I'll be gone faster than you can spit."
"I've no intention of moving," he assured her. "I've seen you several times, you know. I could've grabbed you--"
"You could've tried," she interjected. "I've dodged lots of things bigger and faster than you."
"I didn't try," he answered. "I hope that counts for something."
"Well, yeah, it does. Why do you think I agreed to come out here?"
"You could've come at any time. Why now?"
She shrugged. "Seemed like the right thing to do, after you obviously spent a lot of money trying to convince me. Besides, now that the shrink knows I'm here, I don't have to worry about you caging me."
"Why's that?"
"Because he'll come back," she replied with a shrug. "He can't help himself. He'll drop in unexpectedly a few times, just to see if he can spot me. You just watch."
Andrew nodded. "Okay, maybe you're right. Makes sense, I suppose. It hardly matters, though. I'm not going to make a captive of you. Even if I tried, I suspect I'd never be able to hold you for long."
"Damn straight," replied the tiny blonde, settling back a little bit more comfortably. In total contrast to her size, she all but oozed self-confidence. "So tell me, what is it you wanted to talk about? Why is it so important we have this conversation?"
"I just want to talk to you," he answered with a shrug. "I'm curious about you, that's all. You moved in without my permission, and you've been sponging off me for so long, I figure you at least owe me an explanation."
She raised an eyebrow, nodding. "Nice attitude, but you've got a point. If you must know, I'm a fugitive. I'm wanted for some...mistakes I made in the past. Things I regret now. I'm not so much afraid of you as of someone capturing me and turning me in. It's not being in prison that I hate so much--it's the thought of being put back to normal size."
"Excuse me?" Andrew stared at her uncomprehendingly. "You actually want to stay like you are? Tiny, I mean?"
"Sure," she replied with a pretty little smile. "When I'm small, I feel like I can do anything. I've been this way for years. The last thing I want is to be restored."
"Well, if it's any consolation, I can promise I have no intention of doing that to you. I'm not the sort to force things on others. You're welcome to stay here all winter if you like. All I ask is you talk to me every once in a while. This house can be really quiet, especially when it's cold outside like this. I won't try to touch you or pick you up, either. I promise."
She nodded. "That's good. Can I get you to do me a favor, though?"
"Sure," he agreed immediately.
"Just sit there," she asked. "Sit completely still, and don't move, okay? Not one muscle, or I'm outta here."
"Whatever you ask," he replied with a nod.
The tiny woman stood up and moved quickly forward, out of sight. Andrew didn't shift to try to see her, obeying her instructions implicitly. A moment later, her head appeared over the side of the chair, much to his surprise. Again, he froze stock still as she pulled herself up onto the armrest, next to his elbow. She moved gracefully, like a tiny feline, and didn't seem at all fazed or tired by the climb.
Now he could see her much more clearly than before. She was indeed stunningly beautiful, with a curvaceous figure wrapped entirely in a black leather catsuit complete with miniature belt, boots, and gloves. She kept the top zipped up to her neck, revealing no skin at all, except the creamy complexion of a perfectly oval face. The outfit didn't hide her svelte figure or the swell of her bosom, though. She might've been only three inches high, but every one of those inches was one hundred percent woman.
As Andrew stared at the lovely doll-like figure, she began to climb carefully up his arm. With each step she took, chills ran up and down his spine. The little beauty stopped on his shoulder, teeny hands on teeny hips, and stared directly into his eyes. "Well?" she asked curiously. "We're face to face now. Am I everything you hoped for?"
"Yes," he agreed instantly, without even thinking about it. "You're absolutely perfect."
For a moment she paused, cocking her head slightly. Then she smiled. "Good answer," she told him, sitting down on his shoulder as if meant to be there. "You know, I wasn't sure I could trust you, Andrew. I've been watching you for a long time. This isn't the first time I've climbed up on you, but this is the first time you've been awake to see me."
"Really?" He probably should've been surprised, but nothing about this woman surprised him anymore.
"Yeah," she replied with an impish grin. "I've been studying you very carefully, Andrew Cullins. You seem like a decent enough guy, but I've been burned before. Burned very badly. You were right, though. You and that doctor."
"Right about what?" he wondered, still somewhat dazed by the nearness of such a beautiful, tiny little creature.
"That I'm not an island," she replied with a sad shake of her head. "I've been alone for so very long, I forgot I needed other people. Do you know why I stayed here, Andrew? Not because of the weather. I could've left any time, just by sneaking into your car. I've hitchhiked like that hundreds of times. I stayed because…well, because you talked to me. You talked like I was a friend, even though you didn't know a thing about me. And I think I needed that. I needed that more than I ever suspected."
"Me, too," he agreed. "I never knew how much I needed to talk until I started talking to you."
"I thought about leaving often," she went on. "I never stay in one place very long, especially not once I've been seen. You didn't try to tell anyone about me, at least not until today, and I can understand that. You also didn't try to dig me out of the walls, or set traps to catch me. I don't have a real home, you know. I just wander around from place to place. Every time I move, I take a chance of getting hurt or captured. This is the first time I ever really felt safe anywhere."
"I'm glad to hear that," he replied, obviously gratified to hear her explanation. "I'm happy you stayed, and I hope you don't go any time soon."
Her response came after a few seconds of pondering. "I don't think I will," she said very quietly.
Andrew nodded, pleased. "So where do we go from here?"
"Well," she answered, getting to her feet and making her way back down his arm, "I'm not sure. I gave you what you wanted--a face to face meeting. That's all I'm ready for right now. Maybe tomorrow night we can talk again, if you're up to it."
"I will be," he agreed, hoping this would be the start of better things to come. "I promise."
"Good," she answered as she dropped back down to the floor. He watched with interest as she collected her gear from its spot by the chair and darted off towards the corner. "Oh, and thanks for letting me share your fire. It's been a long time since I got to enjoy something like that. Good night, Andrew."
"Good night. Oh, wait!" he called out just as she started to vanish around the corner. "You know my name, but you never told me yours."
"Oh, sorry," she called out. "I forgot all about that. My name is Wendy. Wendy Sugarton. See you tomorrow, Andrew."
Before he could blink, she was gone.
They came for me two days later. I knew they would--the only question was how long it'd take for them to show up.
I resigned myself to my fate the moment Andrew started talking to that analyst hack about me. What would Dr. Wilkerson do the instant he got back to his office, do you think? That's right, he'd plop down at his computer and start typing in a report. Probably look around for similar cases, that sort of thing--and unless he's got his wireless hookup turned off for some reason, whatever he does will get flagged by software designed to look for that sort of stuff. I figured it'd be maybe twelve hours before somebody came knocking on his door.
Of course, I didn't do myself any favors telling Andrew my real name. I could've just lied, of course, and given him any old name at all. So why say Wendy Sugarton when I could've been Jane Doe? Good question, and I spent the rest of that night wondering that very same thing.
I suppose by then I'd already decided it's time to move on. Yeah, there's a blizzard going on outside, but who cares? At three point three inches high, I'm pretty resilient, and cold hardly bothers me, as long as I keep moving. Plus I've got enough supplies to survive quite a while out there. I've been through worse. Much worse.
Why leave Andrew's place, though? I liked it there...I wasn't lying when I said those things to my giant host, y'know. I needed someone to talk to--I'd needed that for a long time. By then, weeks had passed since I last spoke to another human being--a drunk who thought he was seeing things, curled up with his bottle in a dark alley in some forgotten corner of downtown Denver. Not one of my better nights, I admit, but at least I had company. Half the time I didn't know if he spoke to me or to himself, and damn did his breath stink!
Andrew, though...well, he's someone I'd come to like quite a bit since I moved into his place a couple months ago. I'd been heading across the country, you see, not really going anywhere in particular, not even really sure what I wanted. You've no idea what it's like for me, do you? Ever since I slipped out of that maglev station under a cloud of smoke, I've been on the run. I'm a fugitive, after all, and I know if I'm ever caught, not only am I going to prison, they'll also restore me to normal size. As far as I'm concerned, I don't ever want to be any bigger than this ever again. I'm the Sole Survivor, don't forget. I don't need anyone except myself, and every minute of every hour, I proved that to myself, beyond a shadow of a doubt.
Every day went pretty much the same way. I'd get up in the morning, eat some of whatever food supplies I'd collected the day before, and take stock of my situation. Then I'd set little goals for myself. If I needed food or water, that's what I'd go after first. Nothing else took precedence over that. Once I had enough to last me through the next morning, I could start thinking about what else I needed or wanted. Some days, I'd forage enough right away, but other times, it might be hours before I found supplies. On the worst days, I might go to bed hungry, but that didn't happen often. There's plenty of food or water around if you know where to look.
If I didn't need the basic necessities, I'd see if I needed anything else--weapons, clothing, tools, whatever. I had to travel light, y'know, so sometimes I couldn't bring everything I found with me. Other times I'd lose supplies in combat--weapons have a tendency to get stuck in the hides of giant animals, which run off with them, leaving me disarmed. Believe me, you don't want to be unarmed at my size! Good thing I'm quick and can jump farther than most creatures expect, or I would've been critter chow long ago.
Anyway, if I didn't really need any supplies, then I'd usually travel. I didn't like to stay in one place too long. Although I like to pretend I'm invisible, that's not really true. People see me all the time, and since damn near everybody has a cell phone, that means they've all got cameras. It only takes one photo posted on the net and people start snooping around. Fortunately, there's so many hoaxes and fakes out there that by the time anyone of any real importance shows up to look for me--if anybody even bothers--by that time I'm long gone.
The only exception I made to this policy came if I found some kind of luxury, something that made me want to stick around. For example, I spent a week in Phoenix living underneath an outdoor hot tub in some well-to-do neighborhood. Every night, this couple would show up, climb in, talk about the day's events, get gradually drunk, and make out. Afterwards, they'd forget to switch the tub off, so after they went inside, and I gave the filters time to do their work, I'd treat myself to a late-night swim, along with whatever they'd left in their wine glasses. Ah, total bliss right there! Too bad it didn't last--they were having an affair, as it turns out, and the woman's husband showed up one night to break up their little tryst. After that, the hot tub got left alone, and I didn't want to switch it on myself for fear of attracting attention.
I left the next day, hoping to maybe find another similar place in a nearby yard, but somebody saw me when his dog started barking as I crept through the grass. I managed to get into a drainpipe, fortunately, and he tried to get me out with a lawn tool. Persistent bastard, that one. After that, I figured the word's out about me, so I headed for the nearest street and hitched a ride.
It's not all that hard to travel long distances at my size, really. Getting onto a car is an easy thing. Just slip through the grass to the nearest curb, wait for someone to pull up to a stop sign, and leap onto the bumper. For trucks it's even easier--lots of things to grab onto. I usually use a grappling hook, if I've got one, just to make sure I don't slip off and wind up sprawling in the street. That's not a really good place to be when you're this small.
Once I'm on board, I just slide into the nearest crack or crevice, scrape out the dead bugs and rust, and make myself at home until the car gets where it's going, or I get bored and hop off at the next light or stop sign. To amuse myself, I try to keep track of turns and guess at how many miles I've gone. Every now and then I'll wind up out in the middle of nowhere, like when I spent two nights slinking around a campground at Big Sur, or another time I found myself stuck in the long-term parking lot at the Albuquerque airport. Those weren't exactly my best memories, but what can I say--I do love a challenge.
The thing is, I never really knew where I'd wind up after any of these little trips. I really had no idea, and mostly didn't care, as long as I didn't stick around in the same place too long. Oh, I toyed with the idea of moving into someplace or other and becoming a "Borrower," but I never really cared for that idea much. Not that I had anything against stealing, because I did that sort of crap all the time, but more because someone might figure out some way to catch me. That's the only thing I really feared, y'know. Rats, dogs, birds, cats--not a problem. But getting grabbed and thrown in a cage...well, that's the sort of thing that makes me wake up at night in a cold sweat.
I already told you I didn't ever want to be restored to full size, and sometimes I talk like it's my worst fear, but that's not what really scares me--it's the thought of being imprisoned, and having my freedom taken away. If they put me back to normal, I suppose I could deal with that, but I really couldn't stand getting thrown in prison. And if I get grabbed by some random citizen and kept in a cage, that's pretty much the same thing. I could probably take the abuse that would follow--I put up with that shit for months back in the Compound, don't forget--but being cooped up for long would drive me crazy. So that's why I didn't ever really try to move into anybody's place.
Well, everything changed that winter, when I wound up in Colorado Springs during that first snowstorm. I had no way of knowing, but I'd picked the very worst year to visit the Rockies in December. They were about to get hit by the proverbial "storm of the century," or so the weather stations called it. I'd been hitching rides on cars all day, trying to get onto one that might head for the highway, so I could hopefully head south. No such luck. They kept going to supermarkets and such, their drivers buying up enough food to last a while indoors. I didn't know it, but they'd already closed all the airports, so nobody could get out of the area, and the nearby residents just hunkered down to wait it out. Living in this area, I suppose you get used to that sort of thing.
In any case, that's how I wound up with Andrew. I'd hopped off another vehicle in a Safeway parking lot, and though I can put up with the cold well enough at my size, it's not terribly enjoyable. You can't rest or stop moving, or you start to freeze. Needless to say, I didn't feel like waiting an hour or more for the driver to return with his purchases, so I watched the other customers coming and going. By this point I'd seen the writing on the wall, and figured I'd have to move in with someone until this all blew over. So I waited, evaluating everyone who went by, looking for a likely candidate. Finally, I spotted Andrew pushing a cart all by his lonesome.
Even in today's enlightened society, you generally don't see guys doing their own shopping, unless they're single. I hopped up onto his cart as it went past, climbed up to the bags, and had a look inside. Sure enough, no tell-tale kid stuff or pet food as far as I could see. Perfect. I didn't want to move in with someone who had children or pets, after all. Bad idea!
So I crawled into one of the bags and waited while he loaded up his fuelcell SUV. Another good sign--a minivan would mean kids for sure. I kept quiet as he drove off, figuring he'd go home, but he didn't. Instead, he went back to his office, got out of the car, and went inside. I guess he didn't get the day off, but used his lunch break to hit the store before they sold out of anything. He didn't buy anything perishable, either--he stuck with the kind of things that wouldn't spoil if he lost power. Smart guy.
Anyway, I had to sit there the rest of the afternoon, waiting patiently, since getting out would've been hard. The worst part was resisting the temptation to break into the food, which would've given my presence away. At least the car stayed reasonably comfortable, especially when I wriggled in amidst a couple of loaves of bread.
Finally, after what seemed like forever, he came back with a couple armloads of work supplies--again, probably in case he got stuck working at home for a while because of the weather. After scraping off the windows, he drove off, taking his sweet time on the slippery roads before finally reaching his house and driving straight into the garage. I waited patiently while he unloaded the vehicle, knowing he'd have to spend several trips going back and forth to get all his groceries inside. Once he set my bag on the counter, I only needed a moment alone to slip out and hide behind the toaster. Patience is all you really need sometimes when you're like this, so I just hung out there until he finished putting everything away, and then worked my way down to the floor and behind the refrigerator.
I spent a lot of time living there, actually. Normal-sized people have no idea how much room there is behind the fridge. Yeah, it's dirty, but I'm no stranger to that. Besides, I only had to steal one dishrag and haul it back there, and I had a nice clean blanket to wrap myself up in for the night. Considering the sort of places I usually slept, this felt like a wonderful luxury.
After that I just made myself at home. From the weather reports I listened in on, I wouldn't be leaving any time soon, so I might as well enjoy it, right? I figured keeping a low profile would be best, so I started out staying hidden whenever Andrew was about. No sense letting him know he had a little houseguest. I could've kept that up forever, probably, coming out only when he went to work, and making sure I left everything exactly the way I found it. If I'd really wanted to, anyway.
The thing is, I started making mistakes. At first I got angry at myself for slipping up--making a noise that got Andrew's attention, or taking pieces of food he'd be sure to notice went missing. But it turns out you don't always need a psychoanalyst to figure out things about yourself, especially when you've got a lot of idle time, which I found myself enjoying all of a sudden. And what did I figure out? Simple--I really wanted to be caught.
Yeah, I know--sounds silly, right? Me, the Sole Survivor, the independent fugitive scared to death of being imprisoned, actually wanting to be caught? That's what I realized, though, and yeah, it surprised me, too. See, I didn't exactly want to be caught and put in a cage--but the act of getting caught, well…that didn't bother me so much. In fact, I started fantasizing about it, I'm afraid, much as I hate to admit it.
Maybe it's the proximity to a man that set me off. I hadn't let Andrew know about me quite yet, though he might've suspected, but I'd certainly noticed him. As you might recall, I'm bisexual, but unlike a lot of my kind, I don't really lean towards one or the other. I really don't care if it's a man or a woman, as long as they give me what I want. Since I loathe the idea of anything moving around inside of me, whatever they're doing needs to stay outside my body--and either a man or a woman can take care of that equally well.
Something about Andrew got to me, though. I watched him often, from my hiding places, strangely intrigued. I kept imagining myself held in his hand, with his fingers massaging me in all the right places. It's probably just because I'd gone so long without human contact, but my subconscious (and conscious) desires started working their way into my daily behavior. I'd take risks, make noises, crawl around on counters, poke around corners...all sorts of things, just to taunt him, and make him think about me, like I kept thinking about him. At night, when he'd fall asleep, I'd climb up on top of him and imagine what might happen if he woke up. I'd do all kinds of crazy, stupid things like that, all the time, because I got bored, and I wanted attention despite myself.
So why didn't I just let him catch me, then? Mostly because he wouldn't really try. I expected some kind of effort, I suppose, considering the usual reaction people have to my presence, but not this guy. Once he realized I wasn't just a mouse rummaging around in his cabinets, he stopped putting out traps and just started talking to me. He'd come home from work and tell me about his day, and occasionally ask me to come out--never begging, though. If he'd swung too far that direction, gotten too emotional, or anything like that, I wouldn't have anything to do with him. Same if he'd been too aggressive. But no, Andrew stayed right on the straight-and-narrow, accepting me like he would any normal visitor, and I suppose that's what made me finally decide to come out of hiding in the end.
Well, that and the fact that I'm just too stubborn to let him just catch me without a fight. No matter how much I wanted to be caught, I wouldn't just surrender and let him take me. Not until that damn psych doctor showed up, anyway. He said all the right things, and so, I stepped out of the shadows and let Andrew see me at last.
Much to my surprise, he didn't try to grab me, or anything like that. He seemed completely taken with me, actually. I know I'm rather good-looking--they used to fight over me, out on the streets--and I'd actually cleaned myself up before giving Andrew a good look. I've never been shy, or tried to hide myself--and God knows I've used my body as a weapon often enough. Standing there on Andrew's shoulder, though, while he just stared in awe at me...well, that made me feel something I hadn't felt in a long time. A very long time.
I'd been debating with myself up until then whether or not I'd give him my trust--whether I'd let him hold me, and maybe do something more--but at the last second I decided not to. I wasn't sure if I wanted to let things go that far, especially since I didn't plan to stay much longer. I'd already let this go on too long already, after all. The doctor would surely give me away now, and I didn't want any kind of attachment forming. So I told Andrew my name, said I'd see him tomorrow, and retreated into my hiding place near the fire. He went to bed shortly thereafter, and I didn't follow.
Instead, I took another risk. I came out of the hole and curled up in front of the fire, on a scrap of cloth I'd been using as a bed. I let myself go to sleep there in the open for the first time since fleeing the maglev station. The last time I did that was with Lou, when I thought he and I were in love. I didn't want to ever feel that way again, because I knew it wouldn't last. How close did I dare to get, this time...?
When I woke up the next morning, I found a little breakfast waiting for me--a chunk of bacon, some cereal and a shot glass full of orange juice. He'd managed to fix all that and set it nearby without waking me up, which spoke volumes about how comfortable I'd become in this place. Andrew wasn't there, having already left for work, but he hadn't tried to do anything to me. I'm not sure why, but I felt strangely disappointed. I think I wanted a fight, and he just refused to go down that road.
Damn, I thought. An actual nice guy! What the hell am I supposed to do now?
I didn't know. I spent the rest of the day trying to figure it out. I paced around and watched TV, another luxury I didn't often enjoy. I tried reading, and even did a little exercising--not like I really needed it, because just getting around at my size is a workout in itself, but it passed the time. Mostly I just went over and over in my head what I should do next, but I never really came to a decision, and next thing I know it's six o'clock and Andrew's coming in the front door.
Any other day I would've run for cover, but not today. In fact, it never even occurred to me to hide. That's how quickly everything changed, and while I felt scared, it wasn't out of honest fear. I feared what I'd become, in the last few weeks living here. I remember thinking, Goddammit, I've been domesticated!
I can't let this happen, I told myself, but I still didn't run when Andrew came in. This isn't right. This isn't me. I'm not a pet. I don't want to be someone's pet. Not for long, anyway. Maybe just a little while...
He saw me at once and approached cautiously, setting down his briefcase and sitting down on the floor. "How was your day, Wendy?" he inquired, trying to sound casual, but I could hear the uncertainty in his voice. He probably expected me to flee at any second.
"Boring," I answered. "Do you think you could build a little amusement park for me when you get a chance?"
He laughed and relaxed immediately. "If you want, I could try to whip something up. Whatever makes you comfortable. I don't like that you've been sleeping in the walls or wherever it is you hide. You should let me take care of you."
I smiled at that. "I don't need to be taken care of, Andrew, but I appreciate the sentiment. I also appreciate you letting me sleep this morning, and of course the breakfast. You didn't have to go to all that trouble."
"No problem at all," he told me. "You've been scrounging for food so long, I thought maybe you'd like a real meal. If you have any requests, let me know."
"Well, since you asked, I wouldn't mind some dinner," I agreed at once. "I haven't had a hot meal in a long time. I've seen you cooking before, but you're so quick to clean up, I never got a chance at leftovers. Just fix whatever you'd normally make and let me sample some--that's all I ask."
He agreed, and headed off to do just that. I waited patiently as he did his work in the kitchen. Even as I salivated at the thought of an actual fresh, hot meal, I fretted over what would come next. Did I really want to let this happen? I knew I wanted it, and I figured he probably did, too, but was this really fair to him? I knew I wouldn't be staying--by this time tomorrow, I'd probably be long gone. What right did I have to let him get emotionally attached to me, and then just disappear?
Knowing what you probably know about me, you must be thinking, is this really Wendy Sugarton saying all this stuff? What, you think I'm some kind of ruthless, heartless bitch, huh? Yeah, I can see how I might've been portrayed that way. You've read that book and seen that movie, and Wendy's the spy in the owners' camp, the one who betrayed everyone, and tried to kill herself, and then sided with Lou Hamilton in his attempt to start another Compound. Well, if that's it, then you really don't know jack shit about me, do you?
Before I wound up at the Compound, I lived a pretty crappy life as a strung-out junkie living on the streets, eking out a living selling myself to anyone who'd pay, watching pimps duke it out for the right to put me on the market. I would've died out there someday, I'm sure. I only started working at the Sidewinder to make enough cash for my next hit.
Beth Fitzgerald knew all that, I think. She must've known. Maybe she eased her conscience when she put me in that matchbox, thinking she'd done me a favor. She really did, though, whether she knew it or not. In the Compound, I broke the drug habit, and now the men couldn't abuse me the way they used to. I liked it there, I really did. I know it sounds impossible to understand, but for someone living the life I'd been living, it felt like a little piece of heaven.
Then Kate McLeary showed up and ruined it all, and not only that, they made her out to be some kind of hero! Damn, I hated her for that. No, not hate, I guess. Jealousy, that's what I really felt, I just wouldn't admit it. Later on, after Lou betrayed me, I realized Kate saved my life--twice, in fact. I still owe her for that, and if there's one thing I can't stand, it's owing somebody anything.
That's part of what bothered me about the whole Andrew situation. One thing about being this small--it's an incredibly vulnerable place to be. I'd already put myself in Andrew's power, and he declined to take advantage of it. What's that say about him? That he's not quite as corruptible as some, for one thing. For another, it means he's the heroic type, just like Kate--the sort of person who wants to help others, and as far as Andrew's concerned, a little tiny woman needs all the help she can get. So he's going to help me, I figured, and that would leave me owing him. Hell, I already owed him, just for letting me live in his house, but that's not where I expected this to end.
I didn't want to owe him anything. The only way to avoid that would be to give as well as I got--and you know what that means, if you think about it.
I figured I could handle that, though. I can deal with it, just like I've dealt with everything else so far, and make a clean break of it. For one night, I'd let my guard down, and share myself with someone, and then I could leave with a clear conscience. If I didn't, I'd wind up being Andrew's pet forever, and that's something I just couldn't stand.
By the time he finished dinner, I'd climbed up onto his kitchen table and made myself at home. He didn't ask me how I got up there, and I didn't offer an explanation, but suffice to say it's not that hard. We spent the meal just chatting about various things, like his job, and things we watched on TV, and how much longer the snow would last. In due course he asked me about myself, and I figured I'd have to tell my whole long story, but he already knew. He'd found my name on the net, it seems, and studied up on me. Not that this surprised me much--I figured he'd do something like that--but it also meant pursuit wasn't far away. I wouldn't be sleeping in the open tonight, that's for sure.
I didn't let on about that, though. I just went through with the conversation, and waited while he cleaned off the table. I could've climbed down to the floor, but I didn't. The time had come for me to let him do something I hadn't experienced since before that whole Sole Survivor business. Something I now realized I really, really desperately wanted very much.
He came back in and looked at me curiously, so I flashed a smile and put my hands on my hips, obviously waiting to be picked up. He got so nervous I thought I'd crack up laughing, but he put his palm down next to me eventually and I climbed aboard. I very much enjoyed the look on his face as he held me up, taking in the view while I stretched out leisurely in his hand. Of course, I'd planned ahead for this, dressing only in my slinky little catsuit, without any of my usual accoutrements except the boots, gloves and belt. Men really like seeing women decked out in leather and skintight outfits, don't they? Perhaps I went too far when I left the suit zipped down about halfway, but Andrew certainly didn't mind the view.
"Sorry," he mumbled after a moment. "Oh, geez, I shouldn't look at you like that, should I? Sorry, it's just you're so--so--"
"What?" I asked, trying not to giggle. I'd forgotten how much I liked being held in someone's gentle hand, like Lou used to do. I'd never seen Lou act this way, though--so tentative, so unsure of himself. I figured Andrew might fumble over his words, maybe mumble about how pretty I am, that sort of thing, but instead, he surprised me.
"You're so confident," he managed after a moment. "My God, I've never seen anyone like you before! You're not even scared, are you? How can someone so tiny be so strong, so sure of yourself? I'd expect you to cower, or scream in terror, but you're right at home like that, aren't you?"
"Yeah, I suppose I am," I answered, a bit stunned by his words. If he'd said I was gorgeous or sexy or whatever, I would've shrugged it off--I've heard crap like that before, plenty of times, by those who only wanted to get into my pants. This, though...well, I don't think he could've complemented me any better. He sure said the right thing just then, and damn if it didn't make me hot!
"I'm the one who's scared," he went on, swallowing a couple of times as he carried me out to the living room, where he carefully sat down in his easy chair. "How is it I can be so afraid of something like you?"
"I don't know," I admitted, shivering a bit as I sprawled out eagerly in his palm. "Why should you be? What can someone as tiny as me possibly do to someone as big as you?"
"Nothing, I suppose. I'm just...I'm not really sure where this is going, that's all. If you were an ordinary woman, I would've asked you out, gone on a few dates, that sort of thing. I feel like we've gone farther than that already, but hardly anywhere at all."
"Andrew," I put in, "you know I don't want any kind of relationship, right? I'm not looking for romance, or marriage, and I sure as hell don't want to be your pet." Although the way I kept cavorting around between his fingers, he probably didn't believe me.
"Oh, no, I'd never ask anything like that of you," he insisted. "It's just that--well, ever since I first saw you, I've been thinking..."
"What?" I asked.
"You've got no reason to stay here," he went on. "You really don't, do you? So why are you here? You want something from me--I've known that for a while, I suppose."
"Yeah, you've got me pegged," I commented, running my hands down my sides so he could get a good look at what I offered. "Still doesn't explain why you're so scared of me."
"Well, like I said," he went on nervously, eyes following my fingers as they swept along my ample curves, "if you were normal, I would've followed the usual script. Date one, date two, kiss, date three, date four, more kissing, maybe a sleepover, then who knows? But I can't do that with you. We've gone right past all that. You're in my hand right now because it's what you want, not what I want, and believe me, I'm not complaining, but...well..."
"What?" I demanded, spreading myself out in his hand in the hopes he'd finally get the hint. "What is it, Mr. Giant?"
"I don't really know what to do," he sighed at last. "I've got no idea what to do with you, Wendy Sugarton. So tell me what you want. Whatever it is, I'll do it."
I smiled. That's exactly what I wanted to hear.
"Well," I answered with an inevitably coquettish smile, "first off, see if you can pull this zipper down a liiiiittle bit further..."
I hadn't realized just how much I needed that kind of intimate contact until some time afterward, when I lay curled up on a pillow next to Andrew's bed. Back when I tried to run away from the world, I really thought I could carry on my Sole Survivor act forever, but I just couldn't keep up the façade any longer. I need people, damn it, even if only for a brief moment or two, every now and then.
That's how I thought of Andrew. I refused to let myself get too close. Even as he slowly stripped off my clothes and ran his fingers over me, those strong, gentle fingers...giving me everything I asked for, and more...dammit, even now, just thinking about that gives me chills! Sighhh..
Anyway, even as he pleasured me, making me feel like a real woman again for the first time in months, I wouldn't let myself think of him as someone I could care about. I forced myself to imagine him as...well, a tool, I guess, though I hate to use that word quite like that. Something I could use, though. I definitely used him--that's what I'm trying to say. That's what I insisted to myself, at least, because to let myself develop any real feelings for him would be a huge mistake.
He sure was good, though. Maybe it's just that I'd been thinking about it all day, dreaming about it, and hadn't had any physical attention for so long, but those powerful fingers roaming about my body felt something very much like heaven.
To his credit, Andrew never tried to talk about relationships or anything ridiculous like that. He played me like an instrument, and then, after he thought I'd had enough, he smiled and said goodnight. Not so fast, big man! I owed him now, so I followed him to the bedroom, sneakily climbed up his sheets, and gave as good as I got. He didn't say a word the whole time, but he sure wasn't complaining, either.
Afterwards, he cleaned me off, and kissed me goodnight, and left me on that pillow on his nightstand, probably expecting me to sleep there, but I didn't. After I'd recovered--and not for a while, mind you--I made my way back down to the floor and retrieved my clothes from the living room. They just got all scattered there for some reason, and I had to hunt for one of the gloves, but I found it eventually. Then I got all my other supplies together, made sure I had a couple of escape routes planned, and went to sleep close enough to one of my hidey-holes to get away if I could.
I slept very lightly, waking many times to some noise or other that turned out to be nothing. Twice I even raced to my escape point, thinking they'd finally shown up, but it must've been the wind. That's what I kept telling myself, anyway.
The next morning Andrew fixed me breakfast before heading off to work. We had a pleasant enough conversation, and he smiled as he left, but I think he must've known. That's what I told myself, anyway. He surely saw how I'd fully dressed myself in all my gear, at least, and I'm sure he noticed how I kept glancing towards the windows, and wouldn't meet his eyes. He never asked, though. He never said a word about it.
I figured he probably needed an explanation, so I started composing a handwritten note in my head, even as I kept my eye on the windows. What would I say? Would I talk about how much I enjoyed last night, and how I wished I'd talked to him sooner? Would I apologize for leaving and give some fake excuse? What words would I put on paper, if I could actually force myself to climb up onto the counter to find a pen and notepad?
The words wouldn't come, though. I couldn't figure out what to say. Nothing really seemed like it would work. Expressing my thoughts in writing, instead of telling him directly, sounded like pure cowardice. Why didn't I say what I meant to say at breakfast, to his face? I should've, but now I wouldn't get the chance.
My first hint that I'd run out of time came with the jogger moving by. The latest snowstorm ended yesterday evening, and sometime during the night--probably on one of the occasions a loud noise disturbed my sleep--a plow made a token effort to clear off the street. Andrew, bachelor that he was, hadn't bothered shoveling his sidewalks, and he drove one of those big quad-fuelcell SUVs that damn near everyone in this town seems to own, so he had no trouble getting down the driveway. Even so, with only one lane plowed down the street, no jogger would ever bother, no matter how hardcore. Yet I saw one go by anyhow, slipping and sliding every which way, dressed in what looked like a brand-new sweatsuit. Furthermore, twice he glanced towards the house, instead of keeping his eyes on the slick ground like he should've.
He somehow made it by, slipping in and out of view beyond the little park that occupied the adjacent lot, on the other side of a frozen stream that passed underneath the street via a large pipe. I lost sight of him momentarily, but then I saw his shadowy figure slide between a few trees in the park, further proof that he wasn't what he appeared to be. The park hadn't been plowed, and no sane jogger would run through foot-deep snow in a place like that.
Next up I saw one of those ubiquitous SUVs come along the street from the opposite direction and pull into the very same park. Yep, that's my cue to leave, I thought, wasting no further time in the house. I headed for one of my bolt-holes, slipping into the floorboard vents, and from there made my way into the walls. Dodging through some folds of insulation, I found myself in the attic, and from there, I slipped outside via a gap I'd previously cut in one of the vents. One of the first things I did when I came to this place was make sure I could get out whenever I needed to, and this escape point seemed like my best bet. From here, I had a full view of Andrew's entire back yard, protected by the shadows near one of his rain gutters.
I slipped into that hidden space and took a look around. Yep, sure enough, I spotted not one but two watchers in the woods behind the place. They probably had thermal scopes, but thanks to the sun actually being out for the first time in days, I doubted they'd be able to pick me out of the heat radiating off the walls. Just to be sure, though, I pushed my way into a clump of snow lodged behind the gutter, simultaneously hiding my heat signature and covering up my black clothing. Then, coated in frost, I swiftly descended to ground level, where I moved along the edge of the house towards the side facing the park.
The watchers still hadn't moved, so they either didn't see me or didn't have orders. I had to go out in the open now, but rather than stupidly try to cross a wide expanse of snow-covered lawn, I instead burrowed underneath like a human mole. The surface, crusted over from the sun's faint heat, didn't even twitch as I crawled along for what seemed like hours.
Yep, as you might imagine, I about froze my butt off under there, but I just kept moving, and that's what made it work. I doubt I would've made it if I stopped for even a few seconds, but I didn't, and after maybe ten minutes I poked my way through in amongst the trees at the edge of Andrew's property. Now I could see a car pulling up in front of his house, and some men getting out, dressed in the usual FBI gear. The ones in the back yard were moving now, too, taking up positions near the door. I kept still, waiting until they moved in, before making my way down to that frozen river I mentioned earlier. From there I slipped into the tunnel under the road, skating along at a leisurely pace as headed to the opposite side.
When I emerged, I saw another vehicle pull up on my side of the street. A couple of men exited, along with a familiar-looking woman. I smiled. Of course she'd be here, I thought. Kate McLeary!
She didn't look all that happy, probably because of the reports that kept coming in over her hand-held radio, telling her they hadn't found me yet. She shook her head and muttered, "Of course not. Wendy won't let herself be found that easily. Oh, well, at least it got me out of LA for a couple of days."
She moved off after exchanging some small talk (sorry, stupid expression) with the other agents. I crawled up out of the riverbed, taking care to stay out of sight, and looked around for a good place to hide where I could keep listening in without giving myself away. The house across from Andrew's had a fence, so I went under the snow again, emerging near one of the posts and staying in the shadows there. The only way they could possibly spot me now would be to get down on hands and knees and dig around a bit, but I'd see them coming and have ample time to move away.
Yeah, I know, not a perfect plan, but I had to think they'd figure I'd left long ago, and wouldn't search the surrounding yards. If they'd been serious, they would've brought dogs, or gas to knock me out. No, they'd assembled this operation hastily, probably flying Kate in yesterday evening, hoping to catch me unawares. Or maybe they thought Andrew had me prisoner in there, in a cage or something. Ha! Like I'd ever let myself get caught!
I suppose I should've taken off already, but I couldn't resist listening in a bit more to their conversation. Yeah, a stupid risk, but I couldn't help myself. Being so close to Kate emboldened me somewhat, and for whatever reason, I felt like I didn't have anything to fear from her. An illusion, of course--she'd turn me in if she got her hands on me--but still, that's how I felt.
I watched her go into the house across the street, and as she did, someone handed her a megaphone. I figured maybe she intended to talk me out, as if anything she'd say would ever work. The FBI agents on the scene didn't seem interested in locking down the place or anything like that, either. Actually, it seemed like they actually wanted to keep me inside, the way they kept watching the ground and walls all around. Maybe she just came here to talk to me? If so, they sure blew that all to hell, because I couldn't possibly hear her all the way over here.
After a few minutes, while I shifted and flexed my muscles to keep from freezing, Kate finally came out, shaking her head in defeat. She tossed the megaphone to one of the other agents and drew her finger across her throat in a cutting motion. The FBI guys instantly quit watching the house and headed back the way they'd come, some to the big SUV in the driveway, and others towards the park or through the back yard. Kate, for her part, meandered back towards her car, a smaller four-wheel-drive electric van, along with three others. None of them looked like that Mark Powers guy, her husband, though that could've meant anything. Curiously, I shifted for a better look, and saw she still wore a wedding ring. Whatever, I guess--I never really liked the idea of marriage, but I guess it works for some people.
The first SUV drove off and Kate stood there for a moment, shaking her head. "Must've left already," she said to one of the other agents. "Dammit, Dan, I really thought we might've had a chance this time."
"She might've gone with Cullins," the man nearest to her replied with a shrug. "We could raid his office, if you want."
"No, she'd never do that," insisted Kate. "She wouldn't let herself get that close to someone again. Not after what happened with Lou Hamilton. No, she must've caught wind of us somehow and ran off, or else she just didn't feel like talking. Let's just hope she heard me, and has second thoughts. She'll contact me if she wants to, and if not, well, I'll think of something else. Come on, let's get the hell out of here. I'm freezing!"
They got into the vehicle, and I hesitated for a moment, thinking about what she said even as I massaged myself to stay warm. So, Kate didn't come here to capture me--she wanted to talk to me about something. But what? What the hell did Kate McLeary need me for? What did anybody need me for?
What's more, why should I care? I frowned, wondering in that brief instant, why I had any reason to care at all. I didn't, really. No reason whatsoever.
And yet, I found myself racing out across the snow, reaching for my grappling hook as I hurried my way to the curb. The van above me started with a faint shudder and began to pull away. Without thinking, I hooked the bumper and pulled myself up, settling into place just as the vehicle headed off down the slush-covered road.
I watched Andrew's house fade out of sight behind me. I'd never see him again, I knew. We shared only that one night together, just that one amazing night, and that's all we'd ever have. That's all we ever really needed, after all. That's all I could afford.
Good thing I didn't let myself develop any feelings for you, Andrew Cullins, I whispered to myself, wiping away a stubborn little tear before it could freeze against my face.
If I thought hiding under that chilly fence or crawling through the snow was bad, I didn't know what cold really felt like. I didn't have time to get into a really nice crevice under the van, so I had to endure the plastic bumper's open interior, where the frigid wind cut right through me. Worse, I couldn't even jog back and forth or anything like that, because every little bump threatened to throw me out the gap to the icy road below. I treasured each stop we came to, taking the opportunity to shift and move about, rubbing myself repeatedly to keep from freezing.
Fortunately, they didn't go far, maybe five or six miles or so, to one of the little hotels out by the interstate. No Hiltons or Embassy Suites for these FBI guys, just a local place called the Sleepy King...guess the Bureau never got any of those funding upgrades they keep asking for, huh? I found myself giggling about that for a bit, but I suppose it might've just been the cold getting to me.
The van pulled into the parking lot, but nobody got out right away and the vehicle just sat there idling for a bit. I took the opportunity to drop down and jog back in forth for a while, getting my circulation going, but naturally I kept the grappling hook ready. If the van backed up, there were any of a dozen places I could latch on and climb up--places much better than that stupid bumper, anyway.
After a minute or two Kate got out, exchanged some words with the other agents about getting picked up later for a trip to the airport, and headed off into the tiny hotel. The van backed out of the parking space, so I ducked up against the curb, hiding in the shadow so the driver wouldn't spot me. Not that I had to worry, because nobody looks ahead of them as they back out of a parking place--they always look backwards. I, of course, didn't take my eyes off Kate.
She disappeared into the stairwell for a moment, lugging a briefcase and holding a cell phone to her ear. She still looks pretty good, I thought appreciatively. She'd let her hair grow longer, but married life hadn't made her gain any weight. The tight navy blue suit she wore clung to her in all the right places. I remember thinking she looked pretty good back when I first saw her at the Compound, but the minute I realized what a control freak she was, that turned me off instantly. I like women as much as men, but I prefer ladies submissive and guys more aggressive. I suppose that makes me a misogynist, huh? Whatever.
Anyway, so yeah, Kate looked fine enough, but her personality didn't do anything for me, so don't get the wrong idea. Doesn't stop me from looking, though, but that's not why my eyes followed her along the upstairs walkway. I wanted to see which hotel room she's staying in. After a moment, she stopped and pressed her finger against the lock on room 217. The door clicked open a moment later and she slipped inside.
Bah! Stupid fingerprint locks! Even these cheap-ass hotels have those things now. In the old days I could've swiped a key or something, but not anymore. And with it this cold outside, Kate wouldn't be opening any windows or leaving the door open for more than an instant. How could I possibly get in there?
Moreover, why did I want to go in there, anyway? Mostly just curiosity--I wanted to find out what was so godawful important that the great and powerful Kate McLoser would fly all the way to Colorado Springs to talk to me. How could I find that out, though? She's by herself up there--unless her husband showed up--so unless I overheard something on the phone, I'd have no way of finding out what she wanted.
Unless I ask her...
Yeah, right, like I'd ever reveal myself! The very idea made me shudder. Willingly give up my position to someone in the FBI? That's asking for trouble! Yet I didn't mind so much when I showed myself to Andrew, so maybe, just maybe, it could work out. Only if I had a proper escape route, though--a way to flee so fast and with such certainty that she'd never catch me, even if she called in her whole team within a few minutes.
Nah, that probably wouldn't happen. All those agents I saw before were probably from the local area, more likely the Denver offices. If they'd brought in anybody else, Mark Powers would've been here, too. So she's the only one from out of town, I figured.
I did have another reason for getting into her hotel, though--the damn weather! Even with the sun out, I still felt half-frozen, and it sure wouldn't be any better later on. So...how do I get into her hotel room, then? There had to be a way.
I spent about an hour scouting around. I hoped maybe to find a back way in, like a balcony or something, but no luck--the other side just had more hotel rooms, packed in like sardines, with only one entrance each (the front door). I could've climbed up to the second floor easily enough, but if so, there'd be no cover at all, so anybody meandering along would spot me in an instant.
Not that many people were out and about this time of the morning, but a few did come and go from time to time. In fact, while I wandered around scouting, one of those SUVs I saw back at Andrew's house showed up and a couple of FBI guys went up to Kate's room, carrying a box that looked important enough to hold very carefully. Too bad I hadn't planned for one of their visits, or maybe I could've grabbed hold of their shoes or something. Nah, probably not--too risky. I needed better cover. They didn't stick around long, anyway, apparently just delivering something. Maybe they found some evidence I'd been in Andrew's house, and were dropping it off. Or maybe they brought her a hot lunch from some local place. Who knows?
Anyhow, after they drove away, I started thinking about maybe sneaking into any room anywhere in the hotel, in the hopes of getting into the vents, but then I saw my opportunity. A housekeeper showed up, climbed the stairs, and pulled out one of those rolling supply carts from the linen closet at the end of the block of rooms. Just what I needed!
Again, this is the sort of thing that makes you appreciate a little patience. I couldn't just hop up those stairs without making sure I had an opening. I waited, watching the occasional car come and go, listening to the sounds of people passing. Finally, when I had a definite break, I scurried up the stairwell and ducked underneath the cart, wriggling in amongst the lower batch of towels.
Ahhh, wonderful warmth! I felt perfectly safe and comfortable now, the only danger being the possibility I'd fall asleep and miss Kate's room. I didn't, though, staying awake by climbing up into the supplies to keep myself amused. The cleaning lady didn't seem to be in much of a hurry, working her way along one room at a time, taking about twenty minutes for each one...starting with room 211, meaning I had to endure six other rooms before we came to Kate's.
She hadn't left her room when we got to it, either, but fortunately for me she invited the maid inside. I caught a hint of suspicion in Kate's eyes as she looked the heavyset Hispanic woman over carefully, but she didn't come over to look at the cart. Instead, she turned away, looked back at her computer, and pulled on a VR helmet, paying no further attention to her visitor. In fact, because she quickly started focusing on whatever happened to be going on inside the virtual world, I suspected she might have a minicamera in the room, so she could keep an eye on the maid at all times. I'm not sure what made me think that, but I'm naturally suspicious, and Kate's the same way. If that'd been me in there, you can bet I wouldn't let down my guard!
So anyway, now I had to actually get into the room, out of sight of any potential cameras she might've set up. The maid went about her business, taking care of the bed and trash cans, and as she did I watched Kate for telltale moves--flinching, dodging, or whatever might indicate the maid suddenly passed in front of a nearby lens. Nothing, though. Maybe she didn't have any, or maybe Kate's just better trained than I expected. Or maybe I'm just paranoid. After all, what did she really have to fear, anyway? Nobody in this little fleabag hotel would have any idea she's with the FBI, or of any importance at all. Just another paying customer, that's all--no reason for Kate to think she's in any danger whatsoever.
I found myself running out of time. The maid moved into the bathroom, disappearing from sight, while Kate kept on doing whatever virtual sim occupied her attention. I dropped down to ground level, moved to the left-hand side of the door, and slipped inside, keeping the bed between Kate and as much of the rest of the room as possible. Unfortunately, there wasn't much room to hide under the bed, because they'd blocked off the bottom with thick slabs of wood. Probably so people didn't slide stuff underneath, or so pets didn't try to hide where their owners couldn't reach them. I found a few holes and cracks here and there, but no way to get through, at least not without better tools than I had with me at the time, so I needed a better hiding place.
I moved all the way over to the left, against the wall, and climbed up onto the back of the mattress. From here, I slid into the gap and made my way across to the opposite side. While I did this, the housekeeper emerged from the bathroom, muttered something that sounded like Spanish, and departed, shutting the door loudly.
Well, I'm committed now, I told myself. No way to get out of here, and if Kate saw me come in, all she has to do is pull the mattress back and pick me up.
She didn't, though. Instead, she emitted a sigh and said out loud, "Finally, I thought she'd never leave. Mark, you there?"
I didn't hear a reply, of course. The virtual connection worked only through her headset, but of course she'd be talking to her husband. I smiled, enjoying the ability to listen in on her conversation, even as I slipped into a comfortable place on the edge of her mattress, just underneath the bedspread where I couldn't possibly be seen.
"Yeah, no luck here," Kate went on. "Wendy was a no-show. You were right, damn you." She laughed at that. "I know, I know, you're always right, you always are. Yeah, whatever. Sure. Yeah, flight leaves at four. Should be home in time for dinner. What, are you nuts? No cooking--let's go out. Okay, sure, sounds good. Love you. Bye."
Good, at least they weren't going to do anything embarrassing like virtual sex or whatever crap they're into. They didn't talk much about me, though, ending any possibility I might learn something new that way. I figured my best chance would be to go through her briefcase, or get on her computer, but no way would I do that as long as she's in the room. VR gear or no VR gear, I wasn't taking that kind of chance!
So I just waited there, in my safe and secure little perch on the edge of Kate's mattress, wondering what my next move would be, and that's when I heard a rustling over my left shoulder. Instantly alert for some insect or other creature, I crouched and turned, thinking maybe I'd see a curious cockroach or other bug, but nothing could've prepared me for what came next.
I found myself looking at a red-haired woman dressed in an urban camo bodysuit, holding a slim pistol in one hand. She looked trim and lithe, long curly hair bound up behind her head, moving like a cat, making only the barest whisper of a noise as she slipped right up to me. As I stared at her in goggle-eyed shock, totally stunned to find someone my size facing me, I realized I actually recognized her! But how could she be here, in this room, right now, grinning from ear to ear as she leveled a pistol at my chest?
"Wendy Sugarton, we meet again," chuckled a very smug-looking Lieutenant Sally Sullivan.
It's not easy to surprise me, but I have to admit, they got me this time. Even if I'd known I'd find another miniaturized person in that hotel room, she would've been close to the bottom of my list. I actually stammered a bit when I asked the obvious question that came next. "L-lieutenant Sullivan? What the hell…?"
"That's Captain Sullivan to you," she corrected, and that satisfied grin of hers only got wider. "Now follow me, if you don't mind. We've got some stuff to talk about."
Surprising me even further, she put the gun away and headed back the way she'd come. I just stood there, watching her go with what I'm sure was a dumb look on my face. She looked back after a moment and waved at me, obviously expecting me to follow without question.
Well, I'd come here for answers, right? And as bizarre as this whole scenario seemed to be playing out, it looked like I might get them, so I followed. Sally led me almost back to the other side of the bed, slithered down behind the mattress like a miniature human snake, and vanished from sight.
I followed, still trying to get over the impossibility of her presence, and inwardly cursed myself for not noticing this potential escape route before now. I hadn't even considered the possibility of squeezing into that tiny gap, but then, I hadn't exactly been looking for hiding places when I came in here. Mostly I'd been focused on watching and listening to Kate. I probably would've found my way under the bed eventually.
Like I said before, the hotel had blocked off access to the gap down there using slabs of wood, but that didn't stop Lieutenant--sorry, I mean Captain--Sullivan. Not only did she find a way in, she'd cut a few holes so she could see outside. In fact, as my eyes adjusted, I realized she could see every corner of the room from here. No wonder she saw me enter--and I thought I'd been so sneaky, too! But considering the view she had from this perfect little hiding place, there's no way I could've gotten in here from ground level without being spotted. I would've had to hitch a ride up higher, assuming I'd even known she was there at all--and I had no way of knowing, did I?
Although, I considered as I followed Sally over to a little inflatable chair she'd set up alongside a backpack full of supplies, I probably should've had an inkling. That box those FBI agents brought, while I was still outside--they must've been carrying her back from her little mission. Kate did more than just call out on a megaphone when she went in Andrew's house, didn't she? She brought someone along as insurance in case I didn't show myself!
While I mulled that over, Sally reached into her backpack, dug around for a bit, and withdrew, of all things, two cans of beer. She tossed me one and popped the other open, taking a few swallows and wiping her face with the back of a hand. "You know," she commented, still grinning at me, "I always wondered what would happen if I ever actually found you. That look on your face was worth all this time and trouble. Too bad Kate missed it, huh?"
"I guess," I mumbled, opening up the beer absently. I hadn't enjoyed a real, miniaturized beverage for a long time, and damn but it tasted wonderful. I let the bubbles slide around in my mouth for a while, savoring the smooth taste, enjoying the way the alcohol just so slightly burned my throat as it went down.
"Yeah, well, you didn't come here for one of those crappy watered-down shit beers they let me bring along," Sally went on. "You want an explanation, right?"
I nodded, enjoying the supposedly crappy beer that to me tasted like ambrosia of the gods. "That's about it," I admitted. "What the hell are you doing here, L--Captain Sullivan, and miniaturized to boot? Last I saw, you pretty much hated the whole idea."
"That's a long story, and I'll be happy to fill you in. Here, have a seat, cause it's gonna take a while."
I sat, but didn't let her get started right away. "Before you get going, just tell me, is this some kind of stalling tactic?"
"Not at all." She smiled again, taking another swig of beer and patting at the gun by her side. "If we wanted to grab you, Wendy, I just would've shot you when you first came in the room. This is a tranq gun, but I don't intend to use it. I only brought it in case I ran into you in the house and you refused to listen to reason."
"Yeah, sure," I said suspiciously. "Sorry, I have a tough time believing you'd come all this way to hunt me down, and then just talk to me without some kind of ulterior motive."
"Oh, we've got an ulterior motive, I'll admit," offered Sally with a shrug, "but nobody's gonna force anything on you. Like I said, if we wanted that, you'd already be unconscious and on your way to the nearest restorer. You can relax, Wendy."
"Does Kate know I'm here?" I asked directly.
To her credit, Sally didn't try to lie. "Since you asked, yes," she admitted instantly. "I've got some of those nifty little eye and ear implants, and she's tuning in on the VR gear I'm sure you noticed earlier. We both thought it best to just talk to someone your own size, instead of having her giant face looming overhead."
"Good thinking," I said nervously. With a half-hearted smile, I gave a brief wave. "Hey, Kate. How's married life treating you?"
I thought I heard a snicker from outside, and Sally echoed the emotion. "She can watch and listen, but she can't talk to me directly. If you want, we can go out there and skip all this spy bullshit."
"No, that's fine, I'll stay here," I replied with a shrug. "Not that I don't trust her or anything, but I've been on the run so long…"
"Yeah, I can imagine," said Sally. "I sort of had a similar experience. You ready to hear it?"
"Sure, whatever," I agreed, and she began.
The last time you saw me, I'd agreed to provide a distraction so you could get your shot at that jackass Louis Hamilton. I didn't find out until much, much later that you'd run out under the maglev afterwards and disappeared. Since I didn't see that happen through all the smoke, it's a fair bet you had no idea Alex Hall grabbed me in the confusion and carried me away. He didn't even bother to hang around to see the end--he had it all planned, y'see. He'd already decided he wanted to take home his own little prize for helping save the rest of you--and I'm the lucky winner.
Oh, he had Zara Cochran, too, but he had no intention of keeping her. He told me he couldn't possibly do anything to hurt her ever again. Apparently, they'd gone through some kind of shared near-death experience where he almost killed her, and felt so guilty he almost shot himself, but she stopped him. After that he thought of her as his personal savior, and while he didn't do absolutely everything she told him to do, he definitely listened.
He couldn't let himself keep her, though, so as soon as he got his hands on a car, he started driving north. After about a week we managed to get to Idaho and he returned Zara to her husband. Then he only had me, and without Zara around, I got all his attention. I'm sure you know what I mean, right?
When they assigned me to the unit guarding the miniaturizer, I used to have nightmares about what it might be like to be shrunk and totally in somebody else's power. That movie about your experiences at the casino sure didn't help matters, by the way! The thing is, though, once it actually happened, it didn't scare me any more. Well, at first it did, obviously, but it didn't take long to completely get used to it. I actually liked it, and not just because of the things Alex did to me. I enjoyed being small enough to slip into crawlspaces, and spy on people, and get around on my own without anyone even knowing I was there. That's something I'm sure you can relate to, right?
Alex thought he'd done his homework rigging up little cages to hold me whenever he went out, or when we traveled around, but he had no idea I could get out pretty much anytime I wanted. I could've left him at any time, but I didn't really want to. Again, it's not just because he knew how to sex me up, which he did--he got pretty damn good at it, too--but I had another reason.
When he left to take Zara home, I heard the last thing she told him before he wrapped her up in that box. She said, "Don't go back to what you did before, Alex. You're so much better than that. You can do so much good, if you only let yourself." He promised her he'd try, but good intentions only go so far. Good deeds don't pay the bills, do they?
So he started trying to hook up with his old mercenary unit, that guy he called "Commander," also known as Colonel Morris. Alex put out feelers, trying to get back in touch, but none of his contacts worked. We moved around a lot in those days, pretty much every time he sent out a request, because he knew the Feds were watching for that, which they were. However, the only thing he learned was that Commander and his whole crew just disappeared after delivering the prize to the Buyer.
After that, Alex found himself with a new purpose. He committed himself to finding out more about the Buyer and learning what happened to Commander. I suppose I helped out a bit, too, because I also wanted to know--I really want revenge on the guy who set this whole thing up. He's the reason my unit got killed back in SoCal, and he's why I got stuck shrunk down and imprisoned. Well, not really, but you get the idea.
I won't lie to you--there's no point, and besides, Kate already knows all this anyway so I'm not saying anything new. I liked being Alex's prisoner. I liked the way he held me, and fondled me, and licked me. I liked pretending to struggle and fight him, and play-acting like I couldn't escape. He could do all those things to me, while I faked resisting with all my might, but I wouldn't want to be anywhere else. Plus, I could even justify it by telling myself I was spying on him, and doing my part to help find the Buyer. Alex had as much chance of finding him as anybody else, I figured, so I might as well stay close.
I would've stayed with him forever if I could've. Oh, don't get me wrong, I didn't love him or anything retarded like that, and he didn't love me either. He started thinking of me as his own personal conscience, like a little female Jiminy Cricket. He called me that all the time--his pet name for me, in fact. That's what Zara had been, he explained, and now I'd inherited the job. Sometimes I even faked being like that, giving him moral advice I'm sure he didn't need. I never really begged him to let me go, though I could've, and I'm sure he knew that, and so we both lied to ourselves and each other the whole time, safe with our own little illusions.
Nothing lasts forever, though, as I'm sure you know. One day, one of Alex's mercenary buddies contacted him, saying somebody out there wanted to form a new team. Apparently, whoever this was--and I never found out who--specifically asked for Alex because of his scouting experience. For whatever reason, Alex felt sure this had something to do with the Buyer, so he agreed to meet with his contact.
We drove to Chicago, and Alex left me in the hotel in my usual cage, but he looked sad as he said goodbye. I think he knew he wasn't coming back. His emotions were one clue, but he also took care to leave the cage barely secured, so I could get out without any trouble.
Well, he really didn't come back. I waited there for two days until the cleaning staff finally showed up to clear out his belongings. I didn't reveal myself, though, until they left. That's when I called the FBI, talked my way through to Kate's direct line, and told her who I was and where to find me.
Of course, I didn't have to wait very long. The Bureau sent some local agents to pick me up, and they got me restored right away. Being big again felt really weird--I suppose if it ever happens to you, you'll know what I'm talking about. Everything just seemed too small, and people were actually looking at me, and talking to me like I was a real person again. Plus I felt slow and sluggish, like gravity increased somehow--I got used to running and jumping everywhere without any problems, and now I couldn't do that anymore. Damn, I missed that!
Anyway, they put me on the next flight to LA and Kate met me at the airport. I told her most everything I just told you, and spent a couple days there getting debriefed and psychoanalyzed by everyone you can imagine. Then the Army stepped in, flew me off to the medical center at Fort Sam Houston, and repeated pretty much all those same debriefings and psych exams. Fortunately for me, they bought my story about staying with Alex to spy on him--I'm pretty sure they knew there was more to it, but they looked the other way.
I got about a week off to recover, and then I got a nice surprise when General Keyes showed up to pin some captain's bars on my shoulders, along with a Silver Star. "For service above and beyond the call of duty," he said. I actually cried a little at the ceremony--some tough soldier I am! But then I got an even better surprise when he informed me I'd been assigned to liaison duty with the FBI, at the explicit request of one Special Agent Kate Powers.
That wasn't the final surprise, though. That came when I actually got back to SoCal and Kate told me what she wanted me to do. I wasn't going to be a liaison--not entirely, anyway. She wanted me for her personal bodyguard. I found out what she really meant by that when she took me to the Paradisney miniaturizer for my own private session under those lights.
So that's pretty much how I got here today. We've spent a lot of time trying to track you down, along with a lot of other people, and I've been with Kate the whole time. Where she goes, I go. We came pretty close to catching up with you at least three other times, but you always split before we got there. I don't know what made you stick around this time, but I'm sure glad you did. I'm getting damn tired of all these wild goose chases, y'know. It's nice to finally talk to you face to face.
And now, to finally answer the question I know you want to ask. You want to know why we've gone to all this trouble, don't you? Well, here's your answer.
We need you, Wendy Sugarton. We need you on our team, if we want to find that missing miniaturizer. You wanna join us?
"Sorry I'm laughing," giggled Sally as she threw that question my way completely out of left field. "I just can't help it. I love that look on your face when you're so surprised."
"Yeah, I bet," I replied after a moment, shaking my head and turning away. She'd just turned my world completely upside-down! I'd been running so long, answering to no one, feeling like nobody would ever want or need me again…and now, out of the blue, here's Sally Sullivan, of all people, asking me to join up with her and Kate for some sort of special mission!
"Anyway, I'm completely serious," she went on. "In case you were wondering, that is. We really do need you."
"What for?" I all but demanded. "No, really, what the hell do you think you need me for? I figure from what you just told me, you already know everything. What makes you think I can do anything more than you already have?"
"Because you're a wild card," explained Sally. "You're not with us. You've been on the run so long, it's obvious you don't want to get caught. That makes you the perfect double agent."
"I'm not getting you," I replied. "A double agent for whom? Exactly what are you talking about?"
"That's gonna take a bit more explaining," Sally continued, pacing around a bit. She finished off her beer a while ago, so when her path took her by the backpack and its built-in cooler, she reached in for another. "Let me ask you something. If you stole a miniaturizer, and you knew we knew you stole it, what would you do with it?"
"Keep it damn well hidden," I answered immediately.
"Exactly. There's plenty of mischief you can get into with a miniaturizer, if you really wanted to, but most of the things that jump to mind would draw too much attention. You can't exactly go into business, say shipping stolen goods or arms or whatever, because that leaves too many loose ends. There's too many ways things like that can be traced back to their source, and even if you can move the machine around frequently, that's risky in and of itself. Something that big could get spotted by some random inspection or whatever. So you park it somewhere safe, where nobody knows it's there, and keep a low profile."
"But why steal it in the first place," I inquired, "if you don't plan to use it?"
"Oh, it's getting used," Sally told me with confidence. "Just not for anything that can be traced. It's like the Compound all over again--women are disappearing, all over the country, never to be seen again. Whoever's doing this is very careful--they avoid cameras, satellites, anything that can be used to track their movements. They don't even have a standard modus operandi. The missing women go to an appointment, visit friends, do normal ordinary things, whatever, and just disappear. Usually nobody even knows they're gone until days later. We know they're being kidnapped, from the scant evidence we find at the scene, but not who's doing it, or where they take their victims."
"What makes you think this has anything to do with the miniaturizer, then?" I asked, curious despite myself. I know I shouldn't even be entertaining any idea of getting involved in this, because it could only lead to disaster, but I asked anyway.
"Nothing definitive," said Sally, "but it's exactly like what went on back in Vegas. The women getting taken are exactly the same sort who fit the profile--single, very few attachments, young, good-looking, and mostly Caucasian. Oh, there is one other minor detail--they all have BDSM tendencies, every single one."
I started to respond, but immediately closed my mouth. Of course I know what BDSM means--basically, it's a catch-all acronym for everything relating to bondage, discipline, domination, submission, and sadomasochism. Like the Compound, BDSM is all about power, except for one difference--it's consensual, which doesn't describe the Compound at all.
"If that's so," I asked after a moment, "were the women in question always submissives?"
"No, they went either way," Sally replied. "Usually one or the other, but sometimes they were switches. We found the usual paraphernalia for the proper roles tucked away in their homes, and evidence they'd at least experimented with one or more partners."
I nodded, not bothering to ask how they found out all that. This is the FBI we're talking about, after all. You may think your private little sexual tendencies are a closely guarded secret, but trust me, they really aren't.
"Okay, so, if I'm following this correctly," I went on after letting all this roll around in my head for a minute or so, "someone hired a mercenary team, got my old flame Lou involved, stole a miniaturizer, and made it disappear…just so he could kidnap sexually deviant women and torture them?"
"Basically, yeah," Sally confirmed. "Well, of course, we don't know if he's really torturing them, but it seems pretty likely."
"You know," I remarked after a moment, "there's one person who used to like torturing tiny women a whole lot…and he was Lou Hamilton's uncle, don't forget."
"Yeah." Sally nodded, frowning for the first time today. "Don't think that hasn't crossed our minds, either."
"This is just like him, too," I went on. "I can't remember if Kate ever got to enjoy his company. Did she?"
"Nope, but she talked to plenty of people who did."
"Yeah, right. You can talk about it all you want, but that doesn't mean squat. You had to experience him for yourself. I did, and it wasn't any fun at all. Look, I love being tiny--I haven't made a secret of that. I'll stay this way the rest of my life if I can, even if I get put in prison or held captive in the process. But to have someone like Ray clamp me on a table, and cut at me with those tools--that's enough to change even my mind. Those sessions were the only thing I really didn't like about the Compound. Everything else was great, but not that. Are you sure it's him?"
"No, not completely," said Sally, "but once the pattern started to show, Kate had the idea it might be. She went and talked to Lou in prison, but we're pretty sure he didn't know the Buyer--if so, he would've told us, after what they put him through. Turns out he doesn't like being miniaturized very much. I almost pitied the poor guy, watching him bawl his eyes out while Kate poked at him on the table."
"Oh, God, I wish I could've seen that," I replied, grinning at the thought. That's almost enough to make me wish I could be big again, just to see him groveling under my thumb.
"You can watch the video sometime. Anyway, we couldn't keep him like that--they're still trying to get laws passed making it okay to shrink down criminals--but still, it was fun for a little while. He was a dead end, though, but we thought of something else. Care to guess?"
I considered it for a moment. "Well, I seem to remember Ray killed himself after the Compound, right? So I suppose you'd check the body, to make sure it was really him."
"Exactly. Someone beat us to the punch, though. Despite the fact that he'd been buried in an unmarked grave, someone found it, dug him up and stole the corpse. By the time we got there, Ray's body was long gone. He hadn't been in a coffin, though--they just buried him right in the ground--so there were still a few hairs floating around in the dirt. It's amazing how thorough the FBI can be, when they really put their minds to it. Anyway, it wasn't Ray Ellsworth at all."
"How do you know it wasn't just someone else's hairs?" I asked. "Maybe one of the people who dug up the body?"
"Unless they were 48-year-old dead guys who'd secretly worked as Ray Ellsworth's body double for over a decade, nope," said Sally with a grin.
"Damn, you people really are thorough, aren't you?" I muttered. "Ray had a body double, eh?"
"Yeah, that took some digging, too, if you'll pardon the expression, but once we had the DNA, we figured it out. Poor guy probably never knew he'd keep that job beyond the grave."
"Amazing," I remarked. "So. Ray's still alive, and he didn't even let his own nephew in on it, did he? What a selfish bastard! I thought he was pretty damn evil back at the Compound, but he's not just evil--he's smart, too. Smart enough to cover his tracks that well, so none of us even knew."
Sally nodded. "Yeah, our sentiments exactly," she told me. "Anyway, so yeah, we're pretty sure it's Ray who's got the miniaturizer now, and he's back at work with his own private Compound somewhere out there--and a whole country full of women to pick and choose from. Unless he makes a mistake, which doesn't seem very likely, he can keep doing this forever, and who knows what his poor victims are going through?"
I grinned and shook my head. "That's not really motivating me," I told her. "Actually, telling me it's Ray behind all this makes me want to run in exactly the opposite direction. If it'd been Victor, or Gary, or one of those others, sure…but not Ray Ellsworth."
Sally nodded. "Kate said it wouldn't help trying to appeal to your better nature, but I figured what the hell."
"In that case," I said, "I guess I've heard enough. I'll be going now, so if you'll show me the quickest way to the exit--"
"Just one more thing," Sally interrupted. "I do have one other thing to offer. If you help us with this, and we take out Ray and get the miniaturizer back, you'll not only get your revenge on him, we'll also ensure you get to stay the way you are for as long as you want. You can go where you like and live your life as a tiny person without fear of ever being restored against your will. It goes without saying this deal includes a full pardon for everything you've done up until now, too. Think about it, Wendy! No more running and hiding, no more living on scraps or fighting with rats. You can live a normal life--whatever you want your normal life to be, at least."
"Tempting," I told her, "but I think I like running and hiding more than the thought of getting poked by one of Ray's knives."
"Okay, fine, I've got one last card to play, and then you can go," Sally said with an almost defeated sigh. "This one's not my idea, it comes right from Kate. She says to tell you this: You owe me."
"What?"
"You owe me. That's what she said to tell you. You owe me."
I turned away, scowling. Damn that Kate McBitchy anyway! She knows me all too well. Of course I owe her, and somehow she knew I couldn't let that go. Goddammit, I said too much last time we met, didn't I? That's what I get for revealing my true feelings!
Unfortunately, she had me cold. I did owe her--I owed her my life two times over, in fact, and if I left here right now, I wouldn't be able to forget that. This is why I hate owing people!
"Fine," I said angrily, turning back to Sally and pointing an accusing finger in her face. "Fine, I'll join your little team, if that's what you want. This is gonna square us, though, you hear me, Kate? When this whole thing is over, and I get that pardon you've promised, I'm outta here, and I don't ever want to hear from you again, you got that?"
The chair scraped outside, beyond the confines of the bed, and I heard something huge moving around. Through the tiny holes in the wooden slab nearby, I saw her tremendous figure kneel down, and part of one giant eye came into view. For the first time, the giant Kate McLeary actually joined the conversation.
"Sounds good to me," she said loudly, the voice echoing all around me in that compressed space. "Glad to finally have you on our side."
Kate lifted up the mattress after a moment, exposing the cubbyhole under the bed to the light, and I winced while my eyes adjusted. I had no idea it would be so easy to get in here, or I might've been more nervous. She could've taken me at any time, but they wanted to do their little pitch first. Good plan, because if they'd spooked me, I doubt I would've agreed to anything they had to say.
Every time I've ever seen Kate McLeary before, face to face at least, she's always been my size. Now I actually had to look up at the giant version, and it made me shudder. Not because of who she is, but because of what she represents--the law, authority, and all that crap. I've spent my whole life dodging and avoiding people like her. Now I willingly let one of them have power over me!
This is how far I've fallen, I thought sadly as Kate's tremendous hand settled down onto the dusty floor beneath the bed. Sally wasted no time climbing into that palm, so I figured I might as well do the same. No sense looking like a scared little girl, after all. I'd chosen my path, I might as well accept it.
To her credit, Kate didn't leer at me or try to gloat or anything like that. Actually, the look on her face actually seemed respectful. I only had to endure being carried for a few seconds before she let us go on the desk next to her computer. She sat back down and moved the VR gear onto the floor, so we'd have more room to ourselves.
"You have to forgive me," said Kate after a moment, "I never really thought I'd ever actually get to have this conversation. Until Andrew Cullins did that web search about you, we'd never really had a good lead on your location."
"Yeah, my bad," I replied with a shrug. "I should've left yesterday instead of waiting until today, but that's overconfidence for you."
Kate nodded, and the faint wind from her head bobbing around washed over me, carrying a very slight scent of perfume. "I figured you might've been injured, but it doesn't look that way. Did you just decide to come in from the cold, as it were?"
"I'd rather not talk about it, if you don't mind," I complained. The last thing I needed was a psych eval from Kate McBitchy!
"Fine, just one more thing and we'll drop that topic. We made you leave Mr. Cullins's place rather hastily. Did you have anything you wanted us to tell him?"
I sighed and looked away. "No, goddammit, just leave the poor guy alone! He didn't do anything! If I find out anybody so much as gave him a funny look, our deal's off, you got that?"
"Don't worry," replied Kate, shrugging off the whole subject. "We don't intend to bother him any further, as long as you've got no complaints."
"Well, I don't. Anyway, you two still haven't told me everything. What's my part in all this? Why do you need me, really?"
Kate leaned back in her chair, and Sally leaned back on the computer to get comfortable. All I did was stand there, crossing my arms, waiting for the explanation. For some reason the giant FBI agent's face looked worried for a moment. It's amazing how you can pick up on the barest flashes of emotions when you're my size.
"Okay, here's the thing," Kate began. "In the course of hunting for you, we've managed to learn that we're not the only ones on your trail. When we questioned Lou, we got him to admit someone else had visited him in prison, trying to find out where you might be. We've also seen electronic traces of searches for you as well. Plus, every now and then, attempts are made to get your attention online. I gather from your reaction that you've never seen any of these?"
"No, I don't get on the net much," I admitted, "but if that's all true, are you saying they might come after Andrew?"
"Oh, I doubt that," Kate explained with a sincere-looking shrug. "We put on a pretty big show of coming here and not finding you. In fact, so far as anyone knows, you still haven't been found. I haven't sent any reports to that effect, and I don't intend to. It's absolutely vital nobody knows we've talked to you."
I nodded, because now I'd started getting a better idea of the game they were playing. "Okay, so, I get it--you want them to find me, don't you? So you can track them down using me as bait."
"Basically, yes," Kate admitted. "I doubt it'll be that easy, though. We certainly can't use any kind of implants or tracers--as soon as they spot those, you know what'll happen. Also, I very much doubt you'll be able to send any messages if you get taken to their new Compound. They know you're the one who shot Lou, so I doubt they'll trust you very much."
"Okay, so, what makes you think they'll even have anything to do with me at all?" I demanded. "What if they only want me so they can have revenge?"
"Oh, it's revenge they want, I'm sure," replied Kate, "but not against you. The only reason they could have for that is if they were pissed at you for betraying Lou, but if Ray actually cared about what happened to his nephew, I'm sure he would've rescued him by now. No, considering how badly Lou botched his escape, Ray's probably pretty satisfied with how that all worked out. He won't want to kill you, Wendy. He'll want you for another reason entirely."
"And what might that be...?"
Kate sighed and actually shuddered momentarily, and I saw a faint trace of fear sweep across her oversized features. "He wants me," she explained sadly, "and he's going to use you to catch me."
She hardly needed to explain anything else after that. I knew exactly what she meant. Talk about being human bait! Not only did Ray want me to help reel in Kate, the FBI wanted to do the same thing to him. All of a sudden I'd gone from being a happy-go-lucky little fugitive to a pawn in a much larger game.
Nah, that's not really it. Actually, I'd been a pawn the whole time, hadn't I? I just didn't realize it before. Now that I knew...well, at least now I had a say in the matter. I could decide for myself whether or not to participate, and no matter how much I owed Kate McLoser, I didn't have to get involved in this whole affair. Not if I didn't want to. Sure, I told her I would, but then, what's my word good for, anyway? I've never been all that honest.
She and Sally took a while explaining what they expected to happen. Kate could've let herself be captured pretty much at any time, but without some kind of plan to track and rescue her, there'd be no point. She'd just become Ray's plaything and nobody would ever hear from her again. It's not like Ray would take any chances with her, after all, not after the way she'd broken up the Compound and stopped Lou Hamilton. Once he had her, he wasn't letting go.
So, basically, they wanted me to make contact with Ray's people, agree to help him catch Kate, and then somehow get a message out about it so the FBI could track down the miniaturizer. Not a bad plan, I suppose, except I'm the one taking all the risk. They weren't giving me any nifty gadgets or anything like that, and nobody would be backing me up, so I'd be totally on my own. Plus, they didn't really give me any ideas on how to actually contact Ray--just a few suggestions about how to send out messages on the net without attracting FBI attention. They told me about a couple of very specific secure channels they purposely weren't monitoring, just so I'd have that opportunity. I only had to find myself another "lair" (Kate actually called it that, believe it or not) that had computer access--someplace other than Andrew's house, because they'd probably expect the FBI to be watching it.
We talked this over for a bit--I'll spare you the nitty-gritties, but you get the idea. Then they left me alone for a while. Kate said she had some errand she had to run involving the Denver office, so she packed up her computer, gathered up Sally and her supplies, put her in that carrying case of hers and left. One of those rented SUVs awaited her downstairs, so her fellow agents must've been close by. At least Sally let me have another beer, though. Nice of her, huh?
The instant they walked out the door, I started looking for an exit. I didn't like the way this sounded. Yeah, sure, I owed Kate, she saved my life, blah blah blah, but it's one thing to repay a debt and another to throw your life away trying to do it. After a few minutes of trying to get into the vents, though, I thought about it a bit more. What kind of life had I been living, anyway?
Back when I was a teenager, living on the streets, hooking and doping and drinking myself to death, I didn't care much about my life. I just went through the motions, only thinking about where I'd get my next hit. After I got off the drugs at the Compound, I thought maybe life might be worth living, until that all came to a crashing end. Then Lou saved me, and again I felt better, until his betrayal...and now what? I spend my days wandering around, stealing and scavenging, with nothing really to look forward to. What the hell did I really need out of life, anyway? Why did I bother?
I've been suicidal before, several times. Not just the ones you know about, either. During withdrawal at the Compound, for one, and after Lou got taken away by the cops, of course. And a few times after the Sole Survivor thing. Sometimes I'd huddle in the grass next to a curb, thinking how quick and easy it would be to just hop out on the street and let some truck run me over. Or hop off a car while we were on the highway doing 75 miles an hour. Or any of a hundred other ways. Ordinary people have things to look forward to--jobs, family, friends, sports, parties, whatever. Me, I've got nothing like that. I had my freedom, sure, but that's about it.
As I stood there next to the ventilation duct in that empty hotel room, I suddenly realized the truth. I'm going nowhere, I thought to myself. I'm completely worthless. If I really did kill myself, nobody would ever know or care.
I like to think how strong I am. How I'm the Sole Survivor, the independent little mouse-sized woman, able to do whatever she wants, any time she wants...but as my time with Andrew proved, that's really not the case at all. I needed more than that. More than just a man holding me in his hand, too. Much more. I needed a reason to exist.
That's what Kate offered me. She gave me a choice. I could go back to scuttling around and hiding, living in the gutter like I did when I was younger--yeah, without the drugs and prostitution, but in the gutter just the same. Literally, this time. Or I could step up and do something important, something that would say I mattered, at least a little bit.
Damn that Kate McBitchy anyway! She did it to me again! She knew I'd figure that out--that's why she left me by myself. She wanted to give me time to think it over, to draw my own conclusions. She didn't really go to some "errand" in Denver. Hell, she probably just headed down the street for some dinner or something, waiting for me to screw my head on straight.
Well, it worked, goddammit—she'd put me on the path, and I walked right to the end of it entirely on my own. I only had myself to blame. Maybe I would've come to this conclusion eventually--hell, I'd already taken my first steps when I decided to talk to Andrew, right? Kate just forced me to the end a lot faster than I would've without any prompting.
Fuck me. Seriously, that's what I thought. Fuck me, I'm really gonna do this, aren't I? Yeah, why the hell not?
Kate came back a couple hours later. She grinned when she saw me lounging on the pillow, grabbing a much-needed nap. "Glad to see you didn't leave," she remarked, lying down on the bed nearby. "We had a little bet going--guess I won, huh? Sally thought for sure you'd bail."
"Nah, I'm too hard-headed for that," I said, standing up and yawning. "It's weird seeing you like this, y'know. I'm used to you at my size."
"Yeah, well, God willing, I'll never have to be that way again. I know you like it, but I sure don't. My husband disagrees, but that's Mark for you."
I couldn't resist pressing a bit on that, considering the look of disgust that briefly crossed her face. "Oh really?" I asked. "You two don't visit the ol' miniaturizer every now and then, just for old times' sake?"
Kate rolled her eyes. For a second I thought she might lie to me, but her face already answered the question, and she must've known it. "Yeah, okay, sometimes we do," she told me in a low voice, as if afraid someone might overhear. "Very, very rarely, though. They get me to drop by the Miniaturization Experience at Paradisney every now and then, since I'm a celebrity and all. Mark can't resist arranging a little 'private time' for us whenever he can swing it. Not like they can really say no, not to the famous Kate Powers."
"Really?" I inquired with a snicker. "You, the self-professed diminuphobe? You don't mind it so much now, huh? I read your book, y'know. I figured you'd never do that of your own free will."
"It's different when you love somebody," sighed Kate, smiling wistfully. "When you know you can trust somebody that much--it just makes your love all the stronger."
"Oh, geez, I think I'm gonna be sick," I spouted. "Don't give me all that lovey-dovey crap! You just like being played with, don't you?"
She lowered her voice even more. "Sometimes, yeah," she admitted, actually getting a little red-faced in the process, "but for the love of God, don't tell Mark! I don't mind it every now and then, but if he had his way, we'd go there every other night. Sheesh! How'd we ever get on this topic, anyway? Come on, I need to get ready to leave. My flight takes off in about an hour."
"Sure, whatever," I replied, still chuckling over the way she reacted to my questions. Who would've thought the famous Kate McBitchy had anything in common with me at all? She did, though, at least some of the time. At least she'd learned to admit it, which is more than I ever would've thought. Or maybe she just wanted to bond with me--yeah, that's probably it. She told me what I wanted to hear, didn't she? She wanted to make friends so badly, she'd tell me just about anything.
Damn, I'm a suspicious little wench, aren't I? I suppose it's theoretically possible Kate told me the honest truth just then, but I'd probably never know for sure. She would've had to be a damn good liar to get one past me, right? So maybe it really was the truth. Who knows?
Anyway, she sat up on the bed--carefully, so as to not knock me over--and then stood and straightened out her suit. Not for the first time, I found myself admiring the way the trim business outfit sort of flowed along her curves, giving her a professionally sexy look. I realized, in a detached sort of way, just how attractive Kate McLeary really was. She and I really did have a lot in common, you know. We're both strong, independent, no-nonsense women who also happen to be damn good-looking. What would it be like to have someone like her playing with me in her hand...?
I'd never had that particular experience, actually. Every time I'd been held and caressed by some giant, it's always been a man. Every now and then I'd imagine a woman doing it instead, but it never actually happened. In fact, when Kate picked me up along with Sally earlier, that's the first time a woman ever held me, even for a moment. Even Beth never picked me up like that, during my training back at the Sidewinder. I didn't really feel anything special when Kate had me in her palm, but I didn't really mind, either. Her hand felt much like anyone else's, really, but at my size it's hard to tell the difference.
Her fingers, though...a woman's fingers are thinner and more slender, with a delicate kind of grace, capable of surprising gentleness. What would that be like, to have Kate fondle me for a while? She probably wouldn't like the idea, being hetero and all, but I could dream, I suppose...
Ahh, what was I thinking? What a silly idea--Kate McLeary, once my hated enemy, treating me like a plaything? Crazy! I'd never let her do that. My little nap must've addled my brain or something. Best to get off that subject, and quick!
"So," I asked hurriedly, moving over to the edge of the bed while she packed up her handheld suitcase, "am I coming with you, or what?"
"No, of course not," came the reply. "We're not going to reveal to anyone that I even talked to you. Nobody knows--not even my dear husband. In fact, when I get back, I'm going to send a couple emails recommending we stop this ridiculous game of trying to catch you--I'm going to say you're obviously harmless, and suggest we just let you go. But then I'll carefully let slip in a secure memo that I really intend to keep after you on my own time. Plus, I'll continue to monitor the net for 'Wendy sightings,' even though I'm not supposed to. Anyone keeping an eye on me will surely take notice. That'll open up the door for you, if you manage to find your way into Ray's good graces."
"Yeah, that might work," I agreed. "I'll see if I can get through to them somehow, and if they pick up on that, they'll definitely try to use me as bait. The next time you hear about me, expect it to be a trap. You'll know because I'll let myself be spotted someplace public, a couple of times if possible, and then stay there. I'll try to let someone take a picture of me waving at the camera, just so you know it's a setup. It'll be a while, though. Days or weeks, I bet."
"Yeah, no doubt," she agreed. "You should probably get far away from here. From the Denver area, I mean. They almost certainly know we came here looking for you."
"Why didn't they just come after you now, then?" I inquired. "If they know you're here, what's to stop them?"
"Probably not enough time," I replied. "Who knows where their base of operations is? Plus, I didn't exactly come alone. You saw that small army, right? They'd need plenty of advance planning. That's what you can offer. If they have you working with them, they can place themselves wherever they want, wherever they plan to show you off, just so they can catch me without any trouble."
"What about your fellow agents?" I asked. "Aren't you afraid they'll get shot or something, if they set up this whole elaborate ambush?"
"Yes, and that's why I'll come alone," she replied. "Remember, I said I'd pursue you by myself if I had to. That little message will make it all the more believable when I'm flying solo. Not that I really will be, of course. There'll be plenty of people around, making sure I'm properly tracked. You just won't know they're there."
I nodded. She certainly seemed to have thought of everything. "So what you're saying, then, is you're going to let them capture you?"
"Only for as long as it takes to find the miniaturizer," she answered, but gave a fearful little shiver I didn't fail to spot. "That's the only thing that matters to me. We have to get it back. Every day it's out there, more people are being kidnapped and tortured--if I have to sacrifice myself to save them, that's a choice I'm willing to make."
I shuddered a bit at that. How could anybody be willing to give up their own life for someone else? She sounded serious, though. That's Kate for you--always trying to be the big hero.
"Anyway, enough of this depressing talk," she went on. "It's not going to come to that, now is it? You'll get the word out so we know what they're up to, or maybe you can even tell us where the machine is beforehand, so we don't even have to go through that whole song and dance. Anyway, I have to go--my ride's waiting downstairs to take me back to the airport. Can you get out of here on your own?"
"Are you kidding?" I replied, surprised she'd even ask that question. "Of course I can. I'll just wait till housekeeping comes back, just like before. In the meantime, well, I've got a nice comfy little room to stay in, right?"
"Sure. I missed checkout time, so we had to pay for an extra day--you'll be warm and cozy for one more night, courtesy of the Bureau. Thanks, Wendy." She picked up her suitcase, checked herself in the mirror one last time, and turned back to me. "Look, for what it's worth, I'm sorry about everything you had to go through before. I should've offered you a pardon back in LA. If I had, you wouldn't be here now. I always felt guilty about that."
"Don't worry," I replied honestly, "I wouldn't have believed you anyway. Now go on, don't miss your flight."
"Thanks again, and good luck," she concluded, reaching out to touch me briefly on the face.
Her fingertip felt warm against my skin, and I couldn't help but shudder. For a moment, however brief, I imagined something more, but it could never be. Not with Kate, anyway. Maybe someone, someday, but not her.
She smiled one last time, turned, and left the hotel room, leaving me all alone once again. All by myself, as usual. I could handle that, though. I'm the Sole Survivor, remember?
Loneliness is what I do best.
I spent the rest of the day, and much of the night, lounging around and watching television. Do you know how long it's been since I just totally let myself relax in front of the tube? Well, not counting that anxious afternoon at Andrew's place, and I definitely don't mean hiding in some hole, listening in from a distance, afraid someone might spot me as I peered out at the distant screen. I'm talking about laying on a bed, in the open, the remote next to me, a bag of half-eaten crackers off to the side, utterly relaxed like I didn't have a care in the world. That was me, that night, and it felt fantastic.
I should've been more careful. Kate supposedly left, after all, so the management could've popped in at any second to turn off the TV, or something like that. I'm not totally stupid--I had escape routes and hidey-holes planned, of course--but I napped more than once, and they could've come in the door and seen me before I had a chance to get away.
I accepted the risk, though. I figured I had it made, at least for that night. I had the room entirely to myself. I could do whatever I wanted. Kate left me those crackers I mentioned earlier, so I had some food, and the sink provided easy access to water. I took a shower there, which felt absolutely awesome, and I washed out my clothes, too. Yeah, I just did that a couple days ago, but who knew how long it might be before I got another chance?
I also found a bag of toiletry type items Kate "forgot" when she left, including a mini sewing kit which I used to restock my supply bag. As I dug around looking for other items I could scavenge, I found a sack filled with miniaturized supplies--a nail file, pocket-sized scissors, some elastic bands to tie back my hair, a mini flashlight (solar powered, even), a lighter, some gauze wrap, a pack of aspirin, one of those Swiss army knives, and best of all, some actual tampons! Simple things like these, the kind normal people take for granted--to me, these things were more precious than gold.
How long had this little bag been rattling around in here, in Kate's travel kit, just on the off chance she might find me someday? Damn, that woman plans ahead!
She didn't include anything big or difficult to carry. I could think of a few other items I might've liked to have, like a real weapon, but Kate must've thought I didn't need something like that. If I intended to be found by Ray eventually, I'd have to be carrying a believable array of supplies. These were all things I could've had on me since I left Lou's company--all except the tampons. Dammit...I wanted those so badly, too! You've no idea what it's like having to improvise a replacement for those, especially when you're having your period. Ah...hmm, that suggested an idea, and yeah, it might work. I'd just explain I'd limited myself to only using those once or twice a month, rationing these few remaining ones so they'd last as long as possible. That meant I couldn't put one on right now, though, didn't it? Goddammit...!
At least I could use the "Lou excuse" for all this stuff. He'd been able to get all sorts of miniaturized gear for me back in the day. I still had a lot of it, like my clothes, though all the weapons were long gone. The full-sized sewing kit would help out a lot. A couple needles, wrapped up with thread so I could grip them better, would make awesome weapons. I could carry one, with the other strapped to my back. The safety pin was worthless--too bulky. Most of the rest of the thread got used repairing my improvised pack and getting woven into thick rope, replacing the frayed stuff I'd been using with my grappling hooks.
Anyway, so you get the idea--I spent part of the evening prepping, making sure I left no sign I'd been there once I finished. The next day, I just waited till the housekeeper showed up, like before. No more slacking, though. I let myself get sloppy the night before, enjoying that room all to myself, but now it's back to my old ways. A quick climb into the maid's cart, then a long wait while she finished her duties, and finally a dash down the stairs into the half-melted snowdrifts around the building. After that, just wait for someone to head for their car, then sneak out to grapple my way on, and off I go.
I had a destination in mind, but getting there wouldn't be easy. As much as it pained me to go back there, I wanted to return to Andrew's house. He'd probably help me if I asked him, but that's not what I intended. No, I'd stay hidden this time, because it'd be too painful to talk to him again. I told myself I'd just use his computer when he went to work, but that's not it at all. The real reason I wanted to go back there was to make sure he's okay.
See, it occurred to me that the FBI hadn't kept their trip to his place much of a secret. That meant someone else might've chosen to visit Andrew's house, maybe to question him about me. If they'd gone there, they might've hurt him somehow, and I couldn't stand that. They probably didn't, though--what good would it do? If I'd already left, they must've known he wouldn't have the slightest idea where I'd gone. Still, there's a chance they might've left something there for me, something that told me how to get in touch with them if I ever came back.
I didn't like some of the scenarios that went through my head as I slowly meandered around town, trying to get where I wanted. They could've tortured him, or kidnapped him, or anything like that--anything that would get me to fall in line with whatever they wanted me to do. Damn it all, I'd let myself get too close, hadn't I? Even though I told myself I wouldn't, I really did. I just couldn't stand the idea of Andrew being used as leverage against me. I wouldn't be able to function properly until I found out if that's what they intended.
So, with that in mind, I hitched rides here and there, mostly on city buses, until I got back to the part of town where Andrew worked. He's a lawyer, actually, working in one of those big buildings near the city center. That's how he got so rich. I really didn't know where he lived, exactly, just that it's out on the outskirts of town, on a fairly large lot, not packed in like so many suburbs are these days. I couldn't have found that if I tried--but I knew exactly where he worked, and I knew his car, so all I had to do was get back there and repeat my earlier trip.
This sounds easy, but it's not. The whole thing actually took four days. I'd left his place on a Thursday morning, and on Friday I spent the whole day meandering around on various buses, trying to make my way into the right part of town. I finally got there on Saturday, but guess what, lawyers don't work then, do they? So I had to hole up in a police station (there's a bit of irony for you, but at least it was warm) until Monday, and he never showed up then, as far as I could tell. At least by now, there wasn't much in the way of snow, and the temperature actually got above freezing. I still didn't stay outside all the time, though, coming and going every hour or so and searching for his car. No luck.
He finally made an appearance on Tuesday, so I hid as close by as I dared, trying to stay warm and hoping he'd go home for lunch. He didn't, so I had to wait until just after five when he finally came out and left. At least I made it, right? I endured the chilly ride to his garage, waited until he went inside, and dropped to the ground, glad to finally be back here at last.
Now I figured I'd sneak back inside, steal a bite to eat, and watch for a bit to make sure he didn't look beaten up or anything like that. From the brief glimpse I got earlier, he didn't seem worried about anything, but you never know. I started to move towards one of my entry points when something struck my shoulder, just above my right bicep. I turned and looked at it, eyes widening as I recognized the dart, even as my brain already started shutting down.
"Gotcha!" I heard a woman's voice exclaim as a dark shape appeared on the edge of my quickly blurring vision. "Well, whaddaya know, you did come back here after all. Thank God--I'm gettin' bored out of my fuckin' skull."
As I started fading out, I realized one last thing--something that utterly blew my mind, because it didn't quite make any sense. I knew that voice--but what could she be doing here…? I didn't get the chance to ask, though. My mouth didn't seem to be working for some reason, just like the rest of me. In fact, that seemed like a pretty good time for a nap.
"Nice to see you again, Wendy," said Marianne Tarinski, just as everything went dark.
I woke up to find myself in a cage, covered in a sheet. A pop song played loudly, causing piercing pains in my head. I felt a faint vibration underneath me, and I knew that sensation well--an electric car engine. Yeah, you think they don't feel like anything at all, don't you? Well, at my size, it's pretty noticeable. Try it sometime if you don't believe me.
I sat up and massaged my temples, willing the pain to go away. Tranq darts always do that, but the annoying rock beat didn't help matters. After a minute or so, I felt better, and that's when I finally allowed myself to think about what just happened.
Marianne Tarinski! That's who shot me. I knew her voice well. We used to be friends--okay, more than friends--back at the Compound. Of all the people there, she's the one who stayed by my side the most during my withdrawal. Turns out she went through much the same thing, only she'd broken the habit before starting to work at the Sidewinder. Growing up black in a poor neighborhood in Chicago, turning to drugs after her older brother got shot in a gang war…I remember her telling me all that, making me think perhaps I hadn't had the worst luck in the world after all. She and I hooked up for a while, thanks in part to Lester's manipulations--she'd been hiding her true tendencies at first, but I didn't hide mine, and we naturally got together.
We kept each other company, most of the time, back in those "good old days" at the Compound. I appreciated her help getting me through those terrible first couple of weeks, but I didn't want any kind of permanent attachments. She talked a few times about love, but I didn't feel it, and I didn't make any secret of that. She wanted more from me than I was willing to give, I'm afraid. At the end, when Kate showed up and started talking about escape, Marianne wanted to leave, and asked me to come along. I wanted to stay, though. I told the owners about Kate's plans, and Marianne didn't like that very much. We had an argument, just before everything went to hell, and that's why she went with Kate and I stayed behind. I thought I'd never see her again after that.
You know, that's half the reason why I wanted to die that night. I kept thinking, as I huddled in that vent, if only I'd gone with Marianne! I just couldn't, though. I didn't want to go back to the real world, and I didn't love her, either. Not like she loved me. I would've been lying if I said anything else, and if I'd gone with her, she would've thought I'd changed my mind.
Not that I'm blaming her, mind you. I would've stayed anyway. My whole world just came apart that night, and she's just a tiny part of it. I hadn't thought of her much since then. She made her choice to leave, after all. She could've stayed with me, if she really loved me like she said, but she didn't--so that's the end of it, as far as I'm concerned.
And now, after all this time, she's three inches high and armed with a tranq gun, waiting for me in Andrew's garage! I shook my head as the last bit of fuzziness finally faded away, letting my mind return to its usual self. The last time I saw Marianne, she went off with Kate to try their stupid escape. I'd seen her name in an article later on, when they interviewed the survivors, so I knew she'd made it out. The only other time I saw any mention of her was during the big premiere party for the "Diminuphobia" movie. They invited all the escapees and did a big spread on it in one of those entertainment magazines. I remember flipping through the pictures, looking for Marianne, but didn't find her. At the end of the article, they listed the names of the half-dozen or so who didn't show up, one of those being Marianne.
That's actually the last time I thought about her at all, come to think about it. I recall wondering why she didn't go. They listed reasons for the others--Amber, active duty; Karen, out of the country; Marcy, in the hospital; Stephanie, serving time in prison. The other two, Marianne and Nicole, just didn't give a reason. Probably just didn't want to relive those painful memories, I remember thinking.
As I recalled all that, I saw the edge of the blanket stirring off to one side of the cage. A moment later, Marianne came into view. She looked much like I remember her from the Compound: dark-skinned, with big brown eyes, a wide, flat nose, and friendly, likeable smile. Her hair had been cut short in a kind of bob, an attractive enough look for her, considering I'd only seen her in long hair before. She wore a black bodysuit, similar to mine, with the same kind of thick boots and gloves, but a much better selection of gear and weapons, including not only the pistol but a couple of throwing knives on a bandolier, a longer blade strapped to her back, and a few grenades dangling off a pair of crossed belts at her waist.
"Ah, you're awake," said Marianne. "Didn't take long, either. Life on the run must be keepin' you in shape."
"You've no idea," I replied, not bothering to conceal my pride. "If you don't mind my asking, what the fuck are you doing here? What the hell's going on? If this is Kate McBitchy's doing, I swear, I'm gonna--"
Marianne laughed, interrupting my little subterfuge. "She's got nuthin' to do with this," she explained. "Well, maybe sorta she does. She's the reason I'm here, anyways. When I get my hands on her, I'm gonna make her wish she'd never been born."
Okay, that answered a few things for me, the obvious question being whose side she's on. I could've said something like "You and me both," or whatever, but I didn't want to sound too eager. I'm not real good at that kind of thing, so rather than blow it, I kept my mouth shut, nodding and trying to look thoughtful. As I did, I glanced down at myself, realizing for the first time that they hadn't bothered to relieve me of any of my weapons or gear. In fact, she even left me that thread-wrapped needle I told you about earlier. I saw it lying on the floor near the folded-up handkerchief I'd been sleeping on.
"I see you're suspicious," Marianne went on. "I can't blame you, really. I did shoot you, after all. Sorry, that was just to speed things up. Before you get any ideas, though, lemme tell you, we're on the same side here. I know you hate Kate Powers as much as I do, maybe even more. She fucked up everything for us, didn't she?"
I nodded, frowning as I considered my options, trying to think of what to say. I hadn't expected this, hadn't planned anything in advance, so I had to improvise on the fly. How much did Marianne know…?
"I heard about what happened in Hollywood," she went on. "I heard you're the one who took out Lou Hamilton. Why'd you help her? You had the perfect chance to waste her then."
"I would've," I admitted. "I wanted to. I had her dead to rights, but she had allies, and they got me first. Lou wouldn't save me, when he had the chance. He turned his back on me and left me to die. So I made Kate a deal. I told her I'd help her out if she'd give me amnesty, but she went back on her word. I know she would've turned me in anyway. So after I popped that asshole Lou between the eyes, I headed for the hills. No point hanging around anymore. After that she made it her life's mission to hunt me down, so I figured the best revenge I could have is to run her ragged looking for me every which way."
"Is that why you told Andrew Cullins your real name?" Marianne asked directly.
"Yeah," I admitted, trying to sound sheepish, like I'd been caught making a mistake. "I wanted to get Kate's attention, make her come all the way out here, just to find me gone."
"Well, why'd you come back, then?" Marianne demanded.
I sighed and looked away. I had to sell this answer perfectly, so I wrapped my arms around myself for a moment, closing my eyes. "Because," I answered after a long pause, "he sure knows how to treat a girl."
Marianne nodded to herself, obviously accepting that explanation. I didn't even have to lie just then, either, which made it an easy thing to sell. "It didn't occur to you that Kate mighta left cameras behind, or somethin' else to let her know you'd come back?"
"I thought about it, sure," I went on, "but goddammit, Marianne, I'm bored out of my mind half the time! It's only the rush that keeps me going anymore, taking a risk, that sort of thing. Sure, Kate might be waiting, but every time I do one of these little tricks of mine, I'm taking that very same chance. One of these days I'll slip up and she'll catch me, and that'll be the end of it, but until then, I'm gonna have fun doing it. That's the only thing keeping me alive."
"Good," she replied, grinning. "I was hopin' you'd say that. What if I gave you another option? What if I told you I could help you turn the tables on Kate, and maybe get your hands on her at last? What if I told you she'd be the one runnin' from you for a change?"
I nodded vigorously. "If that's what you're offering, sign me up!"
"I knew I could count on you," said Marianne with a grin. "Now come on, you can get outta that cage if you want. It ain't even locked."
I headed over to the exit, looking very pleased with myself. She bought it!
"Here's what's goin' on," said Marianne as I climbed out onto the wide expanse of leather car seat, towards a small basket sitting on a blanket nearby. We were in the back of a fairly large vehicle, probably a minivan, but I couldn't exactly tell from that angle. "I'm workin' for the Buyer now. You remember him, right? The one who wound up with the miniaturizer, after that whole Hollywood thing went down."
"Yeah, I figured someone got it," I replied, licking my lips at the sight of what awaited me in that basket. I hadn't eaten in a while, and Marianne had a whole pile of miniaturized food in there. I tore into a sandwich and yanked a soda out of the mini-cooler as she went on.
"Someone, yeah," she admitted, sounding a bit worried about what she had to tell me next. "Someone you'll know well. You may not like this part much--it's Ray Ellsworth."
I stopped chewing and looked up at her, pretending to be shocked and surprised. "What?" I spat. "Ray? You can't be serious! Didn't he blow his own head off?"
"That's what he wanted everybody to believe," replied Marianne. "Oh, yeah, I was just as worried as you when I saw him for the first time. After they kidnapped me and shrunk me down, that is."
"Oh? Do tell," I inquired, figuring I was in for another long story. I sat down, continuing to eat my fill, as Marianne filled me in.
After the Compound, I tried goin' back home. Y'know, to Chicago. I wasn't no scared little girl anymore, runnin' away from my problems. I figured I'd face 'em like I shoulda back when I was eighteen. Only when I got there, nobody wanted to have anythin' to do with me, except the ones who'd abused me in the first place. They thought I'd come back for more, y'see, and they wouldn't take no for an answer.
About a week later, I woke up on a pool table in someone's basement, strung out again, and of course they'd raped me, over and over, at that party the night before. I could only barely remember, but I knew that much, and I could feel it, too. I felt so goddamn dirty and ashamed 'cause I'd done it to myself, comin' back here, thinkin' it could be different, that I could change things somehow. I had to get out, to get anywhere but there, anyplace at all.
They wouldn't let me, though. They kept givin' me drugs, or they thought they did. After a while I figured out how to fake it, to pretend to get wasted, but spit the pills out when they weren't lookin'. Then I stole some money and a gun and got away. They tried to catch me, of course, but they were high, and stumblin' around, and I'd never had so clear a head. I shot two of 'em, Wendy. I'd never killed nobody before, never thought I could, but I had to, or I'd never be free.
So I ran. I knew the cops would be after me--those boys would've told on me for sure, and yep, that very same night, stayin' at some cheap by-the-hour hotel on the edge of town, I saw my face on the news. So I cut my hair, and took out my piercings, and bought some better clothes, and hopped a train to Florida--the only place I could think of to go, cause I had some relatives there.
I stayed in Miami a long time. I changed my name and disappeared, or at least I thought so. The cops never came lookin', at least. I thought you were dead, y'know. I missed you, though. Missed you a lot. I kept thinkin', if I'd only tried harder, if I'd made you come with me, you'd still be alive. Kate told me you'd killed yourself, but I didn't know what to believe. I just kept thinkin', she never really tried to save you, so it's her fault, not yours. Even though I knew you probably did it, I still blamed her.
She's the one who ruined everything. Kate McLeary! Everythin' was great in the Compound, wasn't it? You and I, together, enjoyin' whatever pleasures those men wanted to give us, surrounded by women--some willin', some not--we could have plenty of fun with every night. That's what I wanted, more than anythin'. I wanted things to be like that again. Happy and carefree, no responsibilities, no worries, a perfect little life in our own private paradise. Only now I'm slavin' away at some nightclub, dancin' on tables, lettin' men put their hands on me, fallin' back into my old ways. I felt lost, like I had nothin' left.
Y'know, they tried to get me to come to that movie premiere, the one that told all about the Compound. Even if I hadn't been hidin' from the law, I still never would've gone. What a joke! On the screen, they made it look like such a grand adventure. They just didn't understand, did they? Kate never knew what she took away from me. From us. She had no fuckin' clue.
Then I hear about this whole new story on the news--how they'd tried to run a Sole Survivor game using miniaturized contestants. That's when I saw your name in the reports. You were still alive! Somehow, you'd managed to make it through, despite everythin', and were still out there somewhere. That gave me hope, for the first time in a long time. I was slippin' and slidin' down a dark slope, fallin' into drugs and prostitution like before, but thinkin' about you pulled me out of that. If you could survive, against all odds, and then escape, and make it out there on your own, well why the hell can't I?
I tried to turn my life around. Nothing ever seemed so hard. Every time I thought I'd turned the corner, something would happen. My car would break down, someone would threaten to turn me in, I'd get robbed, whatever. I stopped the drugs, at least, but the rest just wouldn't stick. Every time I thought about givin' up, though, I remembered you, and what it must be like for you. I'd sit there on the toilet in my shitty little apartment, cryin' as my latest customer pulled up his pants and left, and tell myself my life was hell, but then I'd think of you, out there on the street someplace, fightin' off rats with a thumbtack, scavengin' in the garbage for food, and I'd tell myself, if she can do it, so can I. I'll get through this, I'll keep fightin', cause that's what Wendy would do. She'd never give up!
I know, I know, it sounds stupid comin' out like that, but I needed some inspiration and you were all I had. It felt like a never-endin' battle, though, until the men showed up. Two big burly white guys, totally outta place in our black-Hispanic ghetto, but there they were, and nobody bothered 'em, either. They hauled me off to their car without a word, and I never even tried to argue. What's the point? They're cops, I figured, come to arrest me finally, and what the hell could I do?
Only they weren't cops. They tranqed me, and next thing I know, I wake up in a white room, and this light comes on, and oh God I know exactly what that tinglin' means. I start screamin' and tryin' to get out, and bangin' on the walls, and all the while everythin's gettin' bigger and bigger and there's nothin' I can do. That's when I see him come in, the very worst person you can possibly imagine ever seein'--Ray Ellsworth, with all his little scars, and that big "Gotcha!" grin on his face, you know the one. The one that says you're pretty much screwed from here to Sunday.
Only he doesn't hurt me, like I figured he would. He picks me up, and takes off my clothes, and after I stop strugglin', he plays around with me. Don't get me wrong, he ain't gentle at all, but at least there ain't no knives this time. He just pinches and squeezes till he's got me exhausted, then he flips me over and goes to work for real. Pretty soon I'm cryin' for mercy cause he won't let me come, y'know? He gets me right to the edge, and stops, and works on my legs or ass, then goes back again for more, takin' me to the brink over and over…oh geez, I'm gettin' all excited just thinkin' about it!
See, Ray's gotten pretty good at this stuff by now. Back at the Compound, he just did whatever he felt like, but now, he doesn't have to worry about the other owners. He can do what he really wants to us, and he's had a lot of practice since then, ownin' his own personal miniaturizer and all.
So anyway, he shows me some of his new tricks, and when he finally lets me off the hook, it's like an explosion between my legs. I don't even know exactly what he did. He had somethin' on his fingers, some kinda soft and bumpy stuff that just feels awesome. All I know is that's the best I'd had in years. I never thought anyone could do that to me. And he told me, I could have that all the time if I wanted. He could take me back where he found me, and let me go back to that shitty life, or he'd take care of me from now on, just like that. No torture anymore, either--not like before, at the Compound. He could tell I liked the pain, at least some of the time, and it's true. You remember that, don't you? I didn't mind Ray all that much, as long as he didn't cause any permanent harm. He rarely did, though. He told me he did that stuff to keep up appearances, cause he liked seeing us all look so terrified. He was never as bad as all that, and judgin' by what he does to me these days, he ain't lyin', either.
So let's see then, I could go back to whorin' in some broken-down shithole in Miami, or I could stay with Ray and live like I did back at the Compound. Hmm, some choice, right? Of course I stayed! But that ain't the best part. See, he had plans, plans to get back at Kate McLeary for all the trouble she'd caused him in the past. He couldn't be too obvious about it, though. Nobody knows he's still alive, you see. He wants to set a trap for her. That's why he's been trying to find you all this time, and I've been helpin'. He knew you'd be the perfect way to get her attention. The way she keeps tryin' to find you all the time is the perfect setup. Now that you're here, we can move ahead with those plans. Once we get our hands on her, we'll toss her in the miniaturizer, and Ray's already promised to let us have first crack at her. She's gonna get a whole lot smaller than us when this is all over!
I grinned as she finished her story, actually wondering what that might be like to have Kate McHero reduced to a little plaything in my hand. I could picture myself being held by her easily enough, so I had little trouble imagining the alternative. Not that I'd do anything truly horrific, mind you, but the look on her little face would sure be worth it.
My reaction didn't escape Marianne's attention. "I can see you like that idea, huh?" she remarked, taking out a drink for herself. She popped the top and downed about a third of the can in a few quick gulps--no big surprise, seeing as she'd just spent the last five minutes talking nonstop. I didn't bother interrupting, except to nod or mumble in understanding, mostly because I'd been too busy stuffing my face. Since running out on my own, I'd gotten used to sometimes going 24 hours or more without eating, but usually the food I'd scavenge didn't taste quite this good. An actual ham and cheese sandwich, reduced to my scale…chased down with a real Coke, not the half-dried leavings in someone's trash…yeah, I could get used to this!
Still, I had my doubts. "That sounds too good to be true," I told her honestly. "What's the catch?"
"No catch," she answered right away. "Actually, I think you're gonna love what we've got set up here. You remember the Compound, right? It's sort of like that, only better. Ray's got all kinds of girls in his new place, and this time, there's no chance in hell they're gonna get away. You'll see what I mean when we get there."
"Sorry if I sound too doubtful," I went on, finally polishing off the bag of chips I'd opened after finishing my second sandwich. "It still sounds way too perfect."
"Well, I might as well tell you everything now," said Marianne. "There's a few guys there. Men like the one in the front of this car. They're the ones who helped Ray stay in hidin' after he faked his death, though, or did other things to help him, so you know they're loyal. They get to play with us--not just you and me, but any of the others--anytime they want. They can do whatever they want to the other prisoners, and believe me, what happened at the Compound will seem like kid stuff after you've seen these guys in action. Some of us, though, are special. You and me, and a couple others you'll meet later. We're like Ray's little enforcers. We make sure there ain't no escapes or shit like that goin' on. The men got strict orders to treat us right, and they do--Ray won't let 'em hurt us, and he treats us like I told you earlier. You're gonna love it, trust me."
"Sounds fantastic," I agreed. "That's what Lou promised me, too, don't forget. He said he wanted to start his own little Compound, and I'd be the one running the show. He reneged on that promise, though, so what's to stop Ray from doing the same thing?"
"Nothin', I guess," replied Marianne with a shrug, "but he ain't done it yet, has he? Why even bother treatin' me like this at all? Just so I'd help find you? He coulda done it without me--he coulda used any of the others. He needs people like you and me, Wendy. He needs his li'l allies, to help run things the way he likes it, and he's willin' to treat us right to make it happen. After he gets Kate, that's just the start. There's plenty more we can help him with while he builds up his empire. What's better, livin' like you were, or bein' part of somethin' bigger? Somethin' I know you're gonna love? Give it a chance, and you'll see."
I nodded, but inside, I had my doubts. This is one of the casino owners, don't forget. One of those rich, selfish dickheads who saw nothing wrong with executing the lot of us when things went south. I had little doubt he'd do the same thing again, if it came to that. In the meantime, though, she had a point. I'd certainly been looking forward to helping Lou run his own version of the Compound. This wouldn't be any different. Hell, this might even be better. Why not give it a shot?
Besides, I'd caught the unvoiced threat behind Marianne's words. At the end, there, when she said to give it a chance, she might've just as easily added, "…or else." And you and I both know what "or else" means. Now that she'd told me all this stuff, admitted Ray's the one behind it all, and given me all these secrets, there's no way they'd let me go.
One way or the other, I thought to myself, I'm on a one-way trip to Ray's new Compound.
Marianne seemed to notice my concern, not that I've ever been very good at hiding my emotions. She stepped a bit closer. "I know you're worried," she said in a quiet voice, "but you didn't really want to be on your own anymore, did you? That's why you went back to that house."
"No, it's--" I began, but she stopped me right away. She'd moved right up next to me now, so I could feel her warm breath on my face. Something about her presence set my skin to tingling.
"I know you're scared," she told me quietly, letting her hand slowly come up to rest on my shoulder. "You don't have to be scared any more, Wendy. You don't have to run."
I probably should've stepped away, but I didn't. Instead, I just tried weakly to protest. I knew what was coming, of course, and I didn't do much to resist. I really didn't want to resist. "Marianne, you know I don't love--"
"I know," she interrupted, voice now down to a whisper. "I know you don't. You and I, we're both the same, aren't we? We can't really love anyone. Not after what we've both been through. That don't mean we can't be together, though. I've missed you so much. You were there when I needed you, even if only in my mind. I needed you then, and you need me now. It's okay to need someone, Wendy."
I nodded, shutting my eyes. She's right, of course. I did need someone--and I had for quite a while. Being with Andrew helped a lot, but that's just not the same. He's a man, after all, and a giant besides. I got what I needed from him already. Now I needed a woman's touch, someone my size, and someone who knew exactly what to give. In short, I needed Marianne Tarinski, just as much as she needed me.
She took me by the hand, led me over to the blanket, and drew me underneath. In the darkness there, we found each other again, in more ways than one.
Damn, I'd almost forgotten what it felt like to get together with another woman--and not just anyone, but someone who actually understood me. We'd both been in the Compound, Marianne and I, and we'd both gone through the same kind of problems in our old lives. Our paths diverged, there for a while, but now we had another chance, and I didn't mind making a go of it.
I definitely wouldn't mind if Marianne kept doing some of the things she did under that huge blanket. She's learned a few things since I last met her…things she could do with her tongue that I didn't know were possible. That little wet piece of fleshy sandpaper found just the right spots to--
Well…ahem...I suppose I shouldn't say everything, now should I? I've got no problem talking all day about stuff involving just me, but I'm not sure how Marianne would like it if she knew I'd blabbed every little detail about our intimate, personal moments.
So anyway, after we finished getting to know each other all over again, we just cuddled up together under that heavy cloth. I didn't think I'd ever felt quite this comfortable--not in a very long time, anyway. Sure, I'd been tranquilized and put in a car on its way to Ray's new Compound, where damn near anything might happen, but I didn't care about that. I even managed to forget about my little secret mission for Kate, at least for a while. All I wanted to do was lie there in the darkness alongside Marianne, running my hand across her sweat-covered skin while she nuzzled close against me.
Of course, it couldn't last, and it didn't. A loud bang interrupted us, the sound of something big striking something metal. I figured out later our driver's hand swung into the back seat and slapped the top of the cage, just to get our attention. "Almost there," his blunt, raspy voice called out. "Fun time's over, Teeny. Back to work."
Marianne chuckled at the way I'd jumped at the sudden noise. "It's okay," she told me. "That's just Mack. He has nicknames for everybody--he calls me Teeny. You'll learn to like him…he's kinda rough, I guess, but I like it like that. Come on, get your clothes back on."
"Does he know you're--?" I asked, feeling around in the gloom for my discarded catsuit, which hadn't gone far. I'd made sure to keep the rest of my gear close by, too, so I had no trouble finding that, either.
"Yeah, sure, it ain't no secret," shrugged Marianne, "but them guys don't care. Ray calls 'em his 'pardners,' if you can believe that." She said the word with a protracted Southern drawl. I remembered Ray had a bit of an accent, but not nearly that bad, so he'd either reverted, or Marianne just wanted to make a point.
"So they get to just do whatever they want to us, is that right?" I asked, zipping up my suit and starting on the boots. "Doesn't sound like too much fun."
"Yeah, well, they all got their favorites," she explained, wriggling away from me a bit under the blanket, obviously looking for her own discarded bodysuit. "Remember, you ain't a prisoner, like the other girls, so they gotta watch it with you. They may be 'pardners,' but that don't mean they got immunity if Ray gets mad at 'em. He definitely don't wanna see you hurt, so they'll be real careful. Actually, most probably won't even risk it--a couple will, I guess, but I wouldn't worry too much. I know you liked it when Lester played with you--Vince is a lot like that, and so's Evan. Oh, and Ricky, he'll probably waste no time grabbin' you, soon as he gets a chance. He'll try anythin'--and I do mean anythin'. Just tell him what you don't like, though, and he'll lay off."
By this point I'd gotten completely dressed, but I stayed in the shadows, making sure I had all my weapons and supplies. In the process, I thought I heard something--a noise that didn't sound quite right--but it might've just been the radio chatter as some commercial played between songs. That or Marianne made a less-than-savory sound a short distance away, but I preferred not to think about that.
She finally wriggled out and came up next to me again. For a moment, our lips met, somehow finding each other in the darkness. "Thanks," she whispered in a low voice. "Thanks, Wendy, I needed that. I've really missed you. Now let's get ready. We're almost there."
She pushed her way out from under the blanket, drawing me along with a free hand. I blinked at the sudden light while she settled down on the seat nearby. I joined her, just enjoying the closeness of another human being--something I hadn't had much opportunity to appreciate of late.
After a moment, though, I started up the conversation again. "Almost there already?" I asked. "Funny, I would've figured we'd have to fly there or something."
"Oh, we did," she told me. "You were out a few hours, y'know. We'd already landed about half an hour before you woke up."
"Hmm, I suppose I should've figured that out," I replied, not terribly surprised by this news. "Any idea where this place actually is?"
"Out in the country somewhere in the South," said Marianne. "We call it the Ranch, because, well…it's on a ranch. A real one, too, with horses and livestock and everythin'. The guards go out and work just like hired hands, when they're not with us. The whole thing looks totally normal, just in case someone's watchin'. Even satellites see nothin' but ordinary farm work goin' on. It's inside the Barn where the new Compound is, though. Visitors don't get to go in there, obviously, unless they're plannin' to stay."
"Gotcha," I replied. "So, that's where we live, then, inside this Barn? Doesn't sound very comfortable."
"Oh, Ray's done a pretty good job makin' things nice for his favorites," she pointed out. "We got our own li'l place, with runnin' water and plumbin' and stuff. The other girls, they gotta live out in the open. Well, under the roof, but I mean--well, you'll see. The Compound's gonna seem like a luxury penthouse when you see the Ranch. The others, they gotta work, too. There ain't gonna be no Marcy Collins types here."
Marcy, if you forgot, is the lazy slug who spent her days at the Compound lying around sleeping and getting fat. The owners would've done her in pretty soon, I knew, if she didn't do something about that, but she always said she didn't have the energy. I knew better, though. Just a worthless sloth, that's all. I'm amazed she ever got out of the Compound alive.
"So what do we do?" I asked. "Do we go around with whips, driving them all like cattle? Are they our slaves or something? What are the rules?"
"Yeah, yeah, I know you got lots of questions," Marianne told me. "I'll get to it all when I can. I shoulda told you this already, but, well, we was kinda busy." She grinned sheepishly and went on. "We kinda act like enforcers, like I told you before. We're small enough to go around among the captives, makin' sure they do what they're supposed to. We don't have whips or nothin' like that, though. The threat of one of the guards comin' down on 'em is usually enough. If not, well, there's plenty of ways to punish 'em. You'll see what I mean. I can't wait to show you the Box."
"What's that?"
"Oh, no, I ain't gonna spoil the surprise," she replied, flashing a devilish grin. "When you see it, you'll get it. There's basically four kinds of punishments in the Ranch: demerits, discipline, loss of privileges, and the Box."
I raised an eyebrow. "Demerits? Really?"
"Yeah, Ray's right-hand man is Frank Lassiter. You remember him, right?"
I nodded. I can't remember if Kate ever mentioned him in the book, or if he made it into the movie or not. He's Ray's business partner, and maybe more than that--we never really knew. Definitely his BFF, though. Frank used to drop in on the Compound sometimes, one of the few people they trusted to come and go as he pleased. Since I'm pretty sure Ray, for all his sadism, isn't much of a killer, I suspect Frank's the one who really did the dirty work of executing Ray's lookalike. Not the sort of guy you want holding you in his hand, if you know what I mean.
"I see you remember," Marianne sighed after a moment. "Yeah, he's the one real downer to this whole setup. Anyway, he went to West Point in his younger days, or so he's always braggin'. He put together this whole punishment setup, and demerits were his idea, somethin' he took from how things worked at school. Any girl gets demerits, they get logged and tallied up. Soon as they get enough, they get one of the other punishments. Or, when someone wants a girl, he'll grab the one with the most demerits. Afterwards they get cleared off, so they start from scratch."
"Sounds ridiculous," I commented. "Why keep track of crap like that?"
"Keeps things interestin'," came the reply. "The closer they get to punishment, the tamer they get. When they're freshly cleared, they're bolder. Anyways, you'll get the idea. Anyways, after they reach 25 demerits, or any increment, they get discipline, which is somethin' any of us can do, or the guards. Whatever you want, really. The sky's the limit. Demerits don't clear till they get time with a giant, so until then they keep on stackin'. At 100, they lose privileges, which means everythin' in this place. After 100 you'll see 'em practically beggin' for someone to haul 'em off for some private time."
I nodded, thinking this over. Actually, the whole setup seemed pretty damn sadistic, but who'd imagine anything else? We're talking about Ray and Frank, after all. Two peas in a pod.
"If you do somethin' really bad, and I mean truly bad," Marianne continued, "that's when you get the Box. It's the very worst punishment in the place. You'll see what I mean. You can get there after 200 demerits, but hardly anybody lasts that long. Mostly it's from somethin' really stupid, like tryin' to escape or pullin' a weapon or somethin' like that. You can't escape, neither. Even if they could get outta the Barn, which ain't no easy task, where's they gonna go? Nothin' out there but nothin' in every direction for 20 miles. Nobody's gonna survive that. Even Kate wouldn't make it, if she tried. Not that she'll get the chance. I doubt she'd last more than half an hour in here, after Ray gets her, assumin' she survives what I got planned."
"I want a crack at her too, don't forget," I added quickly. "I still owe her for what she tried to do to me in SoCal."
"Yeah, you'll get your chance," Marianne assured me. "Oh, there's one other thing I forgot to tell you 'bout the Ranch. One real important thing. Uh-oh, nevermind, guess that's gotta wait--we're almost here. This is our turn."
I held on as the vehicle left the pavement and turned onto a gravel road. I could see a haze of dust all around as we headed off the main drag onto a dirt road leading towards what could only be the Ranch. Of course, I didn't really get a good look, seeing as I'm way down on the seat, far below window level, but you get the idea.
The car drove on for about half a minute before finally coming to a stop in the shadow of a large building. Marianne stood up and smiled at me. "Tell you what, I'll just let you find out the rest yourself," she said. "Now let's show you 'round your new home."
I almost cursed aloud at the evil gleam in Marianne's eye as she hopped out of the car. The driver, the guy named Mack, opened up the door but didn't bother trying to grab us or anything. In fact, as soon as we hopped out onto the cracked asphalt driveway, he slammed the door shut and walked away. I barely got a look at him as he moved off: big, of course, but you know what I mean--burly and muscular, like a bodybuilder stuffed into a faded short-sleeved shirt and blue jeans. From ground level, the only other detail I noted was the shaved, darkly tanned back of his head.
Now, finally, I also got a look at my surroundings. Since waking up in the car, the only things I'd spotted outside were occasional telephone poles passing by in the window, and every now and then the clutching branches of some half-dead tree clawing at the clear blue sky. Now I realized they'd brought me to an arid, rocky wasteland somewhere in the middle of nowhere--probably Oklahoma or Texas or something. Tan, brown, and russet looked like the primary colors around here. The land seemed almost arid enough to be a desert, but not quite. Here and there, I did see a tree jutting up out of some outcropping or other, suggesting maybe there used to be more rainfall in this area.
Come to think of it, I do recall reading that despite all the snow this winter, the Southwest still suffered drought conditions. That narrowed down my possible location to what, one-fourth of the country? Or, hell, who knows, I might've been in Mexico, though it seemed too cold for that. Despite the desert-like conditions all around, and the sun overhead, the air felt dry and somewhat chilly, causing me to shiver involuntarily. All at once I felt like heading inside.
Marianne led me over towards the nearby building, which stood on the edge of the Ranch, near one of those stereotypical archways overhead. Beyond that, I could see some actual grass scattered amidst a couple of other structures--a plantation-style white-panel house, a tremendous barn, and stables surrounded by high wooden fencing. A few farmhand types wandered around, busy with some task or other, but nobody seemed to take any interest in our arrival.
Marianne, no stranger to this place, had by now walked over to the shack towering next to the driveway. She stood next to one of Mack's gigantic feet, totally unconcerned with his presence. He held a door open, and Marianne waved me closer, so I stopped gawking and headed towards her. Not so long ago, being in the open like this would've made me automatically dive for cover, but I felt better and safer with her around.
"One other li'l detail I forgot to mention," she called out as I approached. "They're fanatical 'bout security round this place, so you're gonna have to suck it up. Inside here's a restorer, and you're gonna have to go through it, I'm afraid."
"What?" I demanded, stopping and taking a couple steps back in horror. I glanced towards the car, the only hiding place around, as if I could've possibly gotten back there before Mack reached down to grab me.
"Yeah, sorry, I figured you don't wanna go in, but you got no choice. Ray's orders. Everybody comin' here's gotta get zapped."
"Marianne," I said shakily, "I don't want to get restored! Not ever again. Not for you or anybody else!"
She grabbed my shoulders, shaking a couple times to calm me down. I think I'd gotten dangerously close to panicking just then. I did not want to be enlarged! It's hard to even explain why--you know how Kate used to talk about not wanting to get miniaturized, when she told her story of working at the Sidewinder? Well, that's me, in reverse. I'd been tiny so long, I thought of it as completely natural. Take that away, and as weird as it sounds, I'd be diminished. I'd lose everything that made me different and unique. I'd lose myself.
"You gotta do this," Marianne insisted, cutting through my almost-panic. "Ray says we can't take a chance anybody's got anythin' miniaturized on 'em when they get here. He says everybody gets four zaps from the restorer, just to make sure. Don't worry, Wendy, it'll be okay. Soon as you're done, we'll take you straight to the miniaturizer and shrink you back down. You don't gotta stay big any longer than you want to."
"O-okay," I managed to gasp. Flexing my fingers a few times, I paced around, forcing myself to get control of my emotions. They had a miniaturizer here, of course, so they could do just what she said. They just wanted to be sure I wasn't sneaking in any kind of trackers or weapons or whatever. Actually, the more I thought about it, the safer it sounded. As soon as they saw I didn't have anything like that on me, they'd be sure I wasn't a spy, because if so, I'd surely be using something like that, wouldn't I?
But what if I was…? I shuddered momentarily at the thought. Back at the Sidewinder, they secretly implanted tracers in our guts by feeding them to us in our food. I'd eaten stuff in Kate's hotel room, and had a couple beers Sally gave me--what if they had miniaturized tracers, too? They'd grow back to normal size, and give me away--or kill me in the process, if they got too big inside my body.
Well, only one way to find out, I suppose. I had no choice, anyway, because like I said before, I wasn't getting out of this. If I refused to enter, they'd probably just throw me inside anyway, and then turn me into one of their prisoners for real. Assuming, of course, they didn't just execute me on the spot.
Nearby, Marianne reached out her hand, smiling invitingly. I sighed, slumped my shoulders, and accepted the invitation, following her inside the restorer without another word.
The door shut behind us after we got inside. Mack must've closed it, but I barely noticed. Instead, I marched slowly forward like someone being led to a firing squad. The light came on, that terrible glow that penetrated every cell in my body, releasing them from the miniaturization field that held them locked at a smaller size for the last few years.
I have only the vaguest idea how miniaturization actually works. It's one of those quantum physics level things that ordinary people just can't understand. Back in the Compound, I listened to one of the smarter girls trying to explain it--Bobbie Simon, I think, but I could be wrong. She said something about some kind of folded space that they called a "quantum condensation field," or some such techno-bullshit. The miniaturizer alters space around you and you sort of fall into it, but slowly, which is why you sort of seem to dwindle down instead of just going poof, I'm tiny! If you did that, or so Bobbie explained, you'd have to lie down flat beforehand, because you're shrinking in all directions, meaning an instant shrink would leave you about three feet up and you'd fall. The slower pace lets gravity pull you down to the floor over the course of the whole process.
So when the restorer hit me and I started growing, I expanded in all directions, meaning I got ever so slightly pushed up away from the floor. Back at the casino, I never really noticed the effect, but now, after so long being small, I could really feel it. To me, I thought gravity must've doubled, but I'm sure my emotions had something to do with that, too. I stumbled around, grabbing hold of Marianne, who of course had also started growing, and wound up sobbing in her arms the whole time.
I hated myself for breaking down like that, but goddammit, I felt sick and hurt and terrified, more so than at any time while on the run. I felt a stabbing, wrenching pain in my gut that hurt worse than even Lou's betrayal. If they'd come in just then and told me they'd found some tracer, or something else that meant I had to die, I probably wouldn't have cared. Anything to make this pain go away.
Through it all, Marianne stayed with me, saying, "It'll be okay" over and over. I held onto her like someone clutches a rope that's dangling them over a lake full of crocodiles. I could've let go, and given in to panic and madness, but I held on tight instead, and she got me through it. If I'd been there alone, I don't know what might've happened to me.
After a while I realized I'd actually grown back to full size all the way. I just hung on, though, trembling and sobbing, trying to get control of myself while Marianne just kept on saying everything would be okay, that they were just making sure I didn't have any bugs. The light came on again, and again, and then one more time, about a minute passing between each cycle. By the end of it, I'd recovered enough to pull away, wiping my eyes and clenching my fists over and over. For some reason, repeatedly making fists with my hands always seems to calm me down.
Marianne smiled and wiped away tears of her own, which surprised me. "Told you it'd be okay," she said after a moment. "I'm so sorry, Wendy, I didn't realize how traumatic that'd be. I woulda told you sooner."
"It's okay, I'll be fine," I told her. "Just make me small again! I don't want to be like this. I feel weak and helpless." That's no lie, either--at small size, I could run and jump a lot faster, and overcome gravity better. I felt somehow heavier now, like I had to push harder just to take a step. Plus, I knew I'd be much more fragile, too. At three inches, I can easily hop down several feet without noticing, but if I tried a proportional jump now--which would be about a 50-foot drop--I'd never survive.
"Let's get you to the miniaturizer, then," said Marianne with a supportive smile. "It ain't far."
We went out through another door on the opposite side of what turned out to be a pretty small room. Just as we left, I saw Mack come in behind us, and I didn't miss the motion as he slipped a gun into his belt. He'd been waiting outside on guard in case I tried anything.
They don't take chances in this place, I realized as I walked through the rest of the shack and out the other side. The open room beyond sported several rows of computer equipment attached to very obvious wall-sized scanners, X-ray machines and whatnot. A couple of technician types watched us go, nodding to Marianne, and two more armed guards nearby let us go by without a word. Guess I passed their little test, huh?
We exited the shack and now I got a much better look at my surroundings. Think about damn near any ranch you've ever seen a picture of, and that's this place. I already mentioned the main buildings, but those weren't the only ones--they also had a second (much larger) barn as well as a separate garage adjacent to the house. A grain silo rose up between the two barns, standing like a tower over the whole property, and at the top I could now see a lookout keeping watch on the entire area. I felt pretty sure they didn't store much grain inside that place.
Further out, beyond the fence surrounding the stables, I could see cattle grazing in the greener vegetation, which filled a roughly circular field. Aha, this must be one of those places that look like giant green circles when viewed from an airplane flying overhead. They probably use a huge central sprinkler that rotates around. They didn't even need to fence in the cattle--they'd never stray too far, since there just wasn't that much to eat in the arid landscape beyond.
Marianne led me towards the closer barn as the two guards trailed a short distance behind us. I felt heavy, hobbling along with every step, like someone trying to learn to walk again after being in traction for far too long. The men following us mumbled among themselves, and I distinctly heard the words "sweet piece of ass," which didn't bode well. Seeing as I wore only a skintight catsuit, and they trailed along right behind me, I could hardly expect them to notice anything else. Men are always the same, right? I felt a brief moment of disgust, followed by an equally brief twinge of pride, but these feelings faded quickly as we reached the nearer barn.
Inside, I saw what I hoped I'd see--a miniaturizer, filling the building from top to bottom, its components stuffed into every corner going up all the way to the ceiling, and in some cases, buried in the ground. I rushed forward into the central chamber as fast as I could go, not even waiting for Marianne, and collapsed there, eager for the shrinking to begin, not bothering to wait for her or anybody else.
She stopped and waved to somebody out of view, holding up a hand with fingers and thumb extended. Five, I realized, and my fears seemed to fade away. They aren't going to screw me over after all. Marianne told me the truth. I can trust her. Maybe this will all work out...
The miniaturizer hummed all around me, and that glorious light came on. Marianne waited until the beam finished its work and then stepped closer, eyes following mine as they slowly moved downward. She hadn't been inside, so she didn't shrink like I did, and I got to watch as she grew larger and larger, gradually expanding, rising overhead like a tower as the world returned to its normal, proper proportions.
"I never get tired of watchin' that," she said as I reached my beloved three inches of height at last. "Seein' people shrink makes me feel all tingly inside. And I never thought I'd see it happen to you. Now c'mere, you cute li'l thing."
She wrapped her fingers around me and lifted me into the air. I let out a gasp at the sensation of suddenly gaining altitude, but I didn't mind at all. After being so big, I welcomed this. I wanted this.
Marianne set me down in her palm and I stretched out, arms overhead, sighing in satisfaction. I realized then that she'd taken off her gloves at some point, but I hadn't noticed until now. Her skin felt soft and warm all around, like a fleshy, comfortable bed. Her right index finger appeared in the sky, along with her thumb, and she started to caress me gently, rolling me around in between those massive digits. Ohhh, I sighed to myself, I could get used to that...
"I used to dream about holdin' you, y'know," Marianne whispered as she fondled me with the greatest of care. "Back in the Compound, when those men used to do this to us, I'd imagine doin' it to other girls. Espeically you, Wendy. I told myself, if I ever had you in my hand, I wouldn't be so cruel. I'd be nice and kind and lovin', just like now. You like this, don't you? I can tell."
I nodded, shutting my eyes and surrendering utterly. Marianne could've done anything she wanted to me then, and I wouldn't have cared. Not that I could've stopped her, anyway, but I didn't want to stop her. I wanted those fingers to do so much more--to strip me of my clothes, and find all those places on my body she used to find when we were together. Only this time, it'd be so much better…
Sadly, no such luck. I heard a voice intrude on our perfect moment. "Now, now, Teeny," grumbled Mack, "you know the rules."
"Yeah, yeah," Marianne complained, and those wonderful fingers pulled away. Come back, fingers! Come back! "Can't I have five minutes? That's all you ever need, anyway."
He laughed, though it sounded more like a deep-throated growl. "I let you two spend some time together back in the car, which is more'n I shoulda. Now go on, put her down and get inside. Ray's waitin' to see the both of you."
"Fine, whatever," sighed Marianne, setting me down on the ground and walking into the miniaturizer. I got to my feet, shivering all over from that amazing caress, and zipped up my suit, which she'd managed to open up almost all the way, without me noticing.
While she waited for the light, Mack's huge feet stepped up next to me. He bent down and picked me up without asking permission. In a moment I found myself sprawling in a beefy hand. He used a thick, meaty finger to prod at me a couple of times, and I reflexively dodged to avoid his touch.
"What's the matter, Blondie?" his impossibly deep voice rumbled. "You shore seemed to like it a couple minutes ago."
"Aw, leave her alone, Mack," said Marianne, walking out of the machine and stepping up nearby. I saw her for a moment, but her head dwindled out of sight beneath Mack's palm. "You'll get plenty of time for that later," she reminded him.
"Don't worry, I'm just checkin' her out," he insisted, flipping me over with his finger and finally getting me to stay that way by putting his fingertip into my back. "I got a good look at that sweet li'l ass on the way in here, now I wanna see what it feels like."
Marianne sighed from somewhere below the level of my vision. "You and your asses," she muttered. "There's other parts of women you can touch, y'know, and we like those places a lot better."
Mack laughed but didn't reply, apparently content with roughly fondling my butt for a while, alternately squeezing, patting, and rubbing to his heart's content. I swallowed my distaste and let him do it, figuring a struggle would only get me hurt.
"Yup, that's a fine li'l ass you got there, Blondie," he finally concluded, letting me go as he bent over to pick up Marianne, who'd now reached my size at last. "Better than yours, Teeny," he chuckled. "Much tighter."
"Yeah, well, she's spent months exercisin' it every day, runnin' around out there in the world--how am I supposed to compete with that?"
"More time on the treadmill for you," he remarked. "I'm sure you'll catch up. Now come on, Ray's waitin.'"
Without another word, he started walking, clutching us both tightly in his hand, and I swallowed heavily, realizing only now just exactly where he's taking me and who I'm about to meet.
I last saw Ray Ellsworth on the night everything went to hell back at the Compound. He hadn't been there all week, as I recall, and then when he did show up, he got some miracle draw on the last hand of the night and won like 20 of us. Well, maybe not that many, but a whole pile of ladies who are all absolutely terrified, except those of us from Lester's group. We got off easy cause Ray had some kind of private arrangement with Lester, something going on behind the scenes that I only knew about because I overheard them talking one time. Some kind of payoff so Lester's favorites wouldn't get seriously hurt. Whatever.
Anyway, so Ray scored a huge catch for the night and plenty of people he could torture. He went into his private little room and opened up his bag with all his tools--stuff lifted from hospitals and dentist's offices, hardware stores, you name it. Plus all kinds of fishing wire and thick threads to tie us up with, if he feels the need. Me, Marianne, Pam and Melinda just sort of hung out, waiting for the gloves and boots he usually gave us--the ones with the blades and barbs sticking out so we could dance around on his skin later in the evening. He loved that for some reason--where do you think he got all those scars, anyway?
He occupied the beginning of his session fooling around with Heather Andrews, one of the new girls who he hadn't had a chance to play with yet. I remember how much everybody hated her when she arrived, the way she fell all over herself being Victor's personal pet. I didn't care one way or the other, myself, because I knew eventually she'd figure out the truth--right then, as it turned out.
Ray cut her a bit, fondling her at the same time, but she kept sobbing and crying like the worthless piece of shit she was, and Ray got bored real quick. He left her alone to whimper like a little baby while he started on some of the others. Sometimes they wouldn't fight, and he'd just hold them, poking and prodding until they screamed, or until he got some other reaction. Then he'd set them aside and try another one. Nobody really ever knew what he was looking for, but eventually he'd find it, even if he had to go through the women multiple times. That's what sucked about being one of his toys when he only had a few to choose from--then you'd get plenty of personal attention. This particular night, I didn't have to worry about that, so I just waited, watching him go through his little search routine. Once he had the right response, he stretched out on the couch and we started doing the dance.
I'm pretty sure it's the pain that got him off, really. He'd abuse his poor little prisoner the whole time, eyes fixed on her, while we made little cuts everywhere on his exposed skin, usually his chest or arms, but sometimes other places. It's rare he had Team Lester for this--usually he had to make do with other girls--but we had it down to a science. It didn't take long to finish him off this particular night, and as soon as he got done, he cleaned himself off and headed out. Must've been in a hurry, or something…nothing unusual there, though. He rarely lingered at the Compound and never said anything to any of us once he finished. I always wondered if the place made him uncomfortable for some reason.
Anyhow, because he took off right away, I always figured he missed most of the fun the rest of the night. I never saw or heard him again--the next time I saw anybody, after I jumped in the vent, was when Lou fished me out. I later heard Ray shot himself when they came to arrest him, but of course we now know that isn't what really happened. The thought of meeting him again left me filled with dread.
See, of all the owners, Ray's the one I never really understood. The rest of them, I always knew their motivations--Gary wanted to be entertained, Mike enjoyed the personal attention, Victor liked fondling us, Harry had his masochism, and Lester liked watching us play with each other. Ray, though…yeah, on the surface, you'd just say S&M and be done with it, but it always seemed like more than that. The others, they always had to watch and suffer, but because he usually let me and Lester's bunch do the cutting dance, we often got to be outside observers--and what I saw didn't look like garden-variety sadomasochism. The way he always hunted for something, poking and probing till he found it…I always felt like he wanted a whole lot more from us than he could ever get, there in the Compound.
What that might mean now, I had no idea, but it scared me more than a little bit. Nearby, clutched tightly in Mack's thick hand, Marianne managed to reach out and just barely touch my arm. "Don't worry," she told me. "Ray ain't that bad, as long as you stay on his good side. Please, Wendy, don't ever forget that! I don't wanna haveta watch him hurt you."
"I won't forget, I promise," I replied with as much confidence as I could muster.
I could barely see where we were going, since Mack had us both wrapped up pretty tightly. We went into the big plantation-style home, though, and I caught a pretty good glimpse of that. The building looked like something lifted out of some swamp somewhere in the Deep South, dropped into the middle of a desert someplace and surrounded by a twenty-yard ring of bright green grass. The impeccable landscaping, with flowers around every tree and bush in the open yard, must've been tended by a dedicated crew of pros, especially in this environment. I got the impression of one of those tiny tropical islands sticking up out of an endless sandy sea. That's what the mansion reminded me of, anyway.
Once inside, we went upstairs quickly, so I didn't get much of a look at the rest of the place. Mack took us down a long hallway to a wide room filled with shelves containing old-style printed books--you know, the kind with binding and paper, before electronic media came along and made all that obsolete. Ray sat there in a tremendous plush leather chair, wearing glasses and a bathrobe, with one of those thick tomes spread open on his lap. He looked up as Mack entered and smiled that toothless smile I remembered all too well.
"Ah, this must be Wendy," he said as Mack opened up his hand, letting me finally catch a breath. Marianne and I tumbled out into Ray's palm and he held us up, staring at me through those glasses of his. "Nice to see you again, after so long," he went on, his voice nearly devoid of any accent, and actually sounding much more educated than I remembered.
"So," I remarked as I stood up and dusted myself off, "I guess you're not dead, huh?"
He chuckled and waved his other hand at Mack, who backed out of the room and out of sight. I got the impression he hadn't actually left, though, but stuck around just beyond hearing range. "Same old Wendy Sugarton," Ray said, reaching out to run a couple of fingers over my body. "I always liked how you never took any crap from anyone. A trait that'll serve you well in my service, as long as you don't forget who you're speaking to."
I nodded, paying no attention to his meandering fingers. His veiled threat didn't pass unnoticed. "Don't worry, I'll respect your rules, just like I did the last time," I told him.
He smiled again. "Yes, unlike the others, you never needed all that much persuading. You haven't changed, and neither have I. All my life, I've dedicated myself towards acquiring the things I want. The Compound was a step in the right direction, but because I found myself hampered by my associates, I could never quite achieve everything I desired from my efforts there. In fact, it felt like a pale shadow of what I might've had, if I hadn't been forced to compromise. You can appreciate that, can't you, Wendy? Surely in your own life, you've had to compromise in order to get certain things, and then found yourself wishing for more?"
I nodded, though quite honestly I couldn't think of any particular examples at the moment. I suppose when I teamed up with Lou, that's sort of what happened. Although, actually, come to think of it, the last few months of me running around by myself pretty much fell into that category. I wanted to be small, but if anyone found me, I'd be arrested, so I had to stay hidden all the time. That's sort of what Ray meant, I guess.
"Fortunately for me," he went on, not noticing my sudden thoughtfulness, "I foresaw the Compound's eventual demise. Oh, don't get me wrong, I'm not saying I had any advance knowledge of Kate McLeary's plans. I just knew eventually the place was bound to fail. Too many people were involved, some of them coerced against their will, like Elizabeth Fitzgerald, who'd betray us at a moment's notice if she could. Plus, we'd limited ourselves to far too small a pool of potential applicants, and with the miniaturizer's location known and fixed, we couldn't hope to last. I rather thought the end would be less…explosive, but at least for me, it had the benefit of cutting off nearly every loose end that could trouble me down the road."
"Sounds like everything worked out for you," I put in. "Almost like you planned it that way."
"Oh, yes, I'd love to take credit for that," Ray went on, standing up and moving over to a long couch leaning against the wall. He set us down on a table nearby. Marianne, who hadn't said a word since our arrival, moved over to a box there and dumped out the contents. Ray, meanwhile, ushered me closer with his fingers and continued the conversation. "Unfortunately, the FBI did more than just destroy the casino. They also froze a majority of my assets and shut down a great number of my shell companies, making it extremely difficult to recover financially. Fortunately for me, I soon acquired a miniaturizer, which made me feel much better, and eliminated many other problems. I now find myself well on the way to gaining many of the other things I want."
"Like what?" I asked curiously, glancing over to see what Marianne might be doing. She'd started attaching something to her boots, and I pretty much figured out exactly what that meant.
"Well," he went on, "one of those was you."
"I figured as much," I replied, shrugging. "I suppose now you'll want to take advantage of me."
"But of course. You might as well remove your clothes--I've never cared for a striptease, as you might recall."
I nodded and started taking off my boots. I expected this, after all, but I didn't really mind, as long as he didn't torture me. Since he needed me on his side, I doubted he would.
With all my gear, I couldn't exactly get naked quickly, but he didn't seem to mind the delay. In fact, he stood up and poured himself a drink while he waited. After taking a few sips, he set the glass down on the table and picked up a pair of what looked like golfing gloves. While I removed my own gloves, he put his on, glancing down at me with a curious glint in his eye.
I looked over at Marianne, who'd finished strapping the blades to her feet and now busied herself wrapping her hands in spike-covered gloves. "This," she whispered in my direction, "is the best part."
I finished removing the last of my accoutrements and completed my task by unzipping the catsuit and slipping out of it. The instant the garment hit the tabletop, Ray plucked me off the table and held me up close to his glasses. "I see you've kept in shape," he commented, as if examining a piece of beef hanging in a storehouse. "Very nice muscle tone. Some scarring, too."
"Rats," I explained succinctly.
He nodded. "Life must've been tough for you, out in the world at that size."
"It had its moments," I agreed.
"Well, those days are over, Wendy. Time to enjoy the fruits of your labors."
He stretched out the couch and let his bathrobe fall open, exposing his naked body to the air. Marianne, without waiting for instructions, jumped across the gap and climbed up onto his stomach. Ray held me out in front of him, opened up his palm, and pushed me onto my back. I saw then that the gloves he wore didn't cover up his fingers, but instead wrapped around them, surrounding the tips with little bumpy protrusions lined with something soft, like felt. Here and there, amidst the rest, a couple of ridges jutted out, covered in thick, bristly hairs. What those were for, I didn't know, but I figured I'd find out soon enough.
"Now," Ray said in a low voice, "let me show you what happens to people who help me get what I want."
And that's just what he did.
In all my life, I don't think I've ever had a more intense, mind-blowingly exhilarating sexual experience as I did just then.
Ray didn't waste any time with foreplay or anything like that. No need, really. When he made me get undressed, and watch him put on those gloves, I already knew what came next. I'd already started to shiver and tremble a bit--not from cold, either, since the room was perfectly comfortable--and I'm sure he noticed. Either that, or he just didn't care.
He started on me right away. Seeing as I've had plenty of opportunity to pleasure other women, and be pleasured by them in return, I knew not only where my own hot spots were, but also where you might find them on others. Well, Ray's studded, bristly gloves just sort of hit them all at once. I probably screamed--yeah, I probably screamed a lot--but I don't remember much after that. Just a kind of endless blissful haze during which everything else sort of disintegrated around me, everything except those undeniable, relentless fingers. They were the whole world--nothing else existed anymore. Nothing else had ever existed except those multiple bumpy digits touching me all over.
I've got no idea how many times I came. Over and over again, it seemed. At least a couple times, I'm pretty sure he didn't even touch my private parts--just everywhere else that mattered. He got inside me, too, eventually, but I didn't see what with, and didn't care, because even that felt amazing, even though I usually don't like it. I don't even know what he really did to me, either, which drove me crazy later, when I finally recovered, and started trying to remember exactly what happened.
I awoke to Marianne's hand caressing my forehead. "Yep, you passed out," she told me immediately, answering my unspoken question. "Happens all the time--he don't stop till you're out, usually. You lasted almost ten minutes--longer than me the first time."
I sat up groggily, still naked, covered in sweat, every part of me tingling all over. He hadn't cut or bruised me at all, either. I shuddered, suddenly feeling very embarrassed. Not because I didn't have any clothes on--I didn't care about that. Marianne saw me that way plenty of times back in the Compound. Actually, I felt utterly humiliated because Ray basically stripped me of everything I thought I knew about myself. Strong, independent, uncontrollable--all that went by the wayside when Ray used those gloves. I lost myself completely under his fingers, and that's what made me shiver.
I found my clothes close by and pulled them on in haste. "You look upset," said Marianne, frowning. "Why? I know you liked that just as much as everybody else does. What's goin' on?"
I sighed as I zipped up my suit and reached for the boots. "I don't know," I answered, and my throat felt raw as I spoke. Yep, I've been screaming, I thought. "I did like it, and maybe that's the problem. I liked it way too much."
She nodded. "It ain't the same, you know. It ain't like real sex, not really. If you think sex'll never feel the same way again, don't worry 'bout that. When it's with--well, with someone you care about, it'll feel just as good."
I doubted that, but it's a nice sentiment, I suppose. Actually, I didn't give a shit about that either way. What really bothered me was the way it felt like drugs.
If you've never taken coke, or ecstasy, or neuro, or any of those other illegals, you've got no idea, so let me paint you a picture. See, the first time, it blows your mind--it feels sort of like what just happened to me, only maybe not as intense, but longer lasting. You feel like you want to try that again, as soon as you can--the same thing I felt right now. But every time after that, the experience changes. Sometimes it's good and sometimes not, but you forget reality. You lose yourself. That's what happened to me, back on the streets. I'd do anything for a hit, even when the high barely lasted anymore. The only thing I cared about was forgetting everything I had to go through to get myself there.
You remember when Kate whined in her book about how horrible it was to shrink to 33, or 15, or whatever? Trust me, I didn't bat an eyelash at crap like that. If it got me money so I could snort another line, I would've let them shrink me down to micro size. That's what this thing with Ray reminded me of. I felt like I'd do anything to have him do that to me again, and that's the problem. I swore I'd never go back to drugs, no matter what. After the Compound, I promised myself no matter how bad things got, I'd keep my mind clear. That's one reason I always stayed tiny--like that, I could never be tempted. Even a single grain of coke would burn me out, or so Claire Tujour told me after I finally broke the addiction. Even if she lied, which she certainly could've, getting hooked again would be the kiss of death. The only thing I have going for me as I am is I'm a tough, smart little survivor, and drugs would take that all away.
So the very last thing I wanted right now was to get hooked on something new. Yeah, sure, it felt good--felt amazing, really, and in fact, I kept right on tingling as I pulled on my clothes, ignoring the sweat that covered every part of me. The tingling might not ever end, so far as I knew, but I didn't like that feeling much anymore. I really didn't want Ray to ever do that to me again. I don't know what might happen if he did.
I finally finished getting dressed. "Are we done here?" I asked. "I'm kinda tired. You think you could show me to my room or whatever so I can get some sleep?"
Marianne nodded, shaking her head. I could tell she didn't like my response to Ray's manipulations, but she didn't press me on the matter. "Not quite yet," she told me. "He's takin' a quick shower, but he wants to talk to you a bit more before you go."
"That's something else I wouldn't mind," I replied. "A shower. Anything like that here, or do I just find a handy sink?"
"Actually, there's somethin' like a real shower waitin' in the dollhouse," answered Marianne. "That's where we live, over in the Barn. It's not a real dollhouse, but that's how I think of it. They've miniaturized some furniture for us, and we got plumbin' and electricity, so it don't seem all that different when you're there."
I shrugged. Being surrounded by "ordinary" furniture wouldn't feel normal to me at all. "Is it far?" I inquired.
"Not really, just out back on the other side of the yard. We can walk it ourselves in 'bout fifteen minutes, but Mack's still waitin' out there to escort us. Soon as Ray's done, he'll come get us."
"Ah, okay," I agreed. The way I felt right now, I didn't really want to walk all the way across a yard. Not that I expected anything dangerous to attack us, and I didn't doubt my ability to fight it off if it did. I just felt really tired. Remember, I spent the whole day today getting to Andrew's house before Marianne shot me--and incidentally, getting tranqed does not count as restful sleep.
After a couple of minutes or so, Ray showed up, this time dressed in an off-white suit that fit just a little too tightly--I guess he gained a little weight since the Compound, something I would've noticed earlier if I'd been paying attention, but I'd been more concerned with what he intended to do to me. "Ah, good, you're awake," he said amiably, sitting down on the couch. "I hope you enjoyed my little demonstration."
"Oh yeah," I replied, trying to sound pleased. I really wanted to add, Yeah, I get it, you've found a new way to control your little pets, but instead I wisely kept my trap shut.
"Good. I can do that for you at any time, of course, but if you know anything about me, you know I require give and take. This time, you were on the receiving end, while Marianne took care of me. Next time, you'll be on the giving side. If you do well, and follow my rules here, you'll get to feel the gloves again."
I nodded. "Yep, makes sense to me," I agreed. Just be my slave, and maybe I'll reward you with a prize. "Just like old times, huh?"
"I figured this wouldn't be a problem for you." Ray smiled and leaned a little closer. "Now, I want to say something, and please understand I mean what I say. Wendy, I want to apologize for what happened at the Compound."
I almost jumped out of my catsuit. "What?" I replied, completely shocked, not just because of his words, but because they sounded completely genuine.
"You heard me," he went on. "I'm sorry about how that all turned out. I wish I hadn't left so quickly that night. If I'd been there, I could've stopped Gary and Victor. There's no reason they had to kill any of the ones who didn't go with Kate. I could've stopped that, if I'd stayed."
"Well, why did you leave, then?" I asked, unable to contain my curiosity.
"I didn't like them," replied Ray with a shrug. "I never did. Gary and Victor, I mean. Actually, the only other owner I ever really got along with was Lester. I couldn't have gotten the miniaturizer at the Sidewinder without all of them, though, so I had to put up with their ridiculous antics. I just didn't realize they were both homicidal maniacs until it was too late."
"I always thought you looked uncomfortable in that place," I mentioned, happy to keep him going.
"Yes, I was. Very much so. If they hadn't been there, I would've moved right into the building. Gary, in particular, hung around way too much, though. They always treated me like some kind of child--and it doesn't help I'm terrible at poker, because that's where they dominated me. They held that over me all the time. The only reason I came at all was to satisfy myself with those few of you I won. Unfortunately, as I learned a long time ago, I can't experience orgasm without pain--and it doesn't work if it's self-inflicted, any more than you can make yourself laugh while tickling yourself. The Compound is the only place I ever really achieved any kind of success."
I nodded. He basically confirmed a lot of stuff I already knew, but I didn't mind listening to him explaining it to me firsthand. I'd always thought of him as more of an icon before now, a giant who rarely spoke and treated me like a tool, but now he seemed more like a real person. "Well," I said after a moment, "thanks for the apology, I guess. If it means anything, I certainly don't blame you for anything that happened."
"Good, that makes me feel better," he told me. "Actually, if I'd been there, I would've simply collected all of you I could--the willing ones, I mean, not the escapees--and left. The moment Kate revealed herself, the Compound's day was done. If I'd only stayed another half hour, I could've had you way back then, and none of what came after would've happened. Well, I still would've tried to acquire a miniaturizer, of course, but I probably wouldn't have bothered with Lou--not if I had the rest of you to help me out. That whole thing would've gone much better without him around. He only wanted to start his own little Compound of his own--he might be smart, that nephew of mine, but he's always thought small. No offense, of course."
"None taken," I replied with a smile.
"In any event," Ray went on, "with that apology over with, it's time to get down to business. As you know, I brought you here for a reason, Wendy. I've been trying to track you down for a long time, and for one specific purpose."
"Yeah, you want to nab Kate McLoser," I replied with a nod. "Well, like I said to Marianne, count me in."
"Good." He looked pleased to see my reaction. "I'm not sure how much Marianne told you or how much you know, but Kate's had it out for you ever since I stole the miniaturizer. She's made it a personal mission of hers to hunt you down."
"Marianne said something about that," I informed him, "but I pretty much knew that already. I get the impression she doesn't like to lose."
"Yes, just so. She came after you at the Andrew Cullins residence. You know that, don't you?"
"Yes, of course. Andrew called in a psychiatrist to try to talk me out of his walls. As soon as that happened, I knew my cover was blown--he'd go back and file a report on his computer, and the FBI would pick up on it. Like Lou told me, they can see everything that goes on a computer nowadays, unless someone's extremely paranoid."
"So you left immediately?" inquired Ray curiously.
Might as well tell him the whole thing, I figured. "No, I stayed a bit longer. Might as well enjoy myself, right? I showed myself and let him play with me a bit, which is what he really wanted all along. Yeah, I could've gotten myself grabbed, but I didn't think so, and besides, I'd saved a tranq dart just in case. I had it close at hand, in case he tried something like that. So I never really risked anything, and got to enjoy myself for the first time in quite a while."
Marianne raised an eyebrow at the tranq dart comment, but didn't intervene in the conversation. Ray just nodded and studied me carefully. "Was he anywhere close to as good as I am?"
"Are you kidding?" I grinned at him. "Andrew who?"
He smiled back. "Well, that certainly explains the unusual reports I got from my insiders at the time. Kate didn't waste a moment hopping a flight to Denver and putting together a team to try and grab you. She missed you by a day, it sounds like. Why did you go back to that house, though, after she obviously tried to find you there?"
"Because," I replied, "I figured she wouldn't stick around, any more than she had any of those other times. I got a little tired of running, and I thought maybe Andrew's place might make a nice new home, at least for a while. Besides, I could get used to those fingers of his. Nothing like yours, like I said, but I didn't know that at the time."
"Well, it's a good thing you went back, because otherwise I wouldn't have found you at all. Now that you're here, we're putting together plans to try to set up a trap for Kate sometime in the near future. She made an announcement after she got back that they were done trying to catch you--but my spies forwarded me a memo she sent behind the scenes that said she'd keep looking on her own, using vacation time if necessary. Only for really good leads, though. So that's what we'll be doing--we'll give her a really, really good lead to track down, if that's all right with you."
"Fine with me," I agreed immediately. "All I ask is a chance to give her a personal thank-you from me, before you have your way with her."
He nodded. "I do so agree. Now, I'll leave you to--"
"Wait," I interrupted. "One more thing, if you don't mind me asking. Why do you want Kate so badly?"
He raised an eyebrow, which to me seemed to just disappear behind the frame of his glasses. "What? I thought that should be obvious."
"Well, it's not. If you really feel remorse over what happened at the Compound, why do you need revenge against her? She only stopped what you knew would end eventually, anyway. Besides, you know if you grab her, it's gonna open up a hornet's nest. At least now, you're flying under the radar."
"Not as much as you'd think," he told me, "but it's a fair question nonetheless. You see, Kate's been a thorn in my side ever since she first showed up at the Compound. I don't really blame her much for that, actually. It's as you said, and also, she rather did me a favor getting rid of the other owners. It's what came after that bothers me so much. I've got lots of powerful friends, and I've tried very hard to limit the FBI's constant search for the miniaturizer, but Kate won't let it go. You have no idea the kind of damage she's done to me and my interests, and I'm afraid I can't just let that pass unchallenged. So far she's proven untouchable within the Bureau--my influence doesn't go quite that far, I'm afraid, especially after what Gary and Victor pulled--so I'll have to bring her to me. And yes, I'm aware it'll stir up some hornets, especially that equally irritating husband of hers, but if we do this right, they won't have any more way of finding me than they do already. Besides which, you know if Kate comes hunting you on her own time, I can guarantee Mark Powers will be along for the ride--and I'm pretty sure I can arrange for him to not survive our little ambush."
I didn't know Mark Powers at all. Well, I suppose I knew him as well as anybody, having read Kate's book and seen that stupid movie, but that's it. Oh, yeah, I met him briefly, back in SoCal, but at the time all I could think about was getting revenge on Lou, so I barely paid attention. I suppose he seemed nice and all, and sounds like an ideal husband, if that's what you're looking for.
Still, as Mack carried Marianne and me out of the mansion towards the Barn, I felt a little twinge of guilt over helping arrange his death. I couldn't really understand why, though. What the hell did I care? I've been responsible for enough deaths that another one would hardly matter. It's not like I'm not going to Hell anyway, if there really is such a place. So what difference does one more make?
I suppose what actually bothered me was how it might affect Kate. I still owe her, damn it all, and she'd always tried to help me. Very few people ever actually did that, you know. At least, not without an ulterior motive. I suppose for her it's part of her job, so she probably didn't really care about me, but at least she put forth some effort.
Plus, I won't lie, it bothers me a lot how she tried to save me back in the Compound, and I repaid her by trying to hunt her down back in those vents. I really hated her then, y'know. Now, I don't feel that way anymore. Actually, I'm not sure what I really feel about Kate McLeary, but I did know I didn't want to see what would happen if she saw her husband die.
I shut my eyes for a moment and tried to put that out of my mind. It doesn't matter, I told myself. What happens to Mark, or Kate, or anybody else doesn't mean a damn thing. You've gotta look out for yourself, Wendy, just like always. The others can take care of themselves.
Mack, like before, had us clamped in his hand between his thick fingers, making it impossible to see. He's not the sort to hold his palm open and carry us gingerly, I guess, or maybe he just didn't want to chance either of us falling or jumping out. Whatever, it's not like it hurt that much. I've had worse.
He finally reached the Barn and stepped inside through a sliding door. His hand opened suddenly and dumped us out on a wide platform. Here, I got my first look at the "dollhouse," a custom-built two-story structure cobbled together from various wood planks, badly varnished panels, and dull metal framework, all held together with huge nails and screws. I'd expected one of those fancy antique dollhouses, but I guess I can't have everything. This looked more like something some high school kid slapped together trying to get extra credit in wood shop.
Instead of a door, a gaping rectangular hole occupied the center, providing an entrance of sorts. Nearby, a couple of small bowls provided water and various types of food. Close to those, I saw a few different varieties of exercise equipment and weights, plus a running track that circled around the "house." The tabletop, or whatever, sat in a recessed platform surrounded by a six-inch wall, making it impossible to see outside. Far in the distance, I did spot the high walls of the Barn's interior, and overhead a series of tremendous lights dangled down, but what they might be illuminating I had no idea.
As I took all this in, a black-haired, well-tanned woman dressed in a white camisole and brown thigh-highs strode out from the building and over to one of the nearby bowls. "Hey, Marianne," she called out, scooping up some water in her hands and slurping it down. "Back so soon?"
Marianne laughed. "Yeah, right, I've been gone three days! Hey, this is Wendy Sugarton, the one I told you all about. Wendy, this is Erika Walker."
"Nice to meet you," she said amiably, extending a hand. I took it graciously, noting that while she looked rather young, her hands said otherwise. You can tell sometimes when a woman's hiding her age just by looking at the wrinkles on the back of her hands. I also caught the telltale signs of makeup hiding crow's feet around wide brown eyes thick with mascara, plus a thin scar along her cheek that almost certainly indicated plastic surgery. I figured Erika must be pushing forty, but desperately wanted to hide that fact.
"I suppose," I commented, saying nothing about any of that, "Marianne's told you all kinds of lies about me."
"Yep, she sure has," Erika replied with a chuckle. "I'm sure you'll set me straight eventually. Just got here, did you?"
"Yeah, I had to go through the de-lousing," I replied, "and then Ray gave me a very special personal initiation."
Erika flushed slightly and looked away. "Yeah," she said softly. "Yeah, that's a good way to put it, I guess. God, I can't wait for my next session with him! He's so wonderful, Wendy! I know what you had to go through back at that Compound place Marianne told me all about, but he's different now. He's not like that anymore. You're going to love being here."
"I'm sure I will," I replied, hiding my doubts as best I could. "So this is where I'm going to live, huh?"
"Yeah, it looks like shit, I know," Erika replied, echoing my thoughts exactly. "Don't worry, it looks a lot better inside. I suppose you want to have a look, huh? Sorry, don't let me stop you. I'm going to get some exercise, so you two should have the place to yourself."
"What, no Dena or Kaitlin today?" inquired Marianne.
"Yeah, they're here, just out in the Barn someplace. You know how Dena is--she's probably just lording over everybody. And Kaitlin's probably off with Taylor."
"He pop the question yet?"
"Nah, but sooner or later he will, if nothing stops 'em. If anything, they've gotten even closer since you left on your little trip. Seems like he's carrying her off somewhere any time he gets a free moment."
"I'm surprised Ray lets 'em get away with that," remarked Marianne, rolling her eyes noticeably. I got the impression this involved quite a bit of gossip I'd be hearing about soon enough.
"From what Kaitlin says, he's okay with it as long as they don't let it go too far. She claims there's nothing deeper going on, but me, I'm not so sure. I've seen the way she looks at him. Plus, you wanna know something else? She said she's rather be with Taylor than Ray. Can you imagine?"
"Not really," replied Marianne, "and she'd better watch who she tells that to. Ray don't seem like the jealous type, but you never know. Anyway, it don't matter much to me, as long as she does her job. Which is what I oughta be doin'. I'll leave you to your workout--soon as I show Wendy here around a bit, I'll be joinin' you. I didn't get to do that much, hangin' out in an empty house all day."
"Yeah, hurry on back here," said Erika. "I wanna hear that whole story."
"You got it. Come on, Wendy."
"Nice to meet you, Erika," I called out as Marianne led me inside the ramshackle dollhouse. As it turns out, the interior did look much better. The residents did their best to decorate the walls, floor and ceiling as best they could. Plus, the mini-sized furniture helped a lot. It looked somebody took an old, broken-down building and did most of a makeover on it, so while you could still see the rotting core, the rest sure looked pretty.
The layout featured a makeshift kitchen, a couple of bathrooms, six separate bedrooms, and a storage room filled with miniaturized supplies. As Marianne explained, both restrooms featured working toilets (a great improvement over the Compound, and a luxury I knew I'd appreciate) as well as showers of a sort. Actually, they were just pipes with a button attached to the end, so the water would spray out in four separate jets, but I'll take that over a long climb to a sink any day.
Marianne showed me to my room, which didn't look like much, but at least it's somewhere I could put my backpack and weapons. I probably wouldn't need them here, or at least I hoped not. I had an actual bed, a dresser with several empty drawers, and a single end table--that's about it. Still, it looked like something out of a dream. I never thought I'd have such things again. After so much time going from place to place, sleeping on anything soft I could find, the thought of a real bed left me somewhat giddy.
I took a while exploring the rest of the place, checking out the storage room with all the normal-sized snack food wrappers, a somewhat meager selection of books and out-of-date magazines (no copy of Kate's book, thank goodness, or someone would've gotten slapped), a box loaded up with a glorious selection of feminine products (something I must admit I missed terribly), a rack full of towels and other linens, and of course the armoire packed with women's clothing. No surprise here, either--the outfits looked like they came straight from the Compound. Nothing but swimwear, leotards, slinky lingerie, skintight bodysuits, leather fetishwear, bondage gear, high-heeled shoes and boots, and so on. Ray certainly liked making us wear that stuff, didn't he? Not that I should've expected otherwise, I suppose.
Actually, that said something very interesting about Ray. I'd started thinking maybe there might be a real human being under all those scars--someone who actually cared about what happened to his little pets. Yet he didn't have any interest in watching me strip for him, did he? So what's the point of making us all wear such skimpy, sexy outfits, then? Why not give us real clothes, something a little more practical? I mean, Erika's outside right now using a stair-stepper in thigh-high boots! What's the point of that?
If you think about it for a minute, the reason's obvious. Ray wanted to remind us what we really were--not actual people, but little toys and slaves for him to do with what he willed. Dressing us up like pinup girls provided a constant reminder of our true status in this place. Sure, we might have privileges, or even his trust--I mean, he let Marianne leave the Ranch and spend several days in someone's house--but that's all. Here, we were just dolls for him to play with. I'd have to remember that.
"All right, you've had enough time to look around," said Marianne after a bit. "You ready to go down to floor level and see what the Barn's all about?"
"Sure," I replied. "Lead on."
We went out the back of the dollhouse and over to a little elevator, one that looked exactly like the ones built into the craps tables back at the Sidewinder. We stepped inside, Marianne pulled a switch, and we started down. "Oh, I had a question," I commented as we waited out the slow descent. "When we got out of the car earlier, you said you had something else to tell me, but you decided it should be a surprise. Did I miss that, or what?"
She grinned at me. "Oh, no, you're gonna find out about that right now. In about five seconds, actually. Prepare yourself, Wendy, because as soon as them doors open, you'll see what I mean."
I started to reply, but the elevator stopped just then, so I decided to just wait and see what she's talking about. I waited out a brief pause and the doors slid apart, giving me my first look at the rest of the Barn.
My eyes grew wide as I looked out upon what looked like an actual, functioning, miniature farm. Several modified birdhouses--with doors cut at ground level--sat in various places, surrounded by flowers, fences, various types of crops, a series of huge tubes on stilts, a couple of lakes or ponds filled with water, a number of different kinds of livestock, and everything else you'd expect to see on a farm. Everywhere I looked, tiny women worked at various tasks, planting or harvesting or taking care of animals, or any of dozens of other things. Instead of typical farm gear, they wore the same sorts of things I found in the storage room earlier--skimpy, barely-there outfits that seemed totally out of place. All the ladies looked beautiful, fit, and rather unhappy, some more so than others. None so much as glanced in our direction.
I stepped out and looked around in awe. Marianne followed, enjoying the look on my face as I took in the sight. What I just described doesn't seem all that strange, I guess, except the fact that they'd built a farm inside a closed-roof barn, but they solved that with lamps overhead that mimicked the sun, and sprayers further up that must've simulated rain. Still, that's not what made this whole thing quite so mind-bogglingly bizarre.
You see, the women here were miniaturized, all right, just like everything else in view except the birdhouses, and a few huge tunnel-like tubes that looked like the kind of things you see in a hamster cage. It's just that the ladies weren't miniaturized to my scale, like I'd expected. Instead, they were much, much smaller. To use the Compound's jargon, instead of a five, like myself, they'd put them at about a one-half--half a percent of normal.
They were all about a third of an inch high!
No wonder nobody tries to escape from this place, I thought, shaking my head at the sight of what must've been dozens of itty-bitty prisoners toiling away in the fields. The women were the size of ants. If any of them went outside, into that sprawling desert all around, they wouldn't last an hour. Even Kate McLeary couldn't possibly get past that endless natural barrier--and this time, nobody would've gone with her, even if she managed to figure out how to survive. Hell, I don't even know if I could've made it out there, and I lasted years at three inches high. A tenth of that, though…no way. I just couldn't even imagine it.
I suppose I've gotten conditioned to think of five percent as some kind of standard size. I lived that way so long, I forgot they could choose whatever scale they wanted. Ray obviously learned a lot from the Compound. Obviously, five made us only seem helpless, but not completely. We still had a chance--we could still do some damage, if we tried, as Kate and her cronies proved. Not like this, though. There's no way we could've done a damn thing to anyone if they'd made us any smaller.
"So there, now you know," said Marianne from nearby. "That's our little secret." She chuckled as she emphasized the word.
"Yeah, yeah, I get it," I replied, still shaking my head in wonder, "but I don't see the point. Yeah, okay, they don't want to escape or anything, but what good are they like that? To giant men, I mean."
Marianne nodded, obviously anticipating the question. "Not much, but don't forget, they got a miniaturizer here, so when it's their turn to have some fun, they just haul their chosen victim off to the handy restorer. They're double-shrunk, see, so that just takes 'em up to five. When playtime's over, it's back to the miniaturizer and then back here, all happy and satisfied." She laughed again, cruelly this time, suggesting what they went through wouldn't exactly be all that pleasant.
"Okay, yeah, I keep forgetting, this isn't the Compound where they had to keep us the same size all the time. Very nice. So they just work on this little farm to keep them busy all day? Seems like a waste of time. Why bother?"
Marianne shrugged. "No idea. That's what Ray and Frank want 'em to do, though, so who am I to say? It's not like they're sufferin', y'know. There ain't no hot sun beatin' down, and we don't 'xactly work 'em to death or nothin'. Just enough to keep the crops tended and the bugs out. Then they got free time to exercise, have a swim, play games, whatever. The work just keeps 'em busy, that's all."
I nodded, moving out away from the elevator to get a better look. Like I said before, they had big hamster tubes running along here and there, suspended over the ground on platforms built out of Legos. The super-tiny workers used these tunnels to move supplies around without having to drag them over fields or around fences. Since they didn't have any farm machinery and didn't appear to be using any of the miniaturized animals as beasts of burden, this made a certain amount of sense. I noticed some lakes earlier, figuring that must've been irrigation, but I quickly realized that's not the case at all. They must've done all the watering using the overhead sprinklers.
They'd scaled all the livestock to one-half a percent, just like the women, and I saw plenty of chickens and a few cows wandering around. The gardens were all normal-sized, though, meaning whatever they'd started growing would eventually tower overhead. The fields close by looked freshly planted, with a few shoots sticking up, but I couldn't tell what these were. Further out, towards my left, I could see a row of much taller plants blocking my view. Beans, I guessed, but I could be wrong. The opposite direction, beyond a line of birdhouses, all I could see were flat, sprawling leaves maybe four or five inches high. A few showed faint red traces at the top, where fruits were just beginning to form. Strawberries, I recognized. Just one of those could feed most of the prisoners I could see, unless there were a lot more than I knew about.
"You can probably tell why they need us down here," said Marianne, pointing at the distant plants, which would've covered the view of any full-sized guards looking in from above.
"Yeah, I figured. So what do we do, just wander around all day looking for anyone breaking the rules?"
"Not exactly," she answered. "Well, yeah, you do that sometimes, if you're bored. Dena certainly likes that part of it, but she's kinda vicious. Don't get on her bad side, y'know? Anyway, several times a day, there's roll calls, like in any other prison you've ever seen. Anyone late gets punished, anyone not showin' up at all gets the Box. Then there's inspections, a couple more times a day. Every one of these girls, they got assigned duties, y'see? You make sure they do their jobs and do 'em right, or it's demerits all around. Plus sometimes they got group activities, and when they do 'em wrong the whole lot of 'em get demerits. You also confiscate weapons, punish slackin', watch for escapes, and so on. Don't worry 'bout pissin' 'em off, either. Your word is law 'round here, and you're ten times bigger than they are so what're they gonna do?"
Well, if what Kate pulled off back at the Compound proved anything, it's that you can't underestimate tiny people, but I let that pass. "Sounds good, I guess," I replied, "but I still don't get this whole demerit thing. Why not just slap 'em around a bit if they screw up? At that size I'm sure they can take a beating, right?"
"Well, you can do that if it's justified," explained Marianne, "but see up there?" She pointed with a finger towards the bottom of one of the hamster tubes. I followed and saw the little camera immediately. She pointed again, and again, and I realized they had the whole place under surveillance.
"Ah, gotcha," I said, understanding at last. "Ray doesn't want his little slaves hurt, does he?"
"Nope." Marianne grinned. "He's brought 'em all here for a reason, and that ain't to bust 'em up. From what he says, I figure he's teachin' 'em all to be proper obedient li'l toys."
I nodded. Of course that's what he'd want. I remembered how he'd selected them all from the BDSM population. They'd be used to safe words and all that crap--he'd have to train them out of that, wouldn't he? Slaves, indeed! That's what these women were all becoming, slowly but surely.
That could be me, I thought to myself. I'd better stay on Ray's good side. Otherwise it's straight down to one-half percent, and then I'll be Ray's pet for real.
Actually, that's not really true, and I knew it right away. There's no way I'd ever let that happen. I'd thought about the ultimate solution plenty of times before. If they turned on me, I still had that to fall back on. I wouldn't let myself be anyone's slave, ever. You can count on that.
"So anyway," Marianne said after a moment, "follow me around a bit, and I'll show you how it's done."
She led, and I followed, learning as I went.
As it turns out, they'd organized their tiny acre-sized farm into 12 roughly square-shaped regions Marianne called "quadrants," which sounds weird because it suggests only four areas. Apparently, originally they'd only included four (using up about a third of the Barn's space, in a row along one of the long sides) but added more as they brought in additional prisoners. How a woman a third of an inch high used up all that much room, I had no idea, but that's why I'm not in charge. Anyway, whatever. The point is, the word "quadrant" is the one they wound up stuck with and nobody bothered to change it after that.
You might think they'd organized the quadrants into specific subdivisions of people, like, say, white chicks over here and black chicks over there, or maybe doms in one area and subs in another, or something, but nope. Apparently they just kept a running tally of which quadrants had how much population, and new arrivals got dumped into whichever one had the least.
Sounded like a recipe for disaster to me. Just what they needed, tossing random people together and forcing them to suffer all sorts of humiliations, all while being lorded over by enforcers ten times their size! If there's one thing I know from my time on the streets, desperate people will do anything to get what they want, and there could hardly be anyone less desperate than the ones I saw toiling away in those fields.
They didn't actually look all that desperate, mind you. Actually, if you'd taken a random photo of them and looked it over, it might've looked like any other farming community anyplace else (except the skimpy attire and giant plants). I could tell, though, after watching them for a couple minutes, that pretty much all of them were miserable. They would've done just about anything to improve their lot.
Marianne kept babbling on about how the twelve quadrants were arranged in a four-by-three grid and how the prisoners would sometimes get together for some kind of game or competition or whatever, but I just sort of tuned her out. Like I said earlier, I was getting tired, and wasn't in the mood to listen to another drawn-out explanation. Instead, I just sort of focused in on a group of several itty-bitty workers busily digging and moving stuff around a short distance away. Well, to them, it probably seemed like a lot longer distance, but you get the idea.
There were five of them, three white, one black and an Asian type, all dressed in bathing suits and boots of one kind or another. The black one, the tallest of the bunch, carried a miniaturized shovel and kept digging around here and there as if looking for something. Another, a thin, pale girl with long brown hair, had a pitchfork and kept her eyes fixed on the ground. Every now and then she'd stab at something. The other three women trailed along, sometimes getting down on their hands and knees and digging in the freshly disturbed earth. Finally, after a few minutes of this, one of them moved off towards a clump of what I'd originally thought might be rocks, but now saw were actually seeds. She returned, lugging a round, dark brown orb in both hands, and deposited it in the hole they'd made.
So, they're planting, I realized, shaking my head. Something a normal-sized person would've given no thought to whatsoever--putting a seed in the ground--took five or ten minutes for them. I suppose they were clearing out junk, stabbing at bugs, and whatever else they had to go through to get the job done. Even so, I didn't really care all that much about the method, more about the interplay between the women.
I could tell the brown-haired girl, the one who carried the seed, wasn't well liked by the others. When she moved off, the others muttered and looked back at her, scowling. From the way she threw her head back, I suppose she must've thought she was special, and the others didn't agree. A couple minutes later, the Asian chick argued with her and stormed off angrily. In response, one of the other white girls, with long dark hair tied back in a ponytail, called out something urgently and glanced our way, as if to see if we were watching. Well, of course I had my eyes fixed on all of them, and she saw that right away, but before she could yell out anything else, the black woman shoved the brunette angrily, knocking her on her back. This caused the Oriental one to immediately rush back to her aid. After a few seconds they were pretty much all pushing and shoving at each other, except the short-haired blonde, who ducked away and started cowering, perhaps even crying.
"Sorry, I can tell I'm borin' you," said Marianne from nearby, interrupting my observation as she finished off something about whatever competition the tiny prisoners would be busy with on the upcoming weekend. She seemed to take notice of my droopy eyes, and I managed to force a yawn at the same moment. "Oh, right, you're sleepy, huh? I shoulda remembered. Well, one more thing, then you can go grab a nap. The li'l ladies here--we call 'em minis, 'cause dolls was taken--that's us, y'know, accordin' to the guards--anyway, they ain't allowed to goof off, screw around, or fight durin' work time, like now. So those ones over there--I see you watchin' 'em--well, it's time for some punishin'."
"Okay," I agreed. "Y'know, I'm pretty sure the black one started it, and--"
"Oh, that don't matter," insisted Marianne, heading towards the little group, which by now had gotten over their differences and started working again, probably hoping we hadn't noticed their little tiff. "If there's fightin', they all get punished equally. No arguin' over who did what to whom. They know the rules."
We crossed the distance to the minis in just a few seconds. They saw us coming, exchanged angry glares at each other (except the blonde, who just hung her head in defeat), and stood up straight as we approached. I felt a shudder go down my back as I looked down at the pathetic little work crew, who seemed about six inches high, relative to me. Except for a few times back at the Sidewinder, when I went out on the floor and watched girls eagerly working the tables for huge tips, I'd never really felt big compared to anyone else. These minis looked like little toys down by my feet. I felt a sudden rush of power, and looked away, embarrassed.
So, I thought, this is what other people think when they look at me, huh? Like they're my master, and I'm their tiny little slave!
I suppose some part of me always knew that, but I'd never really allowed myself to see it from the giant's perspective before. I suddenly understood why Ray and Lester and all the other casino owners went to such lengths to capture and imprison all their victims. To be able to feel that way about other human beings, all the time, whenever they wanted…damn…!
Another drug, I told myself. It's like another drug, isn't it?
A drug called power.
I suddenly felt very empty inside. Something snapped at that moment, I think, but I didn't realize it until later. "Well," said Marianne, staring down at the little group, hands planted firmly on her hips. "What do you have to say for yourselves, hmm?"
"Nothing, Mistress," the brown-haired mini replied, obviously raising her voice so we could hear.
"I asked all of you," snapped Marianne. I glanced at her, surprised by the way she'd suddenly shifted personalities and now sounded very much like one of those stereotypical drill sergeants you see in all those Army movies.
"Nothing, Mistress!" they all shouted simultaneously.
"This is work time," Marianne hissed. "You're expected to work, not beat the shit out of each other, got it? Unless you want me to kick your asses for you!"
"No, Mistress!" they yelled back.
"Good. Now, that's ten demerits each!" barked Marianne.
Their shoulders slumped. The tiny blonde looked up at us with pleading eyes. "No, please, Mistress, I'll be--!"
She stopped, eyes widening in horror at Marianne's stern gaze. The blonde flashed a glance at me, hoping for some kind of sympathy, but didn't get any. I felt frozen, as if paralyzed, as much by the cold feeling in my gut as with the little drama playing out in front of me. Tears started flowing down the miniature face at my feet.
"What?" demanded Marianne. "You started talkin', you might as well finish!"
"I-I didn't fight," she tried to explain. "I stayed out of it! Please, don't give me demerits! I'm at 95 already!"
"No fightin'," Marianne insisted. "You all fight, you all share the punishment. You know the rules. Five more demerits for talkin' back to me! Now all of you get back to work!"
The blonde finally broke down and wept, dropping to her knees as we stepped away and headed back towards the elevator. I glanced back and saw the others crowding around, but not to comfort her. Instead, they dragged her to her feet and, with a couple of slaps thrown in for good measure, forced her to go back to her labors. I figured if she hadn't, they all would've wound up with even more demerits, and from the looks on some of their faces, they were probably getting dangerously close to 100 themselves.
"You gotta be firm," explained Marianne as we stepped into the elevator and started back up to the dollhouse. "You can't ever waver. Don't give 'em any idea you got any kinda heart, or they'll walk all over you. First time I got here, I tried to moderate disputes, defuse fights before they start, that sorta shit. Don't bother. They look pretty pitiful and pathetic, but they're crafty little bitches. You let on that a few tears makes you change your mind, they'll all be cryin' their li'l eyes out. You try listenin' to complaints like some kinda judge, that's all you'll ever be doin'. Best to just follow the rules exactly."
"So that's why you didn't try to go over and stop the fight," I replied. "Even though you saw it start, just like I did."
"Oh, yeah, I saw the whole thing," Marianne told me with a shrug. "You learn to watch outta the corner of your eye everythin' they're up to. Plus I know that group, anyway. Yolande, that's the black one, she don't get along with any of 'em. She thinks they're all out to get her, which of course they are, so long as it benefits themselves. And Phyllis, the half-Korean, she's a loner, and don't like workin' or doin' anythin' with anybody, so put her together with any of the others, and it's like a time-bomb tickin' away."
"I still feel bad for that little blonde," I pointed out. "She tried to stay out of that the whole time."
"Yeah, you just stop listenin' to them feelin's after a while. Sure, Amy didn't do nothin', but maybe next time she'll actually speak up insteada just bein' such a wuss and watchin' it happen. Besides, you let her go without demerits, and y'know what the others do then? They wait till we ain't lookin' and beat the shit outta her. Way I see it, I did her a favor."
I nodded. Of course, that made a twisted kind of sense. "Yeah, I suppose, but still…ah, well, I'm new here, I guess I'll figure it out. I gotta get some sleep, Marianne. I've been up way too long already."
"Sure, go for it. I'm gonna get some exercise, I think, as soon as I log those demerits."
By now we'd reached the upper level, so we walked back towards the dollhouse, waving at Erika on the stair-stepper as we went by. "What do you mean by log the demerits?" I asked as I scooped out a clump of water from the nearby bowl, quenching my thirst as best I could.
"Well, they don't just get reported by themselves, y'know," answered Marianne. "I log it on a worksheet. They don't trust us with any computers or electronic gear, of course, not even a short-range transmitter. So after work shift's over, just before evenin' roll call, I hand in my log sheet, and anyone who's got new punishments gets called out for everyone to hear."
"Makes sense," I replied. "How soon is this roll call? You need me to get up for that?"
"Nah, not today," she told me. "You ain't even an official enforcer yet, y'know. I'll get you up to speed over a couple days. I'll start you off learnin' one of the quadrants, so you know where everythin' is and who all the minis are. Once you got that down, you learn another one, and so on. It ain't that hard, you'll see. You'll eventually go to mornin', afternoon, and bedtime roll call, and sleep after that."
"That'll take some getting used to," I admitted. "I'm used to sleeping whenever I feel like it, and I don't really stay asleep long. A couple hours, here and there, spread throughout the day."
"Yeah, I can see why," Marianne agreed, "but no more of that anymore. Back to a regular schedule. For now, though, go to bed! I know you need it, so I'll leave you alone."
"Thanks, Marianne," I replied. "I'll probably only be out a few hours, but you never know. A real bed, after all this time…I might just sleep forever!"
"I bet. Enjoy it if you can. Oh, and one other thing."
"What's that?" I asked, stepping into my pitiful little room, eager to experience that welcoming bed at last.
She smiled and winked at me. "Nice to have you on the team."
True to form, I woke up a few hours later. The horn coming in from outside startled me, just like any dangerous sound would back when I lived out in the wild. I'd conditioned myself to sleep very lightly, always wary of anything that might approach or discover me, especially during those few occasions where I couldn't find someplace safe to camp.
I remember one time, way back when I first started living like that, back after Lou got arrested and I found myself on my own. I'd gotten used to having a comfortable house to live in and everything provided for me, so heading out on the road proved to be quite the learning experience. I spent the first few days in an abandoned tool shed on a nearby lot, not really sure what I intended to do with myself, until I finally made the decision to go break Lou out of prison. That's the first time I started really traveling.
For the first few days I made steady progress towards where I wanted to go. I figured out where they'd put him by sneaking into one of those cybercafé places and getting onto one of their computers. Then I just had to do a little digging in the public records, figure out where this prison was and what it looked like, and then start heading that direction. I discovered right away it didn't take much to get on a passing car or truck, and getting on one going the right direction on the interstate seemed pretty easy. So I started getting a bit complacent, which as you might imagine, didn't bode well.
Back then I could sleep fairly easily, so I tied myself into a nice little crevice under an 18-wheeler and zonked out. When I woke up, the truck had stopped somewhere, probably so the driver could get some nap time. I figured maybe he'd picked a truck stop's parking lot or something, so that meant I could scavenge up a meal easy enough, and there'd be plenty more trucks to choose from if he drove away. I dropped off and started heading towards the lights on the horizon, eager to find some food. Keep in mind, now, I'm three inches high, so I've got no visibility, and can't see over the slight slope ahead to realize I'm actually in the middle of nowhere, pulled off in some abandoned weigh station without even any buildings for cover. The lights came from a billboard just behind a line of trees over the ridge, but I didn't know that, and by the time I figured it out, the trucker finished his rest and took off.
That left me completely out in the open, in the middle of the night, with the only light coming from those lamps way overhead and a tiny sliver of moon. Plus, I'm really hungry, too. I searched around for something, anything--maybe a discarded bag of trash or whatever--but nope, no dice. With nothing to eat except bugs (I'm not quite that desperate yet), and little chance anybody else would stop here, I started walking.
Just getting up the ramp back to the interstate took what seemed like an hour. I didn't feel all that sleepy, since I'd just had a very long nap, but my muscles started getting sore. Remember, by this point I'm still not all that used to long-distance traveling, having spent most of my time relaxing in Lou's house. This new experience made me long for those bygone days, I can tell you.
Another hour later, I walked close enough to a sign to realize I'd find a rest area two miles ahead. Well, two miles is like 40 when you're three inches high. Ever hiked 40 miles before? Yeah, right, I didn't think so. Go ahead, try it, and you'll see what I'm talking about.
Anyway, there's no way I'm going to make that tonight, I knew, so I started looking for someplace to hole up. Unfortunately, I'm in Oregon someplace, in some rugged ground, without a lot of cover and no handy drainage ditches to hide in. Parts of this road were cut out of steep hills and mountainsides, too, so there's all kinds of mini-rockslides and such all around. I figured if I could find a boulder or something that made a little cave, that might work, but nothing presented itself.
Several times I found myself startled by creatures moving around, but nothing attacked me, at least not right away. When I got a couple hundred yards down the road, though, I started feeling tired again, so I found what I thought might be a decent place to rest--a little depression under a couple of tall plants. Needless to say, this would've been no protection at all if any animals came along, but I didn't care--all that walking left me tired again, and so I settled down for a nice little nap.
I woke up some time later to the sound of something following along the way I'd come. I stood up out of my pathetic little hiding spot and glanced back, my heart almost stopping at the sight of some kind of creature silhouetted against the distant horizon. Something with fur that glinted in the moonlight. Something BIG.
It had my scent, whatever it was, and so I took off running. There's no way I could've fought it--my brief glance told me it must've been at least the size of a medium dog. A car passed, and the animal's shadow in the headlight glare made it look even bigger. I had to hide someplace, but where?
As I ran, I cursed myself for stopping somewhere that didn't offer any kind of safety. What an idiot I'd been! I swore if I got out of this, I'd never make that mistake again. In the meantime, though, I just ran as fast as I could, risking a glance back every so often, afraid I'd see the monstrous thing right on my heels.
After a while I got completely exhausted, but it's run or die, no doubt about it, so I kept on going. Another car passed and I saw a glint of metal ahead and to my right. My only chance, really, because the thing behind me is way too close. It's no dog, though, but a fox, which is worse because a dog might at least check itself at the smell of humans. A fox won't care, especially if it's hungry. It'll just bite anything it finds that it can get its jaws around.
I raced into the slurry of rocks towards the metal object, praying it's big enough to hide me. Maybe it's an old car part, like a muffler or something, but instead I found an old aluminum soft drink can, so ancient the labeling has all but faded off the outside. No time to see if it's vacant--I wriggle into the opening, just in time for the fox's nose to start sniffing around outside.
Immediately I found myself all tangled up in a spiderweb, covered in wrapped-up husks of former intruders in this place. The spider's there, huddled in the corner, afraid of something my size. The can jumped around a couple times, because the fox outside bumped it with its nose, and the spider stopped cowering and came at me. It's about an inch long, one of those furry wolf-like ones, and it died on the end of my spear.
I shoved the still-twitching arachnid outside, and the hungry fox snapped it up with one quick bite. That could've been me, I thought worriedly, waiting while the fox sniffed around some more. It batted at the can a couple times, and gnawed around the hole, clearly aware I'm still inside but with no idea how to get me out.
After a few minutes the damn thing left, and I collapsed in the corner, wiping spiderwebs and insect bodies off me all the while. I found a thick glob of webbing there, remnants of an ancient egg sac long since empty, and it made a comfy pillow. I collapsed as the adrenaline left my body, gasping for breath, slowly recovering, and once I finished hyperventilating, I fell almost instantly asleep.
When I woke it's daytime, and I'm so hungry, I forced myself to chow down on a couple insects I found outside. They're squishy and gross, but they filled me up. I'm in no mood to leave the can, though, not if there's any chance that fox is still out there. So I stayed inside a while, but thirst finally drove me out, and I spent the rest of the day with my eyes fixed overhead, watching for hawks. I found some water eventually, a little trickle of a stream running through a wide pipe under the road--not enough of a safe place to hide, but good enough for a much-needed rest.
By nightfall I reached the next rest area sign, telling me I'm halfway there, just one more mile to go. I got lucky and found a couple rocks leaning up against each other, making a nice little hollow underneath. The bugs under there made a nice midnight snack, and the next morning I drank my fill on the dew that covered the waist-high grasses along the road.
Late in the day I reached the rest area, and finally I'm on my way again, but not after several short naps in cover here and there. I don't think I'd ever been so scared. If that rest stop hadn't been there, I could've been walking for weeks, maybe longer, and next time some giant animal showed up, I might not be lucky enough to find someplace to hide. I never forgot that, and afterwards, I rarely slept more than a couple hours at a time, waking up at the slightest noise that suggested any kind of danger.
That's what happened now. The horn that echoed all around the Barn would've awakened me at half its volume, maybe less. I jumped up, trying to leap to my feet, and almost taking a tumble as I tangled myself up in the sheets. I couldn't find my weapons, which momentarily left me in a panic. It took several seconds before I realized where I was.
Dammit, I've got to get used to this, I insisted to myself. I'm perfectly safe now. No reason to be so skittish.
I stood up and looked out the window, trying to figure out where that horn sound came from. Naturally, thanks to the rail surrounding the table, I couldn't see a damn thing. The Barn's lights were dimmed a bit, probably to simulate dusk falling. They probably had the cycles all on automatic circuits. No matter the weather outside, this place would always provide a perfect farming environment--assuming sun lamps worked just as well as the real sun, of course, which they probably did. That's how much I know about farming, I guess.
Even as I came fully awake, I realized I still felt a sense of unease, a kind of low-level dread that haunted me. I'd noticed this earlier, actually, a couple of times--on my way into the restorer, obviously, and when I went to meet Ray, but those weren't the only times. Even after that, when I went into the Barn, and when I saw the tiny "minis" at my feet…I still felt this nagging, annoying emotion I couldn't quite identify. Something bugged me, and I didn't know what it was, which of course made things even worse.
Something as simple as fear, maybe? Perhaps, but what did I have to be afraid of, here in this protected place? Well, Ray could always betray me, like the others owners did, and his nephew too. In fact, I'm pretty sure he'd do exactly that, if it suited him to do so. Still, he'd built quite a place for himself, his perfect little miniature empire, which he wouldn't easily let go of. Not to mention the miniaturizer itself, which I knew he'd hang onto forever if at all possible. So I figured as long as I stayed on his good side, I didn't have to worry about Ray unless everything went completely wrong for him--and I felt confident I'd see that coming well in advance.
Even with all that--and yeah, I'm not lying, it's definitely something to worry about--I knew that wasn't what made me so uneasy. Did it have anything to do with the minis? No, I didn't think so--despite the funny way I reacted yesterday, I didn't really care about them, any more than I had about any of the girls back at the Compound, except the rest of Lester's bunch. Marianne and the other enforcers here seemed to have taken the place of that group, at least partially. They were my allies, and the others--well, not enemies, of course, but non-people, I guess you'd say. They didn't really matter. Or at least that's what I told myself, anyway.
So what, then? What kept bugging me? I had no idea. The more I thought about it, the more annoyed I got.
I walked out into the dollhouse, wandered out to the exercise yard, and got a drink from the pool, thinking I might see Erika or Marianne outside. Nope, nobody there. Oh yeah, right, they'd be down at roll call, right? Might as well go see what that's all about, I figured. At least that would get my mind off this annoying low-level fear, or whatever, that kept bouncing around in my brain.
After collecting my gear and weapons--yeah, sure, I could've left them, but old habits die hard--I took the elevator, which, now that I got a better look at the controls, looked exactly like the ones back at the Sidewinder. In fact, this might've been one of the actual tables they used back there, picked up at some auction someplace. Either that, or Ray built them himself, or something like that. Whatever, not like it mattered anyway, just something interesting to think about during the slow ride down.
I stepped out in the open area I'd seen before, only now the place looked empty. A little line of thread had been stretched out in a line heading off to the right, indicating where the team of minis planted the seeds earlier today. I could hear some distant voices in the opposite direction, so I headed towards them, coming close to a couple of the birdhouses on the way.
I stopped and curiously glanced inside one of these, having to bend over slightly, and found myself looking into a miniature home, split up into tiny cubicle-like rooms by low walls that would've been plenty big enough for minis but only came up to my waist. Staircases went up to a second floor just above my head, giving me plenty of room to walk inside and have a look around. They didn't have any miniaturized furniture like we did up on the dollhouse, but had to make do with stuff they'd built themselves, mostly out of woven plant fibers, rolled up leaves, and the like. The only exceptions were a toothpaste cap filled with water, and an open matchbox containing scattered pieces of mini-sized clothing. A smattering of boots surrounded the open space nearby--Ray's favorite footwear, I suppose, but practical enough for women forced to work on what to them would've been pretty rough ground.
I took a closer look and saw the water inside the cap had actually been miniaturized, but only to five percent. Someone must've brought it in here at some point, because there's no way minis could've carried that cap--it would've been at least twice their height. Well, they're probably pretty strong, but even so…hmm, well, maybe if a bunch of them worked together, they could've done it, but that would've been quite an effort.
I realized something else, then--something that hadn't occurred to me before. The prisoners, the ones one-third of an inch high, couldn't possibly drink normal water, could they? I remember hearing something about that--the surface tension would make it impossible to swallow ordinary liquids. So that's just another reason they couldn't possibly ever escape from here. Even if they somehow survived everything else, they'd run out of supplies before they got far enough to find help--assuming someone that tiny could even get noticed in the first place.
Ray really had this all figured out, didn't he? I shook my head, ignoring the hollow feeling in my gut, walking outside and continuing on towards the distant voices. He had nothing at all to worry about. He might well not have even bothered using tracers on the minis--there's no way they'd every try to leave this place. They were stuck here, pretty much forever, unless someone rescued them, and who could pull that off? Only someone like Kate McLeary, of course…no wonder Ray wanted her head on a plate!
In fact, maybe that's what had me so worried, I thought as I made my way into a line of head-high plants, towards one of the overhead lights that shone a bit brighter than the rest. I'd come here under false pretenses, hadn't I? I told Kate I'd set up a trap to catch Ray Ellsworth, and at the time I'd meant what I said. Now, though…did I still want to even try to go through with that? Kate promised me a pardon, and the ability to do what I wanted and go wherever I wanted, but what then? I'd still have to worry about some random guy grabbing me and holding me prisoner. Here, I could live in relative comfort, enjoy special treatment from Ray and the other men, and watch over dozens of little mini-prisoners all day long. Here, I had something to do--an actual job, as it were--without any chance of capture or imprisonment. What's the downside?
Nothing, really, except I still didn't feel quite right. I should've loved the idea of being here, shouldn't I? Yet I didn't. In fact, except for that amazingly soft, enjoyable bed, I didn't like this place at all. And I still didn't know why.
I emerged from the leafy plants and found myself on the edge of a clearing. Ahead, perhaps forty minis stood lined up in neat rows, arranged into three clusters like soldiers on a parade ground. They waited at attention, eyes fixed forward, their heads not following Marianne's much larger figure as she walked back and forth. She hadn't noticed me yet, because as she paced along, she kept reading from a miniaturized notepad in her hand.
"Chyna Sheldon, you're up to 75 demerits," I heard Marianne say. "Twenty added today. You've been a bad li'l girl, haven't you? Two hours on the pole."
One of the tiny women separated from the group instantly, without the slightest attempt at complaint, and moved over to a little stick coming up out of the ground. I saw several of these, actually, but the others were unoccupied. The black-haired prisoner wasted no time climbing up the stick, a feat of athletics that looked like no trouble whatsoever, and waited without a word while Marianne trussed her up with thread from a nearby spool.
With a faint smile, her giant tormentor picked up the notepad and read along it a bit further. "Finally, Amy Herschel, 15 new demerits, 110 total, so y'know what that means. Step forward."
The tiny blonde I remembered seeing earlier today moved out of her line and walked closer, head hung low. She might've replied, but I couldn't hear from where I stood. Marianne reached down and picked her up with one hand. "Food and water rationin' is now in effect for Amy till I say otherwise. Nobody gives her nothin' or you get 25 demerits, got that?"
"Yes, Mistress!" they all shouted in unison, even the unfortunate Chyna dangling from the pole.
"Now, as punishment, Amy here gets to make me scream a little. The rest of you, back to your homes, and I better not catch none of you walkin' around after dark! Got that?"
"Yes, Mistress!" they replied simultaneously.
Marianne nodded, clearly satisfied with their perfectly timed response, and flashed the briefest of smiles. "Good, you're dismissed."
At that, the little gathering instantly broke up. The tiny women ran every which way, looking for all the world like ants scattering around after their anthill had been kicked. In a few seconds, they'd all vanished into the shadows all around, probably racing back to their birdhouses as fast as their tiny legs could carry them.
Marianne turned immediately in my direction, still holding a tiny, defeated-looking prisoner casually in her hand. "When did you get here?" she called out, walking towards me without looking down, apparently unconcerned by the possibility she might step on someone.
"Couple minutes ago," I replied with a shrug. I hadn't tried to hide, after all, so I didn't mind that I'd been spotted. It's not like Marianne was doing anything secret, right?
"So you didn't see the roll call," she replied.
"Nope, not really, just the tail end, when you tied up that one on the pole."
"Yeah, not a lot of punishment tonight. Sometimes there's a half dozen or more who need somethin' or other. As things go, the pole's about midway up the scale. The more demerits, the rougher I get. Plus, I got a bonus tonight--someone went over 100, so I get some pleasin', mini-style."
I nodded, figuring I knew exactly what poor Amy would have to go through now. She seemed resigned to her fate, not looking up at me, face turned away and arms wrapped around her chest. I'd been a sex toy for giants enough times, so I could easily imagine Amy's punishment, except of course I'd always been forced to pleasure men. What would it be like to do the same thing with a giant woman?
Probably a lot of fun for Marianne, I thought to myself, but not for the mini. Oh, sure, I'm bisexual and all, so it didn't bother me that much, but with men, everything's external. Having to go inside like that…yeah, that sounded pretty painful, actually. I felt not the least bit excited by the possibility of such an encounter.
"So with this roll call thing," I commented, "do you have to be here for that? Because there's not enough of you for all these quadrants you talked about, right? What about the others?"
"Oh, we split those up," explained Marianne. "Each of us take three quadrants, and this is my second. When the horn went off, I started with the Junebugs, and then the Katydids, and now I'll go over to the Ladybugs. They're waitin', so you wanna come along?"
"Sure, might as well," I agreed, following along as she marched off through the plants towards what I guessed must be the last of the twelve quadrants. "What's with the stupid bug names?"
"Well, we could've just used numbers," said Marianne, "but insect names sounded much cooler, doncha think? The first letter tells you what quadrant they're from--Junebugs is J, which is ten, Katydids is eleven, you get the idea. We coulda just used letters, but this gives 'em like a tribal name, y'know? And reminds 'em they're like insects too. Ain't that right, Amy, you cute li'l bug girl, you?"
She lifted up the tiny woman, who nodded on command, eyes still shut. "Yes, Mistress," she replied in a defeated voice.
"I didn't hear that," growled Marianne.
"Yes, Mistress!" she called out, much louder this time.
"Good, that's what I wanna hear. Now you be quiet while we do this last roll call. If you're lucky, they'll have another one passin' 100 here and you don't haveta be by yourself."
"Yes, Mistress," Amy responded numbly.
We reached the edge of the quadrant after about a minute of walking. As we stepped out from between the giant bean sprouts overhead, we came to a strip of track that looked to me like a kind of highway. Marianne looked both ways cautiously and then we hurried across. "The giants patrol along here," she explained, "so you gotta be careful. Minis, though, they ain't allowed on the highway, not ever, unless we take 'em across, like now. Any mini gets caught on the road, it's 20 demerits. They got no reason to cross, ever."
"Got it," I replied. How many different ways could they get demerits, anyhow? And how could I ever keep all that straight? I suppose I'd get it all memorized eventually.
Marianne explained a couple more rules as we went, like how they had to assemble in the clearings for roll call after the horn, and form up at attention as soon as a "doll" (that's us) shows up. After they get counted and punishments go out, then they're dismissed and have a couple hours of free time before the lights turn off. Soon as they do, they'd better be in their homes, because anyone caught outside after that gets punished. Apparently, the guards watching the cameras have infrared scopes, and if one of us dolls gets called in to hunt down the transgressor, we get to use IR goggles too.
A part of me thought that sounded like fun, while another part conjured up a sudden memory of me huddled in the corner of a ventilation duct in a dusty corner of the Compound. I shivered a bit and shoved that memory aside as we reached the Ladybugs' clearing--I still didn't like those ridiculous insect names, but whatever. Quadrant Twelve, anyway.
Marianne started counting, walking along each of the little clusters down by her feet, all of whom stood stock still without saying anything. I followed along, still a bit awed by the size difference between us and the minis. Marianne finished counting at forty-two, which must've been the right number or she would've sounded some kind of alarm, I'm sure. "Report," she said loudly.
One of the minis stepped forward with a rolled-up piece of note paper, which she'd been holding like one of those rifles soldiers use while on guard duty. Marianne opened up the note and nodded slowly to herself. I looked over her shoulder, reading as best I could in the pseudo-twilight, and saw a list of names followed by number of demerits added today and a new total. None of these exceeded 100--apparently Amy would be alone tonight, which is just as well, or I'm sure Marianne would've invited the other one to service me, and for whatever reason I just wasn't in the mood. Besides, I hadn't quite wrapped my mind around the idea that I might have a tiny woman roaming around on (or inside) my body. Bisexual or not, I didn't really see the appeal.
Marianne spent a couple minutes reading off names of those who'd received demerits, pronouncing punishment on three of them, those who'd gone past 25 or a multiple thereof. One of these got an hour packed up in a pit filled with mud, which didn't seem all that bad, except others could walk by and step on her if they wanted. The second got another instance of that pole thing, except this time, since it was only 25 demerits, she only had to hang there for an hour. The last one, who'd hit 75 demerits, got sentenced to a double work shift tomorrow, which didn't sound too bad except Marianne explained that particular mini got those demerits for laziness. Let the punishment fit the crime, I guess.
After that, she dismissed the others, who scampered off like the Katydids earlier, leaving us alone except for Amy, who seemed pretty much resigned to her fate. I figured I'd be released at this point, unless Marianne wanted me to watch what came next, but she hadn't quite finished with me yet. "There's one more thing," she told me. "Might as well show it to you now, since this is the home of our latest entry in the 200-demerit club."
"What's that?" I asked curiously.
"Well," replied Marianne with a gleam in her eye, "follow me and I'll show you the Box."
Oh yes, the Box. I'd almost forgotten. The ultimate punishment, apparently, and it must've truly sucked because even the totally quiescent Amy gave a noticeable gasp.
Marianne led me over to the other side of the clearing, where one of the birdhouses sat off by its lonesome. "This is sort of the town hall for the Ladybugs," she explained as we stepped inside. "From time to time they all meet here, especially for chow time and roll calls. Plus, this is where we keep their Box. There's one for every quadrant, just in case you was wonderin'."
I looked around, noticing the stacks of farming tools, various crates of five-percent-scale food, a few first aid kits, anti-insect weapons, and so forth. Nothing really jumped out at me as anything special until I noticed the tiny rectangular crate off to one side, with the words "THE BOX" prominanetly painted upon it. It looked like an ordinary shipping container shrunk down to one-half, like the minis, so I couldn't imagine what made it so special. Not until I lifted the lid and looked inside, anyway.
I didn't see her at first, until I looked really close, over in the corner in the shadows. That's when I saw the tiny prisoner, stretched out on the ground, holding her legs in her arms and gazing up at us with an expression of pure hopelessness. She had long, stringy brown hair, a pale complexion, and a face that would've looked kind of pretty in any other circumstances. She wore nothing but a string bikini, not even boots or gloves like most of the others. Her mouth moved, but I didn't hear, though I'm pretty sure she said, "Help me!"
Oh, yeah, there's one other thing I forgot to mention. You know how the minis were one-tenth my size? Well, they'd made this one smaller still--keeping the same ratio, as it turned out. One-tenth the size of a mini.
One-thirtieth of an inch high!
I just shook my head. Well, of course that's what they'd do, right? They've got a miniaturizer, might as well use it.
"This is Janice," said Marianne, grinning at my surprised reaction. (They still hadn't lost the capacity to surprise me, apparently.) Little Janice tried to run away, didn't you, hmm? Silly little bug. We caught her tryin' to hang onto one of the giant's shoes, probably hopin' to get into a car or somethin'. Ain't that right?"
The tiny, pathetic little thing gave a pitiful nod. Her lips moved, probably saying "Yes, Mistress" like they all do, but of course I couldn't hear. At 1/100th my size, her voice didn't even register. She looked like an ant sitting there on the bottom of the crate.
"How long does she have to stay in there?" I asked, unable to contain my morbid curiosity.
"One week," said Marianne. "And until all the other minis in her quadrant come pay her a visit. How many more, bug?"
Janice raised up a single hand, showing four fingers. At least, I think that's how many--I could only barely see her down there.
"See, as part of the punishment," my guide explained, "everyone she knows gets to come in, mark off their name on this list here, and climb inside for up to an hour. They can do whatever they want with her, no questions asked. No permanent harm, and no killin', though. Any of that, and the visitor gets to take her place in the Box. Usually they--well, you can probably imagine what happens, right?" Marianne grinned wickedly.
"Yeah, I bet they've got a lot of frustrations to take out on somebody," I agreed, shivering slightly. I tried not to imagine what would probably happen to poor Janice in there, trapped with nowhere to go, one-tenth the size of her oppressor, maybe not even knowing who it was in the dark if the lid got closed. And she had to do that for 41 other people, one after the other, over a week's time…shit, what a nightmare!
"Anyways, nobody's allowed to skip out on their visit," went on Marianne. "Them other four, they got all day tomorrow to show up. Any of them don't, and they get 50 demerits. You can bet they won't forget! Anyways, back in the dark for you. Have a nice time!" She slammed the lid down on the Box and turned away.
"After she's done her time," I asked, trying to get my mind off the unfortunate little creature in her cage, "what happens then?"
"200 demerits get wiped off her slate," said Marianne, "so she goes back to where she was before she got caught. She was at 95, too, so if she does anythin' else after that, she gets some time with me. Just like li'l Amy here. You about ready, hmm? Time to go have some fun."
She held up the tiny woman in her hand, who'd wisely stayed completely silent this whole time. "Yes, Mistress," she answered instantly, though she didn't sound at all excited by the prospect.
"I'm gonna go find a nice quiet corner someplace," Marianne told me. "You can join me if you want. Hell, I'll even let you try her on for size. It'll be a two-for-one special!"
"Nah, I'm good," I replied with a shrug. "I wouldn't deprive you of your fun. I'll get my chance, I'm sure."
She chuckled. "Ah, I know that look! I remember bein' weirded out the first time, too. Don't worry, Wendy, you'll get used to it. It's really fun, bein' on the bigger side for a change. I won't push you, though. Maybe later. You can find your way back, right?"
"Yeah," I replied. "It's not like it's hard to see that huge table rising up into the sky."
"True. Have a good one."
"You too."
"Oh, I will, trust me." Laughing, she turned away, left the birdhouse and quickly disappeared amidst a row of crops growing nearby. All at once I found myself alone.
I started to go out of the building, but stopped for a moment, looking back at the Box. Something drew me back over there. I lifted the lid cautiously, peering inside once more, as if unable to believe what I'd seen. Yep, I could still see the tiny ant-like woman huddled there, looking up at me, her expression unreadable with such a vast size difference between us. She looked up at me for a few seconds, and then turned away, burying her face in her hands.
I shut the lid immediately, scowling, and turned away from that awful Box. What an exquisite instrument of torture! The thought of being stuck in there for days, unable to move around or do anything except wait for my next torture session…why, I'm pretty sure I'd go mad. And the idea that it's my fellow prisoners, the ones I had to live and work with the rest of the time…that's what really made it truly horrible. They could step inside, shut the lid, and stay comfortably anonymous while mistreating or abusing her for up to an hour. Then it's back into the dark to await the next one…
Sheesh…what kind of sick bastards thought of this? Ray and Frank, I reminded myself. And these are the people I'm supposed to be allying myself with? The ones who could turn on me in a moment and put me in the same boat? They're going to do that to Kate, aren't they? That, or something like it…probably something much worse.
I shouldn't care, but I did. Yeah, I owed Kate McLoser, like I already said, but it's more than that. She didn't deserve this. People like me and Marianne, who let ourselves get sucked into a life of drugs and prostitution…maybe we deserved it, maybe we didn't, who's to say? But at least you could make a case for it. These girls here, the ones they kept as prisoners…they were just normal people, trying to live their lives, and they got snatched and brought here for no good reason, other than their looks and the fact that they had some deviant tendencies. And who doesn't? Everybody's got some kinks, y'know. It's not worth a lifetime of hell just cause you like leather and the occasional whack with a whip. It certainly isn't worth something like that horrible Box.
Just thinking about it made me feel absolutely awful, like something crawling around in my gut, carving out my insides. Goddammit, I shouldn't feel like that at all! Why did it bother me so much? What difference did it make? I don't care what happens to these people! I couldn't care! I'm not the sort of person who cares about anybody but myself. Even so, this place disgusted me, in a way the Compound never could. The Compound felt different, somehow. Maybe I'd just conditioned myself to look the other way, back then. To see only the parts I wanted to see, without ever looking under the surface. Here in the Barn, though, I couldn't avoid it. I couldn't stop thinking about poor little Janice in that crate.
Damn that Kate McLeary anyway! This is all her fault! I knew what she'd do if she were here. She'd be plotting and scheming a way to escape, a way to get out of this and save everybody. And she'd do it, too, somehow. She'd find a way to be the great big hero, just like always. Well, this time she couldn't do it by herself. She needed help from me, and I'd give it to her, if I could, so I could finally repay what I owed. I could wipe the slate clean, and absolve myself of all this guilt.
Guilt…!
That's it! That's what I'd been feeling this whole time! I recognized it now, even as I paced around in that tiny little birdhouse, trying not to look at the Box over in the shadowy corner of the room. When I came down that elevator, and saw all those mini prisoners, that forgotten conscience I'd tried to bury all those years ago finally clawed its way back into my subconscious.
Everything going on right now--the Barn, the miniaturizer, the kidnappings, you name it--all came about because of what I've done. I'm the one who let Lou out of prison, and worked out the plans to steal the miniaturizer along with him. If it hadn't been for me, none of this would be happening. Oh, sure, Ray could've tried stealing the machine another way, but maybe it wouldn't have worked. If Lou hadn't been there, maybe Kate wouldn't have wound up shrunk, and she could've tracked the miniaturizer in that decoy truck. She wouldn't have given up so easily, that's for sure. But she wasn't there…because of me.
My fault…all of this, my fault! I suddenly felt almost crushed by the weight of it all. Because I'd been so selfish, Ray got his miniaturizer and now hundreds of women were tortured daily because of it. Goddammit, why'd this fucking conscience have to pop up like that all of a sudden? Why couldn't it just leave me alone? Why did I care, anyway? Why??
I turned away from that stupid Box, which sat there mocking me as I ran away, like it knew it won. Somehow, the Box made me finally face myself. It made me realize why I'd been out there, running and hiding, staying small for so long. I've been punishing myself, haven't I? I've been torturing myself for everything I'd done, without even realizing it. I'd never let myself think about it before, because I'd been alone, without having to deal with other people. Now…when I saw those minis earlier, and felt that rush of power, and then that hollow emptiness that followed…and then, when I looked down in horror at that micro-mini trapped inside the Box…it all came flooding out. All those long-buried feelings of guilt and remorse, the ones I'd never let myself admit I had…they just rolled over me in waves, stabbing at me, overwhelming me completely.
Gasping for breath, I hurried out of the building, pushed my way through the towering plants, found a little empty space deep within, and collapsed to the ground, sobbing for what seemed like forever.
I don't know how long I just cried my eyes out like the worthless little piece of trash I've always been. What a horrible, cruel joke! All this time, pretending to be this solid, powerful, no-nonsense Sole Survivor, and I'd only been running away from myself.
All those long, lonely days…all those empty months, out in the open, risking my life, scrabbling for food, avoiding everyone and everything…all to hide from what I'd done. Oh, it's all about me, I'd tell myself. Look out for number one. Don't let yourself get attached to anyone or anything. You're the Sole Survivor, and that's all that matters. What a load of crap!
The truth is, I'm still a human being. I might've had my humanity all but sucked away out on the streets, and beaten down into my black heart after the Compound and Lou's betrayal, but I'm still human. I can feel and I can care, goddammit all to hell, and now, it's all come back to haunt me. All my mistakes and sins, everything I've ever done, I could see staring back at me from tiny, pleading eyes, trapped inside that dark and miserable Box.
I've got to get out of here, I realized suddenly. I can't stay here. I can't!
I started running, with no idea where I was going. I couldn't see the table through all the plants, so I just plowed ahead, knocking the bushy leaves aside with my flailing arms. For all I knew I might've stepped on any of a dozen minis underfoot as I pushed my way into the open, raced across a field, dashed between two more of those ugly birdhouse things, and into a line of strawberry bushes. I didn't know where I was going and didn't really care.
A few moments later I emerged onto one of the roads that divide up the Barn's many quadrants. Without even thinking I just took off along the edge, heading towards what looked like a distant wall. The running felt fantastic, and my head started clearing as I dashed along. Those inexplicable, gut-wrenching emotions melted away, fading back into my subconscious where they belonged. I didn't need them--I didn't want to care, and I sure as hell didn't want to feel guilty, either.
This isn't really my fault, I insisted to myself. Ray would've gotten the miniaturizer one way or another. You can't blame me for this. Besides, I'm going to help Kate get here anyway and she's going to fix everything, right?
Yeah, but could she? Sure, she took down the Compound, but at the Sole Survivor set, she'd been as much a victim as anything else. Besides, Ray told me he had a plan to get rid of her husband when he captured her. That meant he must've known about her little subterfuge, the one she told me about back in that hotel room. He knew she wouldn't come alone. What if he turned the tables on her and brought her here, despite the trap she planned to set? That would be my fault, too.
No it wouldn't, damn it! I shouted at myself. Stop blaming yourself! Besides, you don't need her anyway. Who needs Kate McLoser? You could fix this, you know…you could be the hero for once!
At that, I instantly stopped running. What a stupid thought! Me, try to be the hero? What would that get me? Killed, probably, or caught and tortured like those others. There's no way I could do anything like that. I don't have it in me. Leave the heroing to the cops and Feds. They at least get paid for it.
Still…what if I could…?
That's what I was thinking when the hand reached down out of nowhere to grab me.
I like to think maybe I'd seen him standing there the whole time, and just didn't care, but that's not true at all. I really just didn't see the guy. Keep in mind they'd dimmed the lights, as if to suggest a sunset happening over their fake little farm, and I'd run towards one of the walls, passing beyond the edge of the last line of crops. I'd actually run into the midst of a clump of full-sized crates and other storage containers, almost to the pallet racks that adjoined the wall, and so I couldn't have seen the man standing there anyway until just that moment.
If I'd been out on my own, out there in the world, I would've been a whole lot more careful, but this place had already lulled me into a false sense of security. I'd let myself get caught up in these awful, alien feelings that hit me out of nowhere, and I forgot for a moment how small and vulnerable I was. So the hand coming out of nowhere caught me totally by surprise.
I screamed for an instant before catching myself, cursing under my breath at how stupid I'd been to run like that in the open. The man held me up, grinning, clutching me tightly in thick, meaty fingers. I recognized the grip before I even saw his face. "Hey, Blondie," said Mack casually. "Where you off to in such a hurry?"
"Getting some exercise, if you don't mind," I lied as smoothly as I could, hoping he couldn't see, in this dim lighting, how red and puffy my eyes must be. "I'm just not used to treadmills, y'know."
"Yeah, well, yer gonna get stepped on if you ain't more careful," he pointed out. "We ain't always watching where we're goin', y'know."
"I'll keep that in mind," I replied. "Shouldn't you be off torturing one of the prisoners or something? Put me down, already."
"Nah, nobody I like's on the bubble," he told me. "I'm off shift, and was hopin' to find Marianne, or maybe Dena, but you'll do. C'mon, I wanna relax for a few before my shows come on."
I'm pretty sure I knew what he meant by "relax," and I really wasn't in the mood. "How about you keep looking, then," I suggested hopefully. "I just got here, y'know, and I'm really not ready for this."
"No time like the present to start learnin'," he told me, striding off without ever thinking about stopping. We left the Barn through one of the side doors and he headed down a walking path towards one of little cabin-like houses that lined the edge of the gravel driveway. Guards' quarters, I realized, noting the large satellite dish at the end of the cluster, which probably served all the buildings. Most towns these days, even small ones, had wireless hubs for that, but out in the country they still used dishes. There'd be no net connections here, I thought sadly.
I figured it'd do me no good to argue, but I tried one more time anyway. "Look, I'm really tired, Mack, and I--"
"Quiet, you," he snapped, "I ain't interested in yer excuses. I wants me a doll-job and that's what I'm gonna get, hear me? Now don't worry yer purty li'l head, I ain't gonna hurtcha, Ray's orders and all that. If you treat me right, I'll make it worth yer while, then you can go back to whatever you was doin'."
I slumped in his grip. Marianne already warned me about this--the guards could have their way with us, any time they wanted, and we could hardly argue. As long as he didn't hurt me, I'm fair game, just like any of them. Just like the Compound, I guess, but with a few extra rules thrown in for my protection. Great, just great.
Besides which, this is what I deserved, isn't it? I'd earned this, don't forget. I made my choices, good or bad, and this is where they brought me. Might as well accept it and move on.
At least he didn't waste any time trying to sweet-talk me or make some cheap pretense of foreplay. He just stripped off his pants and leaned back in his chair, a roll of paper towels close by. I started to take off my clothes, but he stopped me right away. "Don't bother," he insisted. "You'll do just fine like that. I love how you look in that suit, and them boots really turn me on. Now show me what you got."
I sighed as he set me down on his stomach. No sense wasting any time, I suppose. I'm no stranger to this, after all, so I strode forward and started climbing. As I recall from my time with Mike Auerbach and some of the other owners, there's a particular way to "mount up," as Mike once put it, that lets someone my size keep a good grip while still reaching a man's most sensitive spots. I needed about ten seconds to find the right locations, and then I got to work.
Pleasing a giant when you're three inches high isn't all that easy. You can't slip off, or you spoil the mood, but at the same time, you can't ever stop moving. The trick is to start slow, play around till you find the right places, and get a rhythm going. You have to pull yourself up and down constantly, but at the same time, push in and out with your body, which gives your upper arms and hips quite the workout. I used to use this technique on Harry Turnbull, who was so old he could barely get it up, and it usually worked, though it left me exhausted every time. I 'm one of the few who could ever get him off, so I like to think I'm pretty skilled.
I hadn't lost my touch, apparently, because after only a couple minutes Mack clenched up and spouted all over me. I hung on as long as I could, keeping my head turned away, pressing my hips forward firmly to finish the job, while he rocked himself up and down several times. Finally, enough of the hot liquid worked its way around my gloves that I lost my grip and fell down onto the chair, into a pool of thick white gunk. I stood up, wiping myself off as best I could, while he just sort of gasped for a while, his head tilted back in his chair.
"Wow, okay, you don't screw around, do ya?" Mack said after a moment, shaking his head and reaching for the paper towels. "That was faster than I like, but damn, I knew that ass would be good for somethin'. Even Dena don't push against me quite like that!"
High praise, I guess, but I didn't feel all that thrilled about doing something he could've done on his own without nearly as much of a mess. He took a few minutes to wipe himself off, and me, and the chair, before crumpling up the paper towel and tossing it in the trash. Then he lifted me up and studied me carefully. "You are one fine li'l thang, ain'tcha, and I'm gonna love havin' you here, I can tell. You earned a nice ree-ward, I think. You got anythin' on under that suit?"
"No," I replied with a shrug. I could've put something on earlier, I suppose, but hadn't bothered, partly because when I woke up I went straight out to see what the horn was all about, and partly because I figured something like this might happen.
"Good," he told me. "Now turn over, I wanna give that fine behind of yours another workout."
I complied, and he started fondling me, with about as much kindness and tenderness as you would a piece of hamburger you're pressing into a patty before throwing it on the grill. He left my catsuit on, which didn't bother me much since at least it meant he didn't intend to use any tools on me. A couple of the men back at the Compound were like this--they preferred me in costume, instead of naked, for whatever strange reason went through their primitive man-brains. At least he gave me a chance to take off any tampons or anything else I might be using before getting started--back at the Compound, they forgot half the time, and that's no picnic, I can tell you.
His rough fondling didn't do anything for me, and I hadn't really gotten all that turned on by humping him, either. I pretty much just lay there, wishing he'd get it over with, actually. With my suit still on, and the memory of Ray and his accursed gloves still somewhat fresh in my mind, Mack didn't really have much of a chance, did he? If I'd been in a better mood, maybe I might've felt something, but I didn't.
He spent a lot of time pinching and squeezing my ass, which he kept telling me was perfect--"just the right kinda round," as he put it. All that did was hurt after a while, so when his fat forefinger finally pushed its way down between my legs, I almost cheered. That, at least, felt pretty good, especially when he clamped his thumb down on my butt and started rubbing back and forth, pressing upward firmly. I finally let myself relax and enjoy myself for a while as he played around with me, working at finding just the right position, and when he did, I let him know with a few well-placed moans. Nothing a man likes more than hearing that moan, I knew, and at least I didn't have to fake it.
Finally he squeezed just long and hard enough to push me over, and I gave the arched-back squeal that let him know he'd achieved victory. He didn't try to keep going, which is just as well, because I really didn't want any more right now. Instead, he carried me over to the sink and let me wash off, which I did gladly. Sure, it was normal-sized water, but it took away most of the sweat, plus all the other fluids he'd left on me. I'd probably want to switch outfits, though. I'd been wearing this one long enough to produce quite a few worn spots that wouldn't be all that easy to repair.
"You're real good at that," Mack told me a few minutes later, after I'd put my clothes back on and collected all my gear. "Real good. You wanna stay a while, watch some TV? We can have another go at it later, when I get in bed."
"Nah," I replied with a shrug. "You're good, too, Mack, especially for someone with fingers as big as yours, but there's a lot of stuff I still want to learn about this place. Another time, I'm sure."
"Yeah, fer sure," he agreed enthusiastically. "You want a walk back? Or you can get some of that exercise joggin' over there, if you want."
I shrugged again. "I'll jog it, if that's okay. How far can I roam around this place, anyway? I figured I could only stay in the Barn."
"Ah, you dolls, you can go wherever you want," he told me. "Ray trusts ya, so will I. You ain't goin' nowhere, after all. Nowhere to go, out here, y'know? You can roam all over, for all I care, just don't stay out too long."
"Okay, sure," I agreed. "Thanks, Mack."
"Anytime, Blondie." He picked me up with a smile, carried me over, and set me down outside his door, which slammed shut a moment later, leaving me completely by myself, in the dark, a couple hundred feet away from the Barn.
I shook my head, not sure if I believed him about that "roam all over" business. They wouldn't just leave me, a brand new arrival, all by myself out here without some way to track me. So how were they doing it?
Well, duhhh, they put a tracer on me. When, though? While I was out after being tranqed, no doubt. Marianne could've attached it to my clothes, or sub-dermally someplace, or more likely stuck it down my throat. It would've had to be miniaturized to my size and no more, or else when they hit me four times with the restorer, that would've made it grow all the way back, and I think I would've noticed something like that by now.
Oh, yeah, I forgot, I never really explained that, did I? You probably know this already, but just in case, here's what happens. Remember when I mentioned the way miniaturization creates this kind of fold in space and you "fall" into it? Well, you can do that multiple times--I always thought the max was three, but I guess they either figured out a fourth, or they just don't take chances here on the Ranch. Whatever. Anyway, regardless of that, you can have up to three or maybe four fields on you at once, each "inside" the other, like those Russkie nesting dolls you may have heard about. Then when you use a restorer, you pop out of one of the fields--just one, though, which is why back when I went to the Compound the first time, they could shrink me to five percent of five, and then pop me back to five, and tell me that lie about being permanently miniaturized. Not that I ever believed that bullshit for an instant, mind you.
Anyway, the point is, after I went through four restoration cycles, there's no way I or anything on me could've remained unminiaturized. So whatever tracker I had must be my scale, no more or less--assuming they put it on me in the car, and not while I napped later or some other time. I figured on the former, though. That'd be the perfect time to do it.
As I started the long, slow walk back towards the Barn, I checked my scalp and felt around on other parts of my skin, trying to see if I could feel any residual pain or itching that might indicate a sub-dermal implant. I didn't find anything, which really didn't surprise me, but it gave me something to do. I'd make a detailed search later, preferably while alone, but since I hadn't felt anything so far, I doubted I'd have any luck. They probably put it in my gut, like back at the Compound. Why mess with success, huh? Once it lodged itself in there, there'd be no getting rid of it. Those things could clamp on to your stomach lining and hang on, and their batteries lasted for years.
In fact, I bet my Compound tracker was still in there, clinging to my gut someplace. Lou used it to find me at the bottom of the ventilation shaft, after all, and I don't remember him ever doing anything to turn it off. What if they'd detected that when I came in here? Hmm, maybe they did, for all I know. Ray would've told them to be on the lookout for it, I suppose, so it wouldn't have been much of a surprise. What if it still worked, even now, and that's what they were tracking me with? Ha! Wouldn't that be a laugh?
Either way, I felt like maybe I should find out if I really did have a tracer or not. How to do that, though? Well, Mack just gave me carte blanche to pretty much go anywhere I wanted on the grounds. Might as well test that out, huh? I'd already recovered from my earlier exertions, and the shower in Mack's sink left me feeling pretty refreshed. Plus, I didn't exactly need sleep anytime soon.
With that in mind, I turned away from the Barn and headed out towards the edge of the property, eager to do a little exploring.
Actually, I really wanted to just go somewhere, away from all those people, to be alone with my thoughts. I'd gotten so used to being by myself, it felt weird with so many others around. I didn't care about avoiding the other guards' attention or anything like that. Hell, I barely even noticed my encounter with Mack--that seemed like nothing out of the ordinary, even though I hadn't experienced such things in quite a while. I'd compared this place to the Compound enough times already, so that's how I started thinking of it, I guess.
Dusk had fallen by now, but the moon was up, so I could see well enough in the pale glow without too much trouble. Lots of times I won't have much visibility, down by the ground, but the terrain here didn't exactly block my view. I stayed on the walking paths most of the time, keeping off to the edge so I didn't get stepped on by anyone out for an evening stroll, and kept an eye out for handy rocks or other things to use for cover if the need presented itself. Most of the time, though, I cast my eyes skyward, watching for the telltale shadow passing over the stars that might indicate an owl circling overhead.
I didn't know a whole lot about owls before I started roaming around outside at this size, and never really even considered them much of a threat, until I read Kate's long-winded dissertation about her experiences at the Sidewinder. You know, the one that made her famous. I don't know if you remember, but near the end, when they were making their escape and heading away from the Compound, one of the girls got taken by an owl. I can't remember the name now, but she didn't really do anything memorable when she was there. I can't even picture her face, in fact. The only reason I remember her at all is because of the way she died. Or at least we assume she died, because nobody ever found her after that.
Anyway, I don't think I've ever told anybody this story, so I might as well do it now. That book came out during the long months it took me to find Lou's prison, actually. You probably think I just hopped on a few trucks like I said earlier and eventually jumped off as we passed the place. Oh, no. The prison wasn't all that easy to get to, and neither was the little town close by. Once I actually got to the right area, which took a lot of work in and of itself, then I had to hitch rides back and forth on the freeway until somebody finally took that goddamn exit. I swear, I started thinking nobody ever went there after a while.
Finally, after weeks of fender-hopping, someone finally exited, much to my relief. They didn't want to stay, just get something to eat, I guess, but I didn't care--I didn't hang around their car for long. I congratulated myself on sticking to my guns (not the first time I learned that persistence pays off, mind you), scrounged up something to eat, and wriggled my way into the nearest warm building to rest for the night.
Turns out I'd picked a bookstore, one of those quaint old print-book places that often double as antique dealerships. Since a few die-hards still read paper books--usually old men with thick glasses, or people who just like to live in the past--some best-sellers are still printed up and sold in hardback, usually to just this sort of shop. "Classic format," they call it. Well, I didn't often get a chance to read anything anymore, so I walked around looking at my choices, and damned if I don't see "Diminuphobia" sitting there on the table.
At first I didn't want to go near the thing, but I didn't exactly have much else to do, and besides, when would I ever get this chance again? They only had four copies, one of them up on a display rack, but the light coming in from the streetlamp outside provided enough illumination that I could actually read the text. So I lifted up the cover and started reading away.
Back then I loathed Kate McWhiny with every fiber of my being, and so the whole time I read, I just mocked her every word. How she bitched and moaned about having to get miniaturized, even just a little…oh, I just rolled around, laughing, having the time of my life. Sometimes I'd read the words out loud, in a pathetic fake squeaky voice. "Oh, Mark, look at me, I'm so tiny and pathetic! How can you ever respect me like this?" Ha ha ha! Oh, my, I guess it still makes me giggle, even today. She really has no idea what it's really like to live like this, does she?
Anyway, of course she makes herself out to be the hero the whole time, and gets her man in the end, too, which leaves me kind of sickened, because everything just worked out for her and all her friends, while I got totally screwed. I've talked about that plenty of times before, though. The thing that really got me thinking, though, was that whole business about Caroline and the owl. Oh, yeah, that's her name, Caroline Ryan. I remember now, and that's the other thing about her that got me more than a little worried. See, like myself, she was a blonde, and that might be what made her stand out on the forest floor, like a beacon to a circling owl. Of course, all the girls that night would've been in danger, because of what they were wearing, but me, I've got this black suit on and all my gear is darkened--but my hair's still light-colored, because at five percent of normal size, hair color treatments don't exactly stick, even if I could find one anyplace.
So after that I made it a point to educate myself on owls. Eventually, I got into someone's house and snuck onto the net, not just to make sure I knew where Lou's prison was, but also to read up on owls. Turns out they can be found damn near anywhere in the country, sometimes even in major cities. They go after any small mouse-sized creature (like me) and typically hunt only at night. They're also almost completely silent, and since most tiny animals keep their eyes fixed on the ground, they'll never see an owl coming until it's too late.
After that, I made it a point to watch the sky, and always be ready to move if anything showed up. Good thing, too, because it turns out, in order to get to the prison, I had to do some hiking. There were occasional deliveries and such, so cars came and went from the place, which they'd built pretty well off the beaten path. The problem was figuring out who might be going there. Instead of using hit-or-miss tactics, I instead found the main access road, hiked there, and moved to a spot where any vehicle had to slow down quite a bit to navigate a turn. Then I used my grappling hook to latch on, and off I went.
Before that, though, I spent almost a week in the wilds hiking my way to that spot. I learned real quick to keep my eyes on the sky whenever I went out in the open. I saw owls at least four times for sure, swooping around between the trees, blotting out the stars as they passed. Plus I think I might've caught a few more out of the corner of my eye. And, on one occasion, one of the damn things actually tried to get me.
I'd already seen one of those flickers at the edge of my vision, not enough to confirm anything, but it got me on my toes. Then I actually heard it. They say owls are silent, but really, if you're listening, and there aren't any other distracting noises, you can hear them. They sound like wind rushing through the trees, only they're coming towards you, so the volume quickly goes up, like a maglev pod sweeping down the track, just before it passes. That's what I heard now, so I turned, and there a couple yards away comes this gigantic house-sized bird with its talons out, about to grab me.
There's no time to attack--no point in attacking, really, because what the hell could I really do to something that big? Instead I jumped to the side, and of course at my size I can leap quite a ways, so the claws hit empty air. The owl struck the ground, sending dirt and clumps of leaves flying everywhere, and then it's gone, making a couple more whooshing noises as its wings start beating, carrying it up and into the trees overhead. I didn't move for quite a while after that, I can tell you, but damn was my heart pounding!
Sometimes I wonder what would've happened if it caught me. Assuming one of those talons didn't spear my chest or something, it's entirely possible I might've gotten away. In order to land, it would've had to drop me for an instant, and I could've vaulted off to safety, assuming a fall from the treetops didn't do me in. If it tried to stab me with its beak beforehand, I doubt it could've gotten much leverage without landing first, and besides, I would've had my spear ready for that. Even so, I probably wouldn't have survived. I'm pretty sure Caroline, without any weapons at all, was pretty much dead meat.
Anyway, ever since then, anytime I'm out at night, I keep my eyes on the sky. That's what I did now as I crept along, wishing I had something to cover my hair, which probably looked like a big shiny invitation to any owls passing by. I stayed in shadows when I could, though, and nothing ever flashed across the stars, so I figured I must be safe. I doubted there were any barn owls around, at least--not with all the security around this place. They'd surely shoot anything like that if it tried to roost anywhere on the property.
I felt much better, moving along in the dark, away from the minis and the rest of the Barn. I really didn't like that place at all. It seemed way too much like a prison to me, and even though I wasn't one of the prisoners, I still felt like one. All in my mind, sure, but I felt that way all the same.
I don't want to go back there, I realized, breathing in the cool night air, enjoying my brief taste of freedom. I'd be better off on my own, with my soothing illusion of independence to keep me happy. Back in the Barn, I'd have to face myself. I'd have to face my failures, my bad choices, my selfishness…and my inability to escape any of them. That's what made me a prisoner, and knowing all of that didn't really help one bit.
So what could I do? Run away? They had me tagged, I felt sure, so that would be a waste of time. If I ran, they'd only catch me, and toss me in with the others. I could probably handle facing Ray and his case of doctor's tools. I'd had that experience before, and the pain wouldn't break me. But the thought of being shrunk down so small you couldn't even see me, and then being shoved in that Box, to be visited over and over by giant women, one after the other…all my victims, the ones who owed their present state to me and what I'd done…that I couldn't take. I knew I'd never make it through that, no matter what. I'd go mad for sure.
So, no running, then. Nothing that would get me caught, at least. If I could find some way to turn off the tracers, or get them out of me, sure, but until then, forget it. What else?
Suicide, of course, remained an option. I hadn't really seriously thought about that for quite a while now. Not since Lou betrayed me, anyway. I wanted to stay in that building then, and get blown up, but Kate wouldn't allow it. I came pretty close, actually, but then she reminded me that if I died, Lou would win, and that I couldn't allow. At the time, I fully intended to kill myself after I dealt with him, but then, once I got away, out into the wild, flush with victory, I just pushed those thoughts away. I considered it again often enough, on days when things went poorly, but not recently. Not since finding Andrew's house, anyway.
Now, though…it would be so easy. Just walking along, slowly circling the gigantic mansion barely visible in the moonlight, I could think of half a dozen ways to do myself in. Get stepped on, get run over, fall on my spear, climb up the wall and jump off, drown myself in a toilet, I could go on and on. It wouldn't be that hard. I just didn't want to, though. I'd been through so much in my life already, suicide just felt like giving up. Like the coward's way out. I might as well admit I'd never been as tough as I always said. I might as well say to the world, I never really mattered anyway. Just a tiny little piece of white trash, crumpled up and thrown away.
White trash. That's what they always called me, back on the streets. Damn, I hated that phrase! I still hate it, even now. I know that's what I was back then--there's no denying that. But now, today, if someone called me that, I'd punch them in the face. So I wouldn't just give up and prove them right. I'm the Sole Survivor, or so I keep telling myself. I can get through this, somehow.
So no suiciding, then. I'd talked myself out of that, it seems. That left only one real option--the one that occurred to me before, just as Mack plucked me off the ground. I'd have to be the hero.
What does that mean, anyway? Being a hero…I'd never thought of myself like that. You don't get many chances to be a hero when you come from my background. If it involved a lot of sacrifice, well, forget that! But I didn't have to lay down my life for anybody, at least not the way I saw things. All I really had to do is make sure Kate finds this place somehow, so she can come in and take care of it. She'd get all the credit, sure, but at least I'd get a chance to tell my story.
So what's my best choice, then? Just go along with whatever they planned to do, I figured, and then try to warn Kate when I got the chance. They'd come prepared for whatever trick she might have up her sleeve, which could be bad, but if I warned her early on, maybe that'd be enough. I'd have to look out for the right opportunity, because if I timed that wrong, they'd know I helped her, and that would be the end for me.
In the meantime, though, I needed to just pretend like things were fine. I'd have to explain my long walk in the moonlight, but that's easy enough to do. Just tell them I needed some time to myself. They'd believe that--well, Marianne would, I'm sure. Especially since it's basically the truth.
Still, as I walked along, staying careful as usual, I still felt somewhat sick to my stomach. Figuring this would go away after a while, I just kept on going, taking my thoughts off my troubles and back to my surroundings. I reached the edge of the path, arriving at a towering fence that enclosed a corral I hadn't noticed earlier in the day. Curious, I climbed up to one of the horizontal bars overhead and perched there, looking out at the field in the moonlight. I didn't see any animals, but the corral adjoined yet another small barn that probably contained horses or something like that. They weren't outside, on account of it being nighttime and all.
I could've gone and had a look, but at least the ground nearby had some small amount of cover in the form of rocks and such. The corral provided nothing at all, just dust and soft earth everywhere. If I went across that ground, any animal or bird that chanced along could take me at its leisure.
Instead, I stayed with the fence, moving along and keeping my balance on the lower beam until I reached the next vertical bar. I could've climbed on past, but instead just hopped down to the ground, already bored with that game. Below, a few hardy tufts of grass poked out along the fenceline, so I stayed there, moving slowly but steadily, keeping the huge mansion-shaped shadow to my left. I figured if I kept this up, eventually I'd circle the entire ranch, even if it took all night.
Half an hour later or so, I came to a point where the fence started to turn away from the mansion, indicating I'd reached the extreme edge of the corral. I took a moment to rest, and as I did, I saw a huge shape approaching from the house's general direction. I immediately backed up into the nearest clump of grass, huddling underneath so as to stay out of sight of whoever this might be.
From my position at ground level, I could only see a pair of jeans and cowboy boots. Something about the design looked familiar, but I couldn't tell for sure in the moonlight, and besides, lots of people wear stuff like that in the Southwest. The man (I knew that much, at least) strode right over to the fence, put a foot up on the rail, and lit up a cigarette, puffing away as he stared out over the silver-tinged prairie.
I'm pretty sure I knew this guy by now--Frank Lassiter, Ray's business partner and trusted advisor. Back at the Compound, on the few occasions he dropped by, he always reeked of burnt tobacco. He's one of the few people I know who bothered with such a pointless drug.
Decades ago, before I was born, cigarettes were legal, and something like a quarter of the population actually smoked the filthy things on a regular basis. In fact, I understand it used to be quite the big business. Then, back during that near-disastrous experiment with socialized medicine, the government declared cigarettes illegal in an attempt to cut down on the countless medical issues caused by a lifetime of smoking. After governmental health care collapsed and they decided instead to regulate the insurance industry, only the ban on cigarettes remained, along with a couple other minor things I won't bother mentioning. A lot of people predicted smoking would come back, just like alcohol during Prohibition, but it never did.
Even so, there's no law against actually growing tobacco in America--unlike, say, marijuana or opium. You can't sell it here, but you can overseas, and there's still plenty of smokers in other countries. So I'm sure Frank got his cigarettes from some grower or other that owed him a favor. Here on the Ranch, he could smoke them without fear of being arrested, but I guess he still couldn't do it in the mansion, or else he probably wouldn't be out here.
I quickly found out that being three inches high and downwind of a cigarette didn't really fly. Stifling my reflex to cough, I hurried back along the fence, until I'd passed by his feet and moved to the other side. Now the smoke drifted away, and the air became much fresher. I risked clearing my throat as he shifted around up there, and he didn't notice me, which is just as well. I didn't want to know what he'd do if he happened to find me at that moment.
I waited patiently for him to leave, not really wanting to try moving any more than I already had. I still felt kind of ill, probably from the smoke I'd inhaled, and I figured walking some more would help work that out, but he wouldn't go. He finished off his awful-smelling cigarette, stubbed it out on the fence, and flicked the butt away, where it landed out in the dirt-filled corral. I followed its flight, and where it landed, I saw at least two more similar shapes in the dust. Obviously he came here often for a smoke, so his presence here wasn't all that unusual. I'd just timed my arrival very poorly, that's all.
He still didn't move, though. I started to get annoyed, but then, I've learned the value of patience, so I just held my irritation inside for a while. After a few minutes, someone else walked up, also approaching from the mansion. He strode right up to Frank and spoke at once, and I recognized Ray Ellsworth's voice. "You about done smoking now?" he said with a chuckle. "I absolutely loathe that habit. You really should quit, you know."
"Goddammit, you sound more like my mother every day," replied Frank in a deep, raspy voice. "At least it ain't pot, or anything worse. 'Sides, it calms my nerves, and God knows I need that right now."
"You worry too much," replied Ray, leaning back against the fence right over where I'd been hiding. The beam gave a noisy creak under his weight. I had this momentary image of the irregularly cut rails just snapping in half and his gigantic ass slamming down on top of me, but nothing of the sort happened.
"I got a lot to worry about," snapped off Frank. "Jugglin' all these deals of yours--where'd you even meet half these fuckin' people? Don't you know it only takes one of 'em to set us up, and we're up shit creek without a paddle?"
"It'll be fine, just fine." Ray's voice spoke quietly, with a calm and soothing tone. His response made him sound like a highly educated man in the company of a boorish lout, which might not be all that far from the truth. Still, while I didn't know Frank Lassiter all that well, I did know he's anything but an idiot. He just likes to talk like one, swearing damn near every other word. Maybe he thought it makes other people underestimate him or something. Whatever.
"Fine, you say," Frank went on. "Well, shit, Ray, I got nine calls today about one girl or another, and they all want the same thing--they all wanna make sure they don't get caught. How am I supposed to make 'em feel better, hmm? I don't got the gift of gab like you. I wish you'd just tell them yourself."
"You know I can't," he replied, coughing a couple of times. "Only the people here on the Ranch know I'm alive, and we need to keep it that way. At least until we have the FBI under control. How's that going, anyway?"
"Slow as fuckin' hell," answered Frank. "I ain't gonna lie--it's gonna be years, if ever happens at all. You're gonna have to stop that bitch yourself."
"Yes, that's what I figured." Ray sighed aloud. "Maybe I should just have her shot. Of course, they'd all run around for a while like chickens with their heads cut off, trying to catch the killer, unless we set someone up to be the fall guy."
"Shit, I could arrange that," pointed out Frank. "Wouldn't be too tough, y'know."
"Yeah, I know you could, but it seems like such a waste. I've always made a point of acquiring things I want, and I want her, so that's that."
"Dammit, Ray, if you fuck things up with this vendetta of yours--"
"That's what I've got you for, Frank. You're not going to fuck it up, to use your crude terminology. That's another thing I wish you'd correct. There's no reason to swear so much--it makes you sound uncivilized."
"Well, I fuckin' like swearing," he chuckled, "and besides, you're sounding like my goddamn mother again, so knock it off! I assume, now that you've got Wendy, you're gonna set something up with her?"
"Yes, that's still the primary plan," said Ray. "I spoke with her earlier, and gave her my special treatment. I think she's amenable."
"You think?" Frank gave a doubtful cough. "You telling me you ain't sure about this? What makes you say that?"
"I'm not sure." Ray hesitated for a moment, probably thinking about it, but coughing a couple times during the pause. I guess he didn't like the smell of cigarette smoke any more than I did. Finally, after about fifteen seconds, he went on. "She definitely hates Kate Powers--there's no doubting that. Kate completely ruined Wendy's life. It's just that I didn't really get the impression she liked my treatment, that's all. All the other dolls, when I play with them, sigh in rapture and beg for more when I'm done. Wendy, though, she didn't. She just sort of…accepted it, I guess. Oh, she screamed a lot, like anybody would, but afterwards, I didn't see any real emotions. What kind of woman could be taken to such heights of pleasure and not really feel all that excited about it?"
Me, I guess, I thought to myself, shaking my head. Am I really that dead inside? Maybe I started feeling guilty a lot sooner than I thought…
"Well, she is a dyke, y'know," Frank pointed out, using another word I really don't like much. "Have a woman try the fuckin' gloves next time. You could shrink her, y'know, and let Marianne have a go. Mack says they seem pretty tight, if you know what I mean."
Mack talks too much, I thought to myself, shuddering at the idea of being reduced any smaller--I prefer five, goddammit, nothing more and nothing less! Fortunately, Ray didn't seem to like the idea any more than I did. "True," he admitted, "but I prefer to keep all the dolls the same size all the time. Besides, I don't believe the issue stems from physical enjoyment, because she did definitely enjoy it, that much I can assure you."
"She's probably just not used to it," suggested Frank. "Didn't you say she's been on the run for what, years? How long has it been since she got finger-fucked, anyway? You just overwhelmed her, that's all. That glove of yours just overdoes it, like I've always said. Lemme have a shot at her next time."
"Very well, feel free. I'm not in any hurry to take her again, anyway. Go and find her now, if you want. The tracer's working, or so they tell me, so Marianne did her job."
"Good. I'm still not sure you can really trust that little whore, but I guess she's done everything you asked so far."
"Yes, well, I choose my allies carefully. We'll have to watch her relationship with Wendy just as carefully, don't forget. Make sure neither of them get hurt, or we'll probably lose them both."
"Good point. Hmm…actually, I think I'll skip Wendy tonight. You already probably ruined her for today, anyhow, you selfish bastard! I'm in the mood for something rougher, and I don't wanna hurt her, so I'm goin' after Dena. She always loves that shit."
"Yes, she does, doesn't she? You certainly lucked out, getting someone like that as your secretary."
"Not luck, my friend. I choose my allies carefully, too." He pushed away from the fence, grinned, and moved away. "See you tomorrow, Ray."
"Same," came the reply. "Don't forget to start working on that ambush for me. I want to move on Kate as soon as possible."
"You got it," Frank replied as his huge shadow gradually merged with the others in the distance.
Ray watched him go for a moment, then coughed loudly a couple of times, shaking his head. "Fucking cigarettes," he muttered, striding back towards the mansion.
As he moved off, I just shook my head and relaxed. The paranoid part of me kept insisting they both knew full well I'd been listening in, and staged that whole conversation just to get my attention. But my more practical side concluded they probably hadn't, because what's the point? They didn't say anything all that important that I didn't already know. I mean, yeah, they're going after Kate, and I'm to be involved, sure, but that's not exactly a surprise. So why even bother?
No, more likely, Frank crawled out from whatever hole he lives in, came out here for a visit, and had a smoke while Ray finished some business or other and joined him at the fence. They probably had little chats out here all the time. Certainly the cigarette butts scattered around in the corral suggested as much. Speaking of which, the stink of burnt tobacco still lingered, so I took off as soon as Ray's giant figure disappeared into the mansion, continuing my original plan to circle the grounds.
It did seem sort of convenient that they showed up just then, didn't it? Ray at least confirmed I had a tracer--did he know I'd be there, but not Frank? If so, what did he say that he wanted me to hear? I tried to think back over the conversation, but nothing really jumped out at me, except the bit about my new electronic watchdog. Maybe that's all he wanted--to make a point that trying to get away wouldn't work, if that's what I intended by wandering around out here.
Yeah, that's probably it, I concluded after a while. He probably looked at their tracking screens, saw me heading that way, and sent Frank out for a smoke break on purpose, just to pin me there, so he could let me overhear his tracer comment. Also to put some fear in me just in case Frank really did try to find me after they were done. He would've been truly pissed if he followed my path and realized I'd been there, listening in. I wonder if that's what Ray had hoped would happen? Probably.
Actually, come to think of it, Ray did say one other thing of interest. He told Frank how I'd not been all that enthusiastic about being played with by those gloves. Do you suppose he expected I'd modify my behavior automatically, and be more excited next time, just to deflect his suspicions? If he really knew I'd been listening in, and I changed my attitude, what would that tell him? He'd know I was faking, and would have less reason to trust me after that. So I'd have to react the same way as before, perhaps even more so…but then what? He'd see me as defiant, unwilling to change just to please him. Would that be better, or worse?
I sighed as I reached another walking path that led to a large storage shed on the fringes of the ranch. I could second-guess myself all day if I kept this up. If that whole thing turned out to be the same kind of test, how could I know if I'd passed or failed? My best bet would be to stay the same as always. If I started changing my behavior for every little reason, pretty soon I'd forget who I was trying to fool. I'd just keep things as they are, and let the chips fall where they may.
I took a break for a moment, thinking seriously about going over and investigating that nearby shed, but again I started feeling sick to my stomach. I'd hoped getting away from the cigarette would help that, but apparently not. In fact, if anything, I felt worse. Something's definitely wrong down there, I figured. Indigestion, or something, even though I hadn't had much to eat at all. That surprised me, actually--I hadn't thought about this before, but since I got here, I hadn't eaten anything. I should be starving by now. Where's the hunger?
The thought of eating made me feel even worse. I moved off the path and sat down for a minute, hoping this would go away, but it didn't. Indigestion, surely, or maybe food poisoning, which would really suck. I'd had that happen more than once, you know. Sometimes, out on the road, I'd get so hungry I'd try anything, no matter how bad it looked or tasted. Then it would all come back up a short while later. Usually it didn't wait this long, though.
I tried some breathing exercises and stretched out on the ground, but it didn't help. I started feeling light-headed. At times like this you just know you're going to puke, sooner or later, so you might as well let it happen. I got to my knees, put my fist on my stomach, and leaned over, pressing in on my abdomen. That did the trick.
After I'd finished, I stayed on hands and knees for a bit, hyperventilating, and instantly feeling much better. I glanced around at the leavings, just to see if maybe I could get some clue as to what made me feel so ill, but I didn't see much. Since I hadn't eaten in so long, it was mostly liquid, except for the little round object glinting in the moonlight.
What the hell? I frowned, pushed past my disgust and picked up the bile-colored ring of metal, glad I'd worn some gloves. I cleaned off the half-inch wide disk as best I could and studied it closely, both curious and surprised. Of course I knew exactly what it was, even though I'd never actually seen one before.
My tracer…!
I stared in disbelief at the gleaming piece of metal for a couple of minutes. At first, I could only think, aren't these thing supposed to clamp on somehow? Then the impact of my good fortune started to sink in. With the tracer out of my gut, I had my freedom back! I could go anywhere I wanted, without fear of anybody finding me. I only had to leave it behind in my room, or somewhere else I'd be left alone, and I could have the run of the place.
Or, better yet, I could just take off. Yeah, sure, why not? I'd considered that already, and only rejected the idea because of the tracer. Now I didn't have to worry. I could put it anywhere, and head off in the opposite direction. If I timed it right, I could even get a good lead on my pursuers. Hell, I could even hop onto one of their cars. In fact, why wait? I could go find Frank's car right now and head off as soon as he got done with Dena. They'd have no idea I'd left until tomorrow morning, most likely, by which time I'd be long gone.
I moved over to the opposite side of the walking path, where the grass got watered regularly, and wiped off the messy tracer (and my glove) as best I could. Then I started walking, thinking about my options. Leaving sounded good, I have to admit. Why not just run away again, like I always do? I didn't want to be a hero, anyway. Let Kate McLoser take care of things, if she could--none of this is any of my business, right? It's not like I caused it to happen or anything.
I'd all but decided to run away, but then that creepy feeling started in my gut again--that goddamn relentless guilt! I really hoped I'd been imagining that, like maybe the upset stomach had something to do with it, but nope. I couldn't escape that easily, could I? No, like it or not, I'd have to live with this now--live with the memory of Janice, cowering at the bottom of that Box…
No, I couldn't leave, could I? That would be just like suicide--the coward's way out, like I said before--only worse, because I'd spend the rest of my life running, and thinking about how all this was my fault, and how I could've maybe done something if only I'd just tried. Damn it, there's times when I really hate myself, and that's exactly what I felt right now.
But at least the guilt went away.
So. I'm really going to do this, huh? I'm really going to try to be the hero. Wendy Sugarton, the tiny little hero! What a laugh!
If I'm going to do something, though, I don't do it half-assed. Just like when I went to find Lou, I committed to the task and saw it through. Patience and persistence, that's what I'd use. Those were my tools and weapons, just like my spear and grappling hook and everything else I carried. That's what I'd use to win this thing.
The tracer made it possible, of course. Without that, I couldn't possibly hope to do anything but go along for the ride. Now, I had other options. I could go places the giants thought were secure, spy on them when they thought nobody could see or hear. I could sabotage important devices, poke around in computers, maybe even use a phone or get on the net, if they had those things available. I'd have to be careful, though. One false move, one mistake like Kate made back in the Compound, and it'd all be over. I didn't have any allies here. Nobody would come and stab someone on the foot so I could make my escape. If they caught me sneaking around…well, stick a fork in me, I'm done.
I put the tracer away for now. No sense letting anybody see me carrying it. I'd have to clean it later, otherwise it'd stink up the place, but for now, I tucked it into one of my makeshift bags. I'd have to wash that, too, I suppose, but at least they had running water back in the dollhouse. Besides which, I'd already decided to change outfits, so nobody would really notice if I started washing stuff off.
I kept on going, circling around the remainder of the ranch. This took the better part of several hours. Nothing really interesting happened, although I did have to chase off a couple nosy insects, including a pretty big grasshopper that decided to take a closer look at me. No owls overhead, though, at least none that I could see. In fact, I didn't spot anything bigger than a bug, not even a mouse or anything like that. They must not be all that common out here, or else Ray puts out poison or something. I suppose he might, at that. The last thing he'd want is a mouse wandering into the Barn, where it could just plow right through the minis living there. Sheesh, what a nightmare that would be!
Once again, I tried to picture myself reduced to that size and trying to wander around outside, like I'm doing now. I don't care what kind of weapons I had, nothing would keep me alive for long. A single ant could bite my head clean off, and that grasshopper I saw earlier would've crushed me underfoot. Hell, it probably wouldn't even notice me at all.
And what about someone like Janice? What would it be like for her? One-thirtieth of an inch high, if I got my math right…damn…you can't even see anyone that small if you're normal sized. That means she'd actually be able to see bacteria floating around in the air, and on any surface she came near. What could something like that do to her? What about things like dust mites and other nearly microscopic critters? I remember reading how they're everywhere, but nobody notices because they're so tiny. Would Janice ever have any peace, if she got out of that Box? Probably not.
Come to think of it, how did she even eat or drink? They must've brought her food, I guess, but if not…well, she'd have to dine on bacteria, wouldn't she? What did that even taste like? Could you even digest something like that? The way miniaturization works should allow for it…but still, I don't know. I hoped I'd never have to find out.
After a while I got back to the Barn. I suppose it must've been well after midnight by this point, but I didn't care. The long walk made me feel much better, like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders. Plus, if nothing else, I'd managed to be far away from anyone else when I puked up my tracer. If that had happened inside, with anybody else around, they would've probably seen the little device sitting there, and that would've blown my chances. I felt pretty fortunate about that, actually.
Getting back inside the Barn took a bit of searching. Turns out they sealed the place up pretty good. Like I said, I guess they didn't want any mice or whatever getting inside. I had to go all the way to one of the ends and swing around to the far side before I found what I'd been looking for--a little doll-sized door built into the main entrance. Well, of course they'd have something like that, wouldn't they? Shrugging, I opened up and stepped inside.
The suspicious part of me expected to see someone waiting there, but I didn't find anybody. Instead, I saw an open walkway leading off in two directions, following the end wall. At two specific junction points, paths led into the little farms that marked the borders of each quadrant. These were the "highways" Marianne described to me earlier. Directly ahead, towering over the middle quadrant on this edge, I saw the table atop which sat the dollhouse. Obviously, I'd picked the correct side of the Barn to enter.
I checked both directions, making sure no giants were about, and jogged across the open path, into the sandy layer that lined the edge of the middle quadrant. I guess that must be quadrant K, I figured, refusing to call it by that ridiculous insect name. They'd left the region under the table unworked, so I didn't have to push through any plants or anything as I headed for the elevator. Just before I got there, though, a noise sounded behind me and I reflexively ducked behind one of the table legs, taking cover in the shadows.
I looked back and saw somebody standing in the doll-sized door, looking away from me, only barely visible in the dark. I heard her say, "See you tomorrow, hon!" as a huge finger tapped her on the head. She stood up on tiptoes, kissing the fingertip momentarily, and waved as it drew back out of sight. Then she walked on in and shut the door.
She, too, glanced from side to side cautiously before proceeding across the gap. As she approached, she stepped into one of the dim lights that illuminated the walkway around the Barn's interior edges. The main lights over the quadrants were completely out by now, of course, but enough faint lighting remained so guards and others on the roads could see easily enough.
The tiny woman ran across the opening and slowed to a walk once she reached the dirt surface alongside the path. Then she shook her head and sighed happily to herself. I got a better look at her now--a slim, lithe body wrapped up in a skintight leather bodysuit unzipped almost down to her belt, leaving no doubt as to what she'd been up to before arriving here. She stood slightly taller than me, with curly dark hair that looked slightly moist, and a predictably attractive face. A thin bump of a nose, dotted with freckles, overlooked full lips currently turned up in a smile that made her cheeks dimple up in a schoolgirl-cute kind of way.
She approached fearlessly, oblivious to my presence, and for a moment I thought maybe she'd pass right on by without spotting me--I made no attempt to stay hidden as she walked by the table leg, after all. Then, all of a sudden, she spun around, crouching, instantly ready for combat, like a trained soldier confronted by an enemy. Not someone to take lightly, I realized at once.
"Who the hell are you?" she demanded, eyes flicking from one part of me to another, taking note of my weapons, my posture, my clothes, everything. In the space of about two seconds, she'd scanned her opponent, evaluated the threat, drawn a conclusion and selected the appropriate response--I could almost see her running down the checklist in her mind.
"I'm Wendy Sugarton," I replied calmly, flashing a smile. "Sorry about surprising you--I heard a noise, and ran for cover. It's a conditioned response, I guess."
"Oh, right. I should've known." She relaxed at once, taking a couple steps forward and extending a hand, all thoughts of combat forgotten. "Nice to meet you, finally. I'm Kaitlin O'Connell."
I shook amiably, and now that we'd gotten closer, I could see the green eyes and faint reddish tinge to her hair that suggested Irish ancestry. More freckles, too, though her skin didn't look as pale as some redheads I'd met. "Ah, yes, I heard your name earlier," I informed her. "Marianne mentioned you, I think."
"Yeah, sorry I wasn't here when you came in. I've been out with my boyfriend, Taylor Mattison."
"Boyfriend?" I inquired, raising my eyebrow. "Really? How's that work?"
"Come on up, I'll tell you," she replied, heading for the elevator. I followed, naturally, recalling that Marianne did say something earlier about Kaitlin being out with someone named Taylor, but I thought it sounded like some kind of secret at the time. Apparently, that's not the case at all.
Kaitlin started talking as soon as I joined her in the elevator, even before we started heading up. "See, Taylor worked for Ray, back when he owned the Sidewinder. He was one of the security guards, but he did a lot more than that. He'd keep an eye out for women Ray might like, and pass along his recommendations. To do that, he'd have to interview them from time to time, and that's how he and I met."
We reached the dollhouse level and stepped out of the elevator. Kaitlin wasted no time getting a drink from the nearby pool, and I did the same. Then she sat down on a chair, wiping the excess water over her face. I took the time to get a drink as well, sat down nearby, and asked, "So he was going to send you to the Compound, then?"
Kaitlin sighed wistfully. "I wish, since I all but signed on right there," she told me. "He'd seen how eager I was to get picked up and touched when I worked roulette, and how it made me shiver all over. That's what made him approach me in the first place, after they started shutting down my table one evening. I let him hold me, and he asked me all the things Ray told him to ask, at least at first. But we got to know each other a little better, and he asked me out a couple times. That's when I told him I liked to be…well, mistreated, you know?" She grinned and flashed me a sly wink.
Bondage and submission--it's amazing how many people are into that stuff, even if they never admit it to anybody. Or they just have some other kink, like getting off on humiliation, which sounded like Kaitlin's angle. "Oh, yeah, I get it," I replied, "though I'm not into that myself, mind you, I just understand how it works."
"Oh! Yeah, sorry, I didn't mean to sound like I was propositioning you or anything." She flushed red for a moment--very noticeable on her, I might add--and kept on going, apparently eager to chat. Some women get like that after sex, which I figured is what she'd just been doing. "Anyway," she went on hurriedly, "I would've been a shoo-in for the Compound, except I was also a member of the National Guard at the time. That meant the owners wouldn't touch me with a ten-foot pole. Too bad. I would've loved that place, I'm sure, although I bet I wouldn't have left like the others--and you know what that would've meant."
"Yeah, I know," I agreed, thinking that perhaps the Guard thing explained her obvious combat training. "That should've been me, too, but I'm just too stubborn for my own good."
"Oh, right, I remember Marianne telling me all about what happened to you. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bring that up!" She flushed red again. "Oh, my, I'm ruining this whole thing, aren't I? What you must think of me! Oh, I'm such an idiot!"
"No, no, don't worry about it," I insisted. "I came to terms with that a long time ago, except I still owe one person a little payback for that. It's a good thing you weren't there anyway, like you said. Whatever. That's all well and good, though, but it doesn't explain how you wound up here."
"Oh, right! Well, okay, you want the short version, or the long version?"
"Might as well go with the longer one," I told her. "It's not like we're going anywhere, right?"
"Yeah, you got a point. I'm too wired to sleep right now, anyway, if you couldn't tell. Okay, here's what happened…"
I'm not sure when I fell in love with Taylor Mattison. Probably sometime around our fifth or sixth date. By then he knew the kind of stuff I liked, and while he didn't necessarily enjoy the same things, he sure liked the way I responded. If nothing else, I loved how he had such an open mind.
At first I had to show him what to do, you know? Just like any time you're sharing your fetish with a new partner, you have to guide their way. I'm sure you know what I mean, right? By our fifth date, though, he started coming up with ideas of his own, and by the sixth he didn't need the slightest bit of prompting. See, he's into touching--he likes to feel and fondle me, which I didn't mind at all, so he just came up with all sorts of ways to combine our two mutually enjoyable fantasies. I'll just keep those to myself, though--I'm not telling you everything!
Anyway, I started having trouble focusing at work, because when I got small, I'd think about what things would be like if he could pick me up and play with me. Keep in mind I had no idea the Compound even existed at the time, or I'd have been begging to go there. Instead, I kept harassing Beth to let me be alone with Taylor. I knew she sometimes let people work out their diminuphobia hangups with friends and family members in the break rooms, and I wanted to do the same thing. She wouldn't let me, though, damn it, so I started trying to figure out ways to get into Taylor's hands somehow. He'd meet me after roulette, for example, or hang around the blackjack tables, and that sort of thing. Beth probably should've had him fired, but instead, she successfully arranged to get Taylor assigned to be personally responsible for me all the time. I think she knew she was fighting a losing battle, you know?
Anyway, we kept trying to get a little "alone time," and finally we thought she must've given in, because one night she didn't stop us like she usually did. We slipped into one of the storerooms and I had my first experience as a doll, and by God, it was just as good as I'd always hoped. At that size, he could mistreat me all he wanted, any way he could imagine, and I couldn't stop him, which made it all the more exciting. He played his role to the hilt, too, pretending like he'd captured me, and intended to torture me in all sorts of nasty ways…oh, sorry, I'm blushing again just talking about it! Anyway, I'm sure you've had those kind of experiences, too, when the right person does all the right things, at just the right times…ohhh, my, it's like heaven!
Oh, right, sorry! I don't know why I'm such a chatterbox tonight, but I can't help myself. Anyway, I thought that night might never end, but of course it had to eventually, and Taylor took me back out to where he'd found me and left like nothing happened. I'm still not sure how I got back to the restorer after that. I must've just wandered back down the hall in a happy daze. Good thing I rode an autobus to work, because if I'd tried to drive, I don't think I would've made it.
Well, what we didn't know was that's the night the FBI picked up Beth and started setting up to raid the casino. This is exactly the time you were…well, having your experience at the Compound. Sorry to bring that up again! Oh, my, I'm really screwing this up! I'll stop talking about that, I promise!
Anyway, I had another work shift the next day and couldn't wait to get there, because I wanted to get some more time with Taylor. I had to work poker again, so I went to my table, and he stood nearby keeping an eye on me, like usual. I spent most of the session making googly-eyes at him and annoying my fellow poker chips, who kept telling me to knock it off and pay attention. I couldn't, though. I kept thinking about yesterday and how much I wanted to do that again. I'm pretty sure if Beth had seen me like that, she would've fired me for sure, or at least yelled at me a lot, but by this time they'd taken her into protective custody. Not that I knew that or anything, you know?
So anyway, just before my shift ended, the FBI showed up and basically took over the place. There were some shots fired, because apparently Bob Mathias didn't give up easily, so the alarms went off and everybody had to exit. The guards all picked up their charges, so I found myself in Taylor's welcome hands once again, much to my delight. He rubbed and fondled me the whole time he went outside, joining the other guards in their assigned positions while we waited for the emergency to pass.
At some point he figured out what the FBI was doing there, and of course since he'd been helping Ray behind the scenes, he got a little nervous. After all, he knew about the Compound, at least somewhat, and hadn't told anybody, so that made him guilty, right? I didn't really notice his reaction at the time, though, since he kept squeezing me all over, holding me out of sight so the other guards couldn't see. Most of the other casino girls were freaking out or something, but I didn't mind at all. I wished it could last forever.
Actually, I sort of got my wish. Taylor took out his cell and called Ray to warn him and ask what he should do, and Ray said not to worry, he had everything under control. He told Taylor things weren't safe for him and to get out of town, then to call a certain special number later on, once things cooled off a bit. Taylor didn't mention me during the phone conversation, so Ray didn't know about me at the time.
Taylor took me aside and told me the truth then--all the things he'd been doing, his role in the kidnappings, all of it. I think he really thought I'd hate him or something, the silly man! Instead, I saw my opportunity and seized it without a second thought. I begged him not to leave me behind, but to take me with him--exactly as I was. I didn't want to get restored, at least not yet. I didn't care about him spying for the owners--that much I could forgive. I just wanted to be held in those amazing hands for as long as possible, and I'd finally figured out a way to make that happen.
So he slipped away, when the other guards were distracted by a screaming Bob Mathias being dragged away in handcuffs. Taylor didn't get in his car--he took a taxi back to his place, collected everything he thought he could carry, and went to the bank and cleaned out his account. We went to my apartment, too, and collected a few personal items (he had to smash his way in the back window, since I didn't have my keys), but since I expected to be tiny for a long time, we didn't bother taking any clothes.
For a moment there, I hesitated. I knew I'd be abandoning my old life as soon as I let him take me away from there, but I figured it didn't really matter. I didn't have that much, anyway, and besides, if Taylor got away with this, I'd be taken care of in every possible way.
That's how it worked out, too, at least for a while. We took the maglev out of town, bought a cheap used car with cash at a shady dealer in Oakland, and basically disappeared for a while. Things were awesome between us--he treated me exactly the way I'd hoped, and now, he didn't even have to roleplay being an "evil kidnapper." In a way, that's exactly what he was. I didn't care, either. I'd always dreamed of something exactly like that.
I won't bother telling you all the amazing, wonderful things we did together. Being small was just unbelievable, a real dream come true, you know? I thought I'd be scared, out away from the casino, with nobody watching over us to make sure nothing went wrong. Instead, I just felt even more excited all the time. Everything looked and felt new and different, like I'd been born again. I never wanted to be restored--not as long as I had Taylor there to protect me.
Of course it couldn't go on like that, but we enjoyed it as long as we could. He'd run out of money eventually, though, so we had to do something. He'd have to take a job, and then I'd be left alone most of the day. Plus, he didn't have a fake identity or anything like that, so we felt pretty sure if he ever used his real social security number or logged on his internet account, or any similar thing, the FBI would be all over us.
We still had that phone number, of course, but neither of us really wanted him to call it. We both had this fear that Ray might try to cover up all his tracks or something, but in the end, as the money ran dry at last, we decided to risk it. Turns out he'd been waiting for the call. He'd gone into hiding, and he knew what Taylor had done--he had connections in the FBI, so he knew all about the hunt for us.
I don't know if you know this, but we weren't the only ones who made a break for it the day the casino went down. At least a half-dozen other women were taken that afternoon, all but one by guards. Plus, a couple more tried to get out on their own. I'm not the only one who liked the idea of staying tiny, it turns out. All but one of the others eventually got picked up. I don't think the last one is something the FBI really likes anyone knowing about, either, because you never hear anything about it on the news. Ask Frank about it sometime--he can tell you all about it.
Anyway, so Ray makes us an offer--the proverbial offer you can't refuse, you know what I mean? He says come work for him, and he'll make sure I'm taken care of, all the time. In fact, he'll give me a job, too. I'm three inches high, so what the hell can I do, I wonder? Well, we could hardly turn that down. The only thing is, we wanted to be together, so Taylor insisted, bless his soul. Ray agreed without hesitation--I guess he expected that--and we drove out to meet him the next day.
This is around the time he'd made arrangements to get the miniaturizer, although of course we didn't know that at the time. We wound up here, setting up this place, and working on other stuff behind the scenes. When the miniaturizer rolled in, we were pretty stunned, just like everybody else here, I suspect. This did do one thing, though--it gave me a chance to go back to normal size for a while, and be with Taylor like normal people.
I liked that, too, of course, but you know, I like being small more, so that's how I usually stay. I can get restored any time I want, and I'll do it now and then, just for some variety--or to try different sizes, you know? The other men, though, they never bother me while Taylor's here. If he goes out on some mission or something, then yeah, and he doesn't mind, because that's the way things work around this place. As long as I don't get hurt, he's fine with it. When he's here, though, he's all mine, and I'm all his. I wouldn't have it any other way.
So, there, now you know pretty much everything about me. How about you, Wendy? What's your story…?
"Well," I replied, figuring after she just told me all that, I might as well reciprocate, "you already know all about the Compound, but you may not know all of what came after. Here's what happened…"
I proceeded to tell her all about the thing with Lou, the Sole Survivor bit, and pretty much everything else, but I left out anything about meeting Kate or feeling guilty. Instead, I slanted things to reinforce my supposed hatred of her and the FBI in general. Neither of us liked that organization terribly much, as it turns out, and I won't lie, I don't like it much, either. They've got way too much leeway to spy on people, thanks to all those laws that got passed during the War on Terror. The way they kept records on who likes BDSM, for example…that sort of thing just pisses me off.
Anyway, by the time I'd finished, Kaitlin decided I'd make the perfect comrade-in-arms, primarily because we both shared a mutual love of being small and being played with by giants. Well, I hadn't intended to give her that last idea, but she drew that conclusion anyway, probably because of the way I talked about Lou after he rescued me, and Andrew later on. The truth is, I didn't like it nearly as much as she did, but I didn't bother correcting her on that point.
I did manage to subtly slip my bisexual nature into my story, watching carefully to see if her eyes lit up or anything, but she barely reacted. Either she already knew, or the obvious idea didn't occur to her right away, which is just as well. I really didn't know if I'd enjoy such a thing. I probably would, but not right away. I barely knew this woman, after all.
We kept on talking for a while longer, mostly about the Barn and all the other stuff that goes on here--things I mostly already knew, or could've figured out if I just thought about it for a while. By this point, though, Kaitlin started getting tired. She just sort of ran out of energy, like her batteries wore out or something right there in front of me. I'd seen people like that before--back in my drug days, unfortunately. They'd take stim or neuro or one of those other buzz drugs that gives you what seems like a rush of energy, so you're bouncing off the walls for a while, and then it just wears off and you crash. Sometimes stimmies would just stop in mid-step, look around a couple of times in a daze, and then just collapse to the floor, where they'd stay for hours, drooling and pissing themselves or worse.
Kaitlin didn't look like a stimmie, and she sure as hell didn't use neuro, but maybe she'd had a bit too much caffeine or something like that. Or maybe she just got a rush from being with her giant lover. Whatever. Either way, I could see her shutting down. She apologized after about her twentieth yawn, got another drink from the pool, and said goodbye, heading off to bed. I bet she didn't last two minutes before falling asleep.
As for me, I didn't feel all that tired, so I checked out the exercise equipment and even tried the treadmill for a few minutes, but of course I'd already been on a pretty long walk tonight, so standing there going nowhere didn't do anything for me. The bike worked better--it'd been years since I rode one, even a stationary bike, and I found myself using muscles I'd forgotten I had. I stopped after about ten minutes, not wanting to pull something, and washed off my face before heading back into the dollhouse.
I felt suddenly very hungry, so I stepped into the kitchen and broke off a chunk of cookie from inside the plastic dispenser. They'd rigged up a little holder for cookies that kept them enclosed until you lifted up a little sliding door to get what you needed. I'd hoped to find miniaturized food, but apparently not. I didn't mind, though. A cookie worked just fine. Back in the wild, I would've killed for such a delicacy.
This might be a good time to do something about my tracer, I figured, since nobody else was up. I could hear faint snores coming from the other rooms as I tiptoed by, keeping my footsteps light. If they had cameras in here, I'd be screwed, of course, but I doubted that. Besides, just to be sure, I'd keep my hands covering the device at all times. You aren't paranoid if they really are out to get you, right?
I went into the bathroom, shut the door, and turned on the water in the sink. Then I took off my gloves and boots, slipped out of my catsuit, and started washing it, lathering up the thick Spandex as best I could in the non-miniaturized water. The outfit was filthy, of course, and nearly worn through in a few places, so after cleaning it I just tossed it aside. I'd probably never use it again, but you never know.
After rinsing off my boots and gloves, I started going through my belt pouch and backpack, making a show of cleaning them and all their contents carefully. That way, if I did have anybody looking in on me, they'd probably not look too closely when I came to the tracer. Besides, since by this point I'm completely in the buff, I'm pretty sure I knew what the men behind the cameras would really be looking at.
I slipped the tracer into my hand quickly, washed it off, sniffed once to make sure it didn't stink, and set it aside, carefully placing it underneath a coiled-up length of wire without making it look too obvious. After a couple more items, I'd emptied the bag, so I turned it inside-out and cleaned it off, just to eliminate any lingering odors. Once I'd finished with everything, I shut off the sink, took a shower, gathered everything up, and made my way to my room.
The shower felt great--another luxury I'd missed out there on the road--and now I'd finally started feeling tired. I stowed my gear, climbed into bed, and stretched myself out, enjoying the comforting softness underneath me for the second time that day. I figured it might take me a while to get to sleep, what with everything that happened earlier, but I guess not. I dropped off after only a couple of minutes.
I woke up the next morning--at least, I assumed it was morning--to the sound of people talking elsewhere in the dollhouse. They didn't seem all that concerned with keeping quiet, so I supposed this must be normal. Besides, I felt quite well rested anyway, so I didn't really care.
Strangely, I'd slept right through the sound of them getting up, and any other noises that went on in this place. Like I explained earlier, I'm usually an extremely light sleeper. Not this time, though. Maybe now that I finally felt safe, my body allowed itself to relax a bit. Whatever.
I got up and made my way to the restroom, not bothering to put on any clothes. Nudity didn't bother me, especially around other women, and even if they did have cameras here, the guards could see me in the buff any time they wanted, right? Plus, I felt like showing off a little, mostly because I don't really have that opportunity all that much, and I liked the idea of being different.
Plus, I felt great. After yesterday, when I felt so sick at my stomach most of the evening, things were looking up. I washed my face, used the facilities, combed my hair and shook my head at how weird it was to be in a real bathroom again, even this crude badly put together structure. Next thing you know, I'll be putting on makeup and shaving my legs or something.
Actually, they might just make me do that, I considered, heading into the adjacent room to select an outfit for the day. I hadn't shaved my legs since the Compound, but then, my leg hairs are really fine and light-colored anyway, so a giant would hardly care. Yesterday, when Marianne and I hooked up under the blanket, she must've noticed, but she never said a word. Her legs were smooth as silk, too, so she obviously had some way to shave or remove unwanted hair, though I didn't see anything like that in the restroom. Something to ask about later, I suppose, although if I could get away with it, I'd avoid the whole procedure. Shaving legs is one of those things women only do because society expects it, and at my size, well, to hell with society!
The storage room contained several cabinets and shelves covered with typical Compound-style attire, like I mentioned yesterday. I dug around for a bit, looking for something actually practical and not just skimpy for skimpy's sake. I really considered going back to my catsuit, though it needed a better washing than the one I gave it last night, but decided instead to use something I found here. That would show the others I had the right attitude, I suppose.
Still, I didn't want to go too far, so I skipped the fetishwear and ultra-revealing stuff and selected a simple scoop-neck leotard and some fishnet stockings. I could've gone with thigh-high boots or something like that, but didn't feel like sitting there for half an hour trying to find ones that fit properly, so I just went back to my usual footwear. Same with the gloves and belt. I picked up my regular gear, too, even the spear, just because being without it would make me feel way too vulnerable. Plus, I remembered seeing Marianne with her own spear yesterday when I went down to roll call, so carrying stuff like that seemed pretty standard around here.
Once properly dressed, I made my way towards the voices, which I could hear well enough. All four of the others were outside, chatting about things that happened in their assigned quadrants the day before, and how they were all so glad they didn't have to work an extra quadrant now that Marianne had returned. They also kept talking about some kind of event happening on Saturday, three days from now, which apparently involved some kind of tournament between the various quadrants. What they might get out of this, I had no idea, and they didn't really mention that, instead focusing on arguing over which one they thought would win, and finally making a bet about it. Whoever won would be the next to experience Ray's gloves--apparently even Kaitlin liked those sessions enough to look forward to them as much as the others.
I shook my head. The thought of letting him do that to me again both thrilled and frightened me. My body would love it--I knew that much. Just remembering some of those sensations set me all to tingling. The comparison to drugs is way too accurate, though. I really couldn't afford to get hooked on those gloves. Not if I ever wanted out of here, anyway.
Before heading outside, I stopped in the kitchen and picked up a plateful of breakfast. Someone must've cooked real food someplace close by and then dropped it in here somehow, probably by lifting off the roof. I tore off a chunk of scrambled eggs and a little piece of bacon, put them on a cut-up piece of cardboard that served as a paper plate, and made my way out to meet the others.
"Oh, hey, mornin', sleepyhead," called out Marianne as I emerged onto the brightly lit tabletop. "You like to sleep in now, huh?"
"Nah, I was up late," I replied. "Still getting used to being here. I'm used to constant danger--it's weird feeling so safe."
"Yeah, I felt the same way." Marianne, dressed only in a suspender suit and halter top, nibbled at a handful of scrambled eggs on a plate similar to mine. "I was pretty scared the first night, not really sure what to expect, but after that it got a whole lot better. Oh, by the way, if you ain't met yet, this is Kaitlin O'Connell and Dena Novotny."
Kaitlin, dressed in a bikini and riding on an exercise bike, waved at me. "We met yesterday," she called out over the sound of her swiftly rotating wheel.
"Yep," I agreed. "I didn't see you, though. Nice to meet you, Dena. Is your last name Russian?"
She's the only one of the other four I hadn't seen yet, and she didn't appear all that happy to make my acquaintance. A short-haired brunette, Dena looked maybe half a head shorter than me, with prominent muscles, though not quite like a bodybuilder. She wore a high-cut leotard with a cross-front top, very dark pantyhose, and bright red over-the-knee boots that probably glowed in the dark. "Charmed," she said dryly, barely glancing in my direction as she chewed on thick a slab of bacon, the only thing on her cardboard plate. "Nah, I'm no Russkie, my parents are from Slovenia--but I wouldn't expect you to know that."
Wow, she sure rubbed me the wrong way! Maybe she had something against Russians, or whatever--they might've abused some distant relative during the First Cold War, or something. "Sorry," I replied, "just trying to make conversation. I didn't mean any insult."
Dena rolled her eyes, finished chewing, and glared at me. "It's not that, it's the way you just show up here and you're all anybody talks about."
"Oh, come on, Dena," put in Marianne, not that I needed her to come to my defense or anything. "Give her a break. She's got no idea."
"Besides, it'll be the same with anybody new," added Erika, who'd so far stayed out of the conversation, jogging on a treadmill opposite Kaitlin. She wore another camisole and pair of knee-high boots, just like yesterday, so maybe she just likes underwear or something.
Dena sighed and polished off her bacon. "Okay, okay, sorry, I shouldn't take it out on you," she told me, looking me in the eye for the barest of instants before lowering her gaze. "It's just that ever since I got here, you're all anybody ever talks about, and now that you're here--"
"--she thinks you're a threat," interrupted Marianne. "Like we keep sayin', though, you ain't gonna shake things up. In fact, you're gonna help us get Kate in here, and then we'll have some real fun."
Dena grinned at that. "Yeah, true, if you can pull it off," she agreed, "but still, I'm sick of hearing your name all the time. Wendy Sugarton did this, Wendy did that, oh I remember when Wendy and I were in the Compound…you'd better not start telling me stories like that, or I'll punch you right in the face!"
"Okay, okay," I agreed at once, glad she'd lightened the mood a bit. "I promise, I'll keep them to myself."
"Good, you do that." She smiled again, glad to have made her point, and stood up, stretching and yawning in a very protracted manner, probably to show off her amazingly buff body. She reminded me a lot of that tall wrestler chick who showed up on the Compound's final day. Victoria, I think her name was. No, Veronica. Something that started with "V," anyway. Plus another weightlifter type who came in a few weeks before that--I forget her name, now, but she sure didn't last long under Ray's knives. He definitely liked the bodybuilders, it seems.
"Anyway," said Erika, speaking quickly before any kind of awkward silence could descend, "I don't know if you could hear us in there, but we were all talking about the tournament this weekend. Did anybody tell you about that yet?"
"Not really," I replied, glad Dena finished all that posturing. By now she'd walked over to the weights and started with some warm-up lifting, obviously part of her morning routine. She didn't look at me again and seemed to have detached herself from the conversation, which is just as well. Despite appearing to come to terms with me there at the end, I could still feel the tension radiating out of her like a miniature sun. She couldn't stand me, for whatever reason, and I didn't really care, so I decided it'd probably be best to ignore her.
"Well," Erika explained, "you see, we keep our li'l pets happy by giving them contests every weekend. In between, they train and practice, and then we put them through little contests on Saturday, and sometimes on Sunday, if there's a final round or whatever. It keeps their minds off their tough work week, and also gives 'em something else to fight about. It's so much fun watching them get all pissed off just trying to get a spot on the team." She gave a little chuckle.
"Yeah, true, I do like that," agreed Marianne in an oddly subdued tone, "but really, the best part is when they catch each other cheatin' at the games, and then they go all nuts tryin' to argue about it."
"You can hardly blame them," put in Kaitlin from the exercise bike. She'd started to slow down now, just cooling off at the end of her workout. "They'd do anything to win the prizes we hand out."
"What are the prizes?" I asked curiously.
"Well, first off, every mini on the winning side gets 50 demerits knocked off their total," Erika answered, "which is plenty enough reward right there. They also get a special food prize, like a steak or something that's been miniaturized to our scale, so it's still big enough they can all enjoy it."
"Tell her the best part," urged Marianne.
"Oh, yeah, also, we give out individual prizes, depending on the contest." Erika grinned brightly at that, almost beaming, suggesting maybe this was her idea. "Four of them go to the team, so they have to decide among themselves who gets what. That's good for a few fights right there. The last one, though--we get to pick. Believe me, you haven't seen sucking up till we start talking about handing out that reward. They fall all over themselves!" She almost broke up laughing.
I smiled and tried to look excited, but somehow this just sounded like another kind of torture. Set them up to fight each other, and then hold some shiny bauble over their head, just to see who'd climb over the most people to get to it first? More sadistic bullshit, I told myself, but of course I couldn't let the others see that. "I can't wait," I responded as eagerly as I could. "What kind of games do you make them play?"
"Well, it changes every time," said Erika, who I'd already figured out had a strong hand in setting this whole thing up, "but it's up to us, really. Last time, we had a scavenger hunt. The time before, it was a dance contest, and before that, touch football. Track and field type events work, too."
"Every now and then we throw in somethin' non-physical, just for some variety," Marianne pointed out. "Trivia games, or live-action chess, that sorta thing. They're more borin', though."
"Just don't suggest hide-and-seek," added Kaitlin. "That one didn't go over very well."
"Oh, yeah, I can see why," I agreed, thinking about that for a couple of seconds. "Did anybody get very far?"
"Well," said Marianne, "we made sure the rules said how far they could roam, but one of the teams either didn't pay attention or just jumped at the opportunity. As soon as the game started, they just scattered everywhere, runnin' straight outta the quadrant and disappearin' into the Barn. I don't know what they expected--they just saw their chance and made a break for it. It took us the whole damn day to round 'em all up. A few of the smarter ones got back to their own quadrant, picked up some supplies, and actually got outside before we found 'em."
"So none of them actually got away?" I wondered. "How'd you find them all?"
"Well, a lot of 'em got turned in by the others," said Marianne, "in exchange for favors, y'know? Some we had to hunt down with infrared. The ones outside--well, all but one either came back, or we found cowering in some corner close to the walls, cause they saw some bug or somethin'."
"What about that last one?" I asked curiously.
"We never found her," said Marianne. "Nobody ever did. Not that we'd tell the minis that, though. We told 'em we found her body squashed flat by somethin', but the truth is, she got away."
I raised an eyebrow, glancing at the others. Unless they were all extremely good liars, they all believed this story. So someone could get out of here, huh? Someone a third of an inch high could actually leave this place! That meant the minis didn't have tracers after all, or else at that size they didn't have much of a range. What could've happened to that tiny woman? Could she still be alive, somewhere out there, assuming she could figure out a way to drink water at that size? I'd probably never know.
"There's no way she got onto a car or anything like that," pointed out Erika. "For the next week, you've never seen such security around this place! No vehicle left until we'd swept it head to toe. Sophie would've had to literally walk to safety, through all that desert out there, for what to her would've been thousands of miles. If she's still alive, she's still walking."
"I hope she makes it," said Kaitlin suddenly, taking a drink of water out of the bowl. Everyone else turned to look at her, surprised at that statement. "I really do. If anyone deserves to survive, it's her. She won't, though, and even if she does, nobody's ever gonna find her."
"True," agreed Erika, "but you know there's no way, right? She's long since dead, I guarantee it."
"Yeah," Kaitlin replied with a sad little shrug. "You're absolutely right. I'm gonna go grab a shower before roll call. Nice to see you again, Wendy."
"Same," I agreed as she departed.
The conversation paused for a moment while Kaitlin disappeared down the hall, and then Dena, who hadn't said a thing since moving to the weights, quietly remarked, "She'll get herself in trouble, she keeps saying shit like that."
"Yeah," agreed Erika, keeping her voice low. "She's too goody-twoshoes for this place, and sooner or later, something's gonna go wrong with her and Taylor."
"Well, that ain't our problem," said Marianne with a shrug. "That's for Ray and Frank to worry about, right? 'Sides, she's just as hard on the minis as the rest of us, y'know. If she'd been wussy 'bout it, I'd be more worried."
"Yeah, well, what do you think she'll do if Taylor gets shot when we go to kidnap Kate Powers, huh?" asked Erika. "You think of that?"
Marianne shook her head. "I guess she'd freak, but again, who cares? She keeps doin' her job, we don't care. She loses it, and Ray or Frank deals with her. You wanna help her through that, go for it."
"Let's just hope it doesn't come to that," I put in, mostly to get my mind off the uncomfortable prospect of more people getting hurt because of me. Even though we'd only interacted briefly last night, and then this morning, I already liked Kaitlin a lot--certainly more than Dena, anyway. If Kaitlin really cared for Taylor, like she seemed to, his death would come as a severe blow. How she'd react, I had no idea.
"Yeah, let's hope," agreed Erika. She paused, cocking her head at the sound of some distant noise that barely registered on my consciousness. "Anyways, we got what, ten minutes till roll? I'm gonna head out. That's cause I've got the furthest quadrants, in case you were wondering, Wendy."
"Oh, you mean the far end of the Barn? Yeah, I got an idea about the layout yesterday. You must have A, B, and C."
"Ants, Bedbugs, and Crickets, that's me," she replied with a grin. "Off I go--talk to you later!"
She headed over to the elevator and descended, waving goodbye as she went. "How did she know how much time before roll call?" I asked, because I hadn't seen any kind of clocks anyplace, and nobody wore a watch, as near as I could tell.
"Did you hear a loud tick earlier?" replied Marianne. "There's been three so far."
Actually, back when I'd started getting dressed, I did remember hearing something like that. Plus another one, just now, but it didn't seem at all important. "Yeah, I suppose I just heard one."
"Those are warnin's," Marianne explained. "You hear three, one every ten minutes before roll. They let the minis know to get into place, and us, too. You get so used to 'em you don't even think about 'em anymore. First one of the mornin' wakes me up every time. When it's quiet, they sound like a hammer hittin' the wall."
"Not quite that bad," said Dena, putting down her weights and moving over to the pool, where she washed her face and arms. "I don't hear them, myself, but Marianne here makes so much noise, I couldn't sleep if I wanted to."
"Oh, that's not true, and if it was, you woulda missed roll every mornin' while I was gone!"
"Nah, nobody can sleep through the breakfast delivery," chuckled Dena.
"Nobody except sleepin' beauty here," commented Marianne, pulling on a pair of black knee-highs sitting next to her chair. She picked up a spear and stood up a moment later. "C'mon, Wendy, let's get movin'. I like to get there early, y'know. It's fun watchin' em scramblin' around while I look on."
"Okay, sure," I replied. "I suppose I might as well learn how this all works. Nice to meet you, Dena."
"Same," she agreed emotionlessly, not bothering to watch as I headed towards the elevator.
"Okay, so, what's her story?" I asked as the lift descended, waiting until I figured only Marianne could hear me.
"Who, Dena?"
"Yeah, of course, Dena. Sheesh, you'd think I threw a knife at her or something, the way she reacted when I walked in."
"Oh, that? Sorry, didn't notice." Marianne chuckled as we stepped off the elevator, heading off the opposite way I expected, towards Quadrant 12 instead of 10. She didn't bother explaining that, though. "Heh, sorry, just messin' with you. Yeah, I figured she'd be that way. Probably my fault, since I talked 'bout you so much. Plus, I guess soon as Ray heard we found you, he told everybody and suddenly poor Dena ain't the center of attention anymore."
I nodded. From Marianne's reaction, Dena must've thought of herself as some kind of prima donna. "She likes all eyes on her, huh? Hmm, well, she is pretty good looking, I have to admit. Very interesting muscles…"
Marianne stopped instantly and whirled about. "Don't you even dare--!" she began, but just as quickly saw me grinning, about to break into laughter. "Oh, for the luvva--shit, Wendy, don't do that!"
I couldn't resist pressing the joke. "Why? Did you two have anything going on I should know about?"
"What?" Marianne looked aghast. "Of course not! I'm the only lesbo here. Or 'dyke,' if you wanna use one of Dena's fucked up slurs. She loves doin' that shit, slammin' you on purpose in the middle of some other talk, so's you don't get a chance to defend yourself. Besides, that's gross! Don't even suggest the two of us could ever--oh, you're impossible! Come on, let's get movin' or we're gonna be late!"
I laughed as we pressed on. I got the impression Dena was someone basically tolerated by the others, or at least by Marianne. Dena clearly thought of herself as top dog around here, and the others seemed content to let her think that. From the way they spoke earlier, though, they certainly didn't believe it. I'd met plenty of people like Dena before--aggressive, blustering bullies who expected everyone else to knuckle under to them, but if push came to shove, they'd duck any kind of true confrontation. Whatever, I guess. A theory I hoped I'd never have to test.
We emerged a moment later at the "L" camp (I'm not using those damn bug names!) and the 40-plus minis there spotted us at once. They'd been milling around, some yawning or stretching, a few doing exercises and stuff like that. A couple over by the "town hall" birdhouse looked to be arguing about something, but halted when we showed up. Instantly, the entire collection of tiny women stopped what they were doing, rushed into formation like good little pets, and stood crisply at attention.
A few seconds later, the loud horn sounded, echoing all around. I winced at the sudden noise, but nobody else did. Certainly not Marianne, and the dolls at our feet might've been carved out of stone.
"Mornin', li'l bugs," said Marianne loudly, as soon as the awful noise faded. She used that commanding tone I'd noticed the day before, the one that sounded so different and wrong coming from her mouth. "I got a special treat for you today. I'm gonna introduce you to a new doll here at the Ranch. I'm gonna help her learn the ropes 'round here and soon as she's ready, she's gonna take over this quad. So while I'm teachin' her, I don't want any crap outta any of you, got that? This ain't no substitute teacher you can all take advantage of! You got that?"
"Yes, Mistress!" they all called out simultaneously.
While this went on, I'd been slowly studying the crowd. They'd all seen me before, of course--last evening, at the late roll call--but this time the lights were brighter. Except to reply to Marianne's question, they barely moved, but their eyes were all fixed on me. Plus, despite their tiny size, I'm sure at least a few of them knew who I was. I could see the recognition in their pathetic little eyes.
Also, while I looked around, I tried to see if I could spot Janice, the one from the Box yesterday. I'd hoped maybe she'd finished her time there, but I guess not. The women were lined up in two four-by-five grids, each with a single mini standing alongside, so even someone who's terrible at math (like me) could quickly count 42 heads in the assembly--the same as yesterday.
"Good," Marianne called out in that forced military-like voice of hers. "Now, just so's you know, since I didn't do a proper introduction yesterday, this here's a celebrity you're all lookin' at. All of you, let's give Wendy Sugarton a real special welcome. Say, 'Welcome, Mistress!'"
"Welcome, Mistress!" they all yelled immediately, but as they did, I saw quite a few heads glancing about, along with plenty of shoulder shrugs and curious glances. A few whispers followed, and Marianne pounced instantly, stomping on the ground directly in front of the left-hand group.
"You got somethin' you wanna ask, Linda?" she barked, loudly enough that many of the minis visibly cringed. "Go on, spit it out!"
The one who'd whispered too loudly, a very pale woman with long, curly brown hair, stammered, "I-I'm sorry, M-mistress, I just didn't know who that was, and--"
"Talkin' in formation, five demerits!" hissed Marianne. "Gladys! The log sheet!"
The woman on the far end of the group, who held a rolled-up note again just like the previous night, dashed up and handed over the paper, instantly returning to position without a word. Apparently, for whatever reason, she had the job of providing the demerit report at each roll call. I took note of her appearance--tall, thin, dark-skinned, with closely cut black hair, a wide nose and slanted eyes--some kind of Polynesian, perhaps, or weird mulatto blend. Someone I could hardly mistake for any of the others. Gladys, I repeated to myself, trying to remember the name, because I'm pretty sure I'd be expected to learn everybody's name soon enough.
Marianne unrolled the scroll and looked it over. "Nothing new overnight," she noted with a nod. "Good, I like a quiet little quadrant. Vanessa, don't forget, double work shift for you today. Linda, you're at 35 demerits now. No change in status. Anybody else got any questions for Wendy here, before you get dismissed?"
The tiny women didn't react. Apparently the threat of punishment for speaking out of turn made them too afraid to open their little mouths. "Good, you're thinkin' now," Marianne went on. "You're actin' like you should, showin' your new Mistress how things work 'round here. Fine, here's the deal. I know you all got plenty of li'l questions runnin' round your mini bug heads. Think 'em over if you want, so long as it don't affect your work. Come afternoon roll, you can all each ask a single question. I'll come here last so we gots plenty of time. Any of you gets punishment, though, you don't get your question, got that? So keep your asses in line, understand?"
"Yes, Mistress!" they all shouted.
"Good. Now, get to work. And I better not catch you slackin', Vanessa! You slack off, the whole fuckin' lot of you gets 10 demerits each. Now off you go."
Not a one of them moved. I narrowed my eyes, wondering what might be happening, while Marianne waited, watching carefully. Finally, when no one so much as flinched, she nodded and allowed her mouth to just so faintly smile. Then, finally, she said, "Good, very good. That's how things get done 'round here, all right and proper like. Dismissed."
At that, they all instantly scampered off, heading out to get started with their work day, such as it may be. As they did, though, Marianne pointed at one, a Hispanic type with long, straight black hair dangling down almost to her waist. Several others surrounded her and seemed to be yelling. She argued for a moment, her hands balled up into fists, and I thought perhaps a fight might start, but finally she just nodded angrily and stormed off, several others trailing along behind.
"That's Vanessa," said Marianne quietly, as she led me off towards the next quadrant. "Did you see what I did there, with that threat of group demerits? The others won't let her get away with slackin' now. She's gonna work nonstop till afternoon roll--no breaks, no nothin', cause if I so much as hear she used the latrine, it's demerits all around. She has to go, she goes where she's standin', and buries it up best she can. The best part is, I don't even haveta watch this place. She screws up, I'll hear about it from half the group, all hopin' for favors or special privileges. You'll see. This is so easy it runs itself."
I nodded, following along, but didn't say anything as we went about our duties. The whole thing still made me sick to my stomach, and worst of all, far worse than anything she actually did, was the way Marianne seemed to like it so goddamn much.
After we visited the K and J quadrants, which went by relatively quickly, Marianne walked with me to the nearest "highway," the one that ran widthwise across the Barn. This is the one I'd run to when I got all distressed after seeing the Box last night, though I didn't know that at the time. If you imagine yourself looking down on the Barn from above, with the A, B and C quadrants at the top or "north" end, well, right now we were down at the south side, facing north, looking at the G, H and I quadrants across the highway.
We took a left, reached an intersection, and darted carefully across and to the right, staying to the edges as much as possible to avoid getting stepped on--as if there's any chance we could miss seeing a giant approaching, considering the bright lights overhead. We headed "north," and Marianne wouldn't say why, though I figured it out quickly enough. Ahead, just to my right, towards the center of the Barn, I could see a kind of spire rising overhead--a lookout tower of sorts that stuck up over the place where all those hamster tubes joined together. I could see minis occasionally moving back and forth inside those tubes, sometimes pushing wheelbarrows or holding large objects over their shoulders, though the colored plastic made it hard to tell what they were moving. Some kind of supplies, obviously--maybe fertilizer or more seeds or something.
As we walked, Marianne and I passed a couple of open areas where more minis worked at one task or another, doing what I considered pointless busy work. I mean, come on, they had what, 500 women here or so, assuming all the quadrants had similar populations, and the best they could do is make them work a comparatively tiny parcel of land growing normal-sized food? If they'd been working on stuff in mini scale, that much would've made sense, sort of, but not this. What they produced would've been a fraction of what a normal farm could've made, and sure, Ray had free labor, but still…what a waste of time!
So, why do it, then? I thought about asking Marianne, but she kept babbling on about the residents of quadrant L, apparently not noticing my thoughtfulness or the way I must've been staring off into space. She'd name one of the prisoners, describe her for a bit, and tell me some short memorable anecdote, I guess hoping I'd remember her later. That sort of thing might work eventually, but not right now. I didn't have any interest in trying to work on mnemonic devices or whatever. If I had to learn the names of all those girls, it would only depress me more.
Instead, I occupied myself trying to figure out why they made the minis work so hard at farming. There had to be a reason--I couldn't believe someone like Ray would do anything on a whim. So what's his plan? I had no idea, but something tickled at my memory…something I overheard last night during that conversation at the corral. Something Frank said…he'd been bitching about people Ray knew, and deals he had going on…he said...hmm, what was it again? Something like, I got nine calls today about one girl or another.
Last night, that didn't really impact me, or sink in much, but now it all snapped together in my mind. What if these women were here so they could be evaluated, trained and sold, like a piece of property? Like Frank and Ray's Pet Store, in other words. That'd explain a lot, actually. Especially the part about how the prisoners were all into BDSM. Ray must've figured someone into domination or submission would be the sort most likely to adapt to their new life as someone's pet or slave. In fact, he might've drawn that conclusion after the way things worked at the Compound. Yeah, it all made a twisted kind of sense now. He probably got the idea all the way back then, but couldn't make it work because he'd been handcuffed by his association with the other owners. Now, with them out of the way, and a miniaturizer in his possession (thanks to me), he and Frank just went into business for themselves. The doll business, apparently.
Back in that hotel room in Colorado Springs, Kate mentioned that someone could get into a lot of mischief with a miniaturizer, but had to be careful to avoid doing anything that might get tracked. Wouldn't selling tiny pets be kinda risky? Well, maybe, but if he did it right, there'd be no way to trace the mini back to the seller—even if her new owner made a mistake and let her escape or contact the authorities somehow. Frank might set up the deals, but if he used numbered bank accounts, and delivered the girl through some intermediary, there might not be any trail to follow.
Of course, I might be getting ahead of myself, right? This whole theory might be just a wild guess, though I didn't think so. Everything fit together so perfectly--the things Frank said last night, the way the minis were conditioned to obey orders, the way they all practiced BDSM, all of it. Even Kate's seeming desperation to find the miniaturizer made more sense. She must've figured this out somehow--maybe they rescued one of the mini-slaves, or something, and knew the whole story, just not where this place might be.
In fact, come to think of it, those minis out there were so tiny, they probably had no idea what this place really looked like. Stuck inside a huge building, working on a farm with decent soil, they might be anywhere in the country. How would someone a third of an inch high describe their surroundings? Would they even know they were in a barn at all? And yeah, sure, they got restored and played with from time to time, but that would've been indoors, most likely. No way they'd be allowed to get any more information than necessary, just in case they ever got found.
I thought I couldn't feel worse about this whole setup, but I was wrong. I've been a slave myself, you know. A slave to drugs, and to pimps, and all that shit I've talked about a hundred times already. And now I'm a part of the same basic thing, only from the other side. So…this is how far I've fallen, huh? Helping Ray Ellsworth, a man I really can't stand, kidnap and sell women against their will…destroying people's lives, the way I'd almost destroyed mine…
Goddamn this fucking conscience anyway! It hurt so much…that awful, hollow, icy feeling in my gut…why did I have to care? I didn't want to--I didn't want any part of this. I just want out. I can't do it…I'm not a hero, dammit, just let me go! Let me out of here! Please…!
"Wendy? Wendy! You okay, hon? Hey! What's the matter?"
Marianne's voice finally broke me out of my stupor. I'd stopped paying attention entirely as we walked towards the spire rising over the middle of the Barn, completely ignoring her as she rambled on. Now that we'd reached the ladder going up, I'd basically frozen in place, staring at nothing, my face probably completely pale, and my hands clenching over and over again into fists.
"You all right?" Marianne asked again, looking at my eyes with a piercing, penetrating stare, as if peering deep into my very soul. "Wendy…?"
"Yeah--yeah, I'm okay, I guess," I lied shakily. I'm not okay at all, I knew, but I could hardly say so. "I…I just spaced out, I think. What is this place?"
"This is the middle of the Barn," explained Marianne, looking at me worriedly, but since I seemed to be recovering, she didn't press the issue. For a moment I thought I saw something else--pity, maybe, or disappointment, or some other emotion that slipped by too fast to identify. "This tower's high enough we can see everythin' out there. You wanna go up, or you scared of heights or somethin'?"
I forced a fake-sounding laugh. Me, afraid of heights? At this size, damn near everything useful is up someplace high. "Nah, I don't mind. Let's go--it'll make me feel better."
She nodded and started climbing, still looking at me with a curious, almost accusing expression, as if she'd spotted something she didn't quite believe. The ascent didn't bother me at all--I'm used to much less stable grips, don't forget. Having an actual ladder, even one cobbled together out of wood slivers glued onto a metal surface, felt like a luxury. In no time at all we reached the top, stepping onto a platform made out of a square piece of wood nailed in place, a single hole drilled into the surface so we could slip through.
From here we really could see the entire Barn. The tower only rose about four feet, just slightly above the level of the dollhouse, but we had a central viewpoint, like an observation deck on a tall skyscraper. Actually, the view reminded me of one of those revolving restaurants on top of expensive hotels. I went to one once--during my hooking days, somebody hired a bunch of us for some rich dude's bachelor party. I remember being strung out, stretched out on the ground while men had their way with me, staring out at the lights of the city far below as they slowly moved along. For some reason that memory always stuck with me…not exactly pleasant, but then, not many of my memories are, y'know.
From my new perch, I could see the twelve quadrants sprawling out below in a perfect rectangle, separated by the guard-sized walkways in between. Every quadrant looked like a patchwork of several different crops. Some grew vegetables, others fruits or melons--anything that sat low to the ground, really. I could see the occasional herb, too, plus different kinds of flowers, and many other things I didn't recognize. One patch looked suspiciously like ordinary grass, but why they'd grow such a thing, I had no idea.
The women down there kept themselves busy. Some looked to be harvesting something, like the group I saw trying to pull down a full-sized tomato, while others planted new seeds or put down fertilizer. Most, though, meandered through the different plants, tending them with various tools. Every now and then some insect would show up, slipping into the Barn somehow, and when it did, any mini who saw the creature would sound the alarm. They'd grab whatever tools or weapons they had at hand, hunt the insect down, and try to kill it quickly, before it could do any damage. Sometimes the bug would get away, only to land again in another quadrant, where the same process began anew.
Throughout all this, I noticed two other women my size--dolls, I guess I should say--wandering around here and there. The closer one, Kaitlin, meandered about almost directly below me, in quadrant E. She didn't seem to be doing much, just watching and not getting involved. In contrast, the other doll, Dena, over in quadrant I, took a more hands-on approach. She seemed to stop at every cluster of minis, having something to say to just about everybody, sometimes yelling but usually just offering advice or micro-managing their efforts. I wondered idly if the number of demerits in her quadrants were much higher than the others. Probably.
Marianne stepped up next to me, putting her arm on my shoulder. "Penny for your thoughts," she said quietly, using one of those ancient phrases that doesn't mean much nowadays, but somehow stuck in the language, even though they don't make pennies anymore. "You're all distracted and stuff. What's goin' on?"
I sighed, leaning up against her. She made me feel stronger, just by being there. Yet I didn't dare tell her what I really thought. Not if she liked it here so much. What if I admitted my true feelings about this place, and she saw it as a betrayal? What if she told Ray, and he put me in the Box…?
"I--I don't know," I lied again. Damn, I hate lying to Marianne! "I just don't feel good. Maybe I ate something…"
"You don't like it here, do you?" she asked in a low voice, one completely devoid of accusation. Actually, it was more like a statement, not a question.
I hung my head. "No, I don't," I admitted. "Not yet, I guess. It's such a shock, seeing all of this. I don't know what I expected--another Compound, maybe, but that's not what this is. I'm sure it's just because it's different."
"No," she corrected, taking my hands in hers. "No, it ain't that easy, is it? I can see it in your eyes, Wendy. This place ain't for you."
I sighed again, not really sure what to say. I guess not saying anything answered all her other questions.
"I didn't think it would," Marianne went on after a moment, lowering her eyes. "I know you too well, I guess. I tried tellin' Ray, but he didn't care. He said you'd fit in, one way or another. Oh, Wendy, please don't let him see you like this! I don't wanna see you shrunk down to mini size, and made to work out in them fields!"
"I don't want that either, believe me," I agreed, "but what can I do? I look down at them, and see--I see myself, and you, back before, in our old lives. Prisoners and slaves. I can't get used to that, Marianne. I just can't!"
She drew me close, and to my surprise, I saw tears running down her face. "I know, I know, but you gotta try," she insisted. "You gotta do what I do. Be firm. Don't show any compassion."
"But Marianne," I complained, now also starting to weep uncontrollably. Somehow I choked out the next few words. "That Box…I can't--!"
She hugged me close. "I know," she told me as we sank to the platform, wrapped tightly in each other's arms. "I know, Wendy. It's horrible, isn't it? It's absolutely horrible…"
Her reaction told me everything I needed to know. I wasn't alone. I didn't have to hide my feelings anymore. I didn't have to hold it all inside.
I kissed her, then, and she responded in kind. We settled back on the platform, alternately crying and gasping for breath, clinging to each other, blubbering like little children for quite some time.
We didn't make love or anything ridiculous like that. For one thing, we were out in the open, where anyone watching through the cameras might see. For another, that's not what we needed right now. We just needed some emotional support.
All at once I knew what Marianne must've been going through, ever since they brought her here. She felt the same way I did, but she couldn't allow herself to let it show. She'd held it in, all this time, never daring to talk about her true feelings. She must've been hoping I'd feel the same way, but feared asking for the same reason I'd been afraid to admit what I felt. But when I couldn't hide my emotions, she saw in me what she'd seen in herself.
After a while, when we'd recovered from our mutual catharsis, I sat up and wiped my eyes as best I could. "So," I remarked almost casually, "what do we do now?"
"I don't know," Marianne replied sadly, shaking her head. "I ain't got a fuckin' clue. I want out, Wendy! I want outta here so bad! But there ain't no escape. They got tracers in us, y'know, so we can't roam far."
"I figured as much," I replied knowingly. "You put one in me, didn't you?"
"Yeah, I had to," she admitted instantly. "Mack was watchin', so I had to make you swallow it. I couldn't fake it, not while he had me in his hands. And if you got here, and went into the scanner without it, they'd know. I had no choice, you gotta believe me!"
"It's okay, I understand," I told her. I almost blabbed about how I'd puked mine up last night, but held my tongue. The suspicious side of me insisted I keep that ace up my sleeve as long as possible. "They would've put it in me anyway. No reason to risk yourself."
"I still feel awful," she admitted, not quite able to meet my gaze. "You don't know the worst part, though. The tracers got li'l bombs in 'em. We roam too far, and they can't find us, they just blow 'em up and that's the end of us!"
My eyes went wide. I hadn't expected that! Ray made some improvements on the tracers, it seemed. Even if I could rig up some kind of electromagnetic thingy like that Irwin guy back in Kate's book, could I even deactivate something like that? I had no idea. Good thing I could distance myself from my tracer--but that didn't help Marianne, now did it?
"So I'm stuck here," she went on, tears starting up once again. "I can't get out, and I can't ever show what I really feel! Not in public, anyway. I keep tellin' myself, I gotta be strong like you, and hope somehow I can get outta this, but I don't know how, so all I do is cry myself to sleep every night."
"I know what you mean," I agreed. "I thought I was gonna throw up when I saw that Box last night. And the way you treat all the minis--"
"I gotta do that," she insisted. "I don't wanna, but Dena, she's the one who trained me, she drilled it into me, and the men watchin' on the monitors would know if we started screwin' up."
"What about right here?" I asked, glancing around worriedly. "Can they see us, or hear us? If so, they--"
"No, we're okay up here," Marianne answered. "I've broken down up here before, with Kaitlin. They woulda done somethin', if they coulda heard all the things we said."
"With Kaitlin?" I asked curiously, raising an eyebrow.
"Yeah, yeah, she hates this place more'n I do," Marianne explained. "She's only here cause Taylor's got such a good thing goin' on. She loves him so much…God, it hurts just watchin' her, cause I don't know if he's just usin' her or not, and if he is, it'd totally destroy her. If he really did love her, dontcha think he'd get her outta here somehow?"
"Maybe he can't," I suggested hopefully, though I know from past experience she could very well be right. "Maybe he's got a tracer, too. Maybe they all do. That may be how Ray controls everybody around here."
"I wouldn't put it past him," hissed Marianne, scowling at the name. "Oh, how I hate that man! I thought he was a beast back in the Compound. He knew I liked a little pain, but not all kinds, so he'd find the ones I didn't like, just for fun. And now, he's got those gloves, and I can't help it, I want 'em all the time…"
"Yeah, me too," I admitted, shaking my head.
"I saw," she replied. "I shoulda known, back then, but I couldn't be sure, not till I saw you today. That look on your face. Oh, Wendy, I'm sorry I ever doubted you!"
We kissed again, hugging each other, and I wiped her tears away. "I should've trusted you, Marianne," I told her. "I should've said something yesterday--I should've asked for your advice. I couldn't figure out what I really felt. Two years ago, when I rescued Lou and he started planning to start his own little colony of miniaturized people, I couldn't wait to be a part of that. Now, the whole idea makes me sick. I don't know what changed, Marianne. I don't know why I'm like this now. It doesn't make any sense."
"The Compound did it," Marianne suggested. "It changed us, somehow. When I went back to Chicago, and then to Miami, I didn't feel the same. I didn't want that anymore. I couldn't stand it, but I didn't have any way out. The same thing happened to you, only you were small. You didn't know what you really wanted."
"I still don't," I replied, "except I know I don't want to be here anymore. We've got to get out of here! Help me find a way!"
"Absolutely," she agreed at once. "There's gotta be a way out, Wendy! There must be!"
"If there is," I said firmly, "we're damn well gonna find it."
After that little talk, I felt a whole lot better. In fact, I felt amazing. I felt wonderful and excited and alive for the first time in forever. What did that mean? I knew the answer, of course, deep down inside, and for the first time, those feelings started to emerge. There's no way I could've held them back, and I didn't even try. I was on top of the world, and that's where I wanted to stay.
Marianne and I climbed down off the tower and headed back the way we came, paying no attention to the minis at work all around us. We walked arm in arm, talking quietly about this and that, staying off the subject of running away just in case anyone could overhear. The touch of her skin on mine felt natural and perfect, sending tingling waves shooting up and down my spine.
We probably should've gone to our quadrants and checked up on our minis, but instead we went back to the dollhouse. I never even thought of going anywhere else, and I'm pretty sure she didn't, either. After making sure we were alone, I followed Marianne into her bedroom and shut the door. You can probably guess what happened after that.
Several times in my life I've thought I loved someone. Most recently, and most tragically, I felt that way about Lou Hamilton, but he wasn't the only one. Every time, things went badly, and afterwards, when I thought about what I'd felt, it didn't seem real. I'd always realize later that I'd misjudged my feelings. Not this time, though. Now, things were different. Different in a good way.
A very good way.
Back at the Compound, there was a time I might've felt love for Marianne Tarinski, but I wouldn't let myself admit it. And when she broke my trust by leaving with Kate McHero at the end, I shut her out of my thoughts. I never loved her, I told myself. I probably didn't, but I'm not so sure anymore. Things were so different then. Everything seemed so perfect, I didn't want to ruin it with any kind of emotional attachments. Goddammit, I was such an idiot!
Why didn't I go with Marianne back then? Why'd I turn my back on her? We could've escaped, and could've been together ever since, making a life for ourselves, without any of this miniaturization bullshit complicating everything. She wouldn't have gone back to Chicago, and I wouldn't have done what I did, either. Maybe we would've found some tiny measure of happiness, trying to carve out a life for ourselves somewhere else. At least we would've been together. But now we'll never know, will we?
Lying there with her, huddled close in her bed, I wished I could've gone back and changed my mind, way back then. But you can't change your bad decisions, no matter how much you may want to. They're a part of you, and you have to live with your choices. I could only cling to Marianne, whispering my promises to make things better, even though I had no idea how to do that. She believed me, too, the lovestruck fool, but then, I could hardly blame her, because I felt the same way.
Yeah…love sucks, doesn't it? It makes you say stupid things, make promises you can't keep, all that happy stuff. As I lay with her, feeling as close to serenity as ever in my life, I had no choice but to admit I loved Marianne. I think I always did. How insane is that? All that time, back in the Compound, when things were great, I denied myself the truth…and it took a shitty place like this to finally bring out what she really meant to me.
"God, I love you," Marianne whispered in my ear.
"I love you, too," I replied instantly. I never for a moment hesitated. No four words ever felt so right. Finally, at last, I understood what Kate meant in that stupid book of hers, when she said the same thing to Mark Powers while she shared his bed. When I read that passage, I thought it sounded so incredibly lame, but now…well, now, I finally understood at last.
"Y-you do?" asked Marianne, sitting up on one elbow and staring at me with wide eyes filled with hope.
"Yeah," I admitted. "I should've told you that a long time ago. I should've never let you go. I was an idiot, and I'm sorry."
"It's okay, it's okay," she told me, hugging me close. "I don't care. Forget that ever happened. We've got now to think about. Please…don't let me go. Don't ever let me go."
"I won't," I agreed foolishly. Another promise I probably wouldn't be able to keep. How could I? Marianne had a tracer, and I didn't. Sooner or later, I'd have no choice but to leave her.
But that didn't matter at the moment. Instead, I just huddled closer to her, whispering all those stupid promises, the kind of things I'd probably regret sooner or later.
Let the future take care of itself, I figured. All I care about is now.
Much as I hated the idea, we had to get up eventually. We snuggled closer after the first warning tick, the one announcing we had half an hour before the next roll call. After the second tick, we got even closer. On the third, we finally forced ourselves to rise. Damn it all.
"Back to the grind," muttered Marianne as we put our clothes back on.
"How do you do it?" I asked her. "How do you…y'know what I mean. Be so, well, forceful?"
"There was this pimp I had," explained Marianne. "He'd gone through boot camp or somethin', and he thought he was a drill sergeant. He'd yell at us all the time, callin' us worthless, and swearin', and always makin' us yell back YES MASTER! after he asked us any question. Seriously, what a dickhead! But no matter how I hated it, I gotta admit, it got results. Nobody dared say nothin' back to him, not ever. So when I go out there with the minis, I pretend like I'm this drill sergeant, barkin' orders, and I just sorta lose myself. Like I'm an actor, y'know, playin' the part. I forget the real me. It's the only thing that works. I feel like shit later, but it works."
"I don't know if I can do that," I admitted. "I'm not an actress."
"Well, you gotta try," insisted Marianne. "Not all at once, y'know. Just try it a bit, here and there. The men, the ones in the cameras, they're gonna be watchin'. Just try doin' it like I do. Or better yet, go ask Dena for help. She'll love that. Anyways, you about ready? We gotta go."
"Yeah, I think so. No time for a shower, I guess."
"Don't worry, the minis won't give a crap what we smell like. They'll all stink after workin' all day, anyhow. C'mon, let's go. We're startin' with the Katydids this time. I like to mix it up, for a li'l variety, so they don't ever know where we're startin' or endin'. Except, well, today, we're goin' to the Ladybugs last."
Oh, yeah, the question session. I'd almost forgotten that. Not exactly what I needed to establish my "evil overlord" persona, but might as well get started somewhere, right?
We proceeded on to the K quadrant and got the usual response--the minis were milling around the central "courthouse" building, dirty and sweaty from working all morning. Apparently they had to work right up until the last "tick," at which point they reported to this spot and waited for a doll to show up. The instant we arrived, they fell in at attention like always. Marianne made them stand there a couple more minutes until the horn, checked the log sheet, administered a couple of punishments and off we went to J, where we repeated the process and took the long way around to L. "Might as well make 'em sweat a little," she told me. "You ready?"
"Ready as I'll ever be," I replied, and she squeezed my hand supportively. Then she let go, stood up straighter, and locked her face in a kind of scowl. I could almost see the real Marianne disappear behind that steely façade.
That's what I've got to do, I told myself, wishing I had some kind of training or experience that might help me with that. No luck, though. The closest I ever came was being forced to play-act during some drugged-out sex party back in Vegas. They wanted us to fake being cops, pretending to arrest them, and then they'd turn the tables on us, and tie us up, and you know the rest. I can remember saying all the lines, sounding absolutely horrible, and not caring because of the drugs. That experience certainly wouldn't do me any good right now, I figured.
Anyway, we reached quadrant 12 and went through the roll call routine. I paid careful attention to how Marianne kept her voice strong and firm the whole time, snapping out orders and nodding at the immediate response. A couple things I noticed--for one, she made eye contact all the time, either when surveying the crowd, or when speaking to someone directly. She wouldn't glance away or talk in another direction--she always locked eyes on her target. I figured that probably made her seem more intimidating, especially since we're so much larger than the minis.
She also did something else I found quite interesting. You might think she stayed harsh and controlling all the time, but not quite. Actually, every time the minis did something right--like saying "Yes, Mistress!" in perfect unison--she nodded and gave a very faint smile. I'd seen her do this before, of course, but didn't pay attention until now. Furthermore, as I looked closely, I saw the brief flicker of emotion flash across the assembled prisoners. Sometimes it looked like relief, but at least a few definitely looked proud of themselves.
The psychological effects of this didn't escape me. The minis were all conditioned, weren't they? Not just to take orders, but to actually like taking orders. Some of them, anyway. They actually felt pride at doing what they were told, and getting approval from their "mistress." Is that what Ray expected to teach his would-be toys? To be respectful of their new master, once they'd been sold?
Well, sure, duhhh, of course that's what this was all about! I wonder if Marianne knew…I hadn't thought to ask, though. And of course I could still be wrong about all that, though I didn't think so. Ray had this whole thing planned out, just like always. He had his tiny prisoners, and his doll-sized drill sergeants teaching them how to be proper and obedient little slaves. Did they even know that's what they were really doing? Probably not, I reasoned, though I bet Dena wouldn't care one way or another, and I had no idea about Erika. Even Kaitlin might not mind. She didn't like being here, but she'd do anything if she thought it'd help Taylor. I couldn't trust her, really, because of that, no matter how much I might want to. Something to remember later, I told myself.
Anyway, after a couple minutes, Marianne finished with the roll call, which didn't take all that long--apparently the girls were on their best behavior this afternoon, so they'd have their chance to ask their questions of me. None of them had a single demerit added to their totals, not that anyone would've been around to enforce such a thing. Although, apparently, the men watching on the cameras could dole out demerits if they felt the need. The numbers would get added to the note Gladys had to fetch just before roll, since that was her assigned duty for the week. (Apparently the job rotated around on a weekly basis, a little detail I found out about later.)
Oh, also, I noticed we had 43 minis present this time. Janice obviously must've finished her sentence and emerged from the Box. At some point during the morning's work schedule, somebody came and collected the unfortunate little prisoner and took her to the restorer. She now stood in back of the formation, in a row of her own, looking very tired and sad, but she kept her head up straight and responded properly at every prompt, careful not to make any mistakes that might earn her any more demerits.
Finally, Marianne finished the official part of the roll call and told everyone they could stick around for Q&A, but were otherwise dismissed. Instead of scattering like usual, most of the tiny women simply broke formation and spread out in a half-circle around us, looking eager to ask their questions. Nine or ten or so wandered off, apparently not interested, though I did notice a couple sit down in the courthouse doorway after getting something to eat.
"Okay, then, here's how it's gonna work," Marianne explained brusquely. "The ones with questions, you all sit down over here, and I'll call on you one at a time. No raisin' hands or any of that shit. This ain't fuckin' grade school, y'know! Once you get your answer, you go over here, and there ain't no follow ups, neither. Just say thank you and that's the end of it, you got that?"
"Yes, Mistress!" they responded eagerly, following her instructions to the letter. I noted with a raised eyebrow that when they moved to the designated area, they automatically formed into a neat little square, not a disorganized clump of people. When they sat down, they did so cross-legged, like perfect little clones. Damn, this is fucked up, I thought sadly, forcing myself to keep my face as emotionless as possible.
Marianne called on them one at a time, as she explained, and they started out with typical stuff--what's it like out in the wild, what happened with some event or other, how I got the scars on my chest, nothing special. A couple asked about Kate McBitchy, which of course isn't my favorite subject, but I did my best to answer. I didn't make her sound like some kind of hero, though, trying to downplay that as much as possible. I got the impression maybe some of these ladies expected her to show up and rescue them, like the goddamn hero again, but I didn't encourage that. I knew this whole session was probably being monitored, after all.
The whole time they talked to me, I tried to stay emotionless and answer directly and firmly, making eye contact as much as possible. This didn't turn out to be as easy as I'd thought. I guess I'm just not used to talking to other people, at least not directly, and certainly not from a position of power. I felt weird and out of place.
Finally, mercifully, we got close to the end. There were only five more minis left, one of them Janice, who seemed completely entranced by me. The others looked away occasionally, or sometimes spoke to each other quietly, but not Janice. Her eyes never left my face, which left me somewhat disconcerted. I didn't know what she might ask me, but I started getting worried.
Marianne pointed at one of the others, a thin brunette with hair that swept off to one side, dangling down over her left shoulder. Like the others, I tried to take note of her name, Ariel, though there's no way I'd remember all of them--might as well get started trying, though. "Hi, Wendy," she called out loudly. "I just wanna know, would you tell us your whole story sometime? Not right now, of course, but I mean…we've all heard a lot of different things about you, and read about you in the papers, but we wanna hear it straight from you."
I sighed. What harm would it do? I glanced at Marianne, and she gave a very slight frown, and then shrugged. I took this to mean it would be okay, but only if I attached some kind of condition. "I'd rather not," I answered. "It's not something I like talking about much. Tell you what, though. You girls win the contest this weekend, and I'll spill my guts. Sound good?"
"Yes, Mistress!" they all called out, mostly eagerly. If nothing else, I'd motivated them a bit. "Thank you, Mistress!" Ariel said as she moved over to the other group, looking quite pleased with herself.
"Okay, well, that was interestin'," said Marianne, flashing a quick smile at me, suggesting I'd handled that one well. "Next up, how 'bout you, Janice?"
She stood up, still keeping her eyes fixed on me. She'd washed and combed her hair since leaving the Box, and would've looked quite pretty in any other circumstances. "Thank you, Mistress. Wendy, my question is: can I ask you something later, in private?"
I raised my eyebrows, glancing at Marianne. "That ain't the way this works--" she began.
"Please, Mistress!" she cried out. "Please, I don't want to embarrass Mistress Wendy with the question, that's all. I mean no disrespect."
"It's okay, Marianne," I interjected before she could jump in with some unnecessary demerits. "I'll field this one, if you don't mind. No, Janice, you can't. Next question."
For an instant I thought she might protest, but a quick glare by Marianne silenced her immediately. "Thank you, Mistress," she mumbled dejectedly, not even looking at me anymore as she moved to the others.
I felt bad about that, but forced myself not to show any kind of compassion. I'd done exactly what I promised--I answered her question, and they only got one. So I didn't break the rules, and I kept her from getting any more demerits in the process.
"Anyway, next," said Marianne. "Grace, go for it."
A thin blonde with hair bound up behind her head stood up. Unlike most of the others, she wore glasses--one of only three who did so. She peered up at me with narrowed eyes, as if unable to quite focus properly. Maybe she'd arrived with contacts, I figured, and when those got lost, they gave her some kind of generic glasses that didn't quite work right. "Thank you, Mistress. Wendy, I have to ask, why are you here?"
"What?" I replied, not really sure how to take that.
"I mean, why did you come here?" elaborated the mini. "You could've stayed out there, right? You could've kept living out there in the world. What changed your mind?"
"That's more than one question," snapped Marianne.
"Forgive me, Mistress, I was just trying to explain," replied Grace fearfully.
"I'll answer the first one, then," I responded, trying to get a little more forceful this time. Apparently I hadn't quite gotten the message across with Janice. "The answer is, that's none of your goddamn business. I've got my reasons. You win the tournament this weekend, and maybe you'll find out. Next question."
"Thank you, Mistress," Grace responded, dashing over to the others quickly, probably glad she'd gotten away with being so bold.
"Okay, two more," pointed out Marianne. "Yolande, go."
Yolande is the black girl I'd seen fighting the day before. She had curly locks of char-black hair that dangled all around her face like little springs. "Mistress Wendy," she called out, "yesterday you saw us arguing, and we all got demerits for fighting, but you know not everybody was involved. Doesn't it bother you that some of us got punished for something we didn't do?"
"What the fuck kinda disrespect is that?" snapped Marianne angrily. "You tryin' to question my decisions in front of the new girl? That's 25 demerits, you worthless li'l piece of shit!"
"Yes, Mistress," said Yolande, looking totally unconcerned with the punishment. In fact, she stood up even straighter, with her head held high. I caught the barest sound of a shocked gasp, glanced to my left, and saw a short-haired blonde with her hands over her mouth, eyes wide in surprise. I recognized her as Amy, the one who'd tried to stay out of the fighting yesterday--I hadn't realized she and Yolande were on any kind of good terms.
"Okay, I hope you're happy with yourself, tryin' to knock me down in front of my new associate here," growled Marianne. "Get over with the others!"
"Yes, Mistress!" Yolande answered immediately, following her orders without question. She sat down just outside the other group, not looking at any of them, especially not Amy.
"In answer to your question--" I began.
"No, you don't gotta answer that," interrupted Marianne. "She's just tryin' to stir up trouble!"
"No, we must have proper discipline," I replied evenly. "I know I'm new here, so maybe I don't know everything yet, but the way I see it, I've got to follow the rules just like everybody else, right? Cause I answer to the giants, just like they answer to the dolls. Isn't that right, minis?"
"Yes, Mistress," they all replied, but I could see the confusion on most of their faces.
"So, the rules here are, you all ask me a question, and I have to answer. Yolande asked, even if it got her a punishment she justly deserved." I glanced at Marianne, inclining my head slightly to show I deferred to her judgment, and then continued. "So I'm bound by the rules, too. My answer is, yes, it bothered me at first, but then Marianne explained why she did it, and I had to agree with her reasons. The rules here apply to everyone equally or they don't apply at all. Think about that the next time you see somebody breaking them, all right?"
"Yes, Mistress!" they all called out. I moved my gaze among them, trying to read their reactions, and saw plenty of confusion and doubt there--but in a few, including Yolande, I saw something very much like respect.
"Okay, whatever," Marianne said after a moment. "One more question, then, and we're done for now. Fiona, you're it."
The last one, a short and muscular-looking brown-haired girl with a long ponytail, stood up and waved at me, flashing a quick smile. "Hi, Mistress Wendy, welcome to the Ladybugs," she said in a high-pitched voice that probably went over real well at parties. "You said you'd tell us your story if we win, and I know we all wanna hear it, so please, can you tell us, what's the contest gonna be? That way we can get started practicing right away!"
I glanced at Marianne, because I had no idea. She shrugged and made a face. "We ain't decided yet," she answered. "We can talk it over tonight, I guess."
"Hmm," I said, rubbing my chin, "I guess I have to answer no, I can't tell you…not yet, anyway. Tell you what, though, as soon as I know, I'll come tell you all personally. If I find out you're slacking on your work, though, practicing when you should be working, then the deal's off, got it?"
"Yes, Mistress!" they all yelled. Fiona grinned and jumped up and down happily. "Thank you, Mistress!" she called out as she ran to join the others.
Marianne shook her head. "Okay, then, well, this has been fun and all, now you're all dismissed. Back to your little lives, bugs. Come on, Wendy, we're outta here."
We took off while the others started chatting or moving to their homes or whatever else they wanted to do now. Apparently, the afternoon roll call--which happened about one o'clock, six hours after morning roll--began an hourlong break period. They could do whatever they wanted until the horn sounded again, as long as they didn't break any rules. The question and answer session used up most of that hour, which is why not everyone chose to participate. The others were off resting or eating or whatever.
Anyway, as soon as we left the quadrant, Marianne stopped and glared at me. "What the fuck was that?" she demanded.
"What?" I asked, not sure what she meant.
"I told you, you gotta be firm, and not show any compassion, and there you are, doin' 'xactly the opposite!"
"Sorry, Marianne, I didn't know giving them something to shoot for counted as compassion," I replied. "And I certainly didn't mean to sound like I was overriding your authority with that one answer."
"Oh, no, that's fine, I don't give a shit about that," she commented, "but you can't let 'em take an inch! You start doin' that and they'll think they can get away with anythin', and then you'll be the one gettin' punished!"
"I didn't let them take anything," I explained. "Look, I just don't see why we have to beat them down, just to make 'em compliant. Look at it this way--they're motivated now, aren't they? Not only are they gonna work hard to win this weekend, they'll also be on their best behavior. And I didn't even have to threaten anybody."
"Yeah, but--" Marianne started, and then she hesitated, unable to come up with an argument to refute me. "Well, that ain't how Dena woulda done it," she finally said, a weak argument if I ever heard one. "She woulda just told 'em to shut the hell up and moved on."
"She wouldn't have given this question and answer thing at all, and you know it," I pointed out. "You really think she would've? I barely know her, and I know that much. You set the whole thing up--I just carried it to its conclusion. Besides, you watch, I bet they win this weekend, just cause they wanna hear my story, stupid as that sounds."
"Yeah, well, they never get nothin' new in here," said Marianne, "'cept when a new prisoner comes in. Which I guess is you, I suppose." She sighed and shook her head. "Okay, I can't stay mad at you, damn it! Fine, we'll see what happens. You really shouldn't give 'em any kinda advance warnin', though, about the contest I mean. That's cheatin'."
"Yeah, well, I won't tell if you don't," I told her with a grin.
She rolled her eyes and shook her head. "I can tell I'm gonna need to keep an eye on you, aren't I?"
"Damn straight," I agreed, chuckling at her reaction. "I can feel this place corrupting me already!"
When we got back to the dollhouse, we found Dena already there, chewing on a chunk of chocolate cookie as she sat on an exercise bike. "Hi, Dena," called out Marianne, "how's things in your quadrants today?"
"My, aren't you cheerful," came the reply. Dena looked at both of us through narrowed eyes. Recognition dawned immediately, even though I'm pretty sure I didn't react at all, except to wonder once again why she hated me so much. I guess Marianne gave it away with her expression or body language or something like that. Anyway, Dena went on with barely a pause. "Hmm, yeah, I thought so. Figures. I should've known, the way you talked about her all the time." She rolled her eyes. "Whatever, it's not like I give a shit, anyways. Just keep your little dyke affairs to yourselves."
"Now look--" I began, stepping forward, but Marianne cut me off with a wave of her hand.
"It's okay," she insisted. "You can't fault her for bein' a homophobic bitch. It's just the way she is, that's all."
Dena gave a derisive snort and stuck her nose in the air. "That's the best you got, huh? Well, like I said, I don't really care what you two do in your own time. Hell, the guys probably love watching you two on the monitors. Anyway, just leave me out of it."
Yep, Marianne had her pegged--she might as well have worn a T-shirt that said "Homophobe" in big bold letters across the front. "Don't worry," I told her, trying to see if maybe being nice might help smooth things between us. I wanted to ask her a few things, like how to train myself to act like a drill sergeant, but I could hardly do that if she wouldn't even talk to me. "I only have eyes for Marianne, anyway."
Marianne grinned and gave me a quick peck on the cheek. On the other side of the exercise yard, Dena shook her head in disgust. "Oh, Christ, I'm gonna be sick," she mumbled in a barely audible voice, looking away and tossing the rest of her snack aside.
"Anyway," said Marianne after a quick chuckle, "Wendy just spent a while tryin' to master the fine art of lordin' over the minis, but try as I might to teach her, she just sucks total ass."
"Hey!" I complained, poking her on the shoulder.
"It's true, and you damn well know it," she retorted. "Anyways, the point is, I thought maybe you'd teach her the ropes, y'know? Like you did for me. Seein' as you're the expert and all."
"It's show her the ropes, retard," snapped Dena, but I saw her puff up a little with pride at the same time. Apparently flattery worked on her, I noted. "But yeah, you're right, you came to the right place. Nobody whips up those little slackers like I do. Don't forget, my quads have won half our little tournaments, and I'm the reason for that. I suppose I can help, when I get a free moment."
"Cool," Marianne replied, giving me a quick glance and a justified eye-roll at that number-of-victories comment. "Thanks, Dena. Oh, we got any idea yet what the tournament's gonna be this weekend?"
"Nah, haven't thought about it," she answered. "I suppose we probably should, huh? Maybe tonight, when we're all together after evening roll."
"Sounds good to me," Marianne agreed. "It's gettin' harder to come up with new ideas, though. Maybe Wendy's got a plan."
"I'll try to think of something," I put in.
"Yeah, why don't you do that," said Dena, suddenly looking up over our heads. "Uh-oh, guess our little conversation's over. Company's coming."
I turned to look, just in time to see one of the giant guards approaching from the open barn door. (Hmm, maybe that's how the bugs get in, I noted in the back of my mind.) I didn't know this guy. He towered over us, naturally, with straight brown hair that came down to his shoulders, also framing his cheekbones with excessively long sideburns--so big I didn't even know for sure if he had ears. He looked kind of ordinary, not handsome or ugly, but somewhere in between, with a bumpy, half-bent kind of nose that probably got broken at least once in his lifetime. A pair of huge brown eyes stared down at me, eyes bearing the telltale rings of contact lenses floating around inside.
"Hey there, you cute little dawls," said the man with a distinct "New Yawk" accent, grinning widely, enough that I could see several teeth sitting at awkward angles, and a couple discolored ones that must've been implants. This guy likes to get into fights, I thought to myself. "Aw, you gawtta be Wendy, amirite? I was hopin' I'd get a chance to meetcha."
"Yes, I'm Wendy," I replied, wondering if I should be worried. The other two dolls nearby didn't seem at all concerned, though.
"Well, I'm Ricky, Ricky Lawntz," he said amiably, and I barely realized through his accent that his last name must actually be "Lontz," or something like that, anyway. "Don't you believe none of them lies these other dawls been tellin'. I'm as sweet as they come 'round this place. C'mon, lemme show ya what I mean." With that, he set his hand down next to me expectantly.
Ah, well, figures, I thought. I'm the new girl, and this is my first full day here. Gotta expect to get some attention from the guys, huh? Might as well go face the music.
Marianne smiled and waved, apparently not minding that I'd shortly be leaving her company. This is normal around here, after all, I reminded myself. Also, I caught a disdainful glance from Dena, who looked away and went back to her cycling. Jealousy, I realized…nobody's been jealous of me in a very long time. I didn't know whether to feel irritated, or proud of myself.
With a sigh of inevitability, I climbed into the waiting hand, and Ricky carried me away.
My encounter with Ricky went pretty much the same as the one with Mack did yesterday. Ricky talked a lot more, though--introducing himself, showing me around his tiny little room in one of the little cabin-like homes lining the road, and sweet-talking me for a while. I won't bore you with the details. We both knew where he was going and what I'd have to do, so all the rest just felt like wasted time.
Unlike Mack, he didn't want me to leave my clothes on, and he got undressed just as quickly as I did--maybe faster, in fact. We took a bath together, and he let me explore his body, and of course he explored mine, too. I kept thinking of how much this reminded me of Mike Aeurbach at the Compound, except in a private session, and without so much humiliation.
I didn't really mind Ricky, actually. He didn't treat me like some kind of servant, like Mack did yesterday. Mack just expected me to perform, and that's all he wanted. Ricky didn't seem to be in any kind of hurry. He might've just been stringing me along, in order to enjoy the experience more, for all I knew, but either way it didn't really trouble me all that much.
I did remember that Marianne told me he'd try nearly anything, but he stayed conservative for our first encounter. Once we'd finished all the preliminaries, he let me pleasure him, there in the tub, and since I'd done that sort of thing plenty of times for Mike, I had little trouble meeting his expectations. He appreciated my efforts enough to play with me in his mouth for a while afterwards, which I'd only experienced a couple of times back at the Compound.
It's funny, you'd think oral sex would've happened a lot more back in that place, but don't forget the kind of things the owners liked. Most only wanted us to pleasure them with our bodies, as best we could, or else they'd watch while we danced or did stuff with each other. The only one who really did a lot of touching was Victor Santiago, and he normally used his fingers. Every now and then, though, usually when he only won a couple of girls, he'd stick one of us in his mouth and get himself off while he sucked on us. It felt disgusting as hell, and not at all titillating, but the only way to get him to stop would be to fake getting off, so he'd finally come and spit us out. Not my favorite Compound memory, I must admit.
Anyway, Ricky completely changed my attitude about that. When he started licking me, and sucking away at various body parts, I found myself getting aroused, much to my surprise. For a while he just fooled around, teasing me, until finally he drew my legs inside and started probing with his tongue. Damn…I thought Marianne had it going on with the tongue bit, but that's nothing compared to what a giant-sized one can do! He got me all turned on, worked me up into a frenzy, and polished me off with a flourish, leaving me gasping for breath as I sort of dangled half in and half out of his mouth.
See, it's things like that that make me like being only three inches tall. You get the right kind of guy, who actually cares about how I feel, and things can be so incredible…we can mutually pleasure each other, focusing our attentions entirely on the task at hand, with no commitments, no attachments…no reason to ever get distracted by anything else. Then it's over, and off I go, out the door with a quick thanks-and-see-you-later-bye. Perfect.
So I felt pretty good as I walked back towards the Barn, with no regrets except the fact that I'd forgotten my spear back at the dollhouse. I suppose I could've asked Ricky to carry me back, but he hadn't gotten dressed, and besides, I'm too independent for my own good sometimes. Why bug him to carry me when I'm perfectly capable of doing it myself? Besides which, this time the sun's up, so I could get a better idea of the Ranch's layout, and get a little exercise besides.
I jogged slowly along, still tingling a bit after that "tongue-lashing" I got back in Ricky's cabin, sticking to the side of the walkway just in case anybody else came along. Naturally, I kept a wary out for danger, especially from above. If I'd seen any birds circling up there, you can bet I would've taken cover. Nothing moved in that clear blue sky, though. Plus, the air felt much warmer than yesterday--probably up in the high 50s or so, Getting close to springtime, apparently.
I felt pretty good as I ambled quickly along. Ricky's ministrations weren't the only thing that made me feel all tingly. The way I felt about Marianne…what a weird sensation, to be high as a kite, and so desperately terrified, all at the same time. To realize how much I cared about her excited me in a way I'd only barely started to understand. But on the flip side, these feelings left me scared as hell. Not to mention vulnerable, too. Because I cared about her so much, they could use her as a weapon against me. They could threaten to hurt her if I didn't do everything they said. Hell, they pretty much were already doing that, weren't they? Maybe not directly…but she had a bomb in her stomach! They could kill her any time they wanted. So that meant if I did anything they didn't like--if I betrayed them, and they found out about it--the cost would be Marianne's life.
Goddammit! These fucking feelings again! Why, oh why, did they have to show up now? Why did I have to care so much? This conscience of mine is screwing everything all to hell!
And yet, even with all that, I still wouldn't change a thing. When I thought about how I felt in Marianne's arms, sharing her bed, feeling her breath on my cheek…knowing we'd do anything for each other…well, that made it all worthwhile. That's what I've been needing all this time, isn't it? That's what I'd been searching for. That's why I stayed with Andrew Cullins, even though I knew, ultimately, he wouldn't be able to give me what I truly wanted. We couldn't love each other like real people. Marianne, though…she was different. She could love me, and I could love her. She could fill that empty spot in my life.
I wanted to be with her again, right now, so I quickened my pace, heading towards the Barn, and a shadow fell over me. I stopped and turned to look, knowing full well I'd see another giant approaching. Nor was I mistaken.
He walked straight up to me, not bothering to use the path, on a beeline from the restoration shack. "About time you get done in there," he said in a voice devoid of accent, bending over to get a better look. I saw a reasonably handsome young guy, nicely toned, wearing a T-shirt, jeans and big belt buckle with a single star on it. His wore his black hair in a short flattop style, and his face had a classic square jaw and Roman nose…something very familiar about that, actually, but I couldn't place it from this angle.
His hand reached out to grab me, making no attempt at subtlety, or to give me a chance to voluntarily climb into his palm. He held me up and turned me over in his grip, whistling loudly enough to make me cringe. "Damn, you do look awful fine, don't you?" he remarked plainly, as if evaluating a piece of fruit he intended to buy at the supermarket. "Yep, Mack was right, you do have a sweet little ass. Come on, I wanna try it out for myself."
He turned around and hauled me off to his cabin, not bothering to wait to see what I had to say about that.
"So, you're the new one I heard so much about," said my captor as we went through the door. He dropped me into his palm and stared down at me, rolling me around with his fingertip like someone inspecting their merchandise. "Yeah, you do look pretty good, I have to admit. Hopefully Ricky didn't get you too tired out, hmm?"
"Not really," I replied, not exactly thrilled by the way he kept tossing me about. "Would you knock that off? Sheesh!"
"Sure, whatever, doll. Just having a look. My name's Vincent, by the way, but you can call me Vince, if you like."
"Okay, Vince. I guess you know I'm Wendy, huh?"
"Yeah, of course. The one who's going to get the FBI off our ass, right? The miracle worker who's gonna take care of the terrible Kate Powers with one mighty blow."
I sighed and rolled my eyes. "Yeah, sure, if that's what they think." Not likely, though. If we did manage to kidnap Kate, that would only make things worse for these people, I figured.
He chuckled. "All I care about is getting a chance to play with Kate like I'm about to play with you."
"Why's that?" I inquired curiously. "What did she ever do to you?"
"Well," he replied a bit haughtily, "I guess nobody told you, but my last name's Santiago."
Realization dawned, and in fact, as soon as he said that name, I recognized the resemblance in his face. I should've seen it before, but I didn't make the connection for some reason. It's been too long, I suppose. "Let me guess, he was your father," I offered.
"Yep, you got it. Needless to say, I've got a little score to settle with Kate Powers on his account. Too bad Ray doesn't want her dead--at least not right away. If he ever decides he's tired of her, though, he's promised me I get to be the trigger man."
I nodded in agreement. As I recall, Kate (along with Lori Wells) used Gary's gun to shoot Victor in the chest at the end of the whole Casino thing. You could hardly blame them, considering what they'd just been through, and Victor sure as hell deserved it…I would've shot him myself, if I'd been there, and not suffering at the bottom of some dusty ventilation shaft. But I doubted his son would see things that way, so I could hardly say anything like that.
"In fact," Vince went on, rubbing his fingers thoughtfully across that angular chin of his, "I think I know how we can make our first experience together a bit more memorable. You up for some roleplaying, Wendy?"
"Some what?" I asked curiously.
"Roleplaying. You know, where you pretend to be somebody else. You've never tried that?"
Well, actually, I hadn't, but it sounded very much like something I needed to learn about, so maybe I could get some practice. Of course, I couldn't say that, either, so instead, I replied, "Nope. What do I have to do?"
"Well," he explained, "just imagine you're another person, so it's like you're acting, you know? Get into the role, and stay in character as much as you can. You're into BDSM, right?"
Again, not really, but I knew the drill well enough. "Sort of," I replied noncommittally.
"Well, you know what a safe word is?" I nodded, so he went on with barely a pause. "Okay, well, with roleplaying, you stay in character all the time, but if you need to break out for a moment, you say 'OOC,' or 'out of character,' first. It's like a pause in the action."
"Fine, I suppose," I replied, wondering where this was going, although if I'd thought about it for two seconds I probably would've figured it out.
"Good, perfect. Okay, then, here's the deal. I want you to pretend like you're Kate Powers."
I looked at him like he'd gone mad. "You want me to be her?"
"Yeah, sure, why not? You probably know all about that murdering little bitch, don't you? You probably know shit I've never heard, too. So just use what you know. I'm going to pretend like Ray just brought you here for the first time, and now I can do whatever I want to you--well, except really hurt or kill you, that is. I won't do that, though I might say I will, okay?"
I nodded slowly. This sounded completely nuts, but then, I guess for him it'd be terribly exciting, wouldn't it? Not to mention practice for whatever he might be planning once this scenario actually came to pass. Besides, he's right, I do know Kate pretty well. Probably better than anybody here, in fact.
"Okay, fine," I agreed after a moment. "I'm warning you, though, I'm going to do exactly what Kate would do, until you tell me to stop. Out of character, that is."
"Perfect," he agreed, stepping over to the door, facing it and looking down on me. "All right, I'll set the scene. You've just been captured, miniaturized, and brought here by Ray Ellsworth, who says, 'Here's Kate just like I promised. You have one hour to do whatever you want to her, short of killing her. Have fun.' Then the door slams shut and we're alone."
"Okay," I replied, getting to my hands and knees. "Do I know who you are? That you're Victor's son?"
"Yes, Ray told you that on the way here," replied Vince with a nod. "When I say go, do exactly what Kate would do in this situation. Ready?"
I nodded, and tried to imagine Kate right now. What would she do? He probably expected her to cower, cry, beg for mercy, that sort of thing, but no, that's not Kate. She'd do something else entirely. In fact, just crouching here, she'd be looking around, surveying the room, figuring out her next move.
"Okay, go!" Vince told me.
Instantly, I launched myself out of his palm, leaping for the nearby countertop off to his left. These cabins were like little efficiency apartments, with a mini-kitchen directly next to the entrance. I think my move caught him totally by surprise--he must've expected me to cower and beg, not try to get away. I landed unopposed, rolled, hopped to my feet and took off running.
If this had been me, in somebody's real apartment, I would've run a whole lot faster, zig-zagged, maybe even done something crazy like jump for the carpet, but I tried to remember I'm supposed to be Kate--recently miniaturized, quite scared and desperate, not really sure what I'm capable of, or what Vince might do. I ran slower than I normally would, glanced back at him, and saw his hand reaching for me as I approached the sink. I leapt to one side, avoiding his clumsy grab, used the faucet knobs as cover, and dashed behind a coffee maker.
"Holy shit, you're fast," muttered Vince behind me. "Come out of there, Kate, or this is going to be much worse!"
I waited until he lifted up the machine, and then darted out the other way, racing for the far end of the countertop. By the time he set the coffee maker down, I'd slipped behind a toaster oven. I didn't stay there this time, though, wriggling underneath to the power cord, where I started sliding down to the floor. By the time he realized I hadn't stayed put, I'd dropped to the ground and took off towards the couch along the far wall.
He saw me, took two steps and tried to slam a foot down to block my path. Silly giant--like I couldn't jump over something so obvious! A couple seconds later I made it into the dusty, cobweb-filled space underneath the furniture. He got down on his hands and knees, peered underneath, and growled at me. "You're only making this harder on yourself, Kate! Get out here, now!"
"Out of character," I called back, "I'm not really pissing you off, am I?"
"Oh, hell no," Vince laughed. "This is great! Keep going!"
"Okay, back in character, then," I replied, moving off into the shadows so he couldn't find me. As soon as I did, he lifted up the couch, standing it on end, putting me out in the open. I ran for the television set, dodged his hasty grab, and vanished into the dark space back there amidst a bunch of twisted cords and cables.
"I'm starting to get really angry," hissed Vince, though I could tell he didn't really mean it. He tugged at his television until it moved far enough out in the room that his arm could fit underneath. Then he started grabbing at me in the darkness. A couple times he almost caught me, but I slipped by, took hold of one of the cables and climbed up to the back of the TV. From here I got a pretty good look at the rest of his place, trying to spot another good place to hide while he rooted around.
He had the TV set up in the corner, in a place where he could watch from either his little two-man dining table, or the couch, which now stood sideways. Plus, he could probably see it from his bed, too, if he propped up on a pillow. The bed looked like my best choice, if I could only get there.
I climbed down the front of the TV stand and took off, making sure he couldn't possibly see me as I followed the wall. I'm sure he didn't hear me, but after a moment he must've figured I'd flown the coop, because he turned his head to check the rest of the room. "Aha!" he blurted, rushing after me. Again, trying to act like Kate would, I glanced back and pretended to panic, giving a little cry of terror. His right hand came down at me, but I jumped over it, only this time he knew that trick and had his other hand ready. It caught me right out of the air.
"Gotcha!" he laughed in triumph, holding me up as I fought and struggled to no avail. He made sure he didn't actually hurt me, though he easily could've, and in exchange I didn't really make a serious effort to get away. "You shouldn't have run, Kate. There's nowhere to go, anyway. Now I'm going to make you pay for that."
"No, you can't!" I yelled, whining pathetically like Kate probably would've done. Nah…that's not really fair, is it? She wouldn't beg or plead--she's too good for that. In fact, she'd probably try something else. "Please, let me go! You haven't committed any crimes yet! Ray's the one who kidnapped me! Let me go, and I'll make sure you don't get brought up on any charges!"
"Nice try," he laughed at me, "but I'm hardly worried about that. You're never going to get out of here, are you? Besides, I've been wanting to do this for years. Now come over here." He moved back to the couch and lowered it back into position with one hand, keeping me clutched tightly in the other. Then he went over to one of the cabinets, reached inside, and withdrew a small pegboard along with a spool of thread and some scissors. With that in hand, he returned to the couch and sat down.
While he did that, I tried my best to look defiant, not showing any kind of fear, because that's how Kate would've reacted, as best I could imagine. How far should I take this, though? She'd probably start saying something about how evil Victor Santiago was back at the Compound, and how she did what she had to do, and all that. All roleplaying aside, would Vince really like having that sort of thing thrown back in his face? Probably not, so instead, I just kept pretending to fight and didn't say anything at all.
Once he got seated, he placed the pegboard on his lap and grinned down at his little captive. "Oh, how I've dreamed of this," he told me. "I'd ask you to take off your clothes, but I doubt you'd do it voluntarily, so hold still or you're going to get hurt."
I didn't obey, naturally, but twisted and fought as he methodically stripped me one piece of clothing at a time. He had a little trouble, especially with the boots, because they wouldn't come off easily and he couldn't quite get a grip on the zipper. Finally I just loosened them myself, which broke character, I guess, but he didn't complain. The leotard came off next, followed by the fishnets, leaving me naked in his hand. I tried to fake looking embarrassed and tried pathetically to cover myself, which only made him laugh.
Then I found out what the pegboard was for. Ignoring my twisting and fighting, he trussed me up with the thread, tying one leg at a time to pushpins sticking out of the board. Then, holding my stomach tight against the surface, he proceeded to wrap up my arms, too, until I found myself spread-eagled in his lap. I pretended to try to twist and turn to get free, only to sag in defeat, when in fact, I'm pretty sure if I tried really hard I could either break the threads or pull one pin or another out of the cork.
Actually, the funny thing is, I found myself getting a little bit turned on by this. Not as much as Ricky's tonguing (is that even a word?), but still, I couldn't deny the appeal. I couldn't tell if I actually liked being tied up, or if pretending to be somebody else did the trick, but something definitely sparked my interest. Which is odd, because if you'd told me twenty minutes ago I'd be doing this, I would've thought I'd just be going through the motions.
"Now," laughed Vince, "it's time you get what's coming to you, Kate Powers. What do you say to that, hmm?"
What do I say, anyway? Well, I distinctly recall Kate once calling Victor a bastard right to his face--in that stupid book of hers, at least. I have no idea if that's really what happened, but if Vince read that same scene, he'd know what to expect. "You're horrible!" I yelled at him. "You're just like your father--an evil, ruthless bastard!"
For a second I thought he might not like me bringing up Victor like that, but instead he only laughed. "You're right!" he chuckled at me. "He was a ruthless bastard…and I'm his son, so you'd better show me some goddamn RESPECT!"
I did my best to wince and cower at his thundering voice, even though I knew he wouldn't actually hurt me or anything. Actually, for an instant I could actually picture Kate McWhiny in exactly this situation, scared out of her wits and totally unable to let herself show it. And I thought I had problems! If she ever wound up here…well, I didn't like her chances, that's for sure.
"Good! I see you understand!" barked Vince. "Now you're going to be my plaything, and there's nothing you can do about it! Try to enjoy yourself, you pathetic little whore…and that's an order!"
He laughed again and started fondling me roughly. It hurt, at first, but I think he just wanted to keep me in character. Naturally I cried out in pain and flailed about, shouting all kinds of insults, which only egged him on. I didn't fail to notice the way his other hand moved out of sight below the level of my vision, but I never doubted what he must be doing, especially the way his face screwed up into that almost-pained expression every man's partner knows so well.
He kept on playing with me the whole time, of course, which showed some pretty good self-control, but now it didn't hurt. I kept on complaining, though, yelling out every kind of epithet and insult I could think of, which only spurred him on. Finally, after finding just the right spot to rub with just the right amount of pressure, he got me off, and I screamed "Nooooo!" as loud as I could, which brought him to climax too.
We both took a few moments to catch our breaths, and then he grinned at me. "Okay, no more roleplaying," he said as he wiped off his hand on his underwear. "If you'd really been Kate, I would've come right in your face, just so you know."
"I wondered about that," I replied, glancing a couple times at my bonds so he got the hint. While he untied me, I added, "I'm actually kinda surprised you didn't do a whole lot worse, honestly."
"Oh, I intend to," he agreed, "but you aren't really Kate, so you didn't deserve something so extreme. Although you could've fooled me--you sounded just like I always imagined her. No begging--she wouldn't do that. Good job, Wendy. We should try this again sometime."
"Sure," I agreed. "A different person next time, though. The less I think about Kate McLoser, the better."
He laughed at that insulting nickname. "Sure, doll. You got it. Thanks for playing along with me--most of the others hate the idea, although I can get Marianne to do it, if she's in the right mood. And Kaitlin just wants me to pretend to be Taylor all the time--bor-r-r-ing!"
I pulled my clothes back on and collected my bag of gear. "Yeah, somehow that doesn't surprise me," I replied. "Before you let me go, though--are there any other guys waiting in line for me? Because if so, I'm gonna sneak out the back."
He laughed. "There's no back door, I'm afraid, but I was the only one in there, if you must know. You should be able to get back safely. Besides which, the other guards are working now. I only got a turn with you because I'm off shift. They don't finish till after sunset."
"Okay, good to know."
"Anyway, you want to walk back, or you want a lift?"
"Oh, I'll just walk," I told him, and he put me down outside the door, thanking me one more time before leaving me by myself.
I headed back towards the Barn, taking the same route as earlier while being just as careful. This time, though, I also kept looking over my shoulder, back at the shack where I now knew they kept at least some of the tracking equipment. I half expected another guard to pop out of there at any second and head my way, but fortunately, the door stayed shut. As pleasant as those last two experiences were just now, I didn't really want another--a girl can only take so much, after all. Besides, I'd been lucky so far. The next one might not be quite as pleasant.
Sooner or later, I told myself, I'm going to have to go check out that shack. Without my tracer, too, because they wouldn't exactly welcome me inside the place with open arms. See, I had my freedom--I could leave at any time, and none of them would be the wiser. But I couldn't go without Marianne, and she couldn't leave as long as she had the tracer-bomb stuck in her gut. I couldn't see any way to get it out of there--it wouldn't just come out like mine, or it already would've, and from what Marianne told me earlier, if she could move around at will, she would've taken off the minute they let her loose in Andrew's house.
So, how do I get her out and keep her safe? Maybe I couldn't get the tracer out directly, but there might be a way to sabotage the controls for it. Admittedly, it sounded like a long shot, but there's no way to know until I try, right? Plus, who knows, maybe I'd find something else in there. I'd sort of theorized they didn't use tracers on the minis--I could at least confirm that, if I could.
Not right now, though. Any sneaking around will have to wait until after dark--until after the guards all went to bed, except for the ones on the night shift. How many guards were there, anyway, and when exactly did they start and end those shifts? More information I'd definitely want to have before I tried anything dangerous. Maybe Marianne would know.
I got back to the Barn without incident and entered through the little door next to the main one. The table towered overhead in front of me, and I started in that direction, but changed my mind before I reached the elevator. So far, I'd only visited the minis while following Marianne around, and now I had an opportunity to try it by myself. Plus, having now experienced a little roleplaying, I thought maybe I'd give it another shot.
I felt a bit attached to quadrant L, where I'd done the Q&A that morning, so I took a right and headed over there, and quietly poked my head between a couple of giant leaves along the border. Through the gap, I could see quite a few minis at work, mostly by themselves. They didn't seem to be in any particular hurry, possibly because there weren't any dolls around watching, as far as they knew. A few hauled wheelbarrows full of fertilizer, drawn from a pile underneath one of the huge hamster tubes that ended nearby. A couple others drew water from one of the two pools, which I guess filled up every time the fake rain fell (which I still hadn't seen--maybe they did that at night, or only at certain specific times). To get their water, the minis had to get into the pond and scoop the liquid out a handful at a time--I suppose those women didn't mind the skimpy bathing suits they were forced to wear. I couldn't help but notice their sleek, bronzed skin, either. They must be able to get a tan here, I figured, or otherwise they'd all be pale as ghosts.
Besides them, I noticed a few ladies at work with various tools, and a small group trying to roll a recently harvested bell pepper through the clearing to my right. I could see maybe fifteen or twenty minis all told, the rest probably busy elsewhere in the quadrant, out of view from my position. Occasionally they spoke to one another, but mostly they kept quiet, eyes focused on whatever task they'd been assigned. I didn't see anything that looked like exhaustion or physical pain, nor did I notice any vacant stares or burgeoning catatonia. Mostly they just looked depressed and resigned to their fate.
I stayed there for a couple of minutes, watching, wondering what I'd do if I saw a fight break out, or if any of them decided to take an unscheduled rest. Honestly, I have no clue what I would've done in either case. I still didn't feel like I knew the rules well enough to make any proclamations or hand out any demerits. For all I knew, they could take a breather every five or ten minutes or something. And what about bathroom breaks? How did those work? I didn't really know.
I suppose it didn't matter anyway, because anything they did could be seen by the invisible observers watching through the cameras overhead. So my presence didn't really matter, did it? I shrugged to myself and stepped through the leaves, no longer trying to stay hidden. They noticed my approach instantly, and a couple of them watched me carefully, but nobody really reacted. I guess they snapped to attention only for roll call. I wondered if maybe I should try to strike up a conversation, but decided against it, simply because I didn't want to get too close to these people. Does a drill sergeant get emotionally attached to his soldiers? Probably not.
So why'd I come here, anyway? I couldn't talk to them, so what's the point? I stood there for a few minutes, watching, trying to figure out what I'd say if I had the nerve to open up my mouth. Hi, girls, I know I'm ten times your size and all, but can't we just be friends? Not a chance!
As I looked over the little group, I amused myself by trying to remember their names. I managed to pick out about ten that I'm sure I recognized, and another dozen or so I could've guessed with a reasonable chance of being right. The rest, no way. They all just looked too ordinary, too normal. I found myself wondering what their stories were. Who were they, before they came here? Secretaries, businesswomen, girlfriends, entertainers, wives, students…who knows? At least one must've been a hairstylist, judging by the way they all had fairly decent haircuts. Regardless of their professions, though, these were all people. They had lives, and now those were gone…they only had this place now, with nothing better to look forward to.
I felt that overwhelming guilt again, this time laced with pity. I couldn't help these girls, at least not directly. I'd have to do something, though. I couldn't live with myself knowing they were here. I couldn't just run away and leave them to their fate.
Goddamn these stupid feelings, I muttered to myself, turning away and heading back towards the dollhouse. Before I got ten steps, though, I spotted someone very small waving up at me, yelling to get my attention. I stopped, looking down in surprise, and saw a mini there. Not just any mini, either--Janice, the one from the Box!
I tried slipping into my "Evil Overlord" roleplaying persona. "What the hell do you want, bug?" I demanded, almost wincing at how harsh I sounded. Sheesh--to think I had to force myself to be like that! I used to be angry and rude without even thinking about it.
"Please, Mistress," she called up to me. "I only want to ask you something."
I rolled my eyes. "Is this about that question from this morning?"
"Yes, Mistress," she replied, not meeting my gaze. I think she expected I'd give her demerits, or something, although she hadn't violated any rules I knew of yet. Of course, I didn't know them all, but she sure did look awfully worried.
"Okay, fine, ask," I told her, "but if I don't like the question, I'm not gonna answer."
"Of course, Mistress. It's just that--I don't want anyone to overhear. It's private."
"Oh, for the love of--okay, fine." I reached down and plucked her off the ground like somebody picking up their fallen car keys. She didn't try to resist or run. I held her firmly--not enough to hurt, but enough to show I meant business. Then I carried her away from the rest of her fellow minis, towards the elevator going up to the dollhouse. I didn't go up, though--instead, I kept on walking, all the way across the road to the wall, where I made my way underneath one of those tall industrial-sized fans they probably used during warmer weather. In the cavity underneath, I felt pretty sure we'd have some privacy.
"Okay, what's so goddamn important, then?" I demanded, letting her out of my grip as I sat down on the dusty floor. "Go on, spit it out."
Janice stood there, looking up at me, studying my face and expression, which I tried to make look as impatient as possible. She watched for about a minute, and her mouth slowly curled up into a smile. Finally, she said quietly, "You can't do it, can you?"
"Can't do what?" I demanded.
"You just can't fake it," Janice replied. "You can't hide how you really feel when you look at me."
"What?" I tried to sound indignant. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"I saw it in your face when you looked at me in the Box." Janice reached out a hand, as if to try to touch me, and I automatically shifted away. "When you came back the second time. I saw what you were feeling. And then today--every time you looked at me, I could see it. That look of pity in your eyes."
"You said you had a question," I groused. It's bad enough to recognize this sort of shit myself, but much worse when somebody else throws it in my face. "I haven't heard your question yet."
"How can you do this?" she asked pointedly. "How can you be a part of this, if that's the way you feel?"
I started to bark out another snappy reply, but the words caught in my throat. I glanced away, unable to even look at her. "I don't really have a choice," I heard myself say, which was as good an answer as any.
She nodded slowly. "None of us had a choice," she told me. "They didn't ask us anything--we didn't get any warning, either. I was on my way to work. I stepped into an elevator, the same one I used every day, and there was a man there, and then--then I woke up here. Please help me, Wendy! I don't want to go away!"
"What do you mean?" I asked. "What makes you think I can do a goddamn thing to help you?"
"Because you're the only one who's been out there," she replied. "Don't you see? You know what it's like. You're not going to stay here, are you? You won't be able to. When you go, please take me with you!"
Oh, geez, it's not enough I gotta be a hero, now they want me to be their savior, too? Better nip this in the bud, I thought. "I can't promise you that. I can't promise anything. I don't even know if I can escape this place. I don't even know if I really want to. Shit, I shouldn't even be having this conversation! I should be giving you demerits, or something. How many demerits is this worth, anyway?"
"I don't care," Janice went on desperately. "I just don't know how much longer I can last. I'm slipping away, Wendy. I can't take much more of this, and they know it. One way or another, I'm not going to be here much longer. They'll take me away, one of these days. Sometime soon."
"What?" I asked, a bit shocked by this.
"They're going to take me away," Janice repeated. "You don't know this happens? I guess you're too new."
"Explain it to me," I insisted.
"Every now and then," she replied sadly, "they take somebody away, and they don't come back. Sometimes it's a troublemaker, someone who doesn't bend to their will like she should. Other times it's somebody who's lost it completely, turned into a perfect little robot. Sometimes they go crazy, too, and just totally go nuts. Some just try too hard, and they come apart. Please, Wendy! Don't let them take me! You've got to help me!"
I wanted to refuse, but I couldn't. Not when she stood there pleading at me like that. I remembered that tiny thing trapped in the Box, and I thought about what they might be planning to do with her next. The ultimate punishment, probably. So I said the only thing my fucked up conscience could let me say. "Okay, fine, I'll help," I sighed in defeat.
"Oh, thank you!" she gushed happily. "I never thought I'd ever have any hope in this terrible place."
"Just one thing," I added. "Don't tell anybody about this conversation. You say anything, I'll deny it. Got that?"
"Yes, of course, I won't say anything, I promise!" she agreed at once. "Now please, take me back, before anyone finds out we were talking. I don't want anyone thinking I'm your personal favorite or anything. You don't know some of the things they did to me in the Box." She shuddered visibly.
I shook my head, stood up, and clutched her in my hand again. I didn't like to think about the Box any more than I had to, so I quickly strode across the road and back to the edge of her quadrant. There, I deposited her on the ground without another word and headed off to the dollhouse. Just before I got too far away, I risked a glance back, and she flashed me a hopeful wave.
Dammit, I swore to myself, how do I get myself into this shit, anyway?
Goddammit, I swore to myself, I don't want to be a fucking hero! I don't want people depending on me! It's hard enough living with the idea that Marianne is depending on me to figure out how to get her out of this place--I sure as hell don't need twelve quadrants full of minis feeling the same way!
That Janice better keep her damn mouth shut! If she didn't, I'd be in deep trouble--but it's too late for that now, all because I couldn't stay in character like I should've. I didn't need to tell her I'd help--that's the worst thing I could've possibly done. What the hell is wrong with me?
It's that guilt again--I felt responsible for all of this. Something like 500 tiny prisoners were here because of me, plus who knows how many that already got taken off and dealt with, one way or another. And what happened to them, anyway? Were they killed, if they didn't perform properly, or were they sold, as I'd already suspected? Either one, I suppose. They'd cherry-pick the acceptable ones, the ones that proved malleable enough, and weed out the rest.
Weed out…an appropriate enough metaphor, I guess, with all the farming going on. I shook my head, trying to rid myself of those thoughts as I rode the elevator back up to the dollhouse. I had to know, I decided then. I had to know if they were really being sold like I thought. What I'd do with that knowledge, I had no idea…but I couldn't decide what to do next until I knew.
I stepped out of the elevator to find my four fellow dolls all together, doing something I hadn't expected--playing cards. "What is this, afternoon bridge club?" I asked curiously. "I figured you'd all be out torturing minis or something."
"Nah, nothing going on down there," said Erika, dealing out the cards one at a time to the others. "They usually settle down after lunch."
"Actually, we usually don't all get together at once like this," said Kaitlin. "Usually, off-duty guards come have their way with us."
"Except you got all the attention, again," muttered Dena softly, probably hoping only the others would hear. I pretended like I didn't, too, because I'm pretty sure she just wanted to get a rise out of me.
"Well, I only got bothered by two of them," I replied, seeing an opportunity to collect some information. "How many are off duty, anyway? More than that, I'd imagine."
"Yeah, half a dozen or so, but it varies," explained Erika. "Damn, who dealt this crap? Oh, wait, it was me."
The others chuckled at that, some agreeing and others just not saying anything as they studied their hands. Each of them held exactly one-fourth of the deck, and as I watched over Marianne's shoulder, she sorted them by suit and ordered them by rank. It's been a long time since I played any card games, as you can well imagine, but so far this looked just like how one of my foster mothers used to hold her cards when she played bridge and ignored me and the other kids (as usual).
"Okay, what's the pass?" asked Marianne.
"Across," replied Erika, selecting three cards from her hand and tossing them face-down to Kaitlin, who reciprocated a moment later. Marianne and Dena did the same and then everybody looked at their new cards, mostly scowling. "You bitch," muttered Dena, tossing the two of clubs on the table for some reason. The others followed suit, playing the highest cards they had, and Kaitlin, with the ace, took the trick. She led a diamond and play continued.
"What game is this?" I asked, because as soon as they passed cards I knew it wasn't bridge. They had a notepad close by, with scores written on it, but they didn't look like bridge scores, either. Just numbers under each person's name in rows.
"Hearts," replied Marianne. "What, you never played?"
"Nah," I answered. "I haven't played cards since I was young, and they didn't give us any in the Compound."
"Oh, right, they didn't," Marianne replied. "I wonder why not? They sure as hell had enough, ownin' a casino and all."
"They just would've given us big ones," I told her, watching the others play while having absolutely no clue what was going on. "Just doing what you're doing now would've taken an eternity."
"Yeah, true," agreed Marinane. "We coulda done it, but yeah, it woulda sucked ass. Fortunately, we got Kaitlin here, and her big hulkin' boyfriend gets us anythin' we want."
"Well, not anything," she laughed, "but pretty close. Aw, crap, you made me eat the queen!" She took a trick containing the queen of spades, which I gather isn't what you want in this weird game.
"Should've been paying attention," chided Dena. "You would've known that was the last club."
"I can't count cards like you!" complained Kaitlin. "That's why you win half the time, you darn cheater!"
"It's not cheating, it's called skill," Dena laughed. The hand ended, and she checked her tricks. "Four for me."
"Eight," said Erika.
"None here," put in Marianne proudly.
"I guess that leaves fourteen for me," sighed Kaitlin. How she could know that without actually inspecting her tricks, I had no idea. "Am I over yet, or what?"
"Nope, that puts you at 97," Dena replied, adding up the numbers on her scorecard. "That means if you take a round of hearts, you're over. Get just three, though, and you go back to zero."
"That's the only way I ever win this screwy game," Kaitlin told me, rolling her eyes. "Blind luck."
"We'll teach you how to play later on, Wendy," offered Erika, "but basically, you want to take as few points as possible. Hearts are one point each, and the queen of spades is 13. You go over 100, you lose. But there's a little optional rule we use to make things more interesting--get exactly 100, and you go back to zero."
I nodded, already a bit curious about this game, because it's unusual to play something where you don't want points. "Yeah, I'll try it later," I agreed, "after I've watched you all for a while. Otherwise you'll just pick on me."
While Dena shuffled and dealt, Marianne glanced over her shoulder at me. "You have a fun time playin' with the giants, love?" she asked curiously.
"Yeah, if you call that fun," I answered. "I got to meet Ricky and Vince."
"Oh, lemme guess," Marianne said. "Ricky sucked on you like a lollipop, and Vince tied you up and jizzed in your face."
I laughed. "Pretty close. You pegged Ricky, but Vince kept his spewing to himself. He did tie me up, but we were roleplaying."
Marianne and Kaitlin looked at me curiously. "Oh?"
"He made me pretend to be Kate McLeary," I told them, "and after I led him on a merry chase around his room, he got his 'revenge' on her. Sort of, anyway."
"Vince did this?" inquired Kaitlin as she studied her cards. "Doesn't sound like him."
"Oh, he never made you play-act?" Erika also sorted her cards, but this time they didn't pass anything. She led the two of clubs, which I suppose is how the hand gets started, and the others played pretty much like before.
"Well, yeah, sort of," Kaitlin answered. "It's more like I pretend he's Taylor than me be somebody else. But then, I guess he takes it easy on me. They all do, you know. I can tell they're holding back."
"He's made me play a tiny dominatrix before," Dena put in, eyes fixed carefully on the cards as they went around the table. "Nothing quite like that, though. Maybe I should ask him--sounds like fun."
"Yeah, well, I didn't like thinking about Kate McLeary any more than I have to," I complained. "Although I didn't mind imagining what's going to happen to her when she gets here. Plus it'll be even worse, now that I know who Vince's father was."
"Ah, he told you about that," chuckled Erika. "I figured he might keep it to himself, seeing how his father treated you back in the Compound."
"It's funny, I didn't even think about that until now," I mused, "but anyway, it's not like Vince ever visited the Compound or anything. He seems pretty young to me--maybe too young for a place like that."
"He's like 25," said Dena, who smiled noticeably as the hand neared its end. Kaitlin took a trick of nothing but hearts, which I suppose meant she lost, and they didn't even finish the rest of the tricks. I guess Dena had the game locked up at that point, so they had no reason to go on any further. "He would've been in his low 20s for sure. Dear ol' Dad must've had some other reason to keep him out of there. Probably just keeping you all for himself."
"I wouldn't doubt it," agreed Marianne. "Another game, then?"
"In a minute, let me get some water," said Erika, heading over to the pool to refresh herself.
"Why don't they just give us miniaturized water bottles or something?" I asked. "I mean, it wouldn't be that hard. They have enough shrunken water down in the camp. We could just use that."
"Oh, no, don't even think about it," pointed out Erika as she returned to the table. "You eat and drink only what they give us, that's the rule. When I first got here, I had the same idea--I decided I wanted some real food, so I headed down and ate my fill. They saw me on the cameras and weren't amused. Those knives of Ray's are no fun at all."
"Tell me about it," I agreed. "He's still got them, then? I thought maybe he'd turned over a new leaf, the way he treated me when I got here."
"That's just to make you feel at home," Dena explained. "Plus he uses the gloves like a reward from time to time--like a carrot dangling out in front of us, you know? But you fuck up, and out come the knives. Normally I wouldn't mind a little pain, but I've got my limits, and he knows it, the sadistic bastard."
Hmm, so things aren't all fun and games for Dena around here, huh? Useful information, indeed. She seemed to be opening up to me, so I decided to see what else I could learn. "I heard you were Frank's secretary," I remarked, forgetting for a moment where I'd heard that little detail. "How'd you wind up here?"
She glared at me through narrowed eyes. "Who the hell told you that?"
"I don't remember," I lied as smoothly as I could, because of course I remembered, but I couldn't very well elaborate. "I must've overheard it somewhere. Something Mack said, I think."
"Yeah, well, Mack should keep his big mouth shut," she spat. "He's always talking to goddamn much."
Ah, yes, I'd heard that before, too. Sounds like I got lucky and picked the right person to deflect blame onto. "Sorry, I didn't realize it was supposed to be a secret."
"It's not, I just don't like people talking about me behind my back, that's all. Anyway, I'm not going to answer your stupid question. It's none of your business, anyway."
I could probably guess what happened--she came to work for him, they had an affair, he found out about her kinks, he introduced her to the miniaturizer, and viola--his very own little doll. "Okay, sorry, forget I asked," I responded, not really sure why I bothered.
"Well, if you want, I can tell you how I got here," offered Erika. "Unless some other big-mouth blew that, too."
"Nope," I replied. "I know about Marianne and Kaitlin, but that's about it. If you want to fill me in, I'd love to hear it."
"Oh, please, not this again," muttered Dena, dealing out the cards. "Oh, well, go on if you must, it'll just distract the rest of you anyway. One more victory coming up."
"Probably," said Erika with a shrug. "Okay, then, here goes…"
I got married after high school to a guy named Paul Newton, a wonderful man who I fell in love with my senior year. He got a great job for a manufacturing firm that made all kinds of specialty items, one of those being poker chips. After a couple of years teaching him the ropes, they transferred him to Las Vegas, so we packed up our stuff and moved.
Life was great for a while. We had a couple of kids, a nice house and a decent income. I enjoyed being a homemaker, without any real aspirations for anything else, and Paul seemed to like coming home to me every night. But something changed as the years went by, as the kids grew up and we settled into a routine. He started staying out later and later, and supposedly working late, and on weekends. You know, the classic warning signs that something else was going on.
About ten years into our marriage I finally got a clue and figured out he was having an affair. Although right now it seems pretty obvious, you have to realize how slowly all these things worked their way into my life. It's not like one day he just started staying at work until midnight or anything. More like ten or fifteen minutes here or there, then a few weeks later it might be an hour, and so on. The event that opened my eyes came around Christmas, the year I turned 30. That's when I actually met the woman, and saw how he looked at her, and the way he put his hand on her back as she walked out the door.
A lot of women would be truly pissed off in that situation, but not me. Once I realized the truth, I took a step back and evaluated the situation. I had nothing of my own--everything I owned came from our marriage. Plus, I had no job skills, and no way to support myself. If we divorced, he'd get the children, which would leave me completely alone. Plus, he hadn't been working at the company long enough to earn any kind of retirement or pension or anything, so I couldn't claim any share of that. Worst of all, when I checked our bank account, I found it pretty much bare. He'd been doing a pretty good job of making sure every spare dollar he made got spent somewhere, probably at casinos, or else squirreled away in some secret bank account just in case I got any ideas.
So I figured I had no choice but to stick it out. I carried on as if I knew nothing, though I'm pretty sure he figured it out after a while. I had my own affairs, as well, but I kept them quiet enough, so as not to cause a fuss. We both became roommates in our house, rather than lovers, sleeping in the same bed only because remodeling would be too much trouble.
This went on for years until the kids were grown and out on their own. That must've been what he'd been waiting for, too, because it wasn't a week after our youngest shipped off to UCLA that Paul handed me the divorce papers.
We were pretty calm and organized about it, like we were executing some kind of exit strategy from a business arrangement that we'd both decided needed to be terminated. Neither of us treated the other with anything but respect. I know it sounds ridiculous, but we managed to stay friends, mostly because of that. He'd intended to divorce me for a while, but didn't want to affect the children, or ruin me financially, so he actually waited long enough that I could get a share of his pension, instead of trying to end it early just to spite me. I'd earned that, or so he told me the last time we ever spoke.
After the divorce, I probably had enough money to get by just living in an apartment somewhere and never doing anything, but that's not for me. As I saw it, I'd just spent 20 years in a career as a homemaker, and now I'd retired. It's time to start over. I just needed something to do, but what? I had no idea--I never went to college, and didn't even really know what I wanted to do with my life.
So I enrolled at UNLV, aiming for a general degree and taking various random electives, hoping something would spark my interest. That's when I discovered journalism. I'd always been good at writing, but could never come up with ideas, so I couldn't be a novelist or anything like that. Journalism fit the bill, because the stories were already there--I just had to find them and write about them. So that's what I decided to do.
Anyway, one of the classes coming up the next quarter involved doing a kind of long-term project where you'd report on some ongoing event or something, just like a real beat reporter would. A lot of my fellow students chose stuff that had a definite starting and ending time, like say the football program, and they'd go hang out at the locker rooms or whatever and interview people before, during, and after the season. Another good one would be elections, if we had any, but that wasn't an election year. Long-running court cases were another good pick. Rich students, or ones who didn't mind a lot of traveling, would choose events happening out of town, and take the maglev to LA or Frisco or whatever to work on their stories over the weekend or what have you. You couldn't just use the net for this--you had to be on site, and talk to actual people, just like in real life.
Anyway, I bet you can't guess which story I picked, huh? Yep, that's right, I decided to cover the modifications going on down at the Sidewinder. I didn't go so I could get miniaturized--I didn't even really think about the possibility at the time. I just wanted something interesting to report on, and this sounded like a good choice. New hotels went in all the time in Vegas, and while this wasn't exactly new, it did involve a pretty major change. Several other students had the same idea, but then, they weren't beautiful, well-dressed, sophisticated women who could easily catch the eye of Bob Mathias.
I knew right away what a scumbag he was when he looked me up and down and said I'd look 'smoking hot' in the Sidewinder uniform. My age didn't bother him--I kept myself fit and trim, after all. This is before the miniaturizer even got built into place, mind you. He wouldn't even talk to the other students, but he took me aside and said if I took a job as a cocktail girl, he'd see to it I got all the first-hand experience I wanted. Well, as long as I didn't mind the occasional other favor or two behind closed doors, of course.
Actually, I really didn't mind. The parade of lovers I'd had during those years of semi-marriage got me used to the idea. Sometimes I'd make a game of it, hanging around in bars and casinos, seeing how far I could get with my looks and body. Sometimes, I could get quite a ways, as you can well imagine. Someone like Bob Mathias barely registered as out of the ordinary at all. Just another stepping-stone, really.
So yeah, Bob made sure I got taken care of at the casino, and I took care of him behind the scenes. When they finally got the miniaturizer working, I was one of the first ones to go down. It freaked me out, I can tell you. Back then it was still a pretty new technology. There weren't any manuals teaching you what to expect. Plus they hadn't developed the gradual scale system they used later--they just shrank me, and Beth, and a few others down to five percent and let us see how we liked it. I was so terrified I could barely breathe, but in the back of my mind, I kept thinking, this is going to be the best story ever! I really thought I had it made--none of the other students were ever going to have reports like this! Hell, I started to think maybe I could sell it to some major publications, too, if I played my cards right.
So I pushed through the fear and did what I had to do to get the story, which is what they teach you in journalism, anyway--you don't let your emotions ever get in the way. The story always comes first. I endured parading around in that silly uniform delivering cocktails, and running around chasing dice, and all that crap, and of course Bob's pathetic attempts at sex, too. I know you used to have to deal with him at doll size, but let me tell you, he was terrible in bed. That's probably why he liked hanging out at the Compound whenever he could--nobody could tell what a lousy lover he was.
Anyway, near the end of my time at the casino, he started arranging to have me miniaturized and then play with me in his hand--I'm probably the first one he ever did that to, unless he got a chance to mess around with Amber before they took her away. I think I'm also the very first one who ever got to experience that trap door at the end of the poker game, too.
Back then, there weren't a lot of rules at the Compound. When I got there, it was just me and Amber, but they brought in a few others fairly soon. We didn't really know what was going on until the owners started betting on us. What a nightmare! A funny thing happened to me, though…something I hadn't expected. I found out I really liked being manhandled like that. The more they put us through, the more I liked it. Plus, I found out something else, too--I could still use my body as a weapon.
The one I affected most was Mike Aeurbach. Remember him? Well, he just loved getting personal attention, especially in that hot tub of his. There were so few ladies then, he often wound up with just me, and we spent a lot of time together. I got very good at pleasing him, and he did the same for me. We didn't love each other, not really--it's hard to love someone so vastly different in size, and besides that, I'd committed myself to manipulating him, which doesn't leave a lot of room for real emotions. Plus, my failed marriage left me jaded all to hell.
I thought maybe I didn't want to ever leave the Compound, until I got to spend a night with Ray. That straightened me out real quick. I decided I wanted out of there, no matter what, so I started working on getting Mike to get me out. I'd seen where the Compound was headed, and while I didn't mind most of the owners, I didn't like Harry much, and couldn't stand Ray. So when we were alone, Mike and I talked about ways to get me out of there.
The owners had a deal to not take any of us girls offsite, probably because they knew we'd endanger their security if they started taking ladies out of the building, or tried to set up their own personal harems. Well, Mike figured out a way to do it. We all had tracers implanted, right? That's all well and good so long as they're working properly. Back then they were still pretty new and prone to problems, so he arranged for mine to go on the fritz. Not directly, mind you--he bribed one of the guards, Lou Hamilton, to slightly alter the frequency so it looked like it kept cutting out. Then when they gave me a new tracer, I got one without any hooks or anything, so it passed right through my gut. Gross, I know, but at least it worked.
Finally, to get me out entirely, he gave me some stuff to make me look dead and told the others I'd drowned in his hot tub. They bought it, so they tossed me in the trash. Well, we knew they'd still have my tracer on the monitor, so after I woke up I just left it there and made my way to his car. The trash went into the incinerator later on and as far as anybody else knew, that was the end of me.
After that Mike and I had some pretty good times. He'd come out to the Compound fairly regularly, but he always had me to come home to. By this point I'd completely forgotten about ever becoming a journalist or doing anything else like that. I still did reporting, but all of it anonymously online--although he'd occasionally take me somewhere and let me slip inside to get a closer look at something private. I just loved that--being able to spy on people and places, you know what I mean. And I loved being small, just like you do, I'm sure.
Unfortunately, it all had to come to an end sooner or later. One day Mike came home in a rush, scurrying around like the hounds of Hell were chasing him. I came to find out the Compound's been raided, Victor and Gary are dead, and the FBI's got warrants out for Mike's arrest. He heard all this from Ray, as it turns out. Ray's the one who always insisted everybody have an escape plan, and in fact had helped Mike set one up for just this sort of circumstance.
Of course, I went along, although to his credit Mike gave me a chance to back out if I wanted. He said he loved me--the first time he'd ever said that, I might add--and I replied in kind, even though I didn't believe it. My experience with Paul left me with a big gaping hole where love should've been. Mike was always nothing more than a plaything to me. I know that sounds funny coming from somebody three inches high, but it's true. I played Mike like an instrument pretty much all the time. I wasn't his pet--he was mine.
So we drove to the airport as fast as we could go, got onto his private Lear and screamed out of the country, heading south. Ray had set the whole escape route up, so we fled to Argentina, where he'd have someone waiting for us to drive us to a safe house outside Buenos Aires. Well, things didn't work out that way. They knew we were coming, somehow, and had the airport covered, so as soon as the plane came to a stop, the cars rushed in. We couldn't even run, because we didn't have enough fuel to get anywhere.
So Mike knew the jig was up, and he wanted me to be safe, so he suggested I stay hidden until the plane got flown back to the States. He didn't trust anybody but the actual authorities to deal with me, because you never know who might be tempted to grab a tiny woman and carry her off in his pocket. Plus, there weren't any restorers in Argentina, because as far as I know, the only country with miniaturization tech is the USA. He didn't want me held hostage or anything like that.
So I said my goodbyes and hid in the plane. Nobody knew I was there, so they didn't bother doing any kind of careful search. After a while someone flew it back home, where the FBI or whoever "seized" it--you know, the little trick they use to claim stuff that's used in the commission of a crime, so they can sell it later and keep the money. I could've come out and revealed myself, but I still didn't trust any of these people, who might've just pocketed me, like I said.
In fact, the more I thought about it, the more I wanted to stay in hiding. I wondered if I could maybe survive on my own. This is before I knew anything about you, Wendy, or I probably would've been more courageous. Instead, every time I looked down at the tarmac and thought about trying to sneak into the airport, I'd see some bug fly past or whatever and get all scared. I had enough food squirreled away to last a while, so I never quite worked up the courage to try it.
Then something really surprising happened--a car drove up and a couple men got out, one of whom I recognized. Not Ray, but Frank Lassiter, of all people. The man with him, Hank something-or-other, was someone with enough connections to let him visit the plane. Turns out Ray knew all about me somehow--I still don't know exactly how, but I suspect Lou must've told him at some point. Lou knew damn near everything that went on at the Compound and was Ray's nephew to boot, so it stands to reason he'd fill in his trusted uncle about all that stuff. So he must've spilled the beans on me, and for whatever reason Ray looked the other way, at the time. Maybe they had a private arrangement or something. I don't know, and Ray wouldn't tell me when I asked about it.
Anyway, Frank got on the plane and started calling out to me, telling me I can stop hiding and they've got a place for me, where I can stay small and do all the things I like to do. They'll put me in charge of something important, and I can do spy missions and that sort of stuff. I'll be taken care of and not tortured anymore, unless I really want it. Plus, if I don't come out, sooner or later someone else is going to find me and then who knows what'll happen?
So of course I decide this is really my only chance, and I come out, at which point the other guy there hands Frank a hundred dollar bill and says "You win." Guess they had a bet going on whether or not I'd actually be there, huh? Frank explained that he managed to visit Mike before the execution, and he begged Frank to find me and make sure I was okay--that his only regret was not getting me someplace safe. So I guess he really did love me after all, huh? He was such a nice guy. I do miss him sometimes, I really do.
Anyway, you can probably guess the rest. Frank brought me here, and they told me what this was all about, and of course I agreed to stay and help. It's really pretty fun, actually. I'm totally protected, I've got useful stuff to do, I can write in my off time, and I've got good friends to share it with. Plus every now and then they take me out and let me do some spying or steal something, which is awesome. Who wants an ordinary life when you can live like this?
I wouldn't want to be anywhere else!
I nodded as Erika polished off her story. Of course she didn't just rattle that all off in a single shot or anything. A few people asked questions or interrupted and of course they kept on playing cards the whole time, but I'm leaving out all that unnecessary stuff.
The main reason I wanted to know all that, if you were wondering, is just in case I thought she might be as disillusioned by this place as Marianne and myself. From what Erika told me, though, it didn't sound like it. She seemed perfectly happy here, at least on the surface. I did catch a couple of brief hints here and there that she'd skipped over one or two important details, but I couldn't be sure if that meant anything.
The others had all heard this before, so nothing came as a surprise to them, but I saw Dena shake her head ever so slightly when Erika mentioned the way she barely cared about how Mike got captured near the end. I couldn't tell from Erika's voice or reaction how truthful she'd been, but Dena obviously didn't believe it. Something to ask her later, I decided, assuming I could ever get her to talk to me at all. The only way that would happen is if I sucked up to her something fierce, and that's one of many things I just don't do well.
Shortly after Erika's story ended, they finished off their card game, which concluded unusually quickly, the way they commented on the proceedings. At the end, Marianne did something called "shooting the moon," which means she took all the point cards, entitling her to some kind of spectacular bonus that won the game on the spot. Dena looked extremely disappointed and decided this might be a good time to start doing something else, and the others agreed to take a break.
"Before we all go our separate ways," suggested Marianne, "I got somethin' else to chat about. I wanted to see if we could figure out what the next tournament's gonna be, so we can start practicin'."
"Oh, yeah, good idea," agreed Kaitlin at once. "What'd we do last time? Scavenger hunt, wasn't it?"
I raised an eyebrow, which Erika noticed. "We hid some stuff in their quads, and they had to search for it," she explained. "Like an Easter egg hunt. Everybody had a blast."
"Yeah, but some of the quadrants cheated," complained Dena, which I guessed meant her minis must've lost. "They saw us sneaking around and figured out what we were up to beforehand."
"We should probably move them all out of their quads next time," agreed Erika. "Anyway, who's got an idea?"
"Screw that," Dena interjected. "I said earlier Wendy should come up with something. She's the new girl--time for her to contribute."
Marianne started to say something, but I instantly replied, "Fair enough. How about kite flying?"
They all looked at me like I'd lost my mind. "Say what?" asked Erika in confusion.
"You heard me. Make them all build kites, and see how high they can get them to fly in the Barn."
"Nice idea," said Dena condescendingly, "but it'll never work. There's no wind in here, if you hadn't noticed."
"Ah, but there could be easily enough," I pointed out. "I've seen those big fans around the perimeter, which I guess are for when it gets hot in the summer, right? Just set those up, pointing over the top of each quadrant. They've all got open patches of ground they can use for kite flying. You might only need one fan--the same one for everybody, so they all have the same amount of wind, and nobody has any undue advantage."
Dena started to say something, but narrowed her eyes as she tried to come up with a reason it couldn't work, probably just to spite me. In the meantime, Kaitlin commented, "I can see how they'd make their own kites--use leaves and branches and whatnot from whatever grows in their quad. But what about string? They've got spools of thread, but it's all normal-sized, so they can use it for rope."
"Yeah, that'd be too heavy," I agreed with a shrug. "It'd just crash the kites, probably. You'll have to get the guards to miniaturize some. Besides, the minis could use it for other things after the contest--tying up their hair, for example. They'd only need a couple rolls apiece, so it's not like it's a big expense."
"I like it," Kaitlin remarked, nodding thoughtfully. "It's something creative they can all get involved in."
"Yeah, and if we limit how much string they get," Dena pointed out, "they'll fight like hell over who gets to use it."
"Whatever gets their tiny little minds off the idea of escaping is fine with me," Erika agreed. "Nice thinking, Wendy. They'll be building those kites every free moment."
I smiled, a little proud of myself at that idea, which had been flitting about at the edge of my consciousness since I first noticed that industrial-sized fan a short while ago. Plus, I liked the idea of the minis having to scavenge for anything useful they could find and use it to solve a problem. Anything to get their minds off their predicament. Besides, if they learned something, and then got sold to somebody later, they might come up with a way to escape. The idea of a few little Wendy clones running around in the wild, dodging their would-be owners, appealed to me for some reason.
"Okay, sounds like it's decided, then," Marianne said, smiling at me proudly. "That was pretty easy. Come on, Wendy, let's go tell our quads so they can get started."
"What, right now?" asked Dena doubtfully. "Why not just wait for evening roll? Besides, we don't even know if we can get the string."
"Oh, don't worry about that," said Kaitlin with a sly wink. "Just let me take care of that little detail."
Dena rolled her eyes. "You and your giant," she muttered. "Fine, I guess we might as well spread the news. It'll give them something else to do the rest of the day. We're judging entirely on height, then? Of the kites, I mean."
"How about three categories," suggested Erika. "Highest flyer, most maneuverable, and best looking."
"Oh, good idea," said Kaitlin eagerly. "I can see how to judge height, though, but who decides maneuverability and appearance? We're all biased towards our quads."
"Just get the guards on duty to rank them," said Dena. "We've done that plenty of times. They always like getting involved in our game, anyway."
"Sure, sounds good," agreed Erika. "Okay, then, it's all set. I'm off to warn my girls. Kaitlin, you'd better get that string, or there's gonna be a lot of disappointed minis on Saturday."
"Don't worry, I got it covered. Taylor just can't say no to me."
"Just like a good giant pet," chuckled Erika. "Mike couldn't say no, either."
"Oh, Taylor's not like that," Kaitlin replied with a sigh. "We love each other more than anything. He's going to marry me, you know."
"Really? He popped the question, finally?" Marianne raised an eyebrow.
"No, but we've talked about it. We won't be working here forever, you know. As soon as Taylor has enough money saved up, we're going to leave here, get married, and raise a family--and we're not going to grow apart like Erika and Paul, either. I won't let that happen."
I nodded, though somehow I doubted it'd be that easy to leave Ray Ellsworth's service. "So you're not going to stay small, then?"
"Oh, no, much as I'd like the idea," she replied, "I can hardly have children if I'm three inches high! No, we'll probably go to Los Angeles or somewhere close, so we can visit the Paradisney miniaturizer when we want, just for old times' sake. Unlike some of you, being tiny isn't the whole world to me--Taylor is."
"Okay, okay, whatever," sighed Dena. "Enough lovey-dovey crap, or I'm gonna be sick. I'm outta here."
She followed Erika over to the elevator, obviously eager to get the news to her minis right away. Dena definitely didn't like to lose. I wondered if she'd help them make their kites? Possibly, though that would be against the spirit of the game--but of course we hadn't specifically made a rule against it, so who knows what she might do?
Kaitlin didn't leave immediately, but instead headed over to the edge of the table, hopped up onto the rail alongside, and waved at something. "What's she up to?" I wondered as Marianne got a drink of water from the pool.
"Signalin' loverboy," replied Marianne. "They don't got cameras watchin' the dollhouse, y'know, least not so far as I know, so she has to wave at that one there. If Taylor sees, he'll come in a couple minutes. He's got camera duty till late roll tonight."
"Do they have any kind of regular schedule or anything?" I asked curiously as I quenched my thirst. "Just in case there's anybody I want to avoid."
"Not really, they mix it up every week," Marianne replied. "Why, you plannin' on escapin'?"
"Maybe," I replied in a low voice.
She started to reply, but glanced around worriedly. Then she grinned and gave a half-hearted laugh, obviously pretending like I'd been joking. "Oh, you're hilarious, Wendy! Escape? Why? We ain't prisoners, y'know. You wanna leave, just ask."
"Yeah, I know," I replied with a fake smile, but I'm sure my eyes told her I didn't believe it. "Oh, hey, you were right, here comes somebody now."
Sure enough, a giant entered the Barn and walked over to the dollhouse, looming overhead like Ricky did earlier in the day. In contrast to the New Yorker's long hair and Elvis-style sideburns, Taylor kept his sandy brown hair impeccably cut and very short. He had a wide, round kind of face, but not fat or anything--he didn't have an ounce of fat on him anywhere, probably. If he hadn't been wearing a long-sleeved button-down shirt, I bet I would've seen some seriously ripped chest muscles. As it was, he just looked powerful, the kind of man any woman would've loved to ride off into the sunset with.
"Sup, hon?" he asked brusquely, obviously a man of few words. "Saw you wavin' on the monitors."
"Yeah, the girls and I were talking," called out Kaitlin as she jumped into his waiting hand, "and Wendy came up with a really cool idea for the tourney this weekend."
"Oh? What's that?" he inquired, holding her up and smiling as he ran his fingers over her back. Unlike some of the other guards, he seemed to have perfect teeth. Either he didn't fight as much as the others, or he knew a really good dentist.
"Flying kites," she replied, stretching out a bit in his palm. "Isn't that awesome?"
"Yeah, pretty good," he agreed. "Whatcha need me for, love?"
"Well, the minis can make their own kites," she told him, "but they don't have any kite string. You think you could run to the hardware store and buy a couple dozen rolls?"
"Sure," he agreed immediately, "as long as Frank says it's okay. Maybe it's a security risk, or something. No idea what goes through his head sometimes."
"Okay, fine," she agreed somewhat reluctantly. "You'll put in a good word for us, though, right?"
"Oh, sure, it sounds like a sweet idea," he told her. "So Wendy came up with this, you say?"
"Yeah, have you two met? That's her right there."
He leaned down to get a closer look at me, then gave a loud whistle of approval. "Whoo-eee! Damn, you're hot! Where do they keep finding all these absolutely gorgeous women, anyway? Sheesh!"
Kaitlin put her hands on her hips and glared at him, deliberately exaggerating the gesture. "You big lech!" she yelled. "I'm right here, you know!"
He grinned and laughed at her. "Oh, yeah, of course, I almost forgot. Sorry, honey! So anyway, nice to meet you, Wendy."
"Same," I called out.
"I don't suppose you'd be interested in a three--" he began, but Kaitlin kicked her boot into his hand immediately and he stopped in mid-word, grinning so widely I thought his face might split open.
"Don't you dare finish that sentence, mister!" she yelled. "She just got here, you know! Besides, I want you all to myself!"
"Oh, I'm sure we could figure something out," he snickered. "I bet you'd never even know she's there!"
He glanced back down at me while he tickled her until she broke down laughing. I suppose he might've hoped to see some amount of interest from me, but if so, I'm sure I disappointed him. If you think about it, you can only imagine one way that scenario can play out--with one of us girls on the giving end, and the other receiving. I didn't relish the thought of pleasuring some guy while he fondled the girl he loved, and I'm quite certain Kaitlin wouldn't like it the other way around. Best to stay the hell out of that situation entirely, I figured.
"Oh, you're impossible," Kaitlin sighed once she'd finished giggling uncontrollably. "Okay, then, have your fun! Now do me a favor and put me down by my quadrant, would you? The others are already telling theirs about the contest. Catch you two later!"
He turned and walked away, carrying his little cargo swiftly out of sight. I glanced at Marianne, rolling my eyes. "I sure as hell hope we never get like that," I told her. "If that's what you want me to be like, just shoot me now."
"Don't worry, it makes me wanna puke, too," she told me, wrapping her arm around my waist. "I'll settle for the occasional kiss and roll in the hay. Not just now, though--gotta tell our bugs what we're up to."
"Fine, whatever," I told her, providing the kiss she asked for before stepping away somewhat reluctantly. "Hang on a second, I'm gonna go get my spear. I forgot to take it earlier, and it felt wrong not having it."
"Yeah, I know how you feel. You never know when somethin's gonna get in the Barn and cause trouble--might as well be prepared."
I headed back to my room, where I found the weapon I'd made back in Kate's hotel room what seemed like weeks ago. As I picked it up, something small dropped off the handle onto the floor. I picked it up, wondering what could've been balancing there like that, and found a rolled-up strip of paper.
Curious, I pulled it open and saw very small writing there that looked like somebody wrote it with the wrong hand. A note…? What the hell? Who in this place would've written me a secret note?
Suddenly nervous, I glanced back to make sure Marianne didn't follow me. She hadn't, so I read quickly, and this is what it said:
To say this shocked me would've been quite the understatement. So far, I thought I'd been all alone here--that the only ally I could count on would be Marianne, which didn't mean a lot. Actually, she felt more like an albatross than an actual ally, as cold-hearted as that sounds. It's true, though. The way I felt when I thought about what might happen to her if I screwed up--well, let's just say Ray and Frank couldn't have found a better weapon to use against me if they tried.
The note made me feel much better. Somebody else in this place was on my side, and that made a huge difference. I thought about telling Marianne, but decided not to--the less she knew, the better it would be for her. Plus, the note said to come alone, so whoever this was clearly wanted to remain comfortably anonymous.
Anyway, none of that mattered at the moment. I couldn't do any more about that until later tonight. I read the note one last time, tore it up, and pretended to use the restroom, making a show of flushing so Marianne knew why I'd taken a bit longer back in here than originally planned. Then I rejoined her and we headed off to visit the minis.
At each of the quadrants, the story went over about the same way. We called a bunch of the little workers over, explained the contests and the rules, and sent them back to their tasks, with strict instructions not to actually start doing any kite-building until after evening roll call. Marianne insisted the guards were going to be watching extra close to make sure none of the minis slacked off for the next couple of hours, so they better be on their best behavior. I glanced up at the cameras placed here and there, wondering just how close an eye they really kept on the proceedings here. They couldn't catch everything, I'm sure.
Anyway, after we finished with that task, Marianne and I went over and had a look at quadrant 9, the "Insects," so named because apparently nobody could think of an actual bug whose name started with the letter "I." This particular row of quads fell under Dena's charge, and while the workers looked just like any of the others I'd seen, they all dropped their tools and snapped to attention the instant we showed up. Marianne told them to stand at ease, so they did, but without moving from their spot or looking at us. "Dena sure does like discipline," muttered my companion as we took our leave. I suppose as soon as we departed, the minis went back to work, though they didn't move a muscle as long as I could see them.
I'd been hoping for a little quiet time at this point, figuring we had a couple hours before the next roll call, but we didn't get that chance. On our way back towards the table, one of the guards strode up nearby and called for us. "Wendy, Marianne, front and center," he ordered loudly, from a position pretty close to where we'd slipped in among some bean sprouts.
"Ah, shit, that's Damon," complained Marianne. "He thinks he's still in the Army, so play along, whatever you do. Might as well go see what he wants."
We stepped out into view and waved up at him. Damon didn't wear a uniform, but his clothes were neatly pressed and crisply tailored, without a hint of any kind of stains or fraying about the edges. He bent over to reach for us, and I saw he wore his short hair in a military-style crew cut. His face looked craggy and weathered, with a crinkly scar running across his left eyebrow. Intense gray eyes stared down at us as he placed his hand on the ground. "You are to report at once to General Lassiter," he commanded. "Step into the transport."
Neither of us hesitated. His hands were rough and calloused, but his fingernails looked immaculate. As soon as he stood and made sure we were comfortable, he started walking out of the dollhouse, keeping his arm level so his hand bobbed up and down as little as possible. He didn't march around or anything stupid like that, though.
"Army, huh?" I inquired curiously. "I never would've guessed."
"Yeah, he's been followin' Frank around ever since West Point," explained Marianne. "He got some kinda head injury durin' trainin' and got kicked out, but Frank took him in like a li'l lost puppy dog. I ain't sure if he's really play-actin' the whole military thing, but it's always like this--he thinks we're all soldiers, and this is a secret military op, with Ray and Frank as the generals in charge. Don't try and talk him outta it, either--it just pisses him off."
"So if we're soldiers," I asked, "does that mean he doesn't play with us like the other guards?"
"I guess," she answered with a shrug. "He ain't never tried nothin' with me, at least, though I'm pretty sure he's had turns with Dena and Erika. He comes and gets me from time to time like this, whenever he's the one on duty and Frank or Ray wants me for somethin'." She shuddered and threw her head back, sighing. "And I think I know what that somethin' is. 'Bout time, too."
"He's gonna use those gloves on you," I stated, realizing as I spoke how much I really disliked the idea.
"Yeah," she agreed happily, hugging herself and shivering in anticipation. "Dontcha remember, he said yesterday, next time you'd be givin', so he must want you to put on the knives, and I get my reward for findin' you. Oh, it's givin' me goosebumps just thinkin' about it!"
"Marianne," I told her, "you know it's just another drug, right? He's controlling you with this."
"Yeah, I know," she agreed at once. "I know, but it feels so goooood! I just can't help myself. When I think about everythin' I had to get through to get here, all those men and all that pain--and all I ever needed was a guy with a glove who knew how to use it…ohhh, this is it! This is what I need!"
I shook my head. So much for trusting her to escape with me! No wonder Ray didn't worry about her trying to run away when she camped out in Andrew's house hoping I'd return. He knew she'd come back. She might've talked big about not being able to stand watching the minis get tortured, but when it all came down to it, she'd do anything for another touch from those gloves.
I shuddered, remembering my own experience in Ray's hand the day I arrived. I recalled feeling that same kind of euphoria, along with the painful knowledge that I might lose myself in it. My body certainly liked the idea of another session--the way I started tingling just thinking about it made me want to cringe. Yet I knew if I let him do that to me again, I'd lose control. What if he started interrogating me? I couldn't even remember most of what happened last time. I might say or do anything, anything at all, and that would be a disaster.
"Marianne," I said quietly, "do you really want to get out of this place, or do you want to stay, and be Ray's little toy forever? Cause that's where it sounds like you're heading."
She looked back at me and blinked a couple of times. "Yeah," she said after a moment. "Yeah, I see what you're gettin' at. He's got me, don't he? I can't think straight when them gloves get holda me."
"Exactly," I pointed out. "It's like you're on drugs again. I could feel it, when he held me--it felt just like a really good trip. Only it's worse, because he's the one making it happen. As good as it feels, he could make it bad just as easily. You remember the way he used to use those tools. He'd use them again, if he thought it'd get him what he wants."
"He wouldn't do that to us," she argued, "but yeah, if things went wrong…"
"Yeah." I nodded firmly, emphasizing my point. "We're not the only ones here, either. You think he's that nice to everyone else? What about when he brings the minis here? What do you think he does to them?"
"I don't know." Marianne lowered her gaze and grabbed hold of the nearby fingers as we started up the stairs inside the house. "You know about that, huh?"
"Yeah, I heard some things," I answered with a nod.
"Nobody knows what he does to them," she explained quietly. "Someone comes and takes 'em, and that's the end of it. We never know what happens after that, but it can't be good."
"Some of them probably get killed," I pointed out. "The ones that break, I mean. The others, they're probably sold as pets to some rich bastard somewhere out there in the world."
Marianne nodded slowly. "I figured as much. Gotta be somethin' like that. I don't like it--nobody does, 'cept maybe Dena, and we don't talk about it much. I'm just glad it ain't me that's goin', that's all."
I started to say something else, but before I could, we reached Ray's library. Damon stopped and stood at attention, actually clacking his heels together as he snapped into place. "Lieutenant Lohnstein reporting as ordered, sir!" he called out.
Ray stood up from his chair, and to my surprise, Frank Lassiter also rose from another seat nearby. I hadn't noticed him over the high-backed leather seat until just then. "Stand at ease," ordered Frank. "I see you found them both. Good, set them down here on the table."
Damon complied, lowering us onto a coffee table amidst a couple of thick hardback books. "Will there be anything else, sir?" he asked crisply.
"No, lieutenant, you can return to your post."
"Yes, sir!"
Damon pivoted around and marched away without another word. Meanwhile, Ray and Frank both sat back down. They were dressed causally, Ray in khaki slacks and a collared short-sleeved shirt, while Frank wore a T-shirt and faded blue jeans. I'd noticed those on him the night before, along with the same huge belt he wore right now, but I'd been too low to the ground to get a really good look at his face. In contrast to Ray's slightly pudgy features, Frank had a sharply angled chin ending at a little round knob speckled with five o'clock shadow. His nose seemed too large for his face, the tip drooping down and almost touching his lips. Not the most attractive guy I'd ever seen, needless to say.
"I've often wondered," said Ray, sipping from a glass he'd been holding, "whether the 'lieutenant' there really knows everything that's happening around him, but chooses to maintain the military illusion as a conscious choice."
"Oh, I'm pretty sure he's just fucked in the head," commented Frank, paying little attention to the two tiny observers standing nearby. "Every shrink I've ever taken him to says the same thing--he really believes he's in the military, and we're his commanding officers. I'd feel sorry for him, if he weren't so goddamn useful."
"So true," agreed Ray, setting down his drink and finally seeming to notice his little visitors. "Now, Wendy, tell me, how did you enjoy your first day here on the Ranch?"
"Not too bad," I called out, remembering that I had to raise my voice to be heard whenever I'm not right in front of somebody's face. "Nice setup you've got here. I must admit, you took me by surprise with the minis. I hadn't expected that."
He chuckled. "Yes, it's nice to have your own miniaturizer on site, isn't it? After what your friend Kate arranged at the Compound, I figured keeping our guests a tenth of that size would keep problems to a minimum."
"She's not my friend," I insisted forcefully, "but yeah, you got a point. I doubt you've got anything to fear from anybody that tiny. Plus, I gotta admit, it's pretty damn cool being around people smaller than me for a change."
"I'm glad to hear you say that," Ray remarked, "because I've got a special treat for you. I just got the word--we've got a new arrival coming in later tonight, and she's being assigned to quadrant 12. Since you'll be taking over that particular quadrant soon, I figure you need to get used to introducing fresh minis to their new home. Marianne, you can help her, if you like, but only this one time. After the weekend, I expect her to be able to run her own quadrant without assistance."
"Sure," agreed Marianne with a shrug. "You let me have about a week to get used to the place, so that's about right."
"Something else you need to know about this one," put in Frank from close by. "This one's unusual--well, you'll see what I mean when she arrives. Let's just say she's a special request."
I nodded, wondering if this might be somebody from the Compound or somewhere else I'd been before. "Someone I should know?"
"Not personally, no," said Frank. "I'm pretty sure you've never met, but trust me, you'll recognize her. Anyway, she should be here just after roll call, so we'll come get you after that. Go straight back to the dollhouse afterwards, got it?"
"Yes, sir," I replied. "Oh, and before I forget, nice to see you again, Frank. It's been a while."
"Ah, yes, sorry about the lack of introduction," Ray said, looking momentarily chagrined. "How terribly rude of me."
"Yeah, we've been watching you on the monitors so much, I forgot I never actually talked to you yet. My bad."
"It's okay," I answered, shrugging. "It's not like I'm used to formalities, anyway. You here all the time, or just visiting, like you did at the Compound?"
"I've got a room here," explained Frank, "but Ray runs me ragged all the time, off on little errands every goddamn day, it seems."
"The price I pay for being dead," laughed Ray. "Speaking of that, don't you have a mission to plan, or something?"
"Oh, yes, of course." Frank stood up and flashed a quick wave of goodbye. "I'm headin' down for a quick smoke, then back to the war room. I expect you'll be by shortly?"
"Sure, but don't wait for me," Ray told him. "You don't exactly need me, anyway. I leave it up to you to decide what to do--my part in this is purely observational."
"Whatever," agreed Frank, heading for the door. "Just make sure she's on board, and we're good to go. Now, where'd I put that lighter…?"
He left the room, and I could hear his feet tromping away down the hardwood floor. A few moments later, he descended the staircase, his footsteps echoing away in the distance.
"Yesterday," said Ray, taking another drink from the glass by his side, "I asked if you were willing to help us capture Kate Powers. I assume that's still the case, correct?"
"Yes, it is," I replied, trying to sound a bit annoyed by such a silly question. "Why? Is that what you're going to be talking about in this 'war room' of yours?"
"Yes, exactly so. I've had any number of ideas about setting a trap for her, but I'm not a military man, and have little experience in such matters. For this, I defer to Frank and his team of experts, such as the slightly schizophrenic but otherwise capable Lieutenant Damon Lohnstein, as well as several others. They're going to put together a very specialized operation with you as the focal point, Wendy. The details will be hashed out tonight, but in essence, you're going to allow yourself to be spotted in such a way that Kate comes running, and when she does, we'll capture her and bring her here. You should expect this to happen sometime in the next week or so, perhaps two weeks at most."
"Fine with me," I replied. "The sooner, the better. I'm sick of running from that bitch anyway. Whatever gets her off my back is perfect."
"So you don't mind taking this risk?" he asked curiously. "No military operation ever goes perfectly, as I'm sure you know. If something goes wrong, you can expect to be captured by the FBI, and I doubt very seriously I could intervene, once they have you in custody."
I shrugged. "Yeah, the thought's crossed my mind," I admitted, "but I'm sick of running, anyway. That's why I went back to Andrew's place. I thought I could finally find some peace and quiet. Yeah, that sure worked out, huh? Anyway, it's worth the risk, if it takes her out of the game. If I get caught, well, at least it's over, right? In prison, they won't make me eat bugs or ride around on car bumpers in the middle of winter."
"True, true." Ray seemed pleased with my response. "In any case, I thought you should know all this, because you're the one who'll be most important in whatever plan Frank comes up with. Everything will hinge on you. I don't have to point out that I'll be taking quite a risk, as well. Should you fail, I'll be forced to pack up this entire facility and move elsewhere, because I can't afford the chance that they can track your movements back to me. You've already seen enough of the Ranch that should you describe it well enough, I'm sure they could identify the location."
"Oh, I'll keep your secret," I pointed out. "You don't have to worry about that."
"It's not that I don't trust you," said Ray calmly, "but I can hardly expect you to stand up to the kind of interrogation I know they're capable of. Or that you'll refuse the opportunity to plea-bargain or acquire immunity in exchange for testimony. In fact, I'd be disappointed if you didn't attempt the latter. You'd be a fool not to. No, should things go wrong, I'll move at once. In fact, you can expect to see preparations for this already in motion before you depart. I like to be prepared, as I'm sure you're well aware. Speaking of which, take these."
He reached onto the coffee table and picked up a miniaturized bag, which he dropped at my feet. I didn't need to look to know what I'd find inside--some very heavily modified gloves and boots. Without a word, I started putting them on, and nearby, Marianne--who'd remained quiet as much as possible this whole time--gave a barely audible gasp. She started quickly removing her clothes, and I could hardly miss the way she started trembling with excitement.
"Just like back at the Compound, huh?" I inquired as I put on the blade-covered boots. "Anything special I should know?"
"Not particularly," replied Ray, taking off his shirt and pants and reaching for those special gloves of his. Yep, he's put on a few pounds, I noted inwardly, trying not to think about how much I wished he'd use those gloves on me tonight. "Just keep moving, and step up the tempo like you remember."
I nodded. Next to me, Marianne finished stripping, and Ray plucked her off the table without another word, settling back on the couch and waiting. I hopped over there, climbed into position, and danced my bloody dance, trying not to watch as he stroked and fondled Marianne like the little toy she was.
That could be me, I kept thinking the whole time, much as I hated myself for it. When do I get another turn…?
I didn't mind jumping and rolling around on Ray's moderately overweight body. Actually, there's a kind of simple elegance to the task. You have to skate just a little bit as you land, so the blade cuts just enough to draw a slight amount of blood, but not too deeply or you get stuck. Plus you get into a rhythm, timing each stroke of your arm or leg with his rapidly accelerating breathing and the little cries coming from his hand.
What really bothered me were those ecstatic little squeaks, which I'm sure echoed mine from yesterday. Like I said, I wished that were me, but more than that, I felt intensely jealous of Marianne. A couple of times, when I heard her obvious screams of orgasm, I almost stopped the dance, thinking I could go on strike or something ridiculous like that, but I forced myself to go on without breaking stride. Something like that wouldn't help--it would only make things worse.
In due course Ray stiffened and climaxed, which meant I could finally stop. I slid off of his sweaty stomach and changed back to my own boots and gloves, putting the knife-covered ones back in the bag. Meanwhile, he just kept working on Marianne, a bit more intensely now. From where I stood, I could see his face, and he had an expression of pure glee as he played with her. Something about that look made me shudder--the way he just knew he owned her, beyond a shadow of a doubt. With every movement of his fingers, he brought forth another high-pitched squeal, rising higher and higher, until finally her voice broke and she collapsed in his grip, gasping and panting for breath.
He set her down next to me, and her head lolled to the side, a look of total bliss on her sweat-covered face. After cleaning himself off, Ray stood and pulled his pants back on, setting the gloves aside. "I suppose you'd like another chance at that?" he inquired casually, studying me with a curious glint in his eye.
"Of course," I replied truthfully. "That's all I've been thinking about, if you really must know."
He drew closer, looking at my face, his giant eyebrows drawing together until they all but merged. I suppose he must've been looking for some indication I'd been lying, but I really wasn't. Not for the reasons he thought, though.
"Well," he said at length, "I'm sure you know the rules by now. Each of you dolls gets a turn, unless you do something special to earn an extra session. I understand you've made an agreement to change the order based on who wins the tournament this weekend?"
"That's true," I replied, remembering the bargain the others made when I first heard about the contest. Whichever doll's quadrant won gets the next turn with the gloves.
"Well, in that case, seeing as you'll be in charge of quadrant L by then, you'll get your chance. Also, just so you know, should we successfully capture Kate Powers, you'll earn another session."
I nodded and flashed a smile his way. "Not that I need any more motivation to bring her in, but thanks for the offer."
"Consider it a gift," he explained with a shrug. "I've waited an awfully long time for a chance at her."
"Pardon me for asking," I asked, "but why don't you just grab her any old time? You should be able to find her easily enough without my help."
He rubbed his chin for a moment, studying me again. I'd already heard part of this when he had that conversation with Frank last night. His reaction pretty much confirmed he knew I'd be listening in, but he didn't admit it. Instead, he gave a few more details this time.
"Well," he told me, using a towel to dab off some of the little rivulets of blood slowly dribbling down his chest, "several times now I've had Frank look into the possibility, but every time, the results are the same--we don't have the manpower to cover every contingency. I'm sure this place looks quite imposing to one your size, but actually, we're a very tiny operation. We know Kate has bodyguards, as well as various tracking devices and other means of following her movements. We just don't have the means to deal with them all. Even our best estimates, on days when we find out she's on the move and we could potentially set up an intercept, we calculate no more than a fifty percent chance of success. I'm just not willing to risk my entire operation on that kind of ratio. Plus, should we fail, I've no doubt they'd quickly learn our location here and I'd be forced to move, which increases the risk factors dramatically."
"I see," I told him, nodding to myself. "Makes sense, I suppose. By using me, you make her come to you. You get the home field advantage."
"Yes, exactly. The precise location for that home field is still in doubt, but Frank will certainly choose a position from which we can cover every angle. We'll know exactly what resources they bring in and will be able to counter each of them in turn. In any event, I should be going now--they'll be discussing that very thing at this moment, and I really need to be there. I'll send the lieutenant up to fetch you shortly." Almost as an afterthought, he set his nearly empty drink glass down nearby. "Oh, if you want to finish this off, feel free. Good day, Wendy."
He strode away, thumping off down the hall without looking back. I looked at the glass dubiously for a moment. It stood taller than myself, so if I wanted to get inside, I'd have to climb over the edge and drop down into the watery liquor at the bottom. I suppose I could've used my spear to hoist myself in and back out again, but somehow I didn't feel like it. Ray only left this here as a reminder of my tiny size, and how I'd have to work to earn any kind of reward I might want from him. Normally I wouldn't pass up a chance at some alcohol, but claiming his watered-down leavings didn't exactly excite me very much.
Instead, I wiped off some of the condensation from the outside and wiped it on Marianne's forehead. She awoke a moment later, sighing and running her hands up and down her naked body. Damn, she looked good, too. I hadn't really had a moment to appreciate how firm and toned she'd become in the last couple of years. Back at the Compound, she looked pretty, but in a beauty-queen kind of way, not athletically. The muscles looked great on her--especially all sweaty like this.
She sat up after a moment, blinking a couple of times. "Oh, wow, that was fuckin' awesome," she sighed blissfully. "You okay, Wendy? You look a li'l upset."
"Yeah, I'm fine," I told her. "I was just admiring the way you look, that's all."
Marianne blushed slightly and stood up, still running her hands up and down her slim body, probably feeling that same tingly sensation I remembered all too well. "You're just sayin' that," she told me, grinning as she reached for her clothes.
"No, I mean it. I don't remember seeing you quite as buff as this before. You look much better than I remember."
"Yeah, I've been workin' out," she admitted. "Lemme guess, you watched him doin' that, and now you're all hot and bothered, right?"
I laughed. "Sort of, but after what he just put you through, I'm not gonna ask you to fool around. Maybe later."
She grinned. "Well, actually, I got an idea, if you're willin'--somethin' I been thinkin' about since I saw you get the treatment yesterday."
"What's that?" I asked curiously.
"Ooh, not so fast, it's a surprise," she said with a sly wink. "Hey, what's this, Ray leave his drink here?"
"Yeah, it's vodka, I think."
"Cool, hold my legs while I get me some."
We both hopped up to the edge and I did as she asked, hanging onto her ankles while she dangled over the side, scooping up a couple of mouthfuls. "Eww, watery," she complained, "but man, I'm gonna have a buzz real soon. It don't take too long when I'm this size. Haul me up, someone's comin'."
I saw the liquid shaking in the glass as I pulled her out, listening carefully. Sure enough, some loud clacking sounds reverberated down the hall. A moment later "Lieutenant" Lohnstein came around the corner, spotted us, and put his hand next to the table. "The General ordered me to take you back to the barracks, soldiers," he told us. "Step aboard."
"We got us a secret mission first," insisted Marianne, putting an arm out so I'd stay on the table. "Hold me up so I can tell you quiet-like."
"This is a violation of protocol," complained Damon, "but very well. What is it?"
He lifted her up and Marianne whispered something in his ear. I tried to listen, curious about what she might be intending, but didn't hear anything. Whatever she planned, it must've been amusing, judging by the way she kept grinning and chuckling to herself. Damon didn't react much, except to nod, but I somehow doubted it'd be too easy to get any emotions out of him.
"Very well, I'll accept the change in orders," said the would-be lieutenant. "Soldier Sugarton, you are to come with me at once." He didn't wait for any kind of confirmation, but swept me off the table in his other hand, depositing me next to Marianne a moment later. Holding us carefully, he headed out of the building.
"You're really enjoying this, aren't you?" I asked.
She nodded vigorously. "You're gonna enjoy it too, I betcha."
"Just a hint, then? C'mon…"
"Nope, it's a surprise. And no lookin'! That'll give it away." She pushed on my shoulders to turn me around, so I could only see behind me. I got a pretty good look at the wide, painting-filled hallways and polished hardwood floors of the mansion's interior, and the arched doorway and adjacent columns as we headed out the front, but that's about it.
Instead of begging for more hints, I instead tried to picture the layout of the Ranch in my head, from what I remembered seeing earlier today and late last night. Damon took a right turn, following one of the walkways, but instead of heading straight towards the cabins, he instead angled back to the left, where I remember seeing the restoration shack and all the electronic equipment inside. For a moment I had a sinking feeling that maybe Marianne had the idea of restoring us for some reason, but before I could speak out against that, Damon took another turn, and now I knew his destination beyond a shadow of a doubt.
"The miniaturizer?" I asked curiously. "What's this all about?"
"Aw, you peeked!" complained Marianne.
"Nope, I just know where we're going," I insisted. "You learn to keep track of where things are, when you're running around in the wild like I do. So what's the plan? Does Damon here like being shrunk or something?"
"Nope, the guards don't do that, usually," explained Marianne. "Well, Kaitlin says Taylor will sometimes, if she asks real nice, but I never heard of the others going in there voluntarily."
"Voluntarily?"
"Yeah, well, there's a story I heard, after I got here…somethin' Dena told me. She said one time this one guy, I think his name was Matthew, broke some rule--I think he tried keepin' one of the minis for himself, or somethin', but whatever--anyways, Ray put him in the miniaturizer, and made him disappear."
I raised an eyebrow at that, but before she could explain, Damon reached the inside of the barn and set us down in front of the miniaturizer. "Delivered as ordered," he told us. "You need me for anything else, soldiers?"
"Nope," said Marianne, "but you can tell the operator what I'm up to, on your way out."
"Will do." Damon stood and headed around a nearby block of machinery, to a couple of stairs leading up to a small (well, relatively small) operator's room with a wide glass window. They probably stationed a guard up there all the time--I sure as hell would, if I were them.
Still not sure what Marianne intended, I returned to the earlier topic. "They made him disappear…?"
"Yeah, y'know what I mean, right? They set the machine for max miniaturization and down he went."
I shuddered at that. Janice in the Box seemed pretty damn small--could people get even smaller than that?" What's the max?" I asked worriedly.
"I ain't sure," said Marianne, "but it's, like, bacteria sized, or somethin'. Too small for even us to see. Not sure if a mini could, but it don't matter. There ain't no way anybody could survive like that. Matthew woulda died pretty quick. Anyways, I heard a rumor, that's what happened to them mercenaries, too--the ones that helped you steal the machine."
"Oh really?" Now this I hadn't heard. In fact, I remember Sally telling me a few days ago, when she filled me in on what happened after the SoCal thing, that Alex Hall couldn't find the mercenary team, and spent a long time looking. I wonder what he'd say if he knew the truth--and how close he'd come to meeting the same fate?
"Yeah," Marianne went on. "That's what I heard, anyways. Whatever. That ain't what's happenin' now, though. Go on, get in."
"Get in?" I asked, still not quite getting it, mostly because she distracted me with all that max-miniaturization talk, but also because sometimes I can be pretty damn dense.
"Yeah, go on, step inside," she insisted, grinning from ear to ear. "I'm gonna give you the Ray Ellsworth treatment, Tarinski style!"
I thought about refusing--she almost certainly wanted to make me the size of the minis, after all, which I didn't like much--but that really didn't matter, did it? She wouldn't be taking me out there, into the Barn, or anything like that. She just wanted to hold me…
I remembered then the way I felt when she picked me up the last time, just after my arrival, when they briefly forced me to get restored. I'd been so relieved to get back to "normal" size, I didn't let myself really appreciate the ramifications. What would it really be like, to be Marianne's plaything for a while…?
I decided to find out, so without a word of complaint, I stepped inside the miniaturizer. Marianne gave a thumbs-up in the direction of that distant glass window, and the lights inside came on. I felt the familiar tingling again, wrapped my arms around myself, and waited for the inevitable.
Sure enough, after a few moments Marianne started getting bigger. She got down on her hands and knees, grinning as she watched me shrink. "This is gonna be fun," she told me in a quiet voice. "I've been wonderin' what it might be like, to play with someone I really care about."
"I've been wondering, too," I admitted, not at all afraid as she got larger and larger before me. After all, I'm used to being three inches high, so seeing giant people didn't scare me. The rest of the world would be truly massive for a while, but I could handle that, as long as she didn't leave me by myself someplace.
"Well, I ain't promisin' I'll be as good as Ray," she told me, picking me up once I got to about a foot high, relative to her. "I've had some practice on the minis, but they ain't exactly cooperative, y'know. Just tell me what to do."
"You'll be fine," I told her, starting to shiver a bit, and not from the chill air. I really couldn't wait to see what this would feel like. Having a woman's fingers touching me…that's something I've never experienced, at least not at tiny size. The very idea made me shudder.
Marianne stood up and started walking out of the miniaturizer, heading towards a cluster of equipment off to the side. As she did, I kept on getting smaller, dwindling even beyond mini-size, until I got to exactly the same proportions I'm used to. Five percent of five, I realized--the same as when they put me in that matchbox and took me to the Compound. I'm half the height of a mini, I thought, still shivering in Marianne's warm grip. What would they think if they saw me now…?
Probably be jealous, I told myself as Marianne settled down into the shadows and started peeling off my clothes. Yeah, definitely jealous…
Marianne might've been inexperienced at this, but it sure didn't feel like it to me. She did everything right, as far as I'm concerned. You don't need some stupid gloves to turn me on--you need just the right amount of gentleness, combined with a little bit of measured violence, delivered at exactly the proper moment. She already knew how to do all of that, just the way I liked it.
After a while--I'm really not sure how long, exactly--she finally brought me to pleasure for the fourth or fifth time (I lost count), and I just sort of collapsed, heaving and gasping, totally exhausted. Ray would've knocked me out, I'm sure, which would've robbed me of the amazing afterglow I felt right now. My giantess lover, smiling face looming overhead, just stroked me softly on my back, clearly enjoying the effect she had on me.
I rolled over and kissed her fingertip. "That was amazing," I sighed blissfully. "Screw Ray, anyways! We can do this to each other, any time we want…!"
"Nah," she told me, "this is probably a one-time special. I don't think Ray's gonna like it much when he finds out."
"What makes you say that?" I asked, still amazed at how wonderful I felt. Everything changes when it's someone you care about holding you. I hadn't really let myself relax since Lou held me--Andrew came close, but not quite--and even then, it wasn't quite the same. Probably because he was a man, plain and simple. Yep, there's that ugly misogynistic streak of mine again, but what can I do? I never really trusted men. Women, though…well, at least with Marianne, I knew I could give myself over to her completely, and feel no fear at all.
"We ain't supposed to be usin' the machine like this," came the reply. "Not without supervision. I kinda lied to Damon there 'bout that secret mission bullshit--I hope he don't get into too much trouble."
"You--you shouldn't have done this," I told her, slowly recovering from my recent exertions. "Not if you're gonna get punished! Maybe if you'd just asked him, he would've--"
"Nah, don't worry about it. Now c'mon, get dressed, we got a long walk to the restorer. Maybe Damon won't tell nobody and we'll get off easy, but that ain't gonna happen if we keep lollygaggin'."
I nodded and pulled on my meager outfit, enjoying the feel of the thin fabric as it slid over my hyper-sensitive skin. Marianne's palm felt absolutely wonderful. Exhausted as I was, I probably could've fallen asleep right there, but she stood up and started walking, so I had to hang on. I felt absolutely wonderful, in every possible way. In a happy daze, I imagined myself as Marianne's pet, living as a doll in her normal-sized house, able to enjoy that kind of treatment every night, without any worries or concerns. I could almost see myself getting used to such a thing.
Nah, I knew that wouldn't last. I'm too restless to let things work out like that. I'd need something to do, some risk to take, or I'd go crazy. Besides, the size difference would eventually come between us. As good as it felt to be held in her hand, I wanted Marianne as a lover, an equal--not a master, with me her plaything. If I could be her toy every now and then, as an occasional bonus, sure, but not always and forever. That just wouldn't work.
Ah, what a subtle curse I'd placed upon myself! I realized it now, even as we left the miniaturizer barn and headed out across the vast plain towards the distant, massive building that housed the restorer. I liked being small--I loved it, in fact, and never wanted to change--but how could I ever really be satisfied with anything? I couldn't be a pet or doll, or let myself be found, and I doubted very much I could ever live up to the role of hero--so what could I do? What kind of life could I possibly have? I had no idea. A tiny little thing without a future--that's what I'd become.
I huddled up against Marianne's huge index finger as we walked along, following the edge of one of the walking paths. The world looked distorted--everything at a distance seemed to curve away, like the edges of a fish-eye camera lens. I got a sudden vision of myself looking out from inside one of those tacky snow globe things, with the curving glass making the horizon seem to peel away from my eyes as I tried to look at it. Even the ground looked jumbled and indistinct, probably because my eyes were too small to really focus on anything while we moved.
"Whatcha thinkin'?" wondered Marianne as she ambled carefully along, glancing down at me occasionally but mostly keeping an eye out for anything dangerous that might happen by--or possibly some giant guard heading out to intercept us.
"How tiny I am," I called out to her. "I thought everything was big before, but now, you're the only thing that looks normal."
"Yeah, I figured. You ain't too scared, are you?"
"Not for me," I admitted. "As long as you're holding me, I know I'm safe. I'm just worried about what they'll do to you."
"Whatever they do, it's worth it," she replied with a shrug. "I knew that's the only chance I'd ever have to do that. I wanted to try it, just once. That's all. I'll take whatever they wanna dish out, just to have that memory of you screamin' in my palm."
"What did it feel like?" I asked curiously. "To hold me like that, I mean."
"Awesome," Marianne replied. "You look so fuckin' cute like that. When I was a kid, I had one of them Barbie dolls--I guess damn near every li'l girl does, only not as small as you. I kinda got this memory, like I was young again, and carefree, playin' with my toys, with no idea what poverty was, or why I had no daddy, or why mom had scars runnin' down her arm. None of that shit matters to a kid like me, alone in my own private world. You was my li'l toy, and I could play with you, only this time you wasn't made of plastic. You'd react to every touch, and I liked hearin' all them noises you kept makin'."
"Ah, so, you like me as a toy, then," I said with a chuckle.
"Yeah, well, if you wanna know the truth," sighed Marianne, "it's more than that--you was my toy, and I could do whatever I wanted to you. I loved the way I could make you squeal, just like this." She reached down and tickled me on the stomach, drawing an immediate squeaky giggle. "You gotta try it for yourself, Wendy. You gotta try holdin' one of them minis, next time they get punishment. You don't need to hurt 'em--see if you can do like I just did, if you want. They'll feel all humiliated, so it ain't like a reward or nothin'."
"I couldn't do that," I told her. "Not unless they asked me to. How about you, Marianne? After I get restored, let's go back and try again, only this time you get small. I'm not worried about getting punished--what are they gonna do to me, anyways?"
"Nah, we won't have time," she told me. "See how dark it's gettin'?"
I looked around, trying to follow her pointing finger. The light seemed slightly faded, like a washed-out image on a bad photograph. I couldn't see the sun at all, except as a distant orange glow. I suppose that meant it must be setting. "How long do we have?" I asked.
"Maybe an hour, maybe half an hour," she replied. "Too close to risk it. Maybe later, if I don't get hurt too bad."
"You think Ray's going to--?"
"Yeah, I'll get the knives for sure," she replied, "but I can take it. He ain't gonna hurt me anyways, right?"
"Damn straight," I agreed. "If he does, he can forget about me cooperating any more around this place."
Marianne nodded. "Yeah, but don't you go pushin' too hard on that. If he wants, he can just threaten me, or somethin', and then you gotta do what he says. Same with me."
"Don't think that hasn't crossed my mind," I told her. "Listen, I've been thinking about getting out of here, but I can't see how to do it as long as we've got these tracers. Plus, I'm not leaving without you. Even if I got a chance, maybe when we go try to catch Kate, I won't try it if you're here. We need to try to get Ray to let you come along. If we're together, maybe we can take a chance and get away. Maybe the FBI will have something that can deactivate these bombs quick, before they can get blown up."
"I been thinkin' bout that," she agreed. "You got a point, but I don't know. They'll bring the detonator, I'm sure. We can't do anything risky. They see us doin' anythin' wrong, and kaboom!"
"Yeah, I know, it's a long shot," I agreed, wondering if perhaps I should spill the beans about my tracer--but again, I still didn't have a plan. What's the point of telling her until then? All I'd do is take a chance Ray might get that information out of her somehow. "Anyway, we should just be ready for anything, that's all I'm saying."
"Okay, yeah, but better pipe down," she insisted. "They probably can hear us this close to the shack."
Sure enough, by now we'd gotten pretty close. Marianne took us around the side, to the door, and waited there while a guard came out to let us in. They obviously had cameras all around--another thing to keep in mind if I wanted to sneak inside. I barely noticed that, though, instead staring goggle-eyed at the tremendous shoe close by. Imagine a sneaker 400 feet long--bigger than a football field--and you get the idea. A shoe the size of a small sports stadium! Holy shit, I'm tiny!
Marianne walked in, set me down, and hurried back outside, whereupon the sky-high door slammed shut, almost knocking me over with the rush of wind that followed. When the light came on, I winced and waited it out, unable to see the edges of the room at all. After a couple of moments, though, the walls slowly slid into view, the corners approaching gradually, like the world coming back into existence all around.
The door swung open and Marianne waved me over. "Come on," she yelled. "It's later than I thought--we're on second tick already. Time to go!"
I collected myself, glad to see her almost my size again, and followed to the doorway, whereupon the guard swept us up at once. I started to settle in, expecting to feel Mack's beefy finger or something like that, but discovered to my surprise the skin felt soft and smooth. In fact, if I didn't know better, I'd swear that--
The guard held us up, smiling, and my mouth dropped open in shock as I found myself looking at a woman's face! I couldn't tell before, when I'd been so incredibly small. For some reason, I'd just assumed all the guards in this place would be men. No other possibility even occurred to me.
"Hey there, you must be Wendy," she said in a pleasant-sounding voice. She had a narrow head, with a slightly protruding chin and very tiny lips. Her dark brown eyes slanted up just slightly, suggesting some mixed Asian ancestry, though the chestnut hair contrasted that a bit. Though she seemed decent-looking enough, something about her felt out of place--perhaps the nearly absent eyebrows, or maybe the way her nostrils seemed a bit too big for her dainty little nose. Anywhere else, I suppose she might've looked all right, but in this place, surrounded by gorgeous women (tiny ones, of course, but still quite beautiful), she probably never drew a second glance.
"Hi," I called out as we crossed the distance between shack and Barn in just a few quick steps. "I thought all the guards here were guys."
"Oh, yeah, I'm the only girl," she admitted. "Jordan Carroll, nice to meet you. Maybe you've met Evan Carroll? He's my husband."
"Your husband…?" I shook my head. "No, sorry, haven't met him, but I never thought I'd meet a married couple here."
"Oh, yeah, I know, it sounds weird, but this place is really perfect for us. I'm sure Marianne will fill you in, but just remember, whatever she says, it's a lie!"
"Oh, please, I'm only gonna tell her the mostly juicy stuff," insisted Marianne. "Anyway, thanks for the ride!"
"Anytime," she replied, "and don't worry, I won't tell anybody what you were up to with the miniaturizer. Of course, that means you're gonna owe me--you know what that means."
"Yeah, yeah, sure, whatever," laughed Marianne as Jordan deposited us on the table near the dollhouse. "You'll come get me in what, an hour?"
"Yeah, about then," she agreed. "Bring Wendy if you want. The more, the merrier. See you later!"
Jordan waved and headed back out the door. I turned to look at Marianne. "There's a husband and wife team of guards…?"
"Yeah, forgot to mention that, didn't I?" she replied with a laugh, getting a quick drink at the pool. She sounded a bit over-excited, perhaps because of the watered-down vodka earlier. "Oh, I ain't told you everythin' about this place yet--gotta keep a few surprises!"
"What did she mean by the more the merrier?"
"Oh, that. Well, you see, they like to play with us while they do it," Marianne explained. "They try all kinds of funky positions, y'know? Stuff that wouldn't work without one of us helpin'. You should come see what I mean."
"Oh, that sounds like an absolute blast," I replied with heavy emphasis on the sarcasm, "but don't forget, I've got another assignment tonight."
"What? Oh, yeah, I did forget that. Damn--I wanna be here for that, too, cause you ain't gonna know how that works. Tell you what, grab one of the other dolls and make her help, okay?"
"Sure," I replied with a shrug. "Any recommendations? I suppose I shouldn't really let Dena do it."
"Actually, you should," suggested Marianne. "I know it sounds bass-ackwards, but I'd rather have Dena bring her up to speed. That way she knows 'xactly what she's in for. The others won't be mean enough at first."
I nodded, because I wanted a chance to talk with Dena anyway, and that might get me in the door. Of all the people here, she probably had the best relationship with Ray, Frank, and most of the guards, which meant she might know things the others didn't. Getting her to open up would be something of a trick, but I figured I had to give it a shot, sooner or later.
"C'mon, let's go already, the others are already gone," Marianne insisted as I got a drink and washed my face. I wished I could've had a shower, especially after what I'd been through just now, but obviously I'd run out of time. We headed for the elevator and evening roll call, walking hand in hand all the way.
We started with the L quadrant this time, mixing up the order like Marianne told me, although it wouldn't matter much at first since I'd only have one quadrant under my heel, as it were. I paid close attention during roll, trying to remember the names of everybody she mentioned as she read off the evening's punishments. A couple of girls got time on the pole, and a couple others got sentenced to running laps around the quadrant--apparently that's a pretty easy one, as it turns out.
One girl, a darkly tanned brunette named Jayna, went over 100 demerits and Marianne offered me a crack at her. I accepted, but not until later on tonight, obviously. She didn't meet my gaze as I stared down from on high, which I suppose could've been perceived as disobedience, but she looked so pathetic I couldn't bring myself to torture her any further.
Anyway, as we headed off to quadrant J, Marianne told me what I needed to do--just come back here at some point later, call out Jayna's name, and wait. She'd show up within a couple of minutes, or she started earning demerits--and so did everybody else, but at twice the rate. Apparently, if you didn't give demerits to everybody, then they'd do something stupid like slow her down or tie her up or whatever. You had to motivate them to bring her forward as quickly as possible, even against her will. It made sense, I guess, but damn, this whole place pissed me off.
Not much happened at J--a few girls got punished, but nobody went over 100, so we moved on. At K, the last quadrant, a short-haired blonde named Barbara hit 150 demerits thanks to a couple of fights and a broken farming tool (apparently, it got broken over somebody else's head, but there weren't any permanent injuries). That got her four hours on the pole, plus a promised visit from Marianne later on.
"So," I asked as we headed back to the dollhouse, "what exactly do you do on these private punishment sessions, anyway?"
"Well," Marianne answered with a bit of a blush, "anythin' you want, really. I try givin' 'em somethin' they won't like, though. Somethin' humiliatin', if you can. You get to know what they like once you been around long enough. Barbara, she's real aggressive, that's why she fights a lot. She don't like bein' helpless, so I'm gonna tie her up and have some fun."
"Now I see where you got all those skills of yours," I laughed. "Your fingers sure found the right places real quick."
"Well, I know you pretty well already," she pointed out. "Like, I know you don't want nothin' goin' in the slot, so I'd never do that to you. Barb, though, yeah, I'll find somethin', and she'll go crazy tryin' to squirm away."
"How do you do it, then?" I asked. "You don't like the way they are--how can you do that to them?"
"Two reasons," said Marianne quietly. "One, well, I gotta, y'know? Or they'll find out, and then I'm done. Two, I know she don't really mind it. When she finally comes, I can tell. She just won't let it show. It's like a secret fantasy, y'know? We all got 'em. One of mine was playin' with you. Thanks for lettin' me find out what it's like, by the way."
"Anytime," I agreed, "as long as it's not gonna get you in any more trouble. What about Jayna, then? If I've got to punish her, what do I do?"
"She's a tricky one," Marianne explained. "I ain't quite figured her out yet. She plays like she don't like bein' touched, but I know she does. So I tease her a lot, take off her clothes and such, but never do nothin'. Drives her crazy. You might try just talkin' to her. Just don't feel her up or anythin' like that. She'll pretend like she hates it, but she really doesn't."
"It's a fine line you're walking," I pointed out as we reached the elevator and started heading up. "You don't want to mistreat them, but you don't want to make them glad to get punished, either."
"Yeah, 'xactly right," said Marianne. "It ain't the personal punishment they hate most, though. It's the loss of privs. They only get scraps for food and a couple drops of water a day, and they get the crap work details, too. Bein' over 100 means they don't get nothin' but shit from the other girls. I don't even gotta set that up, y'know. They do their own trackin'. It's self-correctin', too, cause the ones with no demerits end up teasin' the others till there's a fight, then they move on down the ranks, which pisses 'em off even more. God, what a fucked up system!"
"Yeah, I figured that out already," I agreed, stepping off the elevator. As we emerged, I found the others there, all except Erika. They seemed to be hanging around waiting for something, although Dena stood on one of the treadmills, punching a couple of buttons like she intended to get a workout.
"Oh, hey, you made it," called out Kaitlin. "Were you already down there, or what? We were wondering why you didn't come up before roll."
"Oh, we had something we was tryin'," said Marianne, flashing her eyes at me and squeezing my hand. "It was fun, too."
"Oh, for the love of God, keep it to yourselves," Dena grumbled, starting to jog on the treadmill. "You two are worse than Taylor and Kaitlin!"
"You're just jealous," Kaitlin laughed. "You can tell us later, when Dena's not around. And wait till I get back tonight, too. I wanna hear the whole thing. Ah, good, my ride's here."
Taylor's immense visage appeared over the tabletop. "Ready to go, love?" he asked, setting his colossal hand down nearby. "Dinner's waiting."
"Sure, let's go," she agreed at once. "I'm starved! See the rest of you later!"
The hand swept out of view as quickly as it appeared, and Taylor's head bobbed out of view in the distance. Come to think of it, I'd started getting somewhat hungry myself, but that would probably have to wait.
"I guess that answers what she's doing tonight," muttered Dena. "I suppose you two have something disgusting planned that I don't want to know about?"
"Maybe," said Marianne with a grin. "Where's Erika?"
"She didn't even make it back here," Dena told us. "I saw her get grabbed by Lex. He'll give her a good workout, I'm sure, damn it all. You had a crack at him yet?"
I realized she'd asked me that question--the first time she ever really acknowledged me, without prompting from somebody else. Ah, progress! "Nope, haven't met him," I replied with a shrug.
"Well, he'll put you through your paces, that's for sure. I guess I've got nothing to look forward to tonight--all the other guards already had their fun for the day, or they've got something else going on." She flashed a frown at Marianne.
"You could always come with me," my companion suggested--not all that eagerly, I might add. "That'll give Evan something to do while Jordan plays with me."
"Nah, I don't think so," she replied. "I don't like to share."
"Of course you don't." Marianne laughed out loud at that, drawing another scowl from Dena. "Well, you had your chance, I guess. Here comes my ride."
Jordan stepped into view a moment later and plucked her right off the table. "Ready for some fun?" she inquired.
"Yeah, let's go," Marianne agreed immediately. "The others are bein' real stick-in-the-muds tonight, so it's just me."
"Okay, their loss," laughed the giantess, striding away with a quick wave, leaving Dena and I alone. My fellow doll didn't look at me, instead focusing on her jogging, keeping her head turned to one side. I had this funny feeling she was watching me out of the corner of her eye, though.
I thought about talking to her just then, but decided instead I wanted a shower first. They didn't have any deodorant here, as far as I knew, and except for Erika's presumably private supply of cosmetics, they probably didn't have anything like it lying around. Before the new arrival got here, I figured I should freshen up. Introducing her to the Barn by exposing her to my body odor didn't seem like a particularly enthralling concept.
So I took a quick shower, hurrying just in case they showed up with the new girl, my thoughts spinning as I wondered what I should do and say. The evil part of me wanted to just ask Dena to help me out and be done with it, but the nicer side suggested I take the new prisoner aside and teach her the facts of life a bit more cautiously. Marianne might have a point, though--be harsh with her early, and that might help her prepare for the grim reality of life inside the Barn. Plus, I really didn't know what the other girls would do to her once the latest kidnap victim showed up. This seemed much like a prison--and what did new prisoners face when they arrived? Tons of abuse, no doubt, until they found their place in the hierarchy.
So after I finished getting cleaned up, I put on a fresh leotard over some pantyhose, pulled on my other accoutrements, and put my spear and bag in my bedroom. Then I realized my mistake--I'd left my tracer in the backpack! I couldn't really leave that here, now could I? So I threw the bag over my shoulders and went back out to Dena.
"I understand you've got some training to do," she said as I stepped out into the open air, surprising me with her willingness to talk. Had she gotten over her dislike of me already, or did the prospect of a night alone leave her willing to swallow her pride a little?
"Yeah," I agreed, moving closer (but not too close), taking up a position where she could turn her head to look at me as she jogged on the treadmill. "How'd you know that, anyway?"
"Oh, I hear lots of things around here," Dena replied with a secretive smile. "I really run this place, don't you know that?"
I caught the sarcasm, fortunately, or else I might well have believed that. With a quick laugh, I said, "I just bet you do. Frank's secretary, my ass!"
She smiled through narrowed eyes. "I still don't know how you found that out, you know. Mack didn't tell--I know that much. You're not going to tell me the truth, are you?"
"Nah," I replied with a shrug. "We've all got our secrets. Unless you want to tell me your story now. The real story, I mean. Not that lame-ass secretary bullshit."
She glanced away, making a pretense of checking the controls on the treadmill's front panel. I could just see the numbers there, which showed only a couple minutes remaining on the timer. She punched a couple of buttons and the counter jumped to 12. Then she turned to look me in the eye.
"Okay, whatever," she said sternly. "I'm gonna tell you, just cause I want you to hear it from me, not from somebody else. I really hate that shit. So just remember, this is what really happened. Anybody says anything else and they're full of crap, you got it?"
"Yeah, got it," I agreed, although I probably would've said anything just to get her to keep talking.
"Fine. Okay, then, now shut the hell up and listen…"
My father was a member of a Serbian crime syndicate--sort of like the Mob here in the States, but not quite as well entrenched. They had all kinds of crime wars, fighting all the time over blocks of territory all over Belgrade, sometimes against other Serbians, other times against minorities they wanted to oppress--mostly Moslems or anti-EU anarchists who just liked blowing shit up.
Dad didn't mind the life too much, but then he met my mother, and she swept him off his feet. After she got pregnant with me, he couldn't bear the thought of them getting hurt or killed in some random bombing or whatever, so he stole a bunch of cash and ran off to the USA, hiding under a false identity he bought with all that money. We wound up in Cheyenne, Wyoming, of all places, staying away from the big cities where he might be recognized.
The thing is, the people we ran away from don't give up easily, so they came looking for him a few years later. After he got shot for all his trouble, Mom had to raise me by herself. She taught me pretty early on not to take any shit from anybody, and how to use my looks to get ahead. I grew up one of those beauty queen cheerleader types, you know the ones--the pretty girls that sleep with everybody, but nobody asks 'em to the prom cause they're too slutty to be seen with in public. I didn't care, though. I got damn near everything I wanted, and I was better than all the other girls anyway. I didn't need some fucking rhinestone-covered tiara to make me prom queen. I'd already earned that, as far as I'm concerned.
As you can well imagine, I didn't exactly plan on getting married out of high school or any of that crap, unlike some people in this place. Instead, I started looking for ways to make my looks and body pay off. I started taking jobs as a dancer--exotic dancing, that is. You've got no idea how much money I made those first couple of years, because I wasn't afraid of doing anything for a little extra on the side. One thing about that, though--you can't stick around the same place too long. Sometimes guys get ideas about you, and that can turn real bad real quick.
Mom passed away my senior year, some kind of aneurysm thing in her brain that knocked her down for the count. I didn't hang around very long after that, heading out to Seattle to start my new career. I'd move from town to town, taking jobs at various places, slowly working down the coast towards LA, and then on to Vegas. That's really where I came into my own, of course. There's tons of places to dance in that town. Plus, you can work your way up to better things, like the big burlesque shows, you know the ones. Sure, I had to go topless, but who cares? Plus, I had a real advantage, since these are one hundred percent natural. Most of the other girls had enhancements, but not me, and there's plenty of guys who appreciate the real thing. Oh, and some of those guys are fucking rich.
Now I had a chance to make some real money, if I didn't mind all the behind-the-scenes bullshit that goes on. I found I had a real talent for it, actually. I started playing a real dangerous game, bouncing from wealthy man to wealthy man, essentially selling my services to the highest bidder. Only there's something I didn't really know, something that took quite a while to figure out, and that's the way things work between some of these people.
Most of the really rich guys in Vegas are competitors, but they have a kind of respect for each other that you just can't step all over. Not without good reason, anyway. It turns out they had a secret game going on that went pretty deep--a lot deeper than most of them really know. By the time I got even an inkling that something like that existed, I'd already fallen into the trap.
See, these guys treated everyone and everything in Vegas as a possession--something that had a definite "owner," like you might "buy" property in a Monopoly game, and then trade it around, trying to get matching sets. Remember the way you got treated like a poker chip at that stupid casino? Same kinda thing. They'd turned me into a commodity that could be bought and sold, and by the time I figured it out, it was too late. The only escape would be to leave town for good, but then my reputation would precede me, anywhere I went. I'd literally have to quit what I doing, re-invent myself, get a regular job, and all that domestic shit I'd sworn I'd never do.
So instead, I decided to embrace the whole concept. I'd see how valuable I could make myself, in the eyes of this stupid town. I still danced, of course, but I started learning stuff, listening in, gathering information--spying, basically, and keeping track of everything I heard. You have absolutely no idea what kind of power that gets you in a place like Vegas. When you're on the arm of your current "owner," and he's talking to some rival or other, and you drop a name or hint at some secret--well, it gets people's attention. Especially when your "owner" has no idea what you're referring to, but desperately wants to know. You can get damn near anything when that happens, if you time it right.
Of course, this is a really dangerous game to play, as you can well imagine. I had no idea how dangerous, at least not yet. After all, I knew enough secrets to protect myself, I figured. Well, not quite, as it turns out. You see, I learned one too many things--one of those being the real purpose of the Sidewinder casino. The way they'd lure in pretty girls, then make them disappear, so they could become toys for the owners--most of whom I'd met personally, I might add.
Well, somewhere along the line, I muttered something about that in the presence of Frank Lassiter, who wasn't one of the Sidewinder owners, but I knew had a very close association with Ray Ellsworth. I can't even remember what I was trying to do at the time, or exactly what I said, or even why I said it--I just know I said something that got his attention, and not in a good way.
The next thing I know, I find myself in Frank's office, as his new "secretary." That's what he told me to be, at least. He told me I'd been bought and paid for, and I'd be serving him from now on. As part of the price he'd paid, he demanded to know a couple of secrets about his competitors in Vegas and elsewhere. I knew a couple things, but not nearly enough, so he assigned me to find out. Some of what he wanted me to do sounded downright dangerous--the people involved wouldn't hesitate to have me killed, if they found out what I was up to. So I basically told him to shove it--that I wasn't his slave or anything. I'd play the fake lover game, or whatever he wanted, but risk my life for him? No fucking way.
Well, I'll give you three guesses what he did then. Yep, you guessed it, he drove me over to the Sidewinder and shoved me in the miniaturizer. I'd known about that place, of course, like I said before, but I never in my life dreamed I'd ever get shrunk. I had no idea what that could possibly feel like--I'd never even thought about it, quite honestly. So when I looked up at his rapidly growing face and realized what was happening to me, I just about lost it.
See, up until that point, I'd always thought of myself as someone with a lot of power--my body, for example, let me get away with damn near anything, and I'm not afraid to use it when I want, both to get someone's attention and to keep it in the sack. Mom always said, "Your assets are what get you in the door, and your ass is what keeps you there." Smart cookie, my mother. I wish she'd lasted long enough to teach me more.
My looks aren't the only thing I've got going for me, either. All those secrets I learned, and kept inside my head--they gave me power, too. None of that meant a goddamn thing now, though--not as I shrank smaller and smaller, screaming my little head off, trying desperately to run and hide somewhere, but I couldn't get away. Next thing I know, Frank's grabbing me in his hand, shoving me in a box, and bribing Bob Mathias to look the other way as we head right on out the front door.
That night, Frank showed me what real power was. He took me home, stripped off my clothes, and did all sorts of things to me. There was a lot of pain, and a lot of pleasure--for both of us, I might add--but he never mentioned the "secretarial" work at all. He just showed me, in no uncertain terms, who's the master and who's the slave. And there's no doubt I was a slave, in every way that mattered.
He kept me like that for about a week. I'm not really sure how long--I lost track of the days. He showed me everything it meant to be so small--what it felt like to be almost stepped on, what really lurked in the great outdoors, and everything else you can possibly imagine. Then he left the choice up to me--I could stay like this forever, and be his personal pet, or do what he asked and be his "secretary."
Well, for you, I suppose, you'd have picked a different path--you probably would've stayed tiny, I'm sure, just like most all the other dolls here. Not me, though. I hated the idea of being small. I didn't like being powerless and I sure as hell didn't enjoy being treated like a sex toy every fucking night. So naturally I agreed to do the secretary thing and spy on his enemies, as long as I didn't have to be shrunk to do it.
He agreed, to my great relief, because I really didn't like the idea of having to try to escape, and wind up God knows where. Remember, this is all before the whole Compound thing went down, so I didn't know anything about all that. So I worked in Frank's office and did the spy gig for him, learning all kinds of cool stuff that went on behind the scenes in Vegas and a lot of other places. A few times, I almost got caught, too, but the people after me mysteriously disappeared--another hint about what kind of man Frank really is, just in case you need any reminders.
Unfortunately, Frank decided he'd liked seeing me tiny, so every now and then he made me get in the miniaturizer and go home with him for a little "play time." I suppose he not only liked fooling around with someone who couldn't fight back, but also, he wanted to keep reminding me he's the one in charge. Well, I could hardly allow that, so I started quietly gathering information about him, too, and the whole Sidewinder operation. I even made sure I had a failsafe set up, so if I ever "disappeared," all that information would get sent anonymously to the FBI.
Good plan, huh? Yeah, great, except for one thing--Kate McLeary came along and fucked everything up by busting the Compound. She timed it perfectly, too, hitting the place on one of the days I'd been shrunk and taken home by Frank. He couldn't very well go back there to have me restored, of course, so I got caged, and didn't hit my failsafe, so the FBI got all my notes--which is how they found out where most of Frank and Ray's secret Cayman funds were, among other details, like how much involvement Frank had in the whole affair. Kate probably thinks she owes me for that--but she's got no idea how badly I got screwed.
See, Frank figured out where the info came from, and after that, there's no way he's ever going to restore me again. So that's where he got the idea for the little bomb-tracers taking up space in our guts. They were mostly for me, of course, but he's not taking any chances, so you all got them. They don't work in the minis, though--they're too small to work with ordinary signals, unless you're right on top of them, so there's no point. Even the ones we've got only have a range of a few hundred yards. Not much, but enough that we don't dare try to run.
Oh, and one other thing you should know--Ray's got no idea about the failsafe thing at all, at least I don't think he does. Frank never told him about that little detail, because he's pretty sure Ray wouldn't be terribly pleased about that. So I've still got one special secret I can keep--no matter how minor it might seem, it's still a weapon I can use. I doubt it'd keep me alive, but it's still something.
So yeah, I'm not exactly well trusted around this place, am I? You'd think so, but I've still got some power. I still know things, and I can still figure out things the others can't, when they let me. It's worth it, sometimes, for the right reward, and I love the way I get to take out my frustrations on those pitiful little prisoners down there in the Barn. But I'll tell you what, if I had a way out of here, I'd be gone so fast it'd make your fucking head spin.
And that's the end of that.
I stayed quiet as Dena told her story. No point interrupting once she got on a roll, right? She just kept on going, too, jogging along on the treadmill, barely glancing in my direction, except when she made a point--and there at the end, of course.
Of all the people in this place, I never expected to have any chance of ever counting Dena as an ally, but it turns out we both basically wanted the same thing. Well, we both wanted out of here, at least. I couldn't expect her to care about the fate of anybody but herself, but at least if I needed help with some kind of escape plan, I could probably count on her.
As soon as she finished her story, Dena switched off the treadmill, went over to the pool, and got a drink of water. "Now that I've told you all that," she asked momentarily, "tell me this: how'd you figure out about the secretary thing?"
I suppose I could've made up some story about that, but at this point I didn't see any reason to keep it from her. "I overheard something Frank said to Ray," I answered.
"Oh? When was this?"
"Yesterday evening, when I was out for a walk. The two of them were having a chat by the corral."
"Hmm…what did Frank say, exactly?"
"Actually," I replied, trying to remember the details, "I think Frank said something about coming to find you, and then Ray said he certainly got lucky finding you for a secretary. And then Frank said he chooses his allies carefully, or something like that."
Dena nodded slowly, accepting my explanation at face value. "You do realize it's no accident you got to overhear their supposedly private conversation, right?"
"I figured as much," I replied with a shrug. "The timing was just too convenient."
"There's very little that happens here without Ray's involvement," explained Dena. "One thing I've learned, listening to them and watching what goes on--he's got his fingers in everything. If he does something, it's for a reason, and he's always two steps ahead. That's why he went after Marianne, just so he could get you next, so then he could get Kate Powers. And don't think for a minute he only wants Kate for revenge. He's not the kind of person who'd take that kind of risk for something as petty as that."
I nodded, because that made a lot of sense, even though I hadn't really considered that before now. I'd always accepted the vengeance angle without really questioning it too much. Now, though…he even said earlier, when I asked him about Kate, how he'd calculated all the odds. Even if he had a 90% chance of success, that's still a one in ten chance he'd fail and lose everything. Was revenge against one person worth that risk? For Ray Ellsworth, probably not. Dena had that part right, no doubt--but that left the obvious question floating in my head, so naturally I asked it without thinking. "Well, then, what's he really trying to do?"
She shrugged. "That I can't tell you. I don't know everything, dammit, and this fucking tracer keeps me stuck here so I can't go find out. Ray always knows where we are, every minute of the day, so you can't just sneak around. He's got a tablet he carries around that shows our locations. That's how he knew where you were, so he could arrange for you to overhear him."
"I knew it had to be something like that," I agreed. I hadn't seen Ray with a tablet, but then, he didn't have any need to flash it around. "I wonder if Frank knew, though? He seemed pretty open about the stuff he said."
"Who knows? You could always ask him. I bet he'd tell you, too. He knows Ray does shit like that, so I doubt he'd care. I still can't tell if Ray knows about the whole financial records business, though."
"Don't you think he would've done something about that by now?" I inquired.
"Yeah, probably, which means he probably hasn't figured it out, and when he does, he's gonna be fucking pissed, and my life won't be worth squat. I just have to hope Frank sees it coming and gets me out of there, which means I've got to stay on his good side at all costs. Damn, this sucks so much ass! I wish I had your kind of freedom, Wendy…just being able to go where you want--that's why I'm so fucking jealous of you, y'know. Sorry I gave you the cold shoulder yesterday."
"It's okay, it all makes sense now," I told her, "but I don't have that freedom anymore. I'm stuck here now, just like you, and I don't even know what's going to happen once I help get Kate in here. He may just decide I'm too big a security risk and get rid of me."
"Oh, I doubt that," she replied. "If anyone's a security risk around here, it's me, and they let me hang around, right? As long as you're an asset, they'll hang onto you. Just don't make the mistake of pissing anybody off. Then they might decide they don't need you anymore, and you'll just disappear."
I shuddered, because I knew what that meant--a one-way trip to the miniaturizer, and down so small I'd disappear completely. There'd be no coming back from that, I knew. How many bacteria would I have to dodge trying to get to the restorer, if I could even find the goddamn thing? And what would I eat or drink? They'd never even find my body…
"Anyway, as much fun as this has been, I should get cleaned up, and you've got a new prisoner to introduce to this fantastic place."
She started heading back towards the shower, so I decided to take the plunge. "Dena," I called out, "would you mind too much helping me out with that? I've really got no idea what to do or say."
She glanced back at me, raising an eyebrow. For a moment I thought she might refuse, but then she cracked a smile, for the first time since we started talking. "Sure, if you want. I thought you'd never ask."
I felt a lot better having Dena on my side, at least partly. Not that I'd trust her with anything important, like my detachable tracer, but at least if I promised her a chance to get away, she'd probably help. Of course, I had to play that card at exactly the right moment. Too soon, and it'd just be another secret she could use to save her own skin if necessary. She dealt in secrets, after all. Any suggestion that I might be trying to figure out an escape plain would just be another to add to her collection.
I sat down on one of the lounge chairs to await either her return or the arrival of the guards, whichever came first. In my mind I went over Dena's story, thinking about what she'd been through. We had a few things in common--we both got ourselves in over our heads, and now we found ourselves here, the victims of our bad choices. She admitted she'd played a dangerous game, and Frank made her pay for it in the end. He'd made a plaything out of her, and made sure she knew it, too, which I'm sure made things worse. For someone like Dena, that must be the very worst sort of torture. No wonder she had such a bad attitude all the time!
Everything she told me made sense, at least--I couldn't find any flaws in her story, or anything to indicate she might've been feeding me a line. I wondered about the easy way she'd been miniaturized back at the casino, because as far as I'd always understood, they had better security at that place. Yet they'd managed to kidnap dozens, maybe hundreds, of women over the course of months, with people like Bob Mathias taking bribes and arranging for private sessions pretty much at will. I always thought he'd been something of a sleazebag, the kind of guy who got pushed around a lot and came to the Compound to take out his frustrations on the miniature prisoners there. Did he really have the balls to get around the rest of the security on his own? Probably not--there were more people involved in that than anybody ever realized, I'm sure. He just wound up being one of the fall guys.
Well, however it all worked, I had little doubt they could've gotten someone like Dena in there during some quiet moment off-shift, when Beth wasn't around and nobody else happened to be watching. A quick trip in and out, maybe logged as an inspection by one of the owners' representatives, and nobody'd be the wiser. In fact, I had to wonder if that sort of thing didn't take place more than once. How many other people wound up miniaturized in the same way, in the hands of somebody the owners happened to know? Perhaps given out as a favor or a payoff? There's no way of knowing, really, since I'm pretty sure they never kept records of that sort of thing.
Anyway, the only other possible flaw in Dena's story came with what I'd overheard the night before. Ray said something like, "How'd you ever get lucky enough to have someone like Dena as your secretary," and Frank replied, "I choose my allies carefully, just like you." Or something like that, anyway.
So let's analyze that, shall we, keeping in mind that Ray certainly knew I was listening in, and Frank probably didn't (we'll just assume he didn't, for now). Ray would have no reason to make that comment unless he (a) didn't know Dena's true history or (b) he did know and wanted to keep Frank thinking otherwise. The way Frank responded, he either (a) believed Ray didn't know anything or (b) wasn't sure, but wanted to keep up the illusion in any case.
So basically I didn't really learn anything new here, because any of those possibilities were still viable--but they did at least confirm Dena's story. From what they both said, it's painfully obvious neither of them really believed she'd actually been Frank's secretary (regardless of what else she might've done, or who knew what about that). So basically Dena's whole story fit the facts as I knew them, which meant she probably told the truth. Mostly, anyway.
Ahh, such paranoia! That sort of shit can drive you crazy if you let it. I stood up and paced around, trying to think about something else for a while. The real truth about Dena hardly mattered, anyway. I'd already decided how much to trust her, which wasn't very much at all. In the meantime, though, I'd keep being nice to her and see what else I might learn.
She came out after a few minutes wearing a leather bustier, black bikini bottoms, stiletto-heeled pirate boots, and fingerless elbow-length gloves with oversized chrome bracelets. Holy shit, she looked fantastic! She'd slicked her dark hair back so she had a punk-style look, and hadn't quite dried off all the way, so her tanned, sleek muscles sort of shimmered in the fading faux-evening light. I tell you, if I didn't have Marianne to think about, and if Dena swung my way, I would've been all over her just then. Instead I just had to sit there, keeping my thoughts to myself, thinking what a fucking waste! over and over again in my head.
Dena hadn't dressed that way to turn me on, of course--she wanted to make an impact on the new arrival, hence the dominatrix-style gear. I wondered where she'd put her whip, but she didn't carry any weapons or anything like that. Instead she sat down next to me and flashed a sardonic smile. "Don't get any ideas," she told me. "I'm a classic homophobe, don't forget. You even try to put a hand on me, I'll stuff it down your throat."
"Yeah, yeah, that won't stop me from looking, though." I chuckled a couple of times, just to let her know I was joking. "I'll have to get Marianne to try that outfit later. It's really hot."
"Oh, my God, please don't talk about that!" She actually shuddered slightly. "I'm gonna go put something else on if you keep staring at me that way."
"Sorry, sorry." I glanced away, snickering to myself, and let her off the hook. "So anyway, how does this introduction bit actually work?"
"Just watch what I do," said Dena, obviously glad to change the subject. "A lot depends on how she's reacting to what's going on. Sometimes they're scared, or defiant, or crying, or whatever. You don't want to give them any moral support. Your goal is to impress upon them that you're in charge, they're completely helpless, and they'd better damn well do what you tell them or things are gonna be much, much worse. You'll see what I mean."
"They said I'd recognize whoever they're bringing in," I pointed out. "Do you know who it is?"
"Nah, but I've got a pretty good idea. Frank told me last night he'd be bringing in someone special, and I managed to wring out of him that it's a pop star. That means they probably got somebody willing to shell out a huge amount of cash for that one, because they're usually pretty careful not to go after celebrities."
I nodded, realizing this basically also confirmed my hypothesis that they'd been bringing women here to sell them like miniature slaves. "So one of Frank's clients placed a special order, huh?" I inquired casually.
She narrowed her eyes at me. "You don't seem surprised. How much do you know about what they're really up to?"
"Not much," I admitted. "Just some things I've managed to piece together. Plus, like you said, Ray doesn't do anything without a good reason. He wouldn't bring hundreds of women here and shrink them down to the size of ants if he didn't have some special plans for them."
"Yeah," she replied, "you pretty much hit the nail on the head right there. I don't know all the details, but ever since word got out about the Compound, plenty of rich folks got the idea they'd like to have a miniature pet or two of their own. I can only imagine how much money Frank and Ray pull in every time they sell somebody to one of their 'clients.' In case you didn't figure it out, your job in the quadrants isn't just to act like a prison guard--you're supposed to whip them into shape, test their limitations, and put them through their paces."
"I figured as much. So it's survival of the fittest, then? The strong survive, and the weak get eliminated, like some kind of fucked up reality show?"
"Not really," said Dena with a shrug. "Well, I admit, I haven't seen the results for myself, but from what I understand, it doesn't matter what they do--there's buyers for every kind of girl. The ones who come apart under the pressure--the crybabies, as I call them--well, some guys just love that shit, and some women buyers, too. They like taking care of their helpless little toys, just as much as the sadists enjoy torturing the stronger ones, and the submissives like being abused by the aggressive types. I doubt very seriously that Ray or Frank actually kill any of the minis--they've all got value, one way or another. So don't trouble your pretty little head about that, assuming you've got any morality left after everything you've been through."
I tried not to show any reaction, but from what Dena said there at the end, I'm pretty sure I failed. She'd have had no trouble whatsoever seeing the relief in my eyes. What Dena said made me feel a whole lot better. For one thing, it meant I could be as rough as necessary without worrying about actually causing any real damage, or sentencing someone who broke down to certain death. Even someone like Janice would survive, at least, for whatever that's worth. Just like a drill sergeant didn't actually want to actually hurt anybody, but instead trained them to do their jobs as soldiers, my task would be to bring out the true nature of each of my minis. I'd make them show what kind of people they really were, so they'd wind up with the right sort of owner.
Although that brightened my mood a bit, I still didn't like the idea that the little prisoners would be sold into slavery. That's something I could worry about later on, though. I doubted I'd be able to do much about that, anyway. The best I could do for now would be to do my job like these people expected, and not draw any attention to myself.
As I sat there mulling that over, the door to the Barn opened and Frank Lassiter walked in, heading straight over to us. His massive, hawklike head sort of sailed into view, like a ship coming over the horizon. "Hey there," he called out upon arrival. "You ready to go? The car just pulled up outside, so it's time to greet our new guest."
"Sure," I agreed, standing up without hesitation. "Dena's gonna come along and give me advice, if that's okay."
"Whatever you dolls want," he replied without hesitation, picking us up somewhat roughly and heading back out the door. I suppose I shouldn't have expected any kind of kindness out of him. Instead, he pinched and fondled us the whole way, paying particular attention to Dena, who cried out in pain a couple of times. Probably what he wanted to hear, I suppose.
When we got outside, I saw two guards dragging a struggling full-sized woman between them, on their way out of the restoration shack. Her hands were bound and she had a hood over her face, so I couldn't see who it was. She wore a very short, sky-blue vinyl dress, black lace leggings, and the kind of ankle-wrap style high-heeled shoes that seemed to be in fashion nowadays. Not the sort of thing you'd want to be wearing around this place, although the miniskirt certainly fit the bill.
"Lemme go!" she yelled in a frantic, desperate-sounding voice I didn't recognize. "You got no fuckin' idea who you're messin' with! My family's got more money than God, and they're gonna spend every dime comin' after you!"
Frank laughed at that, holding me and Dena behind him. In a quiet voice, she said to me, "Keep your mouth shut for now. He's gonna shrink her down, and trust me, you don't want to interrupt his fun."
The men half-led, half-dragged their prisoner along the walking path towards the miniaturizer. She hissed and spat a few more times before they got to the entrance, whereupon Frank put his hand up to stop them. "Okay, I've heard enough!" he barked loudly, in a tone that silenced her at once. "I ain't heard a mouth like that since I left the fucking military! And here I thought you were some kind of dignified, classy musician or something. Now shut the hell up or I'll slap you silly, got it?"
"What-ever," she replied, struggling a couple more times against the muscled guards holding her, one of whom was Mack. I didn't know the other, but both looked perfectly capable of holding a pampered pop star with little trouble. "So you're the boss around here, huh? Well, listen, mister, you ain't done nothin' to me yet, so maybe you got a chance to get outta this clean. Let me go now and I'll tell the judge you didn't do nothin' to me."
He laughed heartily at that. "You sound like a certain irritating little FBI agent I know, don't you? Well, you've obviously got no idea what you're in for, so here, let me clue you in. Have a look at this." He reached up, untied the loose knot around her neck, and whipped off the hood so she could see the miniaturizer.
At this point I finally got a better look at the captive--a light-skinned, auburn-haired girl with white and pink highlights dangling around her bright blue eyes. Her youthful, lovely face screwed itself up in an angry scowl as her piercing gaze sought out Frank and bored into him. "What the fuck is this?" she screamed, struggling a couple more times without any luck. "Some kind of mad scientist bullshit? Who the hell are you, anyway? What's going on?"
For the first time, I heard a trace of fear enter her voice, as if maybe she'd started to get a faint inkling of what this might be about. Meanwhile, adjacent to me, I heard Dena give a stifled laugh. "Oh, wow, I wouldn't have thought they'd risk going after her," she muttered.
"Who?" I asked, because I didn't really recognize the prisoner. Well, maybe I did--it's hard to tell, when you're being clenched in somebody's fingers and only get an occasional glance from a distance. Besides, I don't keep up with the pop music scene all that closely.
"Annette DeLuca," said Dena, as if that explained anything at all. Again, I knew I'd probably heard the name somewhere before, but I didn't remember much about her.
"Whoever," I replied, shrugging as best I could.
"You don't know her? Oh, well, trust me, she's one of the hottest singers out there. Ever since she won Who Wants to be a Pop Star two years ago, she's been all over the charts. Anyway, shhh, let's watch the fun."
While we'd exchanged those words, Annette tried a couple more times to get away from her captors as they dragged her steadily closer to the miniaturizer. She didn't seem to recognize the machine's purpose, or I suppose she probably would've had a much different reaction. "You don't know what this is, do you?" asked Frank, grinning widely as he led her towards the central chamber, which didn't have a door. I wondered how he'd keep her from running out of the place while she got the treatment--and what might happen to her if she tried it. Would the miniaturization field not form properly, or something? Or would she shrink part way and stop? I had no idea.
Anyway, Frank reached into his belt with his free hand and withdrew a trim, pearl-handled pistol, which he held up for Annette to see. She instantly stopped fighting, eyeing the weapon warily, but without nearly as much fear as I'd expected. Meanwhile, Frank turned the gun over a couple of times, as if appreciating its quality craftsmanship, and then pointed it directly at her chest.
"I'm going to put you inside this little room now," he told her matter-of-factly. "There's two ways this can go. You can stay there and watch, like a good little girl, and come out of this unhurt, or I can shoot you and you can enjoy the effects while writhing around in pain. Which would you rather choose?"
"Neither," she hissed. "You don't dare shoot me!"
"Don't tempt me," he replied firmly. "Now, my men are going to let you go, and you're going to walk in there, got it? The machine won't cause you any physical pain, I promise you that."
"What is it, then?" she demanded. "Why don't you just fuckin' tell me?"
"Oh, I like keeping it a surprise," answered Frank, turning to Mack and the other guard. "Go ahead, let her go. I've got a feeling she ain't gonna cause any trouble."
The guards released their grip and backed off, blocking the entrance as they retreated. Annette jerked away, shaking her shoulders and arms, glaring and glowering but not trying to run. She probably knew she wouldn't have a chance. I did notice her eyes glancing about looking for another exit, but they'd literally stuffed this barn full of miniaturizer components, so she couldn't possibly get away--especially not in those high heels of hers.
"All right, fine," she snapped, stepping forward with head held high. She walked into the chamber proudly and turned around, glaring at Frank as he kept the gun leveled on her. With arms crossed, she endured the glow that followed, still totally clueless about what was coming.
The miniaturizer finished its work and Annette gave a little jump, holding out her arms as the tingling began. "What the hell?" she asked, looking up at Frank. "What the fuck did you do to me?"
"Nothing much," he chuckled, obviously enjoying this. "Just cut you down to size a little. Come on out of there, and you'll see what I mean."
She stepped out, working her fingers as the tingling sensation gradually faded. I knew that feeling well, having experienced it plenty of times in the past. She, of course, had no idea. Most people wouldn't, unless they'd visited Paradisney and tried out the Miniaturization Experience. I remember reading a spread about that, in one of the magazines I came across in my travels. Another disaster waiting to happen right there. Kate McLoser must've had kittens when they opened that place.
After a moment, Annette realized something strange was going on. Since shrinking isn't one of those things the average person has any experience with, she had no idea what to expect, so she didn't recognize it right away. She must've thought they'd drugged her or done something to her eyes, the way she started blinking and squinting at her surroundings. Then, all of a sudden, her eyeballs seemed to pop out of her head and her mouth all but hit the floor.
"Oh, my God, you didn't!" she screamed in horror. "It's all getting bigger! You couldn't--you can't be shrinking me! Make it stop! Make it stooooopppp…!"
She lost control and ran for the exit, completely forgetting about the gun in Frank's hand. He didn't shoot her, though, but just laughed as she stumbled past, losing her balance in those heels half a dozen times as she tried to get away. The guards at the exit stood stock still, like giant living towers, and she screeched to a halt when she got close, staring up at them in terror. By then she'd dwindled to less than half their size, so you can well imagine what they must've looked like to that frightened little girl.
She turned and ran away from them, towards some of the machinery nearby, trying to climb in amongst the boxes and wires. The guards glanced at Frank, who shook his head, put his gun away, and strode over there in a couple of quick steps. With his free hand he clamped his fingers over her little shoulders and dragged her back out to the floor, where she immediately collapsed, sobbing and crying.
"No, please, you can't do this!" she begged, the tears totally destroying the mascara and eye-shadow that until then made her look quite pretty. "Please, I don't wanna be shrunk! Make me big again! I'll do anything you want! Anything!"
"Yeah, I'll just bet you would, too," he laughed, grabbing her and holding her up in his grip. By now she looked like a Barbie doll, still getting gradually smaller and smaller. She didn't fight or struggle any more as he held her there, grinning and chuckling as she wept and shrank all the way to five percent. "Don't worry, you'll get plenty of chances to prove yourself to me. Not just now, though. You can forget your old life, Annette. I just erased all that. You're nothing but a toy now, you got it?"
"No, please, I'm not a toy," she whined, continuing to sob and not look up at him. "I'm Annette DeLuca, the big pop star! My album just went triple platinum…!"
"That's all in the past," he insisted. "You're nobody now. Just a little tiny toy in my hand, for me to play with whenever I want. But that's not the best part, oh no. You're still too big--you can cause plenty of trouble at that size. So we're going to make you even smaller, so you can't even think about escaping."
"No…please…I'll do anything…" she begged pitifully. "This isn't fair…I'm a star! I've got a tour to do! You can't do this to me!"
"I can do anything I want," said Frank, "and as soon as you get used to the idea, the better. Now, let me introduce you to a couple of people who'll teach you facts of life from now on. Annette, meet Wendy and Dena."
He dropped us in his other hand, where we landed next to the pathetically weeping prisoner. I had to resist the urge to drop down and put my arms around her for support. That's not my job here, after all, and besides, I doubt very much Frank would've appreciated that kind of gesture.
"Get up," Dena ordered harshly. "Get up and stop sniveling, you worthless little piece of shit. Go on, do it!"
Shocked, Annette got to her feet, looking around in abject horror. I can only imagine what must be going through her mind at that moment. To be normal one minute, and three inches high the next, held in the hand of your captor, told you were nothing but his toy--that must've been truly awful. Worse still for someone like her, used to the good life, with people at her beck and call, wealthy, with everything she ever wanted--and now all of that was gone. To her, this must feel like utter hell.
"Please," she begged us, fixing her gaze on the two people who looked most normal to her. "Please, tell him to make me big again! I'll do anything you want! I don't wanna be like this! I don't wanna be so small!"
"This ain't the half of it," said Dena. "This is just the introduction. You're going to be much smaller pretty soon. Take a good look, Annette. This is the last time you're gonna be so big for quite a while. In a few minutes, I'm going to be holding you in my hand, like he's holding us right now."
"No!" she all but screamed. "No, please, don't! Whatever you want--I'll do it! I swear! I've got money, tons of it! You can have it all! Just put me back to normal!"
"I can't do that," said Dena, shaking her head. "I'm not in charge around here. He is. We're just your caretakers now. We're going to see to it you get used to being like this. And you will, soon enough. Now come on, time for another trip into the machine."
Frank set us down on the ground near the entrance to the miniaturizer. As he stood, Annette followed his eyes as they rose higher and higher into the air. Backing away, she made a kind of moaning wail. Then she ran.
I started to follow, but needn't have bothered. Frank just put his foot in her path, so she slammed into it roughly, falling to the ground. If it'd been me, I could've just jumped onto or over that obstacle, but Annette didn't know her capabilities--or maybe she just couldn't jump in the heels. Plus, she probably couldn't see very well through all those tears.
She got up right away and took off in another direction, lost in utter panic. Frank blocked her path a couple more times until she blindly ran into the miniaturizer, which I suppose is what he wanted in the first place. She kept on going, looking back over her shoulder in terror, until finally she reached the farther wall. As she started searching for an exit, the lights came on again.
She must've realized, then, what she'd done, because she cried out in terror and ran back the way she'd come. Too late, as it turned out. Before she got halfway out, the lights faded and the tingling began. She collapsed at our feet, bawling her little head off as she steadily shrank smaller and smaller, all the way down to mini size.
Dena picked her up and turned her over. Annette just balled up there, panting and sobbing, eyes tightly shut, not saying a word. Dena prodded at her with a finger a couple of times, until she folded up into the fetal position, rocking back and forth and muttering to herself, all but catatonic. I don't think I've ever seen anybody quite so totally crushed as Annette looked just then.
"Okay, then, time to show her to her new home," said a laughing Frank, grabbing me and Dena and heading back towards the Barn.
I'd thought maybe Dena would get to introduce Annette to her fellow minis, too, but Frank had other ideas. He kneeled down on the edge of L quadrant, held his hand down at ground level, and said, "Okay, Wendy, the rest of this is your responsibility. Hopefully you paid attention."
"I think I got the gist of it," I agreed, trying really hard not to look like I cared all that much.
Dena, meanwhile, shrugged and placed the pitiful little woman in my hand. "Looks like I got something else to do tonight after all," she told me with the barest wink.
"Damn right you do," agreed Frank, shoving me rudely out of his palm and lifting Dena into the air. "You couldn't have picked a more interesting outfit, my dear. I do believe you know me all too well…"
His voice trailed off as he stomped away, back towards the Barn door and presumably to his private suite in the mansion. Now I knew the real reason why Dena dressed up like she did. Not for Annette, but for Frank, it seemed. Like she told me earlier, she had to stay on his good side at all costs, right?
I held Annette up and stared at her. To me, she looked about six inches high, curled up in my palm with her eyes shut and tears running down her face. I don't think I've ever seen anything so pathetic in all my life. She looked absolutely crushed, which makes sense seeing as her entire life had just been flushed down the toilet. It must've been tough on ordinary women, yanked away from their jobs or families, but Annette was someone special, and she knew it. To have that torn away, to be reduced to almost nothing--well, frankly, I'm surprised she hadn't fallen into a coma.
I watched her for a couple of minutes, really not sure what I should do next. I felt distinctly out of place just then. In all my life, I'd never been the one with the power. I've told you my sob story plenty of times, so you know all that, and being in the Compound just felt like more of the same. Maybe that's why I so easily fell into Lou's trap--he promised me a chance to rise above myself, to be the one in charge for a change. Back then, when he told me about his plans for the New Compound, I couldn't wait for that chance.
Now, though, having experienced actual power--my overwhelming size and authority over the minis of quadrant 12--I didn't like it very much. Being in control didn't suit me, it seems. I didn't want authority. Maybe it sounds like cowardice--being scared of taking the responsibility that comes with power--but that's not it at all. I just didn't like telling people what to do. Giving orders felt wrong, and worse, I'm pretty sure I'd already shown my true feelings often enough. I didn't even think I could fake being any other way.
Unfortunately, I could hardly get away with that for long. They'd be watching me on the monitors, expecting me to be like Dena and the others. I very much doubted they'd appreciate me showing any sort of kindness. In fact, they were probably watching me right this very moment--why else would they make me, of all people, responsible for showing a new arrival around this place?
I had to give it a shot, I suppose, and besides, maybe it would get the message across before her fellow prisoners got in on the action. So, with that in mind, I sat down on the ground and leaned back against a thick cluster of plant stems jutting out of the dirt. "Okay, enough whining," I said as forcefully as I could, poking at my prisoner with a fingertip. "Sit up, already."
"Nooo-o-o…" Annette wailed, turning away and avoiding my touch. "No, please, this isn't happening, this can't be real…"
"It is happening, so you'd better get used to the idea," I insisted. "Now sit the hell up, goddammit!"
Much to my surprise, she complied, wiping her eyes off with the back of her hand. Seeing the dark mascara there, she looked up at me pitifully. "Please," she moaned, "don't hurt me. I'll do anything…"
"Okay, let me explain what's going on here," I said firmly. "First off, stop being such a fucking crybaby. That's not going to do you any good around this place. Maybe shedding a few tears got you favors in the past, or made people feel sorry for you. Not anymore. If you really don't want me to hurt you, then you're gonna stop crying right now and listen up."
She pushed herself back against my fingers as I barked those words, a bit harshly I might add, but not so loud the volume would hurt her tiny ears. The anguish in her eyes quickly turned to fear, and she nodded quickly, indicating she at least understood I meant business.
"Okay, then, here's what's going on. Do you know anything about the Compound? From that movie about those shrunken casino girls in Las Vegas?"
"Y-yeah, I saw it," she answered weakly.
"Well, this is another kind of Compound," I told her. "One of the original Sidewinder owners, Ray Ellsworth, stole a miniaturizer and is using it to make his own little society of tiny little pets. Well, congratulations, you're the newest member. Welcome to what they call the Barn."
She nodded, a horrified look on her face, and I thought she might burst into tears again, but instead she clenched her teeth and stammered, "W-what do you mean, a l-little s-society?"
"You've been reduced to about a third of an inch high," I told her, "just like a few hundred other women, all living here inside a gigantic barn, on a ranch in the middle of nowhere. You probably can't tell, but that's what this is. Me, I'm ten times your size, but I'm still just three inches high or so--but that's enough to put me in charge of about 40 of you minis. That's what we call you--you're minis, and I'm a doll. This making any sense to you?"
"Y-yeah," she managed. "I'm really tiny now, I get it."
"Good, you're paying attention. That's real important, as you're going to find out soon enough. See, in a few seconds, I'm going to take you over to meet your new--well, family, I guess is the best word for it. They're going to tell you all the rules you'll have to live by, and you'd better get it straight. You may be new here, but that doesn't mean you can get away with anything--and the others are gonna make sure you don't try."
"Oh, God," she whimpered, "this is horrible…how can you be like this? How can you do this to me? Please…just let me go--!"
"If I let you go," I said with a scowl, "the only place you could go is outside this protected building, and then what? You're a third of an inch high now! You wouldn't last five minutes out there. This is where you belong now, Annette--so get used to the idea. And no more fucking crying!"
"O-okay, I'll try," she managed. Then she looked at me with those big, pleading eyes again, and I had to fight down the urge to look away. Keep eye contact, I reminded myself. "You--you're a prisoner too, aren't you?" she asked in a quiet voice. "They're making you do this, aren't they?"
"Of course not!" I snapped back, though I'm pretty sure I didn't do so very convincingly. In fact, I purposely laced my next words with just the barest hint of falsehood, standing up and starting to walk further into the quadrant. "I'm here of my own free will. Now come on, it's time to meet your new family."
Instead of cowering in my palm like before, Annette stayed on her hands and knees, watching with wide eyes as we moved through the huge plants and into the courtyard area around quadrant L's town hall. We'd arrived during off-work hours, so I got to see some of what the minis did during their free time. Most clustered around the open area, working on projects I had to guess had something to do with the competition this weekend, though I didn't really see anything that looked like a kite. Not all of them were involved in that, however. Some lounged around talking or playing games, while a few worked out or swam in one of the nearby reservoirs. A lone mini seemed to be painting something on the side of the birdhouse, though where she got the paint, I had no idea. A couple in the distance argued with each other, but they stopped as soon as I showed up.
Once they realized what I had in my hand, word got around quickly, and most of the prisoners stopped what they were doing and gathered around. "Citizens of Quadrant L," I called out, still refusing to use that idiotic insect name, "I'd like you to meet your newest member. Annette, say hello to everyone."
I set her down, and she managed a fearful little wave. "H-hi," she mumbled weakly.
A ripple of conversation passed through the assembly. "Holy shit--is that Annette DeLuca?" somebody asked.
"I think so, but she looks terrible!"
"I'm not sure it's really her…"
"I know it's her! I voted for her every episode!"
"Well, I don't believe it."
"Quiet down, you bugs," I snapped. "Yes, it's Annette DeLuca, but she's not a celebrity anymore. She's a mini, just like the rest of you, and she needs to learn the rules. I expect her to understand everything she's supposed to know by tomorrow morning roll call, or every single one of you gets 10 demerits, you got it?"
"Yes, Mistress," they responded, though they didn't seem too happy about that. I saw more than a few nasty looks flash my way, and towards Annette as well.
"Now, you'd better not screw around," I said to Annette. "I expect you to cooperate to the best of your ability. If I catch you slacking or acting like some kind of prima donna around here, it's extra demerits for you. Got it?"
She nodded hastily, drawing groans from the others. "You always answer, 'Yes, Mistress!'" one of them pointed out, poking her in the shoulder.
"Yes, Mistress," Annette muttered, not looking at me.
"I didn't hear you," I hissed, playing my role to the hilt.
"Yes, Mistress!" she yelled, looking directly into my eyes that time. I forced myself to hold the eye contact, glaring all the while. If she thought she'd find any sympathy in my gaze, she was disappointed. After a moment her face paled and she turned away, which I guess means I'd succeeded in intimidating her…not that it made me feel all that spectacular.
Mimicking what I'd seen Marianne do, I relaxed my face and smiled ever so slightly, showing I'd been pleased by Annette's reaction. "Good, that's a start. Be obedient and follow the rules, and you won't have any reason to complain. The rest of you, teach her what she needs to know, but I don't want any physical violence tonight. No beating it into her, understand? She'll get her chance to prove she can listen without getting hurt. If she fails tomorrow, well, then the gloves are off. I don't think it'll come to that, though, will it, Annette? You'll do your very best to fit in, won't you?"
"Yes, Mistress," she responded quickly, and louder this time.
I nodded. "Good, that's what I want to hear. Now, you're all dismissed, everyone except Jayna. Where is she?"
"In her room," one of the minis told me, pointing off to one side, at a birdhouse barely visible through tufts of some plant or other. "At least, that's where she was fifteen minutes ago."
"Thanks," I replied, heading off that way while making sure I didn't step on anybody underfoot. I suppose I should've tried to sound harsh or something just then, but I'd already let the drill sergeant persona drop. I hated being that way, but since I figured they were monitoring me, I didn't really have much choice. I suppose I'd find out later if I passed their little test.
In the meantime, I had to deliver the rest of Jayna's punishment. As you may recall, she'd gone over 100 demerits at evening roll and I'd agreed to give her a little personal attention. I didn't really want to do that, either, but I figured I'd have to get used to it eventually. Besides, with the others distracted by their new arrival, I didn't have to worry about messing this up quite as much.
I looked back after I got almost to Jayna's house, and saw the other minis seemed to be controlling themselves. A few had gone back to working on their kites, but about a dozen stood in a loose circle around Annette, talking to her normally, without getting all that agitated. She kept looking around, following their fingers as they occasionally pointed at something nearby. She looked intimidated, still, but at least she wasn't crying or begging or anything lame like that.
I wondered how she'd turn out--would she adapt well, and get used to her new home without causing trouble? Would she try to use her ex-celebrity status to get ahead somehow, and if so, would that strategy backfire? She'd already been through a reality competition, so would she use lessons learned there to try to fit in here? Or would she just try to stay out of the limelight this time and get by as best she could?
Who knows? It didn't really matter, I guess. I turned away and stepped inside the birdhouse, intending to call out for Jayna, but I didn't have to. She'd already heard me tromping up outside and stood there waiting, dressed in a zip-up black wetsuit with red racing stripes, slick leather knee-highs, and a buckled collar about her neck. Her long, dark hair had been braided up into a kind of halo, with a few stray locks dangling around her face. She looked, in a word, fantastic.
"Hello, Mistress," Jayna said without looking up at me. She seemed to be trying very hard to look defeated, and resigned to her fate. Unfortunately, Marianne already clued me in to what I needed to know, and besides, the way Jayna cleaned up and changed her outfit spoke volumes. These people are all into BDSM in one way or another, don't forget. If I went out and had my way with her, as it were, that wouldn't be very much of a punishment, now would it?
"Okay, come with me," I said roughly, grabbing her about the waist without waiting for permission. She didn't try to avoid me and didn't struggle, either. I headed out towards the edge of the quadrant, figuring I'd rather keep this encounter to ourselves as much as possible. As I'd done with Janice earlier, I carried Jayna out across the open area beyond the quad, slipping in between a stack of crates and the Barn's far wall, staying in the shadows.
I noticed she glanced around fearfully a couple of times as I sat down. "What's the problem?" I asked curiously.
"Nothing, Mistress, it's just--well, I don't like leaving the quadrant," she admitted. "We're not supposed to come over here, and besides…I've seen spiders."
I hefted my spear. "No reason to be afraid, as long as I've got this. I've killed plenty in the wild. They really aren't that dangerous."
"Maybe not for you," she pointed out. "You're ten times bigger than me and you've got weapons."
I set her down on the floor in front of me, just beyond the edge of the light, so I couldn't even see her any more. She could've tried to run for it, and maybe found a real nice hiding place back there, if she wanted, but she never even hesitated. The instant I let her go, she gave a little cry and ran out of the shadow, vaulting easily up onto my leg. "Don't make me go back there!" she begged. "Please, Mistress! Can't you just torture me or something?" She stood up and unzipped the front of her wetsuit, not bothering with any kind of subtlety.
"Nah, I don't think so," I told her. "I hardly think that would be much of a punishment. Marianne warned me about you."
Jayna crossed her arms in frustration. "Dammit, what'd she have to go and do that for? I was actually looking forward to a little torture."
I chuckled at that. "Not from me, I'm afraid. I'm not the torturing type. Maybe I could have Dena drop by."
"Oh, please, no, she's just sadistic," complained Jayna. "And not in a good way, I might add."
"Really? How do you know that, anyhow? I thought the dolls kept to their own quadrants."
"Not always. Sometimes they take turns rotating around. When Dena was here, the place felt like a military camp. Trust me, we were glad when she left."
I nodded. "Well, she's got her own troubles to worry about, but that's more than you need to know. So what did you do to get over 100 demerits, anyway? And don't lie--I'll verify your story later."
She nodded. "Don't worry, one of the first things Marianne drilled into us was not to lie. I wouldn't dream of it. If you must know, I spent more than five minutes in the latrine during work hours."
"Really?" I asked. "They watch for that?"
"Yeah, they do, and it's five demerits for every minute you're late coming out. Sometimes I can get away with it, but the guards were on the ball today for some reason. Anyway, it's my fault, I didn't sleep very well last night, so I was tired, and I think I nodded off on the toilet. Good thing Linda banged on the door or I might've been in there longer."
I shook my head, trying to imagine a guard on duty watching the cameras so closely that he started a stopwatch when Jayna went inside to take a piss. Somehow I doubted anyone would bother. Instead, he probably saw Linda impatiently knocking and decided to backtrack the camera footage, just to get an exact count of the time. Instead of thanking Linda, Jayna should've been cursing her for attracting extra attention. I didn't mention that, though, but simply replied, "So did they come and tell you right away you had demerits, or what?"
"Nah, I found out about it at roll call, same as you. Ten demerits for two extra minutes on the pot--no sense arguing, and like I said, it could've been a lot worse. There was this one girl, Michelle I think her name was, who once fell asleep like that and didn't come out for over an hour. She went straight to the Box for that one." Jayna shuddered involuntarily. "Damn, I hate that fucking Box. Gives me nightmares just thinking about it."
"So you've been inside, then?" I asked, glad Jayna turned out to be so chatty. If she'd thought about it, she could've tried refusing to answer, in the hopes I'd try the torture thing she seemed to want so badly.
"Nah, not me, I'm pretty careful about my demerits. Plus, all I have to do is dress up like this once I'm over 100 and one of the guards'll take a crack at me. You watch, I'll be back to zero by Saturday. Assuming, by then, they're all tired of you, being the new doll in town and all."
"Yeah, well, that reminds me, I should probably get back just in case anyone's looking for me. I don't think they can see us over here."
"Must be nice, being able to come and go as you please. How do I get a job like that, anyway? Is there someplace to turn in an application?"
I snickered at that. "You only wish. The only chance you've got is if you've got something they need, like I do. Got anything like that, Jayna? Any useful skills for this line of work?"
She shook her head sadly. "No, afraid not. I used to be a--oh, never mind, I'm not supposed to say."
"Go on, tell me," I insisted. "It's no big deal."
"It's 10 demerits if I talk about my old life," she explained. "Oh, I see, I guess they didn't tell you that, huh? You're not just trying to trick me?"
I shook my head. "I didn't know that, but it doesn't matter. I asked you a question, right? So you have to answer, no matter what. Don't forget, I'm all about following the rules, and my question takes precedence over anything else anybody told you before."
She narrowed her eyes, wary of some kind of trap, but she could hardly refuse me. Besides, I'd already proven, earlier today, that I intended to obey the rules the same as anybody else. You do stuff like that, and people remember.
"Okay, fine," she said after a moment. "I used to work in human resources, at place called Heinzel Manufacturing in Des Moines, Iowa. We made stainless steel products, mostly silverware, but I didn't get involved in the actual factory work. I took care of hiring people and all those little employee details like W-2 forms and shit like that. You know something? I don't really miss it all that much. I miss everything else about my old life, but not my job. I just wish I--"
She stopped, as if choking on her own words, and looked away. "What?" I insisted.
"I wish I could tell my family I was okay," she said in a low voice. "Just send them a message so they don't think I'm dead or whatever. I'm never going to see them again, am I?"
"No, you aren't," I told her. No sense sugar-coating it. Besides which, I'd come here to administer some punishment, right? Sounds like I succeeded. "And I can't exactly tell them, either. Sorry, Jayna, I don't make the rules around here, but I have to follow them just like you."
She nodded sadly. We both sat there quietly for about half a minute, not really sure what to say. I felt bad for her, but I couldn't exactly let myself show it, and I could tell she wanted some support from me, and knew just as well I couldn't give it. So there we were, both feeling completely trapped, but of course the difference was I still had a way out, and she didn't.
"You're just as much a prisoner as I am, aren't you?" she asked after a moment.
"Yeah," I admitted. "Yeah, I think so. Now I've got to get going. This has been fun and all, but I don't think you've been punished quite enough just yet. I think I've got just the way to end our time together."
"What are you going to do--?" she began, just as I grabbed her and stood up. Then, without giving her another chance to protest, I dropped her into the dark shadow behind the crate and walked away. I barely heard her pitiful little scream as she scurried back into the light, chasing after me, but I didn't wait around. My longer stride carried me away far faster than she could possibly keep up.
I took one last glance back as I reached the edge of the farmland, and saw her terrified little figure racing across the open walkway. She was probably cursing me the whole way across, but if so, I couldn't hear a thing.
It didn't do me any good thinking of the minis as people, because that only aroused the guilt already churning around in my stomach, but I couldn't help it. The morbid curiosity I felt overwhelmed even that. I wanted to know everything I could about these poor little women, because they reminded me of who I was and what I'd done. Call it self-torture, if you want, but as long as I could have those feelings, I still remained human, deep down inside. As soon as I started thinking any differently, that's when I'd gone too far. Maybe that would've been easier, but then, the easy way and I never really got along too well, y'know.
So as I walked along, following the edge of quadrant L without actually entering, I went over what I'd learned. Jayna had been someone normal, an ordinary person who just vanished one day without a trace. Now, stuck here in this prison, she wasn't even allowed to talk about herself or her old life. Anyone who did got punished. They weren't exactly trying to brainwash her or anything, because if they had, they surely would've been a lot more forceful. They just wanted to discourage such things, in order to acclimate the minis to their present situation. In doing so, they managed to get Jayna to actually convince herself she's better off now, at least partially, because she hated her old job. She focused on that, mostly, and it got her through the day.
She had some strength, I realized. She could do what it took to survive, just like I had out in the wild. Just push back those uncomfortable memories and thoughts and think about the present, as much as possible. Try not to think about all the things you've done, all the people you've hurt…
Dammit! Enough of that! I'd give myself an ulcer if I kept going down that road. There's no way to undo those things. Just move on, that's what I gotta do…
I didn't head for the elevator back up to the dollhouse. Instead, I angled towards the door, checking both ways before crossing like a kid heading home from school. No one came walking by, so I jogged over and exited the Barn, into another clear, moonlit night. The sun had long since set by now, so I headed out along the edge of the path, in the general direction of the miniaturizer. The cool evening air cleared my head and brightened my mood.
Of course, I hadn't come out here for a walk--I needed to visit that cluster of rocks like it said in my super-secret private note. I hadn't forgotten about that, even though I haven't mentioned it in a while. I just didn't want to think about it for some reason. It's the suspicious side of me, I guess, chiming in with concerns that it might be some kind of trap. Literally anyone could've put that note there, just to test me, but no matter how much I kept telling myself that, I knew I'd investigate it anyway. My curious side usually stomps all over my suspicious side, which, needless to say, is how I got myself into this mess in the first place.
I wasn't about to go over there right away, though. On the off chance this wasn't some kind of trick, the guards would've probably noticed my departure from the Barn just now. If I went straight over there and hung around for a while, somebody might get curious. Besides which, I wanted them to get familiar with me enjoying an evening stroll on a regular basis. So with that in mind, I started heading off at a leisurely pace, slowly circling the Barn like I did yesterday, keeping my spear at the ready.
You might be wondering why I didn't just go back up to my room, hide my tracer, and come back down here with nobody the wiser. Well, think about that for a moment and you'll figure it out. It's still early evening, so most of the guards (not to mention Frank and Ray) were still up and about. Any of them might come looking for me at any time, and if I wasn't where my tracer was, well, guess what happens? So yeah, if I wanted to do any sneaking around, I'd have to do it after hours, at a time when I knew the guards wouldn't bother me.
Besides which, I still figured there's about a fifty-fifty chance when I got to those rocks I'd step right into somebody's trap. Possibly Ray or Frank, testing my loyalties with a note left behind to tempt me. In that case, I'd get there and nobody would show up at all, because they wouldn't have to. They'd already know I couldn't be trusted.
The other likely possibility is I'd run into one of the other dolls--most likely Kaitlin, who already had a pretty good reason to not want to be here. She'd already told me how much she wanted to marry Taylor and get restored so they could have a normal life. What if Ray told them he wouldn't let them go? She might be trying to find an ally to help her get away.
Dena's another likely possibility, I figured, for reasons her story made plain. I doubted I'd meet Marianne, except maybe if someone else accompanied her. Erika was a long shot. Any of the guards could also put in an appearance, too. In fact, the more I thought about it, the more likely that sounded. I'd show up at the cluster of rocks, a guard would come out like he'd decided to have some private time with me, and once we got to his cabin, he'd make his pitch. Who would it be, though? Ricky, or maybe Mack? What about Evan and Jordan? Probably not Vince, I figured, but you never know.
Well, I could go crazy running the possibilities around in my head, so I tried to think about other things. I stabbed randomly at insects that passed too close, but didn't try to kill them, just make them skitter off. I tried jogging a bit, which helped, and once I got moving, I didn't want to stop. I ran all the way along the path to the edge of the Ranch, a bit closer to the restoration shack than I wanted, but rather than go out on the dirt road, I turned and headed towards the distant corral.
By the time I reached the fence, I felt winded, so I slowed down and walked it off. I sort of thought maybe Frank would show up for another smoke break, but he didn't. The faint odor of cigarettes wafted over me as I moved along, so I suppose he must've been here recently. I quickened my pace until I reached fresh air again, jogged a little more, and finally slowed to a normal walk for the next twenty minutes or so.
Finally, I saw the three big rocks mentioned in the note and angled in that direction. By this point, assuming this wasn't a trap, I could easily stop moving right there and guards watching on the monitors would just assume I'd be taking a well-deserved break. I didn't see anyone there, so I checked around and among the stones, wondering if I'd find somebody hiding, but didn't. Shrugging, I set down my spear, took off my backpack and laid back on the flatter of the three rocks, staring up at the sky.
This is it, I thought. If someone shows up in the next few minutes, I should be okay. If not, well, I'm pretty much screwed.
Well, somebody did show up, as it turns out. Not anyone I expected, either. If you'd asked me to write down all the people I thought I'd see tonight, this one would've been almost at the bottom of that list.
After a minute or so, I heard something very faint rustling around from close by. Thinking it might be an insect climbing up to check me out, I sat up and turned to look. The noise came from my backpack, and after a couple of seconds, someone emerged. Someone extremely small--about half the size of a mini, in fact. A woman, I realized immediately, dressed in a midnight-black full coverage bodysuit with a hood pulled back over her head. A woman I never expected to see--certainly not here, and definitely not that size.
"Okay, play time's over," announced a 1/400th scale Captain Sally Sullivan. "Time to get some real work done."
"Holy fucking shit," I muttered, completely flabbergasted by everything about Sally's presence here. "What the hell? Seriously? You? You gotta be kidding me!"
"Oh, come on, don't tell me you didn't at least suspect something like this," she said with a grin, pulling her hood down far enough that her dark red hair spilled out. "Guess not, cause that look on your face is just as funny as last time I saw it. Okay, even funnier, since it's so freakin' big."
"But how?" I demanded. "How the hell can you even be here? Have you been hiding in my gear this whole time?"
"Pretty much," she admitted with a shrug. "You're not the only one who knows how to sneak around, you know."
"But it's just not possible," I pointed out. "I went through a restorer that hit me four separate times! Unless you're telling me that thing you've got on makes you immune--in which case I want one right now!"
"No, no, nothing like that, sheesh," Sally replied, putting up her little hands. "This suit just masks my heat signature, so I can get around without being spotted by infrared. I have to pull the hood all the way over my face, of course, but with you so close it shouldn't matter at the moment."
I nodded. Of course she'd need something like that--and she would've known to expect heat-sensing monitoring gear in a place like this. "That still doesn't explain how you didn't grow back to normal size," I reminded her.
"Well, tell you what, I'm sure you've got lots of questions," said Sally, "so I'll just fill you in on what I've been up to since we parted, okay? Then we can talk about what we need to do next."
"Okay, fine, lay it on me," I agreed, and so she did.
The last time you saw me is when Kate and I left that crappy little hotel room and headed out for some errand or other, right? Well, that wasn't a lie--she really did have an errand to run, but it's not what you expected. See, there's exactly six miniaturizers out there--bet you didn't know that, huh? This isn't exactly classified information, so don't worry, I'm not blowing any military secrets or anything.
Anyway, one of them--the "mobile" miniaturizer--is the one you helped Ray steal. Then there's the "public" one, which used to be at the Sidewinder, and is now at Epcot Center. The other four, well, they're used for various military and scientific purposes, mostly from secret locations we don't usually tell the public about. I'll tell you now, though, that one of them was close by, at a military facility in the Denver area. If you know anything about some of the things the government has going on in Colorado, this won't come as much of a surprise, and that's where Kate took me.
This plan of ours didn't come out of left field, either. We'd always intended to try something like this if we could. It wouldn't have mattered where we found you--we would've been able to get to a miniaturizer and back one way or another, even if we had to take a suborbital flight to pull it off. The proximity of the Denver miniaturizer just simplified matters, that's all. This is what I'd been training for, and I had all the gear I needed standing by. So, basically, down I went--three more zaps, just in case they hit you once or twice with me on board--and Kate brought me back to the hotel room with me and a duffel bag full of gear tucked away in her handbag.
Once we got there, all she had to do was set me down close to you and keep you distracted, while I climbed into your bag and made myself at home. I had plenty of supplies--I need miniaturized food and water, naturally, but this suit reclaims a lot of what I sweat, which sounds gross, but it's not like I have much choice, right? I brought enough stuff to last me a couple weeks, regardless, but I had to figure there'd be something to eat or drink here at my destination, if it came to that. If not, well, that pretty much set a time limit on my survival, huh? Like I told you before, though, it's worth the risk. At least I think so, anyway.
So all I had to do then was stick it out while you wandered around all over the place. The hardest part was the boredom. I couldn't exactly come out and talk to you, after all. I had to keep my presence a secret. We weren't a hundred percent sure of your motivation, don't forget. I didn't really know for sure until I saw how this place affected you, and heard you talking to Marianne. I'm sorry we couldn't trust you, but you have to see it from our perspective. I wasn't about to take the chance you'd get here, join forces with Ray and tell them all about me, now could I? Not if I wanted my life to be worth a damn.
So anyway, I stayed hidden, coming out only when you slept, just to get a little exercise. Even then, I could only roam a little ways, staying close enough to hop back in your bag if you woke suddenly for some reason. Eventually Marianne found you, got you into that car, and flew you off to Texas--that's where we are, by the way…about an hour southwest of Amarillo. The sad thing is, we actually looked at places just like this when we swept the country looking for the miniaturizer, and more than once I might add--but somehow we still didn't find the Ranch, which blows my mind. We should've found it, but we didn't, which means somebody doctored up the data something fierce. Freakin' Ray Ellsworth and his moles! If I find out who's responsible, I'm gonna kick his ass!
Anyway, it's not like I can do anything about that now. The point is, I know exactly where we are, but I can't exactly get that information out to Kate. My transmitters don't have that kind of range, even if I dared try 'em with those guards constantly scanning for that kind of thing. I wouldn't even chance using a cell phone, even if I could get my hands on one. And assuming I could even push the buttons.
But yeah, back to my story. I didn't know anything about that quadruple-restoration business until Marianne said something about it as you got out of the car. I almost panicked then because I'd worked myself pretty deep in your bag, mostly so I didn't have to hear those stupid noises the two of you kept making in the back seat. Fortunately for me, you almost panicked when you heard about getting restored, which gave me time to work my way up and get the hell out. Nobody noticed me jumping in among some rocks by your feet, but then, I guess you were kinda busy at the time, and when I'm this tiny I'm way too small for any guards to see. A full-sized human would have to be able to spot a flea on the ground while standing straight up--try it sometime, and you'll see how likely that is!
Of course, after I jumped off, you two went inside and left me stranded. I couldn't get around to the other side of the building, so instead, I jumped onto Mack's shoe and hid there for a while. Trying to make it into the Barn on my own would've been impossible, so I waited, figuring he'd go there eventually, but instead, he took you to the miniaturizer, and then into Ray's house.
Well, I wanted to be there, of course, because that's the guy I wanted to deal with. Too bad I didn't have any weapons capable of taking him out--but at this size, there's just nothing that'll work. Besides, I didn't want to take the chance he had any tiny bodyguards I didn't know about. The trick we pulled on you, hiding a little stowaway in your clothes, might not be quite as original an idea as we thought, right?
So I stayed where I was while Ray did the glove thing with you--which made me very jealous, by the way--and when Mack finally carried you both back to the Barn, I hopped off his shoe, snuck underneath the elevator, and rode it up the next time one of the dolls used it. I had to stay out of sight of the minis, who might've been able to spot me, but this isn't as hard as it sounds. I hadn't expected to find people nearly my size out here--Ray got us both with that one, I suppose--and I'm only about half as small as they are. That means I couldn't exactly hide in amongst them, making up some story about being from a different quadrant, because at this size I'd stick out like a sore thumb. So I couldn't stay down there, and anyway, I had better things to do.
When I got up top, I just climbed off the elevator and disappeared into the shadows, trying to find where they'd put you. You'd decided to take a nap, which was perfect. I spent the rest of the night sneaking around, searching the whole dollhouse for hidden cameras, sensors, and that sort of thing. You'll be happy to know there aren't any, as near as I can tell, though a couple of the eyes hanging above the lights close by can probably see the outside area. Inside, though, you've got privacy.
Eventually, you got up, by which time I'd secreted myself once more in your bag. The rest of this you mostly know already. Last night, and most of today, I kept busy installing my own little sensors, keeping an eye on the dolls and listening to their conversations, hoping I can learn something useful. No dice, though. They're all either telling the truth or so paranoid they won't slip out of their fake personas for a moment, even in private. They don't talk in their sleep, either, except Kaitlin, who called out Taylor's name about twenty times. No surprise there, I guess.
So after everybody else left for morning roll call, I wrote that secret note to you and left it where I knew you'd find it. If you hadn't shown up tonight, I would've tried something else eventually, but I needed to get you completely out here, where nobody could have any chance of seeing me. Besides which, now that you don't have your tracer in your stomach any more, I need you to take me into Ray's house. I don't think I can get there on my own, not out here, with all these bugs.
Oh, right, I almost forgot about that. You know how you puked up your tracer? Yeah, that's because of me. One of the little toys I brought along cut that thing right out of your gut. I had you swallow it when you were napping yesterday, and it did its work by remote control. It's no accident you vomited when you did, either. I just waited to finish the job until you were off by yourself. Convenient how that works, huh…?
"Wait just a damn minute," I interrupted then--not my first interruption, mind you, but like I've done before, I just sort of eliminated all those distractions so Sally's story came out all together. "You're serious about that? You made my tracer come out?"
"Well, yeah, you don't think was an accident, do you?" said Sally with a shrug. "Sheesh, you must think you're the luckiest freakin' person on the planet."
I just shook my head, and not for the first time this evening. Well, of course it hadn't been an accident! But then what else could I have thought? It's not like I knew I had Sally around, or that she had some kind of anti-tracer tech. "What exactly did you do, anyway?"
"Well," she replied, "you got your tracer on you, right? Take it out."
I dug it out of my bag and held it up, studying it closely in the moonlight. I didn't see anything out of the ordinary. "What?" I asked dubiously.
The tracer looks sort of like a little disc, with a metal bump in the middle, tiny nubs all around the edge, and something like a very thin comb running along the bottom, flush against the surface. Sally pointed at the edges, where little metal ridges stuck out. "See these? Those used to be little wire-like barbed things that stick into your stomach lining. They don't hurt, and the lining eventually grows over them so you can't ever be rid of the sensor, even after the battery dies off. Once that happens they're very difficult to get to, but when it's newly latched on, it's no problem. You can see how they've been melted through. The barbs got left behind, but again, don't worry, they aren't harmful, so don't worry about that."
"Fine, whatever," I said impatiently, "but how the fuck did you cut them? Don't tell me you went down inside my stomach!"
"No, no, of course not! Sheesh, I'm not totally nuts! See that thing on the bottom there? That's the little robot I had you swallow. I had it all folded up in the gear I brought along. Once it finished cutting, it just latched onto the bottom so it would come out with the sensor."
I looked more closely. The thing on the otherwise flat side, made up of comb-like ridges, wasn't part of the tracer after all, but the actual device that sliced it out of me! I hadn't noticed it before, because it'd been miniaturized to Sally's scale (or maybe smaller, for all I knew). Good thing that wasn't in there when I went through the restorer, right? Ouch!
Of course, I had something else I needed very desperately to know just then, so I didn't dwell on that very long. "Sally," I said urgently, "that thing can be used again, can't it?"
"Yeah, yeah, I figured you'd get around to that eventually," she replied, rolling her eyes. "Yes, of course it can. That's the other reason I wanted to talk to you tonight. If you help me make the arrangements, I'll get the cutter into Marianne, and she can lose her tracer, too."
I'm not ashamed to admit it--I grabbed Sally just then, swept her up to my face, and kissed her right on the head. I wanted to jump for joy and dance around, too, but when I saw her disgusted look and pitiful little efforts to fend me off, I just broke up laughing. "Oh, thank you, Sally!" I all but shouted, tossing her up in the air and catching her in one hand. "You just made my day!"
"Fine, great, whatever, just put me down!" she yelled at me. "Please, don't do that! I haven't been very mobile lately--I'm gonna get sick. Sheesh!"
I set her down again and stretched out on the rock. "That's what I needed," I told her, relieved beyond measure. "That's what I've been so worried about all this time! I couldn't figure out how to get out of here without losing Marianne."
"Yeah, I know, and I can see what she means to you," said Sally. "I've had to endure listening to you two, and I know true love when I hear it. I'm not into the girl-on-girl thing, but I don't mind it like some people, so whatever floats your boat."
"Thanks, Sally," I told her. "People like Dena just don't understand. I'd love Marianne if she were a man, too. Just because she's a woman doesn't change anything."
"Yeah, yeah, I get it," she replied, rolling her eyes. "Enough, already, you're making me way too freakin' jealous! The rest of you around this place, you've all got people giving you attention. I don't have anybody, and it's driving me crazy. Damn, it's times like this I really miss Alex's fingers."
"Well," I said with a grin, "if you want, I could probably arrange something…"
"Not likely," she argued. "Which of these giant men do you think you could trust, anyway? Maybe Taylor, but--"
"No, I don't mean Taylor," I told her. "I was thinking of myself."
"W-what?" She looked up at me in horror, backing away as my hands came close. "Oh, no way!"
"Don't knock it till you've tried it," I chuckled, picking her off the ground and holding her up, my thumb and forefinger firmly gripping her sides, underneath her arms. "Marianne showed me a few tricks earlier today, y'know…"
"Oh, hell no!" insisted Sally, struggling a bit as I moved my free hand closer. My finger hovered over her curvy little body, all wrapped up nice and snug in that skintight heat-masking suit of hers. "C'mon, Wendy, you better not! I only like men, dammit!"
"Just shut your eyes," I told her, struggling not to laugh at her difficulties. "Pretend like I'm Alex, holding you, and it'll be just as good, if not better. We girls, we know where to touch each other."
"This isn't funny!" she shouted, starting to get really pissed off now. It took all my strength to not start laughing my head off. "Put me down, or you can forget about--!"
"Stop right there," I interrupted, setting her back down and chuckling to myself. "No need for that. I'm just fooling around, y'know. Seriously, though, if that itch ever gets too strong, and you can't scratch it yourself anymore, my offer's still on the table. It's the least I can do, after all."
"Yeah, whatever," she told me, taking a couple of steps back once I let her go. "See, right there, I knew showing myself to you like this wouldn't be such a hot idea."
"Come on, Sally, admit it, you're tempted, aren't you?" I snickered a bit, unable to stop myself from teasing her. I just felt so happy, and she looked so tiny and cute, I just couldn't resist.
"If I did," she replied, "I sure as hell wouldn't tell you! Not right now--we've got more important things to do. And I don't mean getting the tracer out of your girlfriend, either. That's gotta wait till later. First, you need to get me into Ray's house, and leave me there all night."
"Nope, not gonna happen," I told her instantly. Sally had her priorities all wrong, as far as I'm concerned, and I didn't hesitate a moment in pointing that out.
"What?" she demanded in frustration.
"I said no. First you're gonna help Marianne, and that's final. You do that, and I'll do whatever you say, but not until then."
"Come on, this is serious!" Sally insisted. "I've got a bagful of monitoring equipment to install, and if we get lucky, I'll find a way to send out a transmission to Kate. If I can do that, we may not even need to bother with anything else."
"Uh-uh," I replied firmly, shaking my head. "If there's one thing I know, it's that nothing ever works as planned. I take care of me and mine first--you should know that by now. We're going back to the dollhouse, and you can get started."
"It's not that simple," she told me. "The cutter won't fold up now, not once it's been deployed. It's really only supposed to work once, but its power supply should last for multiple uses. The trick is going to be getting Marianne to swallow it. I won't be able to do that secretly, like with you. She'll choke, otherwise."
"So, what, we have to tell her, then?" I rubbed my chin and thought that over. "I'm not sure I like that. Ray's got her conditioned with those gloves of his. He could use them to find out about what we're up to. Isn't there some way you could clear the tracer out of her without her knowing?"
"Not while she's conscious," replied Sally. "I could tranq her, and if you helped, we could probably get the cutter down her throat. But sooner or later she's gonna have to spit it out--and she'll have to be awake for that. And she'll spot the tracer for sure, just like you did. She has to--if she pukes in a toilet, or something, and flushes it down, she's just as screwed, and so are we."
"Yeah, you've got a point," I replied, sagging my shoulders a bit. "Okay, well, we'll just have to take the chance. You say you can make it let loose on command?"
"Yeah, and just beforehand, it spews out some stuff that upsets your stomach, so you have to hurl. I don't know how many doses it has, in case you're thinking of bringing any of the other dolls along--but it should be enough for Marianne, at least."
"Good, that's what I want to hear. Later tonight, after she's asleep, you can tranq her and we'll make her swallow it--then sometime tomorrow, we'll go for a walk or something and you can finish it off. Sound good?"
"Yeah, sure, whatever," replied Sally, sounding more than just a little bit disappointed. "You know, we don't really have a whole lot of time to fart around like this. What happens if Frank comes and gets you tomorrow, to go off and set up your ambush for Kate?"
"Well, if that happens, you can get Marianne to help," I told her.
"I'm not sure that's such a great idea, but okay, if I've got no other choice, I suppose it'll have to do."
After Sally climbed back into my bag, I just sat there for a moment, shaking my head. The news that I could free Marianne from her tracer left me somewhat giddy. How quickly everything changed! I'd been so worried about everything, with no real way out except to save myself, and now, that whole weight got lifted right off my chest. If only I'd know Sally was here this whole time!
I understood why she kept her presence secret, though. She'd been right to do that. How could she really know my motivation? The last time I saw Kate, I tried to tranq her, don't forget. I wanted her brought to the New Compound with the others. So you can hardly blame Sally for being overcautious.
I probably didn't have to be so harsh with her just now, but that's just me again, thinking of myself first. Sure, I wanted to save Marianne, but that's as much for me as for her. See, I probably wouldn't be able to live with myself if I got out of this and she didn't. Not after I realized how I really felt about her. So forcing Sally to give priority to helping Marianne was really just another form of selfishness on my part. I just did what I had to do to get what I wanted, same as always.
There, now I've successfully justified my actions without sounding sentimental or anything. Got that? Good. Anyway, so I started to pick up my bag, flush with unexpected happiness, and just then I heard some giant footsteps approaching. Instead of standing up, I instead leaned back on the rock, hoping Sally stayed quiet and didn't move, not that she'd ever make a mistake like that after all she'd been through so far.
The giant walked right up to me, lifting off a pair of goggles he'd been wearing, and in the pale moonlight I recognized Mack's shiny, shaved head. "There you are, Blondie," he said, peering down at me. "Whatcha doin' all the way out here?"
"Getting some exercise," I answered with a shrug. "Well, I did, anyway. Now I'm taking a rest, looking up at the stars. I'm not used to being cooped up inside all the time, y'know. Besides, it's not like it's all that hard to find me."
"True," he admitted, tapping the goggles on his forehead. "Infrared is so cool sometimes. Anyways, c'mon, I need me some doll-size lovin' tonight. Nothin' on TV till later."
I let my shoulders slump, but didn't bother arguing. I tried that yesterday, and it didn't really help. He plucked me off the ground without another word, wrapped me up in his thick, warm fingers, and headed off towards his cabin. I had to fight down my irritation at having the rest of my evening interrupted like this, because I could hardly complain--as far as Mack knew, what else could I possibly be doing that would be more important than servicing him?
Once we got inside, we proceeded pretty much the same as last night--another wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am session between his legs, more painful pinching and squeezing of my ass, and then a quick but enjoyable finger-job as my reward. As I gave my final gasp, I thought I heard a tiny voice say, "So jealous!" But I could've been wrong, I suppose.
Mack didn't let me go all that easily this time, though. After washing me off, he carried me over to the couch and sat back down, flipping on the TV and studying me carefully, slowly running one of his fingers up and down my leg. "So, you enjoyin' the Ranch so far, Blondie?" he asked.
I didn't really want a conversation just now, but I decided it'd be better to humor him. "It's not too bad," I responded with a shrug. "The other dolls are nice, and I like the whole little mini society you've got going on."
"Yeah, that's pretty sweet right there," he replied. "Frank 'n Ray, they got all them girls to pick from, any time they want one, day or night…what a perfect setup! Wish I'd thoughta it myself."
"Unless you're fabulously wealthy," I pointed out, "you'd hardly be able to pull something like this off. It's not the idea, it's the execution."
"Yeah, yeah, I know. It ain't no big thing. I'm just glad I get to be here, I ain't really jealous or nothin'."
"How did you get here, if you don't mind my asking?" If he wants to talk, I might as well pry, I figured.
"What? Oh, nothin' much, I been one of Ray's bodyguards for like fifteen years now, ever since that botched hit on him back at Caesar's Palace."
"The what now? I never heard of that."
"Oh, well, it ain't no secret or nothin'. He cheated some guy out of like a hundred million bucks or somethin'--I don't know all the details. They tried to hit him when he came outta Caesar's after some big meetin', but he lived, and after that, he made sure he had bodyguards all the time. I've been one of 'em ever since."
"So you went with him everywhere?" I asked curiously. "I never saw you at the Compound."
"Yeah, I didn't know 'bout that. I useta come with 'im, on the plane and all, but he'd drive outta the airport on his own. I didn't like it--thought it was too risky--but he didn't never listen."
"I guess he does what he wants, huh?"
"Pretty much. I didn't find outtabout the Compound till after it blew up. Ray took me and a couple other guards along after he went underground, and filled us all in on what was happenin'. He said he'd haveta hide, and so would we, so if we weren't willin' to do that, we'd haveta go. Me and Phil, we stuck around, cause Ray paid good and we didn't have nothin' better waitin', but Larry and Stan took off. Probably back in Vegas now, workin' for somebody else for a lot better pay, but they don't got the fringe benefits we got here, know what I mean?" He tweaked my ass with his fingers, just to emphasize his point.
I nodded, but actually I doubted very much that Larry and Stan found another job anywhere, unless you count feeding worms as "work." There's no way somebody like Ray would let anybody walk away, knowing he'd faked his death. Frank probably took care of them as soon as they turned their backs.
"Anyways," went on Mack, "I gotta say, I wish I could take a couple of you little chicks for myself. Just bein' able to fondle your fine little ass takes the edge off all my worries. You wanna stay with me, Blondie? I like you a lot, y'know. We could set up somethin' like what Taylor and Kaitlin got goin' on. Whaddaya say?"
I pretended to think about it for a minute, when in fact, I didn't have the slightest interest in his proposal. Meanwhile, he let that fat finger of his roam around on me a bit more, which, now that he wasn't being all forceful and rude, actually didn't feel too bad. I suppose if Sally could see me now--which she probably could, since I'd left my bag on the table nearby--she'd be even more jealous than before.
"Nice as this feels," I said eventually, "I'm gonna have to decline. Sorry, Mack, it's just I prefer the ladies, y'know?"
He nodded and smiled briefly. "Figures, all the good ones are always taken," he said with a disappointed sigh. "I shoulda known, the way you'n Marianne was carryin' on in the back of the car. Ah, well, I'll just haveta suffer with pickin' and choosin' from all the li'l minis every night. What a damned shame!"
I gathered from his laughter that I'd let him down easy enough. "Just glad to help out," I said after he finished chuckling. "So, you said I'm taking the edge off your worries, huh? What's a big, strong giant like you have to worry about around here? I thought you guys ran the place."
"Ah, yeah, that's true, we do, but see, they got this operation they're plannin', you know the one--we're goin' off to bag us that FBI chick, and I'm goin' with 'em. They need all the firepower they can get, they says."
"And you're worried?" I patted his giant finger supportively. "C'mon, Mack, you look like a big, strong, capable guy. Nothing's gonna happen to you."
"This ain't like bein' a bodyguard," he sighed. "I ain't no military man! I don't got trainin' for this. If I screw it up, somebody's gonna get killed. Prob'ly me."
"That's the price you pay for living the dream," I pointed out. "Every now and then, you gotta fight for it."
"Yeah, yeah, I know, doll, I know. That don't make it any easier, though. I got one more night here, tomorrow night, then we head out. You wanna stick around a while? Cause tomorrow, I'm gonna be lookin' for a few others to celebrate, just in case I don't come back, y'know."
"I really don't think so, Mack," I told him, not missing the crucial bit of information there--that they intended to set the trap for Kate on Friday, the day after tomorrow. Sally was right--we didn't have a lot of time, did we? "Sorry, but don't worry, I'll be along for the ride when you go, right? Maybe you can find some time with me then."
"Maybe so," he agreed. "Okay, then, thanks for talkin' to me, Blondie. Grab your stuff, and I'll take you back home."
I didn't mind Mack all that much--he seemed like a loyal sort of guy, if a little simple-minded. If he hadn't fallen in with this crowd, he probably would've been a construction worker or something like that--a job where he could just move heavy stuff around and do what he's told, without having to really think about it very much. But, like me, he made some choices that brought him here, and now he'd have to live (or die) because of those decisions.
Ah, well, thinking about that would only get me depressed again, and there's no reason for that. I felt pretty good, actually. Knowing I had a way to get rid of Marianne's tracer made all the difference. It didn't solve all my problems, of course, but it sure got rid of the biggest one, that's for sure.
Now I had to decide how and when to reveal all this to Marianne. Part of me wanted to find her and blab right away, because at this point I felt like there's no point in keeping it a secret any more. But I've learned a lot about patience and caution during my various misadventures to this point, so I decided to keep quiet just a bit longer. Besides, as soon as Mack set me down in front of the dollhouse entrance, I realized privacy was pretty much out. The other dolls were all there, except Kaitlin, naturally.
"Thanks again, Blondie," said Mack, waggling a couple fingers at me and smiling as he wandered off. The other girls, busy working out, snickered a bit at me as I got a drink of water from the pool. Marianne just jumped off the treadmill, hurried over, and gave me a quick hug.
"I see you're somebody's new favorite," laughed Dena, busy with what looked like a pretty intense ride on one of the exercise bikes. "Mack never takes the same girl twice."
"Aw, he's sweet on Wendy," agreed Erika. "You were gone an awful long time. What's going on between you two, hmm?"
"Yeah, I better not have a rival," Marianne put in. "Mack's an awful nice guy. I'd hate to haveta kill him."
"Oh, knock it off, all of you," I laughed. "He's just all worried about the mission coming up. He needed somebody to talk to. The usual stuff, also, of course, but he needed some cheering up."
"Yeah, Marianne was telling us about what Ray said earlier," pointed out Erika. "Guess they finished their planning session, huh?"
"Guess so. Mack said they decided to go on Friday. Guess I'm outta here the day after tomorrow."
"How long do you think you'll be gone?" asked Marianne, holding me close--a sensation I didn't mind in the least. "I just found you again. I don't want you leavin' me so soon!"
"Oh, c'mon, baby, it won't be that long," I assured her. "Besides, I think if I ask real nice, I can get 'em to let me bring you with us. If you want, that is."
"Oh, that'd be awesome!" Marianne agreed eagerly. "I don't know anythin' about bein' out there, but if I'm with you, I wouldn't care!"
"Oh, geez, make it stop," complained Dena. "I'm seriously about to toss my cookies right now. Get a room, already!"
Marianne and I shared a mutual giggle at that. "Sorry, Dena," I said, reluctantly separating for a moment. "Anyway, I don't think we'll be on our own or anything like that. They'll have a whole team there, and I'm pretty sure we'll have a nice safe place picked out to hide till Kate shows up. Probably some house like the last one, someplace I'm supposed to feel protected, so I've got no reason to leave. Anyway, whatever, I'm sure Frank's got that all planned out by now. They'll probably tell us all about it tomorrow."
"I still wanna come with you," insisted Marianne. "I don't see why I can't. I'm gonna ask Frank and Ray if I can."
"Well, if you want, I'm not stopping you," I told her. "Although, if you do come along, and we wind up outdoors, I don't want you holding me back too much. Tell you what, let's go out there right now, so you can see what it's like."
"What, outside, after sunset?" she asked doubtfully. "I don't know…the last time I had to go outdoors at this size at nighttime, it kinda sucked." She shuddered a little, obviously remembering the Compound exodus.
"Oh, don't worry about that," I said, shrugging it off. "Where do you think I've been most of the evening? I took a walk around the mansion. That's where Mack found me. We were only together about fifteen minutes--the rest of the time was me wandering around."
"You really did that?" inquired Dena dubiously. "Walked all the way around the house, in the dark?"
"Yeah, it's not like it's all that hard," I replied, because it really wasn't. Compared to most places I've been, this protected little oasis seemed like nothing. The others, though, seemed impressed, especially Dena, although she hid it well by pretending to disbelieve my story.
"I wouldn't want to be out there," Erika replied, shivering noticeably. "Seeing insects inside the Barn is bad enough. To think I'd be surrounded by them--"
"They're nothing," I pointed out. "Mostly they just ignore you. If they get too close, a poke with the spear sends 'em running."
"What about spiders?" demanded Dena. "They don't ignore you. They attack."
"Well, I've got some stories I could tell you," I answered, "but you said you didn't want to hear them, so…"
She nodded, her mouth set in a firm line. "Yeah, and that's a good policy still. The less we talk about spiders, the better."
"Let's just say she had a bad encounter, and leave it at that," Erika added. "But anyway, you just go walking out there with your spear, and that's it? Nothing to be afraid of?"
"Well, I've got a kind of checklist I run through," I explained. "Like when you're driving, and you glance at your mirrors without thinking about it, y'know? I watch the sky for owls, poke ahead for anything in the undergrowth (if there is any), glance from side to side in case something approaches, and keep my ears open. You gotta pay attention--every sound means something."
"Sounds positively awful," Dena remarked. "I'll just stay right here, if you don't mind."
"How about you, Erika?" I asked. "You wanna go have a look? We won't walk far--maybe just to the end of the path and back."
"Yeah, sure, what the hell," she answered. "I'm getting bored as hell in this place. Let me grab a sword." She scurried off down the hall.
I turned to Marianne apologetically, because I hadn't really intended to bring anybody else along, but I felt like I could hardly exclude anybody after all my bragging. "You okay with this? I was thinking maybe we could get some alone time."
"Yeah, I'm cool with it," she replied. "Besides, I betcha she don't last five minutes. I'll stick it out, though. I don't mind it in the daytime too much, so how bad could it really be? Anyways, if you say it's okay, I'll trust ya."
Erika returned a moment later, carrying a sewing needle she'd fashioned into a sword with a handguard cobbled together out of a ring of metal held in place by one of those twist-tie things. The weapon looked crude, and somewhat unwieldy since the needle stood almost as tall as herself, but she swung it around two-handed, suggesting she'd had some practice. I preferred my spear, which I could use with only one hand or with both as needed. Holding the needle by its eye, you couldn't possibly balance it one-handed.
Erika took a quick drink from the pool and smiled, trying very hard not to look nervous. "Okay, then, let's go," she offered, and we headed to the elevator, leaving Dena behind, shaking her head. I thought she might join us at the last minute, but she didn't.
"So this is it," I said, holding out my spear and waving it in front of me, indicating the vast emptiness beyond the little doll-sized exit from the Barn. "The great outdoors."
"Yeah, yeah, we know already," scoffed Erika. "It's not like we haven't been out there before. Stop being so dramatic!"
"Sorry, I can't help it," I chuckled. "The way you reacted earlier, I mean. Besides, have you been out here before without a giant carrying you?"
"No," she admitted, "I can't say that I have. I've never even gone out of the quads, except that one time we had to search along the crates and stuff for those minis. You know, the ones who took hide-and-seek a bit too far."
"Yeah, I thought they were nuts," put in Marianne. "They keep the place pretty clean, but you never know when some nasty critter's gonna take up residence in some crevice."
I just shook my head. "You two need to be less scared of insects. They seriously aren't much of a threat. I spent months trying to get to Lou's prison and I only got attacked a few times."
"How many times?" demanded Marianne. "C'mon, no lyin'! The real number!"
I rubbed my chin for a bit and waggled my fingers, pretending to count while they both waited impatiently. I could've lied and said some random number, but instead, I decided to be honest about it. "Probably no more than a couple hundred or so," I deadpanned.
"What?" Marianne took a couple steps back from the doorway. "I thought you said they ain't dangerous!"
"Oh, I didn't quite say that," I reminded her. "I said they weren't much of a threat, which is true. If you're armed, and paying attention, that is. Look, here's the thing. Bugs are stupid. They don't think, they just act, like little programmed robots. That means you can always tell what they're gonna do. Ninety-nine percent of any insect you see will be smaller than you and automatically run away, because their little bug-brain programming says bigger is bad. It's the other one percent, the larger predator types, you gotta watch out for. And we've got weapons, so we've got nothing to worry about, as long as we keep on watching."
"Okay, if you say so," said Erika. "I'm still not sure I wanna do this, but at least it's something other than stair-steppers or getting played with by some giant. Come on, let's go before I change my mind."
"Fine, follow me," I told them, and headed off in the general direction of the row of cabins, just barely visible in the distance, like faint shadows along the starry horizon. The moon had climbed up high in the sky by now, so we had pretty decent visibility. As I walked, I settled into my usual pattern of checking the sky, glancing side to side, and waving my spear slightly around ahead of me. About every dozen steps or so I'd poke at something or tap a rock, then go back to the waving bit. Meanwhile, of course, I listened to the faint wind, alert for anything that sounded out of the ordinary--crunching of leaves, a swoosh in the air that might indicate a bird, that sort of thing. Unfortunately, I had a couple of extremely noisy companions tonight, which made my job all that much harder. I'm so used to being alone out here, having people following me around felt wrong somehow.
"Why do you keep swinging that thing around?" asked Erika after a minute or so. Both the others kept watching me carefully, trying to mimic what they saw me doing, but Erika was having trouble with the much larger and heavier sewing needle.
"It's a thing I do," I explained. "I poke the ground to make sure there's nothing hiding under the earth, and some bugs disguise themselves as rocks, or just under them. Mostly, though, I'm just checking for spiderwebs. There probably aren't any out here, but you can't be too careful. If we went between anything tall, like plant stalks, or fenceposts, or whatever, I'd slow down and be a whole lot more thorough. You really don't wanna get fouled up in a spiderweb if the spider's somewhere around."
"Eww, spiders," muttered Marianne, who stayed close to me, holding my free hand tightly. She had a spear, also, but instead of waving it, she kept stabbing damn near everything we came close to. "I never liked 'em much. 'Specially not at this size. I ain't as scared of 'em as Dena, though."
"Funny, I would've thought she wouldn't be afraid of anything," I remarked, slowing the pace a bit after Erika jumped at the sight of a moth fluttering by at just above ground level.
"Yeah, well, we all got our phobias, y'know, and Dena's is spiders. You wanna know how we know?"
"Sure, why not," I agreed.
"Oh, don't remind me of that," said Erika. "That freaked me out, too."
"Well, don't listen, then, but I wanna tell this one. Okay, so, we were sittin' around the dollhouse, y'know? One of those afternoons when we was all there together, after the guards finished with us, and we had like an hour before evenin' roll. I was in my room gettin' dressed after showerin', cause Ricky just brought me back, and all of a sudden Dena starts screamin' her head off from outside. We run out there, and she's cowerin' behind the exercise bike, freakin' out totally, and we got no idea why. So Kaitlin goes over to see what's up, and Dena points, her hand all shakin' and stuff, and Kaitlin turns round and sees this big wolf spider on the wall."
"How big?" I asked curiously, because I've seen those things plenty of times. They look scary as hell, but really, they can't do shit to you, unless you're helpless for some reason. Hell, I don't even think their little fangs can break our miniaturized skin. I've had one land on my back before, and I felt something like a bite, but it didn't inject any venom or anything. It only got like half a second to try, anyway, cause I flipped it off me and stabbed it in just about that much time. Wolf spiders usually go after smaller bugs, grasshoppers and stuff like that, or at least I think so, anyway.
"As big as one of us," answered Erika. "Scariest goddamn thing I ever saw in my life."
"Yeah, she ain't kiddin'," agreed Marianne. "I didn't see it till I stepped out of the doorway, then there it was, big as life. I ain't ashamed to admit it--I ran for the elevator, not really thinkin' straight. But see, by then it was all over. Soon as Kaitlin saw it, she'd rushed back inside, almost knockin' Erika over. Erika gets a look and runs back in, too, freakin' out like me, and Dena's screamin', and it's all panic except then Kaitlin comes out with a spear and pins the damn spider right to the wall! It never even moved, 'cept to twitch its legs when it dies. Then it just kinda folds up, and we see it ain't as big as we thought, cause the legs give it like this huge-ass wingspan or whatever. Anyway, Kaitlin grins at us, pulls it off the wall and dumps it over the side, probably freakin' out a bunch of minis down there if they saw it. 'Spiders ain't no trouble,' she says, or somethin' like that, and goes inside to wash her spear--and y'know, we all had a whole lot more respect for her after that."
"I'll say," agreed Erika. "Until then we'd all kinda joked about her, cause she spent all her time with Taylor, and seemed like such a pushover, always letting Dena have her way, never arguing or anything. We kinda forgot she spent time in the military. I swear, I was looking right at her face when she saw that spider, and she never showed a hint of fear. Not even a twinge. Instead she knew exactly what to do and went straight for her weapon. Dena, who we'd always thought was so strong, she's over cryin' in the corner, and Kaitlin saves the day. Never would've seen that coming."
"Yeah, but she didn't take no credit for it," pointed out Marianne. "She never even mentioned it again, not even one time. The next day Dena was back to her reg'lar self, bein' all bitchy, and nothin' really changed. 'Cept we all know who the stronger one is, don't we?"
"Yep," agreed Erika. "Oh, don't get us wrong, Dena's not a wimp or anything--she pulls her weight. Just don't show her a spider, or she loses it. Everybody's got shit they're scared of--me, it's crossing bridges."
"What?" I asked curiously. By this point we were maybe halfway down the path to the nearest cabin. We hadn't seen anything even remotely scary yet, but both my companions kept jumping at every little creepy-crawly that showed up--even the really tiny ones. And believe me, at our size, there's basically insects everywhere you look,
"I hate crossing bridges," said Erika. "I mean the really big ones, like Golden Gate, and Chesapeake Bay. The ones over really big bodies of water. I don't know what it is, but I always get the shakes. I feel like we're gonna drive off the side, or it'll collapse under us, or whatever. Stupid, I know, but there you are."
"At least you don't have to worry about that anymore," I pointed out. "You'll probably never see a bridge like that as long as you work in this place."
"Yeah, well, I won't be here forever," Erika mentioned. I wanted to inquire further about that, but she derailed that idea by saying, "How about you, Marianne? What are you scared of?"
"Owls," she answered without hesitation. "Ever since that night in the woods, I ain't been able to even look at a picture of an owl without freakin' out."
"What do you mean?" asked Erika. "What night in the woods?"
"You saw 'Diminuphobia,' right?"
"Yeah, why?"
"Remember that scene near the end, where that one girl gets taken by the owl? Yeah, that really happened. Oh, and those girls who saw it, the ones screamin' and runnin' away all panicky like? Well, one of them was me."
"Really?" Erika asked. "I didn't know any of them were supposed to be you. They didn't even look like you."
"Well, in the movie, they just made it random extras or somethin'," explained Marianne, "and there were a lot more there than in real life. It was me, Kate, Bobbie, and that's it. Well, not countin' Caroline. Anyways, every time I even think about owls, I think of one of 'em pickin' me off and carryin' me up to some tree someplace to bite my head off. It was just so goddamn big. You got no idea what that's like, seein' that gigantic fuckin' wall of feathers comin' at you! It coulda been me it grabbed, y'know. Maybe it was even after me, and Caroline just stepped out there, into the open, and made an easier target. I got no idea, but I think about her all the time. I can't stop thinkin' about what happened to her, and how, 'cept for a few seconds, it coulda been me."
"Sounds awful," said Erika, suddenly glancing fearfully at the sky. "What if one of those things comes at us now? What do we do?"
"Jump off to the side," I told her. "They can't change their flight direction much as they swoop in. Worked for me, anyways."
"Worked…omigod, you got attacked by one?" gasped Marianne, gripping my hand even more tightly.
"Yeah, but I was by myself, and heard it coming. Plus I knew it was there--I saw it silhouetted against the stars a few times beforehand. Oh, and don't worry, I've been watching this whole time--nothing like that out here tonight. I don't think there's a big owl population here where we are."
"Ray sends people up into the rafters sometimes," explained Erika. "Inside and out of the Barn. You can see 'em up there, poking around, looking for stuff. We figured they'd be looking for animals, but yeah, maybe barn owls too. Anyway, I don't think you've got much to worry about, Marianne."
"Nah, it's pretty safe," I told her. "All that time I was outside, I only got attacked once. Owls are used to mice and stuff that don't look up. Just keep glancing around, and if you hear something like a rushing sound, you got incoming."
"Speaking of incoming," said Erika, suddenly very worried, "what the hell is that?"
I saw it at almost the same moment she started speaking, and stopped dead in my tracks. Ahead of us, just along the edge of the walking path, something fairly large, about our size or thereabouts, crawled into view between a pair of rocks. I could see a wide, dark-colored, insect-like back, and several long bug legs carrying it out into the open, onto the edge of the asphalt, where it couldn't possibly fail to see us.
For a moment, I thought, Oh, just a big beetle, nothing to worry about, and then I saw the crab-like claws.
And the tail.
And the hooked stinger jutting out overhead, swinging to point in our direction!
Now, as far as nasty things go that you don't want to meet out in the wilderness when you're three inches high, a scorpion's pretty close to the top of the list. They're fast, they can go over rough terrain without slowing down, and they've got weapons that can totally fuck you up. I had little doubt if that thing got a hold of me and hit me with that stinger, it'd be curtains.
I've seen scorpions a few times, fortunately long before they got too close to be a problem. The best thing to do when you see one is get the hell away. They're quick, but not that quick. Plus they're not very persistent. Once they see you're fast enough to get away, they stop chasing you and start looking for something else.
There was this one time, fairly early in my journey to find Lou, when I met a scorpion in some light woods and tried to escape by climbing up a tree. Well, you may not know this, but scorpions are pretty good climbers. The damn thing came up after me, and I couldn't figure out a good spot to stand where I could poke at it with a spear and keep my balance. So instead I headed out to the end of the branch, jumped down into a handy bush, and ran like hell for about ten minutes. After I hopped over a little stream, I took a break, and watched, but never saw the scorpion again. I wound up pretty lost for a while after that, but otherwise, well, it's nothing I couldn't handle.
This time, I didn't have the luxury of cover, or anyplace to climb or hide. Worse, I had two people with me who didn't have the slightest idea what to do. If I'd been alone, I would've turned and run, keeping an eye over my shoulder till the creature stopped coming, and that would've been that. Unfortunately, Marianne started screaming her pretty little head off, and Erika froze up, totally paralyzed. If I ran, I had no idea if either of them would follow me.
"Come on," I told them, starting to back away. The scorpion started towards us, but we still had time to get away. "Come on! We gotta run! NOW!"
I started to move, but Marianne kept on screaming and Erika just stood there, holding her spear in both hands, her face ashen white. I shook Marianne and slapped her lightly on the face. "Get the fuck OUT of here!" I yelled urgently.
"O-okay," she agreed, blinking as if waking up from a dream, and turned away from the approaching monster. She started to run, but when I didn't follow, stopped a few steps away, watching in utter terror.
"Erika! MOVE IT!" I yelled as loudly as I could, poking her arm with the tip of my spear, not quite hard enough to draw blood. She instantly jumped and reflexively swung her weapon at me, but I'd prepared for that and dodged away. "We gotta RUN!" I screamed. "Back to the Barn! NOW!"
She nodded and started running, much to my relief. I rushed after her, grabbing Marianne by the hand and racing down the path. Erika realized right away that the huge sewing needle wasn't doing her any good, so she dropped and took off, leaving us in the dust. I glanced over my shoulder, saw the scorpion a couple feet away, and instantly realized by its speed it would never catch us. So dropping the weapon didn't help at all. A huge mistake, if we'd been on our own. At our size, you can't afford to waste anything.
We ran for a couple of minutes, all the way back to the door to the Barn. I kept looking back, checking our progress, and the scorpion stopped after about thirty seconds. Then it went back to Erika's spear, played with it for a few moments, and scuttled back the way it came. I could've told the others, but didn't bother. Erika looked completely lost in panic, and Marianne kept making a little whimpering sound, like she wanted to scream but couldn't force one out through her desperate breaths.
Once we got to the door, Erika ripped it open and all but dove inside. I helped Marianne through and followed, whereupon she fell into my arms, clinging to me and sobbing. "Omigod, just hold me, please, just hold me," she begged, and of course I reciprocated without hesitation. Erika, meanwhile, risked a glance back the way we'd come, didn't trust the evidence of her eyes that we hadn't been followed, and slammed the door shut loudly.
We took a moment to catch our breaths, though it didn't take all that long. We were all in pretty good shape, apparently, because nobody seemed all that winded. I held onto Marianne, running my fingers through her hair so she'd know everything would be okay, and then smiled at Erika. "So, going back for your needle, then?" I inquired casually.
"Fuck no!" she replied instantly. "It can damn well stay out there! Thank you for the interesting evening, Wendy, but you can keep your expeditions to yourself from now on! I'm going back to my safe little room, where I'll be enjoying a fine series of nightmares tonight, I'm sure. Bye!"
She hurried off towards the elevator, and I patted Marianne on the back and stepped away, chuckling. "Oh, come on," I told her, "it wasn't all that scary."
"Are you kiddin'?" she demanded, punching me lightly on the arm. "Did you see those claws, and that fuckin' stinger? We coulda been killed!"
"Oh, please, it wasn't a threat," I sighed, rolling my eyes. "We can run faster than any scorpion. Plus, if you two hadn't been scared out of your wits, I bet we could've taken it. Not that I would've risked that, mind you. It's not like it was guarding something we needed. All we had to do was avoid it, that's all."
Marianne looked up at me, with those big, soulful eyes of hers I love so much. "I-I'm sorry," she told me. "I-I panicked, and I coulda got you hurt or killed tryin' to protect me. I shoulda run when you said."
"Ah, it's my fault," I told her. "I asked you to go out there without any preparation at all. It took me weeks to get used to being outside, and I expected you to adapt right away just because I'm there. What if it'd been something we couldn't run from? I didn't even think about that. Sorry, Marianne, I put you in danger."
"You ain't got no reason to apologize to me," she insisted. "It's my fault, anyways. I didn't wanna go out there, but I didn't wanna chicken out when I had a chance to show up Dena. I'm kinda jealous of Kaitlin, y'know, from that whole spider thing."
"Yeah, I wonder what Dena would've done if she'd been out here?" I remarked. "Probably freaked out like you two did. Scorpions look a lot like spiders, only meaner."
"They ain't spiders though," said Marianne. "Not even insects. Not really. They're more like shellfish, or somethin'. Crustaceans, yeah, that's the word."
I raised an eyebrow. "How the hell do you know that?"
"Heard it on some nature show," she told me. "I useta like watchin' nature stuff on TV. I like goin' to zoos and stuff, and my biggest dream is to go on safari in Africa someday. Not like this, though. At normal size, I mean. I'd probably like playin' with insects, if they weren't so scary."
"Hmm, and here I thought I knew everything about you, babe," I told her. "Zoos, huh? I bet that'd be cool. I never tried visiting anyplace like that."
"I mean normal size," Marianne replied. "Not tiny."
"This is normal," I reminded her. "For me, anyway. I'm never getting big again, unless they make me."
"Really?"
"Yes, really. It's not about the fact that I'm a wanted criminal or anything, either. I used to think maybe it was, but it's more than that. I feel stronger, more capable like this. Yeah, sure, anybody could grab me, and make me a prisoner, but that's the risk I take. I was a prisoner before, y'know. Back on the streets. I got out of that by getting small, so why would I ever want to go back to that life? No, thank you. I'll stay tiny forever, if I can pull it off."
"I don't know if I could do that," said Marianne worriedly. "I love you, Wendy, I really do, but stay like this for the rest of our lives? I'm not sure I can."
"I'm not asking you to. When you get restored, I'll stay with you. I can live in your place, wherever it is. Nobody has to know I'm there. It'll be nice to be someplace safe for a change."
She nodded, but I saw the doubt in her face. She didn't want that kind of relationship, at least not permanently. She wanted me the same size as her, didn't she? Despite how much we both enjoyed it when she played with me earlier, that's not how she wanted us to be all the time.
I turned away, suddenly aware that I'd screwed things up. I'd imagined a future in which we lived together like I said earlier, but that's not what Marianne wanted. The only alternatives were for her to stay my size, or for us to both get restored. Could I really do that, though? Could I get big again, knowing it would be forever, because nobody would ever miniaturize me after this? Or would I have to insist she stay my size, against her will?
"I-I don't know," Marianne told me after a moment. "I guess I always pictured us the same size, that's all. Maybe…yeah, maybe, we could try it, right? I mean, you could get restored later…when you're ready. If we were together, it wouldn't be so bad, would it?"
"Maybe not," I replied weakly. "We haven't really talked about what's going to happen after we get out of here, have we? And we should, but not here. Do you think we could go outside again, just in case anyone's listening to our conversation?"
"Out there?" Marianne glanced at the door worriedly. "What if that--that thing's still outside?"
"Oh, I'm sure it is, but we know it's there now, so we can just avoid it, right? If we see it again, just run the other way. I wanna get Erika's needle back, anyway. Just think how Dena will react when we tell her you insisted we go out there after it."
"Y-yeah, true," she agreed reluctantly. "Okay, but you go first, and if you see anything, we just run, okay? I don't wanna have to look at any more monsters tonight."
"Fine," I agreed, and we went back out through the door, checking carefully to see if the scorpion might be lurking around. They like to get under rocks and fallen logs and stuff like that, I'm pretty sure, but then, so do a whole lot of other things. Honestly, when I'm in the wild, I make a point of avoiding stuff like that just for that reason. You never know when some snake or spider or whatever is gonna pop out of some dark crevice under a piece of wood. That sort of thing doesn't bother me--I'm so overcautious in those situations, it's hard to get surprised. The real dangerous ones are those fucking spiders that live under trap doors that look just like pieces of gravel. You're just walking along, minding your own business, and pop goes the weasel! Why do you think I'm always poking at rocks with my spear all the time?
Anyway, we made our way back down the path towards the needle, which stood out like a sore thumb, glinting in the moonlight. We took our time, wary of scorpions, but visibility was pretty good and it didn't have anything to hide under, so we could hardly miss something as big as us moving around out there. No sign of it anywhere, so I guess it moved off someplace else.
"So," Marianne said after a moment, returning the conversation to the topic at hand, "what do you think's gonna happen when we get outta here?"
"Well," I told her, "I've got no clue, if you want to know the truth."
"Me either," she said, leaning up against me as she walked. I put my arm around her supportively, and she smiled. "I been thinkin' about it a lot, now that we're back together. I don't wanna lose you again, Wendy. I shoulda stayed with you before, back at the Compound."
"No, I should've come with you," I countered. "It was selfish of me to stay. I wanted what the Compound offered--or at least I thought I did. It's all I could think about--me, me, me, that's all I cared about. Not anymore. I guess I've grown up, Marianne. Being outside, living like I have--I finally grew up. I never got to do that before, not really. I never thought about anyone but myself."
"Yeah, I feel the same way," said Marianne. "I liked the Compound, at least at first, but then I had a chance to get out, and I took it. I didn't think about anythin' but myself, either. I wanted to go, and nothin' mattered but that. I shoulda tried harder to convince you, or stayed, or somethin'."
I nodded. "Sounds like we were both wrong," I told her. "Now we can't let ourselves fall into that trap again. I want to stay tiny, and you don't--there's no reason to deny that, or try to hide it, right?"
"No, I guess not," she replied sadly. "Oh, Wendy, I don't wanna go through this! We shouldn't haveta do this! I just wanna be happy. We don't even know if we're gonna get outta here, ever."
"I think we will," I replied confidently. "Let's imagine we do, okay? What then? Do you want to get married?"
Marianne gulped and looked at me again, those big eyes of her boring into my soul. "A-are you…are you p-proposin'?" she asked shakily.
"No, no, I didn't mean it like that! Shit, if I was proposing, I would've brought a ring or something. I just mean, we should talk about it, y'know? Would you even want to get married? That's what I'm asking."
"I-I don't know," she replied, turning away and staring out into the darkness. I must say, the moonlight on the rocks and buildings sure made things look romantic. Not a bad night for a proposal, actually, if I'd intended to get that formal. "I don't know," Marianne repeated after a moment. "I never thought about it. They only passed the law a couple years ago."
She's referring, of course, to the national same-sex marriage law making such things legal everywhere. Before that law finally got through the Supreme Court, which happened while I was living with Lou, they left it up to the states to decide, and about 20 or so of them didn't allow it. So any gay couples in one of the holdouts had to move to another state if they wanted to get married, and have it be legally binding. What a pain in the ass that was! Of course, all this stemmed from a whole shitload of homosexuality prejudice that still caused problems, even in today's mostly tolerant society. If we got married in the wrong location, our neighbors could cause plenty of problems, especially in areas where the local government didn't like SSMs any more than the other residents. So we'd have to choose our new home carefully.
"Yeah, well, assume we can figure out the right place to live, would you want that? You and I, we've both kinda been on our own for a long time. Could you really settle down? I'm not sure I really could, y'know. I'd like to try, I think, if you would."
She nodded and turned back to me. "I think I'd like that, too, but first, we gotta escape this place, and how we gonna do that?"
By this point we reached Erika's fallen needle, which I recovered and slung over my shoulder, looking out at our surroundings cautiously. Still no scorpion, thankfully, because it would've really ruined our conversation. We turned around, but instead of heading back towards the Barn, I started out over the rougher terrain, heading towards a little hill that would give me a good view all around. Marianne, to her credit, didn't complain, but followed automatically, still wary but looking a whole lot more confident than before.
Up until this point I hadn't really decided if I'd tell Marianne everything about Sally's sudden appearance and our plan to get rid of the tracer. Now, though, I threw all caution to the wind. I stood on top of that rock, peering around, making sure no armored monstrosities were approaching, and then I turned to my companion and smiled the smile of someone who's got a secret they can't wait to reveal.
"Marianne," I said quietly, "what if I told you I had a way to get rid of your tracer?"
"W-what?" she asked, obviously unsure whether or not she should believe what I just said. "What do you mean, get rid of it?"
"I mean, if I could get it out of you, so you could hide it, and wander around without any of the guards knowing where you really are."
She put her hand over her mouth, eyes wide. "Really? You can really do that? Omigod, that would be fuckin' awesome! I could get the hell outta here--"
"Not yet," I interrupted. "We can't go yet. I got some things I gotta do first. But yeah, that's the idea, basically--when we're ready, when we're sure we can get away, the two of us can make a run for it."
"You mean you've--?" she began, but stopped as I reached into my bag.
After rooting around for a moment, I found the little metal disc and pulled it out, showing it to her with a grin on my face. "This is it," I told her. "I figured out how to make it come out. You have to…well, no, I'm not gonna say, it's way too gross. Trust me, though, I can get yours out, too. But you need to trust me."
"Of course," Marianne agreed at once. "If you can get that goddamn thing outta me, I'll do anythin' you want!" She grinned slyly in my direction. "And I do mean anythin', by the way."
"Ooh, I'll have to test that out later," I replied with a chuckle. Deliberately raising my voice slightly, and directing it towards my backpack, I added, "Anyway, there's this thing I need you to swallow. Here, let me get it out of my bag. It's in here somewhere."
I hadn't seen the little robot on the bottom of the tracer, which meant my tiny stowaway must've removed it at some point. I put my hand inside and held it there with fingers outstretched. Sure enough, a couple seconds later I felt the little metal object slide onto my fingertip. "Ah, here it is," I said, withdrawing my hand but keeping the device just slightly hidden from view. "Okay, then, I need you to swallow this, Marianne. No, don't look, just put it on your tongue and choke it down. It'll take a while to work--I'm not sure how long, but probably all night. Sometime tomorrow when it's done you can just force yourself to puke--you know how to do that, right?"
"Oh, yeah, sure, did it lotsa times," she admitted without hesitation. "Okay, here, lemme eat it, whatever it is.
She opened her mouth and I placed the robot on her tongue. Without even trying to see what I'd placed there, Marianne swallowed it down. "Kinda metallic," she told me. "Feels kinda weird goin' down."
"Well, trust me, you'll be glad it's in there. Anyway, we'll have to come back out here tomorrow, if that's okay, so nobody else can see when it comes out. That's part of why I wanted us out here tonight--so I could tell you this, and so the others didn't get all suspicious tomorrow, when we come out here again."
"Good thinkin'," she agreed. "I guess that scorpion helped us out, huh? Chasin' off Erika like that."
"Yeah, if we see it again, I'll be sure to thank it," I agreed sarcastically. "It's gone, though. I can't see it anywhere, and we can see most of the Ranch from up here."
"Yep," agreed Marianne. "So, is that the only reason you brought me out here? To get me to eat funny metal things?"
"No, that's not the only reason," I admitted. "Actually, I thought the moonlight looks pretty cool. Don't you agree…?"
She nodded and moved closer, so I took her in my arms and kissed her. For a while we managed to forget about being outside, and about secret tracers, and insects, and even that glorious, pale lover's moon. Oh yeah, and scorpions, too.
Yep, even them.
We got pretty lucky, actually, and I don't mean it that way, so get your mind out of the gutter! I mean, we were lucky because the scorpion didn't show up, and neither did anything else dangerous. While we made out, there under that amazing moon, damn near anything could've walked up and even I probably wouldn't have heard it coming.
Marianne is a bad influence on me, I thought as we reluctantly separated. I loved the feel of her, the warmth as she cuddled against me in the cool night air, the way her hair touched my face…everything, really. Even the way she made me forget my caution out here in the wild--hell, even being put in danger didn't bother me, as long as I had Marianne to hold onto.
I've never felt this way before. Not even close. Oh, yeah, I thought I'd been in love various times, but nothing like this. Nobody ever made me forget my problems, forget myself, forget the world. I have to admit, feeling this way scared the hell out of me like nothing else ever in my life, and that's saying a lot. I'd do anything for Marianne, and she'd do anything for me, which was both a blessing and a curse, as long as we were stuck in this awful place.
As we walked arm in arm back to the dollhouse, just enjoying each other's company, I tried once again to figure out what changed me so much. A year or so ago, I wouldn't have been capable of feeling like this. Hell, Lou's betrayal made me want to kill myself, but only my stubborn refusal to give up and let him win in the end kept me going. I'd stay free and alive and on my own, despite everything, and that would show him, right? But somewhere along the line, something in me changed, and I didn't know when or how or why, but I sure as hell wasn't complaining.
I did realize one thing, though--I'd taken the dominant role in our relationship, which may not seem all that unusual, since I tend to prefer submissive women. But, see, back at the Compound, that's not how things were. Marianne and I never really had a definite role like that, even when we swapped partners around. All four of Lester's crew, as we called ourselves, basically treated each other as equals. There weren't any Denas in our group, mostly because we all came from poor backgrounds, though Pam and Melinda weren't nearly as bad off as us. Pam grew up in a middle class family but ran away from home after her mother died and her father started abusing her and the other kids, while Melinda's parents died just after her eighteenth birthday in a car wreck, and what little savings they had got sucked up by estate taxes. Both wound up destitute and landed at the Sidewinder in order to make ends meet, so you know the rest.
Anyway, the point is, none of us felt superior to the others like Dena obviously did, so nobody really took a dominant role. Maybe that's what made me think of my relationships there as temporary, like they didn't really matter. Now, though, things were different, and that's at least one thing I could point towards as something that definitely changed. Maybe that's the trigger that made things work out--I had no idea. It doesn't really matter, anyhow. I liked being the dominant woman, and Marianne obviously liked being submissive.
Sure, you say, that sounds pretty cut and dried, but what about earlier when I got shrunk down and Marianne got to play with me? Well, that's an isolated incident, really. I'm talking about overall, our whole relationship, not just one individual occasion. Besides which, now that I started thinking about that again, it occurred to me that I hadn't had an opportunity to reciprocate. So far as I knew, nobody did anything to punish Marianne for that, so maybe they'd decided it was okay after all. Kaitlin could always change sizes when she wanted, right? So maybe they just didn't care if Marianne and I did something similar, as long as we didn't do something stupid like try to hide or run away.
"Whatcha thinkin' about?" Marianne asked as we returned to the Barn entrance. "I can hear the gears workin' all the way over here."
I smiled at her. She always seemed to be able to tell when I started thinking too much. "Oh, nothing really, I was just wondering--while I was out all day, did anything happen to you? Because you shrunk me, I mean."
"Oh, that," she replied, giggling a bit. "Yeah, somethin' happened, sorta. I ain't sure how you're gonna take this."
"Well, lay it on me," I suggested as we stepped back inside the Barn. The lights were completely off now, except the faint ones around the perimeter. That would mean all the little minis were asleep, or trying to sleep. That's what I should be doing, too, but not right away. I had a few other things I wanted to do tonight.
"Well, y'know how I went with Jordan and Evan earlier? Well, on my way there, Frank intercepted us and took me aside for a minute. I figured he'd be sore about the miniaturizer thing, but you know what he said? Go on, take a guess."
"Uh…he said don't do that again unless you plan to stay that small?"
"Ooh, no, but I woulda thought it'd be somethin' like that," she replied. "Actually, he said--" (and she switched to a terrible imitation of Frank's sloppy English)--"'If you use it like that again, don't fuckin' hide in the machinery. Stay outside where we can watch you on the cameras!' Then he laughed and handed me back to Jordan, and off he went. I shoulda known he woulda wanted to watch, the big perv."
"Yeah, that does figure, doesn't it? I'm surprised he didn't come in and watch us personally. In fact, next time he comes after us, I bet he makes us do that."
"Nah, he's got Dena, he don't need us," Marianne told me. "He don't know it, but she's got him wrapped around her li'l finger. Well, that'd be pretty hard for real, but y'know what I mean."
"Oh, I doubt he feels a damn thing for her," I answered, "and I'm sure she doesn't believe that, either. He's just like the owners before, or Lou--he'll cut her loose as soon as he's tired of her, or has to run off, or whatever. And by cut her loose, I mean he'll probably just stomp her into the ground. These men don't really feel anything for any of us, y'know. We're all just playthings, or slaves, or whatever. To them, we don't mean anything at all."
"Yeah, I know, I remember the owners before," said Marianne, casting her eyes towards the ground. "Damn, I never thought of that. If we get outta here somehow, we're just leavin' them behind, ain't we? What if Ray and Frank think they gotta burn their bridges again, cause they think we're gonna tell on 'em? That means they could kill everybody here! Oh, no, we gotta stop that from happenin'!"
"I know," I agreed right away. "I've seen it, y'know. You didn't have to watch what happened to the others back at the Compound, but I did. Just thinking about them doing that here makes me sick to my stomach. But I can't think of how we can get away without that happening. Maybe they won't blow the place up--they might just pack up and drive off. Hell, it must've taken Frank ages to arrange so many kidnappings, right? They won't want to start all over if they can avoid it."
"Well, we gotta think of somethin'," insisted Marianne. "That thing you made me swallow--can it work on the other dolls, too?"
"Probably," I told her, "but should we chance it? I like the others, too--even Dena, though she treats everybody like crap most of the time. She's like me, sort of, and she's totally trapped by Frank--I wouldn't want to leave her here, if I could avoid it. But what do we do? Tell her about the tracers, and risk her telling Frank, to get some favor or whatever? And same thing with Kaitlin--she'd do anything if she thought it'd help Taylor somehow. And Erika, who knows what she'd do? I'm really not comfortable telling any of them, quite honestly."
Marianne nodded as I laid that all out on the table. "Yeah, you're right, I know you are," she admitted. "I just wish we could help 'em too. You ain't been here long enough, but I know Kaitlin wouldn't betray us. Not unless they threatened Taylor somehow. Dena and Erika probably wouldn't, either, but yeah, I see what you mean--I can't even be sure, not totally. And if they tell on us--" She gulped and looked away. "We'd wind up in the Box."
"If we're lucky," I told her. "More likely they'd just make us disappear. We can't risk it. Not unless we're absolutely sure. If we can be sure--yeah, we'll do what we can, but not until then, okay?"
She nodded in agreement, not even trying to question my decision. See, right there, the dominant role took over. I'd basically given an order and she obeyed, without question. I didn't really feel powerful or anything like that--I'd just taken charge, without really thinking about it, or wondering why. It just felt right somehow, which is really kind of weird.
"Anyway," I went on, "I suppose we should be heading up to bed, but before we go, I wanna tell you one more thing, while we've still got some privacy."
"What's that?" she wondered, obviously glad to be off that other depressing subject.
"I'm gonna take a walk tonight," I replied. "By myself, I mean. If you wake up and I'm not there, don't get all shocked or anything, okay?"
"Sure, yeah, I understand," she agreed, nodding. She didn't question me any further, thankfully. "Don't stay out too late, though. You gotta get on a reg'lar sleep schedule, y'know?"
"Yeah, I know. I just need to get out in the open. I won't stray far, and I'll watch out for scorpions. Now come on, let's head up. I don't think we'll actually be getting to sleep right away, anyhow."
"Yeah, I know," she giggled. "You think we oughta make extra noise, just to bug Dena s'more?"
"Nah, let her sleep," I replied, grinning at the possibility. Another time, perhaps, but I needed everybody unconscious when I took off later.
"Ah, you ain't no fun," laughed Marianne, heading off towards the dollhouse, holding me by the hand as we crossed the intervening gap. I knew, then, that leaving her in bed later on would be just a bit harder than I originally thought.
"I'll show you how fun I can be," I laughed back, racing her across to the elevator. Somehow we both managed to get there at exactly the same time, falling into each other's arms as we came to a stop, but I'm sure it was just a coincidence.
Much later that night, I awoke to a noisy little bug squeaking in my ear. "Get up, dammit!" the tiny insect insisted. "We got shit to do! C'mon, don't make me start stabbing you!"
"Okay, okay, I'm up," I whispered back, rolling over and reluctantly disengaging myself from Marianne. For so long now, I've slept alone, never really knowing what I'd been missing, and now, I didn't want to leave. Having experienced a loneliness deeper than anything most people ever have to suffer, sharing a bed with someone I loved felt like heaven. Honestly, it felt better than I deserved.
"Keep your mouth shut," insisted the little squeaky thing on my shoulder. "And for the love of Christ, don't make any noise! We gotta get out of this place quietly."
I nodded and yawned as silently as I could. Of course, I knew to expect something like this--I even told Marianne I'd be sneaking out tonight, and of course Sally would've overheard. Yet after my love and I got in bed and fooled around a bit, making just enough noise to probably make Dena bury her head under her pillow, I fell asleep pretty quickly, and rather soundly, too. I bragged earlier about what a light sleeper I am, and how I'll get up at the slightest noise, but here in this safe place, in a comfortable bed, and with actual companionship, I slept like a log. I wonder how long Sally had to yell at me, anyway?
As I stood up, she clung to my hair, because…well, there wasn't much else to hang onto, seeing as I'd been sleeping in the buff. I don't normally do that, of course, but Marianne and I got pretty frisky, I have to admit. Besides, I wanted to be able to slip into my prowling outfit as quickly as possible, right? I'd set that out next to the bed, choosing my old catsuit over the other choices just because I knew it'd be comfortable and keep me hidden in the shadows. I wish I had something to cover my hair, but they didn't have any hoods in this place, at least not in my size. Even so, I doubted it'd matter. Without my tracer, which I left concealed under the bed, nobody would have any reason to be looking for me, anyway, unless they had infrared, in which case covering up my head wouldn't do me much good.
I must admit, the guards' infrared goggles had me worried. I'd already seen Mack wearing those the night before, probably to zero in on me in case I moved after he left the restoration shack, where the tracking machines were. What if they had guards patrolling the grounds with those things on? I wouldn't put it past someone as careful (and paranoid) as Ray to do just that, but then, I hadn't seen any evidence during my previous explorations. Then again, said explorations weren't performed in the middle of the night, either.
As I pulled on my catsuit, I started to zip it up, but stopped when I heard how loud it sounded. Actually, the silence all around me seemed to amplify every sound. I could hear Marianne's breathing, the slight swishing as Sally bounced back and forth in my hair, the distant snores coming from my fellow dolls, and an extremely distant and faint vibrating noise, like an engine idling somewhere. Just moving the zipper slightly made me wince, so I reached for my boots and other gear, not bothering to put any of it on. No sense doing that now and risking some mistake, like accidentally dropping something and waking up half the house.
The slight creaking as I tiptoed out of the room and down the hall also made me cringe, but I paused at the exit, listening carefully. Marianne didn't snore much, so I couldn't hear her anymore, but one of the other girls, Dena I think, would've overwhelmed any other noise regardless. I listened for almost a full minute, but nothing changed, so I figured I'd gotten out safely. Even so, I crept cautiously to the elevator, wondering if I should risk using it. I hadn't thought this far ahead, unfortunately. How noisy was the damn machine? I couldn't remember, because every time I used it, someone else was with me or my mind was elsewhere.
I decided not to take that chance. If it made any noise at all, someone might hear it and come after me. I had other options, anyway. Moving to the farthest corner of the table as possible, I took out my grapple, set it as best I could, and lowered my coil of thread down the side, into the darkness. I could only barely see the ground, but I knew the rope made it all the way. I had a spare, though I didn't trust the hook as much on that one--I'd crafted it out of a couple heavy-duty staples wired together, unlike the first, a single piece of metal I found out behind an auto parts store. The staples had more chances to catch on something, I figured, but were so flimsy I wouldn't use them in any kind of dangerous situation. In fact, I wouldn't have them at all, except as a backup, and besides, they could fold up and fit easily in my bag, so it's not like carrying them really hurt me any.
After one last test to make sure the first grapple wouldn't slip, I quickly lowered myself down to ground level. I didn't need to bring the rope with me, since I'd use it to climb back up after I finished this trip. Before moving any further, I took a moment to yawn, stretch out a little, and finally reach up to pluck Sally off my shoulder.
"Aww, I just got comfortable," she complained in that humorously squeaky little voice of hers. "What are you gonna do, play with me while we walk?"
"Not unless you want me to," I whispered suggestively, keeping my voice down as much as possible. No sense taking any chances, I figured.
"I ain't that desperate yet," Sally snapped back. "Now come on, we going or what?"
"In a minute, I'm still kinda sleepy. What time is it, anyway? You got a watch in there someplace?"
"Yeah, it's like two AM. I let you sleep as long as I could."
"Thanks. Okay, let's go. Any particular place I need to take you?"
"They've got some kind of war room," said Sally. "If you can find that, it'd be a good starting point. Anywhere will do, really. I'm gonna need to do a hell of a lot of running around in the walls, I'm afraid, and nice as it'd be to have you there the whole damn time, that's just not happening."
"Yeah, I don't wanna stay too long," I agreed, heading quietly away from the dollhouse towards the exit door. This is another thing that worried me--what if they had cameras there, when I stepped into the light? They'd spot me for sure. What choice did I have, though? I didn't know about any other way out of the Barn. Bad planning for me, huh? I should've thought of this before.
Fortunately, Sally came to my rescue. "Don't go straight for the exit," she told me. "Head off to the side. There was something there before, some kind of tall tower or something--I can't really see all that well at this size."
"The fan?" I asked.
"Yeah, it coulda been a fan. Whatever. Come up behind that. There's a couple sensors around the door I need to turn off."
I did what she said, crossing the open path a good ways to one side, approaching the fan from behind some boxes. The towering metal device used one of those ring-shaped stand bases that provided plenty of cover--this is where I had my chat with Janice the other day, so I knew the spot well. I slipped close in the shadows, in easy view of the door, and set Sally down on top of the ring. "What do you need me to do?" I asked.
She'd pulled up her hood and covered her face with a mask, showing no skin at all. A pair of tech-laden goggles wrapped over her eyes, making her look more like a humanoid insect than a person. "Just hang out," she told me, securing a hefty utility belt about her waist and extending a telescoping spear for self-protection. "They've got a camera and IR gear watching that door. Nothing I can't deal with, but there may be something else I couldn't detect before. I'll have to do one of those feedback loop things, which could take a bit, so just take a nap or something."
With that, she hopped off the ring, falling all the way to the ground, a distance of a couple of inches--but to her, that would've seemed like, um…well, a damn long way, I guess. Screw the math, anyway, you get the idea, right? Anyhow, the drop didn't faze her at all, and in fact she didn't even have to roll or anything like that. She just sort of drifted down like someone wearing a parachute, hit the ground feet-first, and took off running towards the wall. As soon as she got there, she disappeared into the shadows.
I watched carefully, trying to pick her out of the gloom, and a couple times I thought I spotted her ascending in one place or another, but I could've been wrong. She certainly had a way of vanishing, but then, someone that tiny had it easy. Ordinary objects, even ones that look pretty smooth, actually have plenty of little crevices and bumps that create shadows, especially in an area this dark. I bet I could've walked over there just then and searched for her for two hours and never found her.
Her suggestion to take a nap sounded appealing, but by this point I'd managed to wake up completely, back to my old pattern from all those months spent outdoors. Once I get up, I usually stay up, even if I only slept a couple of hours. I'd pay for this later, I knew, but then, it seemed like finding time for a nap wouldn't be all that hard. We dolls didn't have much to do in the Barn, really. Except for the roll calls, and being manhandled by giants, we had our time to ourselves.
After maybe half an hour, Sally returned. She couldn't make the two-inch jump to the fan's base, but her piping little voice got my attention. "All done!" she called out as I climbed over and recovered her. "I've got the cameras on remote feedback links," she informed me, holding up a little handheld switch in her palm. "I throw this, and we got sixty seconds to get through without anything unusual showing up on their monitors. That way we can come and go as we please. You ready?"
"Ready," I told her.
"Okay, I'm activating it…now!"
She threw the switch, and I jogged over to the door, opened it quietly, and headed through. Outside, all was quiet. The moon had climbed high into the sky by now, laced with a few wispy clouds, but visibility hadn't changed from earlier. I readied my spear and set Sally back down on my shoulder, where she grabbed hold of the seam of my catsuit and held on while I started walking.
We had to go around the Barn a bit before heading towards the mansion. I could've gone straight towards it, which probably would've been faster, but stuck to the edge of one of the walking paths instead, taking my time and being cautious. I didn't intend to spend much time at the house, actually--this was a recon trip for me, after all. I wanted to see the layout, and deliver Sally where she needed to go, and that's about all.
"What exactly are you going to be doing in there?" I whispered as I moved along, stopping regularly to check for anything dangerous. That scorpion served as a grim reminder of what sort of creature I might meet out here. I also wanted to make sure I had places to hide in case any giants came wandering along, so I'd stop, find appropriate cover, head to that, and repeat the process. No sense taking any unnecessary risks.
"Mostly put down listening devices," answered Sally. "I have about a dozen of them, set to wavelengths only someone my size could track. Got a few cameras, too, but they aren't as useful. Plus, I wanna see if they got any kind of transmitters--anything at all I can hijack. If I can get a signal, I can tell Kate where we are and what's going on."
"Well, Ray's got to be able to talk to the outside world somehow," I told her, hopping out from behind a small rock and racing ahead to one of the trees along the edge of the path heading to the mansion's front door. "I overheard Frank saying he talked to clients all the time, who are always worried about security."
"Probably secure sat phones," explained Sally, who reminded me of a parrot on a pirate's shoulder, just not quite as squawky. "They wouldn't risk using cellular. Too easy to monitor. That'll make my job a whole lot harder. I probably won't be able to break in on those, if they've got any kind of security at all. Damn it."
"Well, failing that, what's the plan?" I asked. "Do I need to come back to find you later, before the mission? Tomorrow night, I guess it'd have to be."
"Yeah, about this same time, if you can," she replied. "I want to go with you, just in case there's any chance you can get a free moment to take me to a phone or something. Risking getting Kate captured is something we'd rather avoid, if at all possible."
"I can't believe she'd take that risk," I said, after pausing for a moment to listen. I thought maybe I heard something behind us, but couldn't see anything back there at all. "I understand getting the miniaturizer back is important and all, but it seems so dangerous--"
"I said the same thing," pointed out Sally, "but something you have to understand about Kate--she's really obsessive about this. See, she feels like they stole that damn machine right out from under her. They took it on her watch, you get it? So she won't let it go. She'd do anything to get it back, even risk her life."
"And yours," I reminded her.
"Yeah, and mine, but it's my freakin' choice, don't forget. I coulda said no. I'm not part of the FBI, remember? I'm just a military liaison--I don't have to do a damn thing Kate Powers tells me if I don't want. She's not my commanding officer."
I paused again, letting that set in, but also listening carefully. I definitely heard something that time, but it wasn't exactly close--off to our left, and in comparison to the last noise, not getting closer. Probably nothing to worry about, but I waited near the tree, watching anyway. Nothing to see, though. Too much cover over that way.
"Well, then," I went on after a moment, moving forward along the edge of the path, keeping in among the grass there, where they'd used some bricks in the landscaping. "If that's true, why did you come along?"
"Because it's the right thing to do," she replied with a shrug. "You can't seriously be doubting that, can you? Looking at what Ray's doing here, you gotta know he's gotta be stopped at all costs."
"Oh, I know, I can see that," I agreed at once, "but I mean, what drives somebody to be that person, the one who steps up and says, okay, this is probably gonna get me killed, but I don't care, here I come to save the day!"
Sally laughed. "I didn't quite say that," she told me, "but, well, I guess I've always liked the idea of doing something important with my life. That's why I went into the Army, y'know. Some people become cops or whatever, but for me, I'd wanted to be a soldier since I was a kid. A real tomboy, that's me. I grew up watching all those battles in the Terrorist War, all those real-life heroes out there kickin' ass and keeping us all safe back here in America, and that's what I wanted to do. Most people, they live their lives doing nothing interesting, but this--well, assuming I survive to old age, when I'm lying on my deathbed, I can think back to things like this right here, and know I made my mark."
I started to reply as I stuck my head out of the grass, but stopped instantly. This time, not only did I hear something out there, I actually saw it--a dark shape, moving quickly, darting up against the mansion wall, into the shadows there. Something about my size, low to the ground, maybe a mouse, or something like that--or quite possibly a doll-sized person, shadowing us.
"Yeah," said Sally quietly, "there's somebody out there, huh?"
"You can hear them?"
"Easily," she told me. "I got ear implants. Hearing aids, really. I can hear better than you, I bet. Too bad the batteries won't last much longer. Maybe a couple more days. Anyway, yeah, I heard 'em before, but it wasn't till just now I knew it's a person. Definite footstep pattern--that's no freakin' mouse, I promise you that."
"What do we do?" I asked worriedly. "Go back?"
"Whoever it is knows we're here," said Sally matter-of-factly. "You gotta find out who it is, and what they want. If Ray's got a miniaturized spy, kill 'em and we'll make the body disappear."
"If it's Ray's spy," I remarked, not really all that surprised by her heartless attitude, "they'll be better armed than me. I probably won't even get close."
"If they wanted you shot, they'd have done that already," pointed out Sally. "They probably want to see what you're up to. Pretend to blunder into them, then strike."
"What if it's one of the dolls?" I asked.
"Can't chance it. Just take 'em out. I doubt Erika or Dena will be much trouble for you. Watch out for that Kaitlin, though. She's got military training."
"Yeah, I know," I replied, not bothering to mention that I didn't have that kind of training. Remember when I first met Kaitlin, and she went into that combat stance, evaluating me, picking out where to attack if I tried anything? She'd do the same thing again this time, only she wouldn't relax. If she even let me get close, she'd probably hit me first, not the other way around. I can deal with bugs, animals, and stuff like that, but fight another human? Probably not.
"Well, what are you waiting for?" asked Sally impatiently. "It's already after three AM--we're taking too long. Go on, go--I'm gonna get in your bag, just so I don't slip off if you get into a fight. Just remember, don't let them know I'm here. If all else fails, I'll sneak out and try to get to the house by myself."
"Okay, sure," I told her. "If that's what happens, good luck."
"Thanks. Oh, and remember what I said about doing what's gotta be done? This is one of those times. Good luck to you, too."
She crawled into my backpack, safely out of sight, but I hesitated for a bit, still considering my options. It occurred to me that Sally didn't really care what happened to me tonight at all. It probably didn't matter, anyway. Someone like her would think like a military person--I'm an asset, nothing more. A way to get around, and someone to use as bait for Ray. She had her own mission, and as far as she's concerned, that's what mattered to her. I'm really on my own out here, aren't I?
She's right about the confrontation, though. I had to find out who that was, and what they were doing out here. I couldn't let them follow me, and watch me release Sally into the house. So far as I knew, they had no idea she was here. They certainly couldn't see her from a distance, any more than I could back in the Barn. Plus, I'd kept my voice a low whisper this whole time. Even if they had enhanced hearing, they couldn't make that out, not from that far away. They might've heard me mutter something, perhaps, but that could've been chalked up to me talking to myself.
I should've gone forward, towards where I saw that shape disappear into the shadows, because from my vantage point they couldn't possibly have moved away without being seen. They were still there, I knew that for sure. I just didn't like the idea of getting tranquilized, or attacked in some other way, as soon as I rushed in that direction. So far, I'd been heading towards one part of the mansion, not the left-hand wall, so if I suddenly turned, they'd know the jig was up.
After a couple more minutes, I'd seen nothing else, so I decided maybe I should get moving, when Sally suddenly yelled out, "Incoming!" I dropped instantly to the ground, wriggling in amidst the grass, just as I heard the approaching footsteps. Not a doll this time, either, but a full-sized giant, coming up the path!
I didn't dare look out there--if I showed myself, even for a second, the guard might spot me. Much to my surprise, he never even slowed down. In fact, he didn't even pass that close to my position, instead marching straight over to the distant wall where I'd been about to go just moments before.
I risked a glance out through the grass, crouching on hands and knees as I peered into the darkness. The moon illuminated a somewhat heavyset man dressed in a long-sleeve sweater and jeans--I thought of Mack initially, but no, he didn't have a bald head, but had his long, stringy dark hair pulled back in a ponytail. He faced away from me, wearing infrared goggles as he rooted around in the landscaping around the mansion. "Come out of there," he spoke loudly, in a deep, gravelly voice I didn't recognize. "I see you, now c'mere. Don't make me mess up these flowers dragging you out!"
"Goddammit," a woman's voice replied, just barely audible in the distance. "Can't a girl take a walk without getting accosted?"
The giant reached down and plucked Dena off the ground, standing up and removing his glasses as he did so. Of course I recognized Dena right away. Even way over there, her snappy reply and hostile attitude couldn't have been anyone else. "You, take a walk at three in the morning?" he demanded. "You never leave the Barn unless someone makes you! What's going on?"
"C'mon, Lex, it's personal," she complained. Ah, I thought--this is Lex, one of the guards I hadn't met yet. Someone who gave us dolls a real workout, as I recall somebody explaining earlier.
"Personal? What, did Frank piss you off or something?"
"No, nothing like that," she sighed. "Please, just put me back, and I'll tell you later, I promise, okay? And why aren't you at the monitors? You're the only one on duty tonight, aren't you?"
"Yeah, but I couldn't just sit there with you out here all alone," Lex replied, actually sounding concerned for Dena' welfare. "What if Ray checks the records, and sees you over here? You'll get in trouble. Now tell me, what are you doing here?"
"I'm out here all alone…?" she replied, stumbling over that for a moment, as if not knowing how to respond. I cringed, because I figured she'd say something about my presence, which would give me away and leave me totally screwed, because Lex hadn't seen my tracer moving on his board. However, much to my relief, she quickly added, "um, well, I'm all alone, because I wanted to prove something to myself, without anyone else knowing. It's kinda embarrassing, really--"
"You can tell me," insisted Lex, thankfully missing her brief bout of confusion. "Come on, Dena, when have I ever talked behind your back? All those crazy things we do, and I never once told anybody else the slightest detail. Surely that's worth something, right?"
"Yeah, yeah, that's true," she agreed. "Even the hair dryer thing--I would've thought that'd be all over the Ranch the next day, but no, you kept your mouth shut. Okay, fine, here's what happened. See, today, Wendy took Marianne and Erika out for a nighttime walk, which you know I'd never do, cause of the spiders."
"Yeah, of course," he agreed, "but so what?"
"Well, I could've gone with them," she went on, "but I chickened out, and felt like shit afterward, because I looked like an idiot, not going when they all did. So I couldn't sleep, cause I kept thinking, why the fuck didn't I go? Cause I'm too afraid, that's why, and I can't have that. It was bad enough when that goddamn spider pinned me to the floor and I had to let Kaitlin save my ass. So anyway, I thought if I could come over here, to the house, and get back without any help, I'd at least prove to myself I could do it."
He chuckled at that. "Well, you proved it, didn't you? And not just to yourself, either--now I know it, too. Now come on--I think you deserve a reward." He turned around and started walking back the way he'd come, passing very close to me as he did so--but of course I stayed hidden.
"Won't you get in trouble, playing with a doll on duty?" Dena asked as she swept by.
"Who's gonna know?" asked Lex. "Now come on, I think we'll try a little--"
What he intended would have to remain a mystery, because at that point his voice faded into the distance. I immediately let out a deep breath and sort of collapsed onto the ground. Not only had I escaped being spotted, Dena actually covered for me! She had a chance to tell Lex she'd been following me, and made up a story instead. After all, there's no way she came out here on her own, going to the same place as me, at the same time, for that lame reason. She'd come out here to follow me, and see what I'm up to--and until the moment Lex said that word "alone," she'd thought he knew about both of us.
That means Dena knows my secret now, I told myself. She does like collecting secrets, doesn't she? I knew I'd pay for this later, of that I had no doubt--but for now, I uttered a silent thanks in her direction, and continued on towards the house.
By the time I got to the mansion and started looking around for a way inside, Sally had climbed back onto my shoulder. "That was a close one," she said needlessly. "I was about ready to jump off you. If that guard had stopped near you, I'd be gone."
"Yeah, well, he didn't," I replied. "You realize I'm screwed now, right? When I get back there, I've gotta face Dena, and what the hell am I supposed to tell her?"
"Anything but the truth," offered Sally. "You've got plenty of time to come up with a good story. Tell her you puked out the tracer by accident, or whatever. Just don't mention me, whatever you do."
"Yeah, yeah, I figured. Don't worry, I'll keep your secret, but don't forget, I still need you to do something for me. Or are you forgetting Marianne's tracer? I know the timing's messed up, so I'm okay with bringing you here tonight, but I need it out of her tomorrow."
"Oh, right, I almost forgot about that," admitted Sally. "Okay, well, here's the thing, I don't actually control the robot. It's probably already cut through the grips by now--it does all that automatically. Right about now the tracer is just rolling around in her stomach, too big to get through the pyloric sphincter."
"The what?" I asked in confusion. "What's this about a sphincter? I thought that was in your butt or something."
Sally laughed. "I didn't know what it was, either, till they explained about how tracers work, back when they briefed me for this. Pardon me if I sound like a wiki entry, but basically, if you didn't have this pyloric sphincter thing, food would just slosh right into your intestines willy-nilly. So it opens up a little bit at a time, only letting well-digested stuff get through. So there's no way that tracer could get out of Marianne's stomach, cause it's too big, just like if she'd swallowed a coin or something."
"Well, that's good to know," I replied. "So you mean we can just make her throw up any time?"
"Yeah, sort of, but you may not get the tracer," explained Sally. "That's what this stuff does, the gunk the robot spits out. It makes the stomach eject everything. You may need to make her puke half a dozen times. Drink water in between, or whatever, so it has something to help it come out. Keep trying, and it'll come."
"This sounds awful," I told her, "but yeah, I'll do what I can. So you don't need to be there to control the robot at all, then?"
"No, not really," admitted Sally. "Why?"
"Something I can promise Dena, if I have to," I answered. "Okay, there's gotta be a way inside this damn house. It's pretty well sealed up."
By this point, I'd gone almost all the way across the front and started down the side. Nothing really presented itself. Most homes have any number of potential ways in. The mansion didn't have a garage (the most obvious point of entry) and the doors and windows all looked sealed pretty good--so well, in fact, I wondered how I could even expect to get Sally in there, much less myself.
"Try the laundry vents," suggested Sally.
"That's my next choice," I agreed, "if they've got one."
"They must do laundry here someplace. Ray, Frank, all those guards…that's a lotta dirty underwear. You don't think they have a separate laundry building, do you?"
"Not unless it's one of the cabins," I replied. "It could be, y'know. I haven't been in all of them."
"Well, there's gotta be some way in. Keep looking around."
I did, but it seemed to take forever. After a while, I completely circled the building, finding nothing. The few places where I thought I might've been able to slip inside, they'd been completely sealed. Was Ray paranoid, or what?
So anyway, I did the only thing I could--I started climbing. They had a second floor, after all, and plenty of windows up there. With the nights still pretty cool, as winter finally faded, I probably wouldn't find any open windows, but there still might be some loose trim or something. Failing this, I could always try the roof.
After about another half hour of searching, I finally found something--a window with a piece of weather-stripping I could pull loose. I couldn't get inside, but Sally certainly could. She wriggled in, moved over to the latch, and tried pulling on it for a bit, but someone that tiny could hardly hope to have any success at all. Or so I thought, anyway. After a couple failed attempts, she opened up that telescoping spear of hers, jammed it into the mechanism, and used it like a lever, and the next thing I know, the window's sliding open.
Don't get me wrong, this isn't a window you have to lift up--that would've been impossible to move, even for me. The mechanism I'm talking about is one of those old-style ones you twist around, causing the pane to slowly rotate, perpendicular to the ground. Sally didn't have to work it much, just enough to slide it about half an inch. Then I could slip through, as well. "Thanks," I whispered quietly, wondering just where we'd come in, and a bit worried we might've arrived in Ray's bedroom or something.
Sally didn't reply, except to shush me as I picked her up and put her back on my shoulder. I moved cautiously, listening carefully but hearing nothing. I made my way along the windowsill, waiting while my eyes adjusted, and found I'd come into a guest room of sorts--well, it had a bed, and a couple pieces of bedroom furniture, but no occupant at present, so that's what I had to assume. Perfect, actually, because it meant I didn't have to be too terribly quiet.
I hopped across the gap to the bed, lowered myself down and moved over to the door, which was shut. Like most interior doors, this one had a nice wide slot underneath that I could squeeze through easily enough. Nobody bothers making inside doors have airtight seals or be weathertight, y'know. Anyway, now I had to be extra careful, because any sound might be heard by a light sleeper, but I could hear a few snores coming from down the hall, so that didn't seem like too big a risk.
We didn't bother to talk. Instead, I made my way the other direction, away from the snoring and past the gigantic staircase heading down into the foyer. Despite the darkness, I recognized this hall from the brief glance I'd had earlier--when I faced behind me as Damon carried us out of here. That would mean the next room had to be Ray's library, which turned out to be true. I bypassed that, because I'd had a good look in there already and didn't see anything other than chairs, a couch, and a whole bunch of old-style books. Unless Ray kept paper ledgers for some reason, which would've been rather odd, I wouldn't find anything useful there.
The room across the hall turned out to be a bathroom, so we moved on to the last door, which we also found shut. Crawling underneath, we found ourselves exactly where I hoped we'd be--a computer room. "Jackpot," said Sally excitedly, peering out through a pair of goggles I took to be night-vision, and probably telescopic, scopes. "This is where I need to be. Get me up to the computer, and you can take off. What I've got to do will take the rest of the night."
"You sure I can't help you get around or something?" I whispered back, quickly climbing up onto the desk by using one of the power cords--the sort of maneuver you get used to when you're my size. "Plus, how am I going to close the window, back in the guest room?"
"Just push on it," she replied. "It should close easily, but you won't be able to open it on your own. Come back here tomorrow night at about the same time--I'll have to meet you there, cause you won't be able to get it open yourself. If it's already open, come find me in here."
"Okay," I agreed, "if that's what you want. Oh, one other thing. I need that device you have, the one that deactivates the sensors in the door."
"Oh, yeah, right. It's in my bag. I need that, anyway, so hang on."
She slipped down into my backpack, crawled around a bit, and emerged a moment later with a comparatively huge duffel slung over her shoulder. I put out my hand and she hopped in, whereupon I walked around behind the little disc-shaped computer case and set her down by the cables. Sally dug around inside her bag and finally withdrew a tiny device about the size of a walkie-talkie and set it on my fingertip. I could see a recessed switch there, next to some controls and maybe a display, but there's no way I could possibly read something that tiny.
"Just throw this switch here," said Sally. "Yeah, I know, it'll be hard for you, but I bet you got something pointy that'll get down in there."
"I'm not worried about that, I'm afraid I'm gonna lose the damn thing," I replied, rooting around in my backpack for something to hold the remote. Finding nothing really appropriate, I settled on wrapping it up in the coiled-up wire I'd been holding onto for a while now. I figured sooner or later I'd find a use for that stuff.
Once wrapped up, the switch couldn't possibly get lost, so I stuffed it back in my bag. "Thanks, Sally, this is really gonna help a lot. You sure I can't do anything?"
"Nah, but if you want to check and see what Ray's working on, go for it. I doubt I can push any keys at this size, anyway. I'm just going to attach some monitoring equipment here and there around the room, and then do some exploring. Once I get inside the walls, who knows what I can find?"
"Just don't get eaten by some bug," I suggested helpfully. "Anyway, yeah, good idea, I'll poke around a bit as long as I'm here."
Sally nodded and started pulling out bits and pieces of unidentifiable tech, obviously designed to tap into the computer somehow. I shook my head as I moved over to the keyboard and mouse, wondering what kind of miniaturized gadgets the FBI and military had come up with in the past decade or so. They'd certainly advanced the science of espionage by several levels, that's for sure. Of course, miniaturization did have that one glaring flaw--a simple restoration beam at the entrance to any secure building or area would put a stop to that. Who knows, though--maybe they had ways around restoration nowadays. If so, that's something I'd definitely want to look into, assuming I chose to stay this small all the time.
I didn't know what I'd do about that, actually. I meant what I said to Marianne earlier--I'd definitely consider marrying her, eventually, when we were both ready, and if that meant I'd have to be normal-sized to make that happen, well…could I really do that? I'd like to think I could, but…well, I just didn't know. I didn't want to, certainly, and it's a sacrifice--and I've never been really good at sacrifices.
Anyway, there's no reason to worry about that now. Maybe something would change by then. Maybe Marianne would decide it's better being small. Whatever. I pushed that aside and started messing around on the computer, which (like most nowadays) pretty much stays on all the time. I had a little trouble with the foldout screen, which proved a bit unwieldy for someone my size, but I worked it out. Once unrolled, the paper-thin display looked like a gigantic drive-in movie screen rising up all around me.
Naturally, Ray didn't have the computer hooked up to the net--I could've only dreamed of such a thing, right? He left several windows open, though, most of them with financial records and various notes, mostly about expenses relating to the Ranch and payoffs made to various officials, none of whom I'd ever heard of. This computer looked like a gold mine of information, if you knew what most of it meant--hopefully Sally's little toys would soak it all up somehow, if they could.
I poked around a bit more and found an open document filled with names, all of them female, arranged in database format. The currently selected record bore a name I recognized--Janice, obviously the one from the Box. So, this must be a list of all the prisoners here!
I read further, checking out all the details. Janice Louisa Kerrington, age twenty-two, administrative assistant, bachelor's degree in business from the University of Louisville, unmarried, no health issues, solo apartment in Danville, Kentucky, and on and on. A whole bunch of other stuff, too, especially some descriptive terms regarding her not-so-private bondage fantasies. I skipped over that, not bothering to wonder where Ray got that kind of information. One item in particular, though, caught my eye--Current Status: Sold.
Sold? To whom? I read closer. Buyer: Senator Leonard Blevin, price $6.5M, transaction complete via Cayman account 123456789, delivery date tomorrow via silent drop, Dallas mailbox 245.
Well, of course I can't remember the exact account number or mailbox, so I just used some random digits, but you get the idea. Anyway, the point is, delivery was scheduled for tomorrow! Did Janice even know this yet? Had they already pulled her out of the Barn, and sent her on her way? They certainly could've--they had plenty of time to go get her when I wasn't around. If she'd already been taken away, I'd probably never see her again, and for some reason that made me very sad.
I shouldn't care, like I've said a bunch of times already, but I couldn't help myself. She'd been bought like a piece of property, and now, some rich guy someplace would have his very own living play toy. As long as her new owner took care to keep her properly imprisoned, she'd be his forever. Sure, possession of a miniaturized person was a crime, but who cares when you've got that kind of money? Besides, he's a senator, right? And obviously corrupt, if he's willing to do something like buy another human being. Keeping a human pet probably isn't even close to the worst thing he's ever done.
I stepped back from the computer and shut my eyes, trying to imagine what poor Janice would have to face now. I knew what it felt like to be imprisoned against my will, but at least back at the Compound, I'd had other women to talk to and other things to do to occupy my time. Janice would probably get put in a cage and stay there all the time, except when her owner took her out to play with her. What kind of life would that be? Truly awful, I'm sure.
Well, I did know one thing--they were definitely selling women as though they were pets. I wanted confirmation, and now I had it, huh? I didn't need to look around any further, so I put everything back the way I found it, leaving the mouse and keyboard in the same places, with the windows in the same arrangement. Then I rolled up the screen and stepped over to the back of the computer.
"Find anything useful?" Sally called up to me, now covered in dust and busily installing some tiny metal thing on one of the cables.
"Yeah, tons of financial stuff," I told her. "No net connection, though."
"Figures. Well, he's gotta connect sooner or later, and if I get all this stuff set up, I'll only need a few seconds to get a message out. The trick is making sure they don't detect any outgoing packets. Ah, well, you let me worry about that. Now get outta here, it's not too long till dawn."
"Okay," I agreed. "Thanks again, Sally. See you back here tomorrow night."
"Yep, see you then." She went back to her work, forgetting about me almost immediately, I'm sure. I suppose it never occurred to her that I might not show up tomorrow, and if I didn't, she'd be stuck in here with no way out of the building. Would her supplies last long enough for the Kate kidnapping thing to finish? If not, what would she do? Try to get all the way across the Ranch at a sixth of an inch high, in the hopes of stealing some food from the minis? And what would they do if they found her, anyway?
Not my problem, I insisted to myself, making my way back down to the floor and out the way I came. I kept to the sides of the hall, keeping quiet, half expecting some alarm to trigger at any moment, but I guess not. Of course, there's always the chance they had cameras in here that could catch me on a monitor somewhere, but if they're really that paranoid--and that thorough--I'd be screwed anyway. Ah, well, at least maybe Dena was keeping Lex distracted, right? Maybe he wouldn't notice me on the screens.
On my way down the hall, I passed by the library, and as I did I thought I heard something coming from inside--a very faint noise, something I couldn't identify. Not an insect, though. It sounded human, for some reason, though I didn't really know why. Who would be in Ray's library, though? Did he fall asleep on the couch or something?
I moved cautiously inside, in the general direction of the noise, and took a look around. The chairs and couch were all empty, and there wasn't enough room for anybody else in here. Anybody normal sized, anyway…
I heard the sound again. A kind of sniffling snort, like somebody choking back a sob, coming from up on the coffee table over my head. Unable to contain my curiosity, I hopped up there and found myself looking at a small animal cage, inside which a doll-sized woman lay curled up on a folded towel. Her eyes were shut and she looked quite unconscious, but after a few seconds, she sniffled again, obviously crying in her sleep.
I knew her right away, even though she'd been much smaller the last time I saw her--Janice Kerrington!
* * * * *
Well, of course I shouldn't be all that surprised to find her in the mansion--I just didn't figure on running into her here in Ray's library. I suppose this was just as good a place as any to keep her, though. He obviously collected her late last night, possibly while I was outside with Marianne, and had her restored to this size for delivery tomorrow. I bet the sick bastard even brought her in here for one last session with the glove, too, just as a going-away present. I wouldn't put it past him.
I walked around the cage, thinking maybe I might find a way to break her out. No luck, though. This isn't just a hamster cage or anything so simple--it's a real, full-sized cage miniaturized to her proportions. I couldn't bend the bars, and without the key, there's no way I could break in. I suppose Ray probably kept the key on him someplace, maybe with that tablet of his, but as much as I enjoy a good challenge, I didn't want to risk sneaking into his room and having a look around. He might not have cameras or sensors out here, but I bet his room sure did.
So what do I do, then? Wake her up, just to say goodbye? I wanted to, of course, but what good would that do? She might give away my presence later, maybe as part of some desperate ploy for mercy. In fact, I should probably get the hell out of here--
No such luck. She emitted another choking sob and sat up, rubbing her eyes. I suppose someone in her position wouldn't be able to sleep very well, huh? She blinked a couple times, spotted me right away, and jumped to her feet. "W-who--?" she began.
"Shh!" I hissed at her. "Keep your damn voice down!"
"W-Wendy? Is that you? What are you doing here? You're trying to rescue me?"
"I wish," I told her, scrambling for something to say without revealing too much. "I heard they took you. I thought maybe--but this cage is impossible."
"Don't," she insisted. "Please, Wendy, I know you promised, but you can't! If they find out you're here, they'll kill you!"
My eyes went wide. After what's about to happen to her, she's worried about me? "I'm not sure I can do anything, anyway," I told her honestly.
"It's okay," she went on. "I know what's happening. I know I've been sold to Senator Blevin. They told me earlier. I-I'm okay with that, I think. It can't be worse than being here, right?"
"How can you be okay with that?" I wondered. "You can't--this isn't right! This is human slavery! I gotta get you out of here!"
"No, please, don't." She looked out at me, eyes wide and pleading. "Please, I appreciate it--it helps, knowing someone out there at least tried to help me, but I know there's nothing I can do. If you let me out, and I get away, somehow--they'll just take someone else, won't they? And I can't do that, Wendy. I couldn't let somebody take my place. Just let me go. I'll be a good little pet, if I have to, but please, if you can, tell the authorities where to find me, okay? Give me that little bit of hope. That's all I ask."
I nodded slowly. Tears were falling down her face, and her hand reached out, so I took it, squeezing back as best I could. "I'll do what I can," I offered, hoping I'd get that chance. "If I can get word out, they'll come for you someday. Just don't give up, whatever happens."
"I won't," she told me. "Now, please, just go, before someone finds you here. I won't tell anyone I saw you, I promise!"
"Thanks," I replied. "Goodbye, Janice, and good luck."
I turned away and hopped back off the table. The last thing I heard, as I left the room and crept off down the hall, were her distant, muted, pitiful little sobs.
There's a few times in my life where, when I look back, I thought I'd been courageous. Letting myself get flung across the room so I could get a shot at Lou Hamilton--that's a perfect example. That's about the closest I ever came to being a hero. But standing there in Ray's library, watching that poor girl weeping in her cage, knowing the horrible fate she'd been sentenced to…and seeing her accept it, just to keep someone else from having to take her place…now that's real courage right there. That's what sacrifice really means.
I've never been big on sacrifice. The only thing that ever mattered to me, until recently, has always been myself. Thinking back, I can't remember a time where I ever did anything that didn't directly benefit me in some way. Yet now, as I made my way through the dark hall back towards the window, I finally realized the true depths of my selfishness. There's no way I could've stood there in that cage and told my would-be rescuer to leave me be, solely for the benefit of somebody else. I would've fought and struggled and gotten my ass out of there somehow, and to hell with whatever unlucky sucker wound up in my place.
Does that mean I'm not hero material, then? I'd convinced myself, mostly, that I'd do what I could to put a stop to Ray and Frank's evil plans (yes, I know, that sounds corny as hell), but what if they put me in a position where the only way to do that involved sacrificing myself in some way? I couldn't do that. I couldn't be like Janice, or Sally, or Kate--willing to give up my freedom, or even my life, to save others. I just couldn't…could I?
I climbed out the window, pondering that, and pushed on the pane from the other side. Sure enough, just like Sally said, it slowly creaked shut. I could even see the lever rotating on the other side as I pushed, but when I tried to yank the window back open, it held fast. Designed to keep people from getting in, obviously, but not from getting out.
I climbed back down the wall, noting with some annoyance the missing moon, which by now had settled back behind the mansion, close to the horizon. I'd have almost no visibility now, navigating only by starlight. This would be the perfect time for some predatory creature to come at me in the darkness. I almost wished something would--that would make me think about something else besides poor Janice.
I couldn't help thinking about what would happen to her next, and what I might do in her place. I wouldn't sit still while my new "owner" played with me. He'd have to restrain me pretty well, and he'd better not make any mistakes locking me up. If I ever got the chance, I'd be outta there, and once I got into the walls, he'd never find me again. Plus, as soon as I could, I'd report what he'd done to the authorities, and that'd be the end of his career.
Janice, though…she didn't seem that strong. She'd already given up, basically. They must've been looking for someone like her--a submissive type, who wouldn't fight, and enjoyed being bound up and imprisoned. That's what her profile said, anyway--the one I read in the computer record. Those sorts of tendencies are fine when you're with people you trust, and you're in control of the situation. Would she really react the same when the bondage was real?
I'd probably never know, and didn't really want to know. As I made my way across the dark lawn towards my destination, I consoled myself with the idea that if I could ever get out of here, I'd be sure to tell Kate or whoever about the Senator's new little pet. I just hoped Sally would get the rest of that information out of the computer, too, so all the rest could get tracked down as well. I hadn't taken the time to look around at all the records, so I had no idea how many had been sold already--possibly hundreds, for all I knew.
And for every sale, Ray and Frank made millions of dollars. $6.5M just for Janice…damn, but they must be rich as hell by now! If they sold the entire Barn tomorrow, they'd be multi-billionaires. And, if they weren't stopped, this could go on and on for years. They could buy damn near anything with that kind of cash…favors, equipment, protection, weapons…anything!
So why sit around in this pathetic little dump of a place, out in the middle of nowhere, if Ray had accesses to such resources? Because of Kate McBitchy and the FBI, obviously. He might have the money, but he didn't have her…not yet, anyway. No wonder he wanted her so badly! Once he had her, he could get away with anything. Or at least that's what he believed, anyhow. As far as he knew, she's the only obstacle left in his path. That meant keeping her out of his hands is even more important than I ever thought.
I reached the Barn as the sky started to lighten ever so slightly to the east. I'd spent as much time out here as I dared. Quickening my pace, I ran around the side of the Barn and stopped a short distance from the doll door, digging out the coil of wire from my pack. Sure enough, the remote control hadn't gotten lost. With a fingernail, I managed to throw the tiny switch, earning a faint beep as my reward. I then hurried through the door and on over towards the table, hoping I'd find my rope still in place.
Sure enough, it hadn't moved. I scurried up, clambered over the edge, disengaged the grapple and rolled up the thread. As I stowed it in my pack, I started towards the dollhouse and stopped cold. A dark shape stood there, watching me, arms crossed, her barely visible face set in a firm, demanding stare.
"About time you get back," growled Dena. "Now, if you don't mind, I wanna know just what the fuck is going on!"
"I figured you would," I replied quietly. "Keep your voice down, and I'll tell you. No sense waking anybody else up."
"Yeah, whatever," Dena hissed. "I just spent two hours covering your ass, so you damn well better not lie to me."
"I appreciate that," I told her, sitting down on one of the nearby lounge chairs. While she did the same, I added, "I could hear most of the conversation. You could've told Lex about me, but you didn't. Thanks, Dena."
"Yeah, well, I almost blew it," she pointed out, not looking the least bit satisfied by my appreciation. "It never even occurred to me he couldn't track you, until he said I was alone. How do you do it? How can you move around without being tracked?"
"I puked up my tracer the night I got here," I explained. "So I just left it in my room when I snuck out. How did you hear me, anyway? I'm sure I didn't make a sound."
"Well, you did," she told me. "I heard you trying to tiptoe around out here. Sounded an elephant tap-dancing on a stage, at least to me. The floor makes faint creaks, but when you can't sleep, everything sounds pretty loud. You should've timed your steps over Erika's snoring."
I nodded. "I'll try that next time."
"I suppose Marianne must know about this," Dena went on disdainfully. "You could hardly leave without waking her up."
"Yeah, she knows."
"Can she move around like you do?"
"No," I said truthfully, because she couldn't quite do so just yet, but apparently I didn't sound very convincing.
Dena sighed and rolled her eyes. "Okay, look, here's the thing. I can tell you're hiding shit from me, and I don't feel like interrogating you, so let me lay it on the table. I want out of this fucking place and I'll do damn near anything to make it happen, so this is what I want. I want my goddamn tracer out, and I don't think I have to tell you what I'm willing to do to make that happen."
"Okay, okay," I agreed. "Fine, I'll do it. I already figured you'd ask me that, and I've got no problem helping you."
She narrowed her eyes. "Really? You're not going to argue or make some whiny complaints, or tell me I need to help the others, or whatever? Cause I don't give a shit about them."
"Nah, there's no point. You already told me what I needed to know when I heard your life story. Look, it's painfully obvious I'm here to bust up Ray and Frank's little party, right?"
She nodded, waving a hand towards herself, urging me to continue.
"Well," I went on, "the tracer-bombs are a huge problem, because I don't want those two assholes panicking and blowing up the rest of you once I make my move. I'd always intended to get the tracers out of you all eventually, but not till everything's set, because if word gets out before I'm ready, we're all screwed. So, yeah, I'm gonna get your tracer out of you, but you can't just go running off right away. That wouldn't help you, anyway. Sure, you'd escape, for now…but they'd just move the miniaturizer, and the minute you showed yourself anywhere, they'd find you--unless you're willing to stay three inches high the rest of your life, like I am. You aren't…are you?"
Dena's face twisted up in a snarl. "Fuck no," she swore. "Goddammit, you're right, I hadn't thought of that! I'd have to completely disappear without a trace, if that's even possible, and even then, I'd spend my life looking over my shoulder all the time. Dear ol' Dad, he thought he'd gotten away, too, and he was wrong…but Frank and Ray wouldn't be nice enough just to shoot me, huh? They'd do something a whole lot worse. Shit, I'm screwed either way, aren't I?"
I nodded, glad I'd managed to convince her without too much trouble. I didn't need Dena running off and blowing the whole thing. Actually, I really needed her on my side for this. A reluctant ally, as it were.
"Okay, fine," she agreed at last. "I'll sit tight if you want, but you're still getting my tracer out of me right away. Just knowing my stomach isn't about to blow up at any moment will be a huge load off."
"Yeah, sure, soon as I can," I agreed.
"How's it work, then? Do I drink acid, or something?"
"No, I've got a little robot thing that crawls down in your gut and burns through the clips. A few hours later, you just force yourself to puke, and out it comes. You may have to hurl a few times to get it free, so it's gonna suck, I'm warning you now."
"I can take it," she insisted. "After all the crap Frank's done to me, I won't mind some momentary physical discomfort. A little robot, huh? Where'd you get your hands on that?"
I frowned, trying to figure out how to answer. How much did I want to reveal to Dena? I hadn't even told Marianne this part, although if she thought about it for any length of time, she probably would've figured it out. Dena, too, wouldn't have any trouble guessing the truth.
I sighed. "Kate Powers gave it to me," I admitted.
She didn't seem at all surprised. "Looks like Frank wins the bet, then," she remarked obliquely.
"What's that?"
"Oh, Frank and Ray had a bet going," explained Dena. "Frank thought for sure you'd side with Kate in all this, and Ray disagreed. Neither of them figured you'd actually be working with her, though."
"It wasn't exactly my first choice," I admitted. "She…well, she persuaded me, sort of--that's the best way I can put it. Until I got here, and saw the setup, I really didn't know what side I'd pick. But when I found out Ray put a bomb in my stomach, that pretty much sealed the deal. Kate's done a lot of crap I don't really agree with, and she screwed me up pretty hard, but she's always been straight with me. Now I know who I can trust, and who I can't, and to someone in my position, that means everything."
"It's not just that," said Dena harshly. "I've seen the way you react around the minis. You can't stand seeing them like that. The look on your face when they shrunk down Annette yesterday--I thought you were gonna choke."
I hung my head. "Yeah, it's true. I hadn't expected to feel that way--not after all I've been through--but I can't help it. Don't you feel anything, Dena? When you see someone in the Box, or hanging on a pole, or being carried off to be sold into slavery? That doesn't bother you at all?"
"Not really," she replied with a shrug, but not before pausing for the barest instant. Did that mean anything? I had no idea. She might've really had some hidden feelings, for all I knew, but she wouldn't let herself admit it--not even to herself. "It's not my problem," she went on gruffly. "All I care about is getting out of this shithole. So where's the robot, then? Put it in me and we'll get started."
"I can't," I told her. "Not yet, anyway. Not till Marianne's through with it."
She watched my face, like she had this whole time, reading my responses carefully--I doubted very much I could ever get a lie past her. Fortunately, I'd told the truth pretty much nonstop, ever since we both sat down. "Okay, fine, makes sense you'd use it on her first. Well, I'm next, and I want the job done before you leave tomorrow. If I'm not holding my tracer in my hand by then, I'm spilling the beans on you, got that?"
"Got it," I agreed. "No need for threats, though. I can't control how fast the robot works. Once Marianne's done with it, you can have it, and it'll take however long it takes. Just in case I'm gone by then, though--in case they grab me early--I'll make sure Marianne knows to give it to you. Just don't give it to Kaitlin or Erika yet."
"Yeah, well, I wouldn't give it to Erika at all," commented Dena. "She likes it here well enough, so you probably can't trust her. There's something else, though…something else going on with her I've not been able to figure out. If I do, I'll tell you. As for Kaitlin, she'll be like me--she'll want to take off with Taylor as soon as she can. Better wait till he comes back before you do anything with her."
"That's what I figured," I agreed. Just then, the lights above us started to come on, illuminating us in a faint "morning" glow. Simultaneously with that, we both heard a distinct, noisy tick in the distance, coming from the center of the Barn. "Uh-oh, sounds like it's time to get up," I pointed out.
"Yeah, figures, and I hardly got any sleep, thanks to you," she complained. "Not that I ever do, anyway. I'm gonna go take a shower now. If I were you, I'd go back to bed and pretend to be sleeping. Bye."
She headed off into the dollhouse, and I had to admit, she had a point. Without any further hesitation, I followed.
Marianne started stirring when I got back to my room. She stretched, yawned, saw me in my dusty catsuit, and smiled. "Have fun out there, love?" she asked curiously.
"Sort of," I replied. "I'll tell you all about it later, but I don't wanna be seen in this thing right now." I undressed quickly, stowing the cobweb-covered outfit under the bed for the moment.
She stood up and ran a hand ever so lightly across my bare back. Damn, I missed that--just a simple touch from another human being, and it set my skin to tingling. To think I'd avoided this for so long! "You look all concerned 'n stuff," she whispered in my ear. "So tense. What happened?"
I sighed. No sense hiding it, I figured. "I went to the mansion last night…and Dena followed me."
"What?" Marianne looked at me in horror. "Are you gonna get--?"
"No, no, I think we're cool," I replied, putting up my hands to reassure her. "She just wants outta here, so I agreed to give her the tracer robot thing, after you're done. If I'm not here, make sure she gets it when she asks."
"She's not gonna help us," Marianne pointed out. "She'll screw us over if it gets her anywhere, y'know."
"Yeah, I'm sure she will, but when I reminded her Ray and Frank still had a miniaturizer, and wouldn't be too kind if they caught up to her again later, she saw the light, I think."
Marianne shrugged. "Okay, good, but I'm still worryin', y'know. If she takes off and they find out, they're gonna check us all."
"I know, but it's not like I had a choice. When she followed me, Lex saw her signal moving on the monitors, and he came out to see what she was up to. She got caught close to the house, and when she realized he didn't know I was out there, well, she saw her opportunity."
Marianne nodded. "Yeah, that's her all right. She's such a bitch sometimes. Oh, well, you gotta do what you gotta do. C'mon, let's go take a shower."
"Dena's still in there," I reminded her.
"Don't worry, she won't be for long, once the two of us show up," chuckled Marianne, and she was right.
By the time we got out of there, which took a bit longer than it probably should've, I was pretty hungry--for food, that is. I hadn't eaten since yesterday, just before I went out for evening roll call. I suppose it didn't help that while we were showering, one of the guards showed up, lifted up the roof flap, and scooped in our morning helping of breakfast. The smell set my stomach to rumbling something fierce.
Marianne must've been hungry, too, because after enduring an annoyed glare from the impatiently waiting Erika outside the bathroom, Marianne and I raced each other getting dressed. I picked another leotard, this one solid blue with flared sleeves that went halfway to my elbows, while she chose a suspender-style black one over a pink bikini top. While she pulled on a pair of buckle-top over-the-knee boots, I caught myself staring at her, because she looked absolutely fantastic in that outfit. She must've seen me watching her, too, because she blushed and glanced away, fastened up the buckles, and laughed as she scurried off to get some food.
I followed a moment later, gathering up a plateful of scrambled eggs along with a small strip of sausage. With that in hand, I joined Marianne and Dena out front. "Morning," I said as I sat down near the others. "I swear, it's like we were just out here talking."
"Yeah, well, keep it down," said Dena. "Kaitlin's up, and she's got pretty good hearing, too."
"Okay," I replied. "So, tell me, what did this Lex guy do last night? He seemed pretty eager to haul you off."
Dena sighed. "Well, he works night shift most of the time, which means he doesn't get a lot of time with us. The guards don't come in after lights-out, unless they see something happening on the monitors. You know, it's funny, I always thought they had cameras watching the door, which means he should've seen you go out, but he didn't, did he?"
"Nope," I replied with a smile. "You've got your secrets, I've got mine."
She narrowed her eyes. "You're a lot more dangerous than I gave you credit for, aren't you?"
"I like to think so," I replied, my grin widening a bit. "Anyway, you're right, he does have eyes on that door. If you're gonna creep around, don't go out that way."
"Yeah, well, how the hell else do we get out?" she asked. "That's the only door we can use. We can't possibly move either of the giant doors, and they've got the walls sealed up tight."
"What about up top?" I suggested. "Up in the rafters, there's gotta be ways in and out."
"Not likely," Marianne pointed out. "They don't want any li'l critters sneakin' in and nestin' up there. Plus, it keeps the owls away, thank God." She gave a little shudder.
"Have you ever had anything get in here?" I asked curiously. "I suppose that would be pretty bad, huh?"
"Yeah, it is," commented Dena. "After they set this place up, the Barn wasn't all that well sealed, and we had birds and mice get in on a pretty regular basis. The birds were easy--they wouldn't land with the guards around, and they got some target practice with the rifles. Although, I must say, my ears really rang for a while afterwards."
"I can imagine," I replied. "I bet the minis were even worse off."
"Oh, they were all cowering in their little buildings," said Dena, "but yeah, it would've sounded like cannon shots, I bet. The mice were tougher to deal with. The worst thing was when we thought we'd gotten them all, and then the last one came down into the farms."
"Oh, geez, that must've been pretty bad," I offered.
"Yeah, there weren't any guards around, but me and Erika heard the screaming from a whole quadrant over. The minis just scattered every which way, and they're pretty damn fast, so it couldn't quite catch any of them. When I got there, I had a spear, thank goodness, and after a couple pokes in the face, the mouse got the idea. Erika and I herded it out to the highway, and then Lex showed up with a net and that was that. A whole lot of excitement, but nothing we couldn't handle."
"That's the worst thing that's ever gotten in?"
"Yeah, pretty much. Mostly we get insects nowadays, but every now and then some bird flies in. The guards are pretty good about closing the doors, but you never know what's gonna sneak inside. Nothing really dangerous, though. Nothing like that scorpion you met yesterday."
"Yeah, that scared the crap outta me," agreed Marianne. "I don't mind goin' outside every now and then, but it's gotta be the daytime. No more night walks for me!"
"Seriously," agreed Erika, who chose that moment to emerge from the dollhouse, munching on a crisp chunk of bacon. "I was right, y'know. I had nightmares all night long. Thanks again, Wendy!"
"Anytime," I agreed, grinning. "Oh, by the way, I put your needle back in your room, if you didn't notice."
"Yeah, I saw, and thanks for showing me up even more by going back for it later," she said.
"That was Marianne's idea, actually," I pointed out, "although I'm pretty sure she just wanted an excuse to get me alone under the moonlight."
"Guilty as charged," agreed Marianne, "and you can stop glarin' at me, Dena. I ain't gonna say nothin' more 'bout that."
"Good," she agreed. "Hmm, wait, what's that? Someone coming to pay us a visit this early? Oh, never mind, it's just Damon."
We all turned to look, and sure enough, the military wannabe came marching up and halted crisply before the dollhouse. "Soldier Sugarton," he said in an official tone, "your presence is requested in the War Room. Come with me."
He placed his hand on the table, and I shrugged, stepping aboard while keeping my half-empty plateful of eggs from spilling. "Guess I won't be there for morning roll," I called back to Marianne. "Take care of it for me, okay?"
"Sure," she agreed. "Have fun!"
"Yeah, right," I replied, and settled in as Damon turned to make his way out of the Barn, towards the waiting mansion.
As we went outside, I got a faceful of sunrise, which temporarily made me wince and blink while my eyes adjusted. I might've taken the time to enjoy the lovely pastel colors in the eastern sky, but instead, I kept my eyes fixed on the well-dressed guard coming out of the mansion ahead of us. So far I'd seen the guards in mostly casual stuff--shirts, jeans, that sort of thing. This one wore a suit and tie, with a clean-cut face and short, military-style haircut, and he carried a cube-shaped object in his left hand, covered in a white cloth.
Of course, I knew what that box-shaped item must be--the cage I saw last night, the one containing poor little Janice. As I turned to watch the guard go by, he strode off in the direction of the restoration shack, where several cars waited. She's off to meet her new owner, I thought sadly to myself.
I forced myself to remain as impassive as possible. I'm not supposed to know about that, don't forget. "What's that all about?" I called out to Damon, just to see if I could pry some information out of him, and to pretend like I didn't know what I'd just seen.
"Prisoner transfer," he replied brusquely. "Nothing you need to concern yourself with, soldier."
"Prisoner transfer? What prisoner, and to where? And don't call me 'soldier.' I'm not in your stupid Army."
"That information is on a need to know basis, and you don't need to know," he replied, glancing down at me. For the barest instant, he smiled, and then added, "Got that, soldier?"
I sighed. "Yeah, whatever."
"At least I don't call you 'doll,' he added quietly, just as we reached the mansion's front door. "That's too demeaning for my tastes. Now pipe down, little one, you've got a big day ahead of you."
He looked away from me, keeping his eyes focused straight ahead as we entered the house, avoiding the stairs this time and entering the wide hall that traversed the lower floor. I studied his face, trying to read some kind of emotion, but saw only that steely, military façade of his. For a moment, though, he'd broken it, showing me a real person lurked just beneath that fake exterior…but only for a moment.
He stepped into a wide-open chamber dominated by a huge fireplace that filled half the farther wall. A living room, originally, but Ray had converted it to a conference room, adding one of those insanely long tables and a collection of big, expensive leather office chairs. Several video screens hung on adjacent walls, and a couple smaller ones occupied seats at the table. Ray and Frank were there, along with a half-dozen guards, including Mack, who looked pretty sleepy, as well as Jordan and Evan Carroll. They were standing around chatting, eating pastries from a tray on a nearby cart, and generally paying me no mind whatsoever. Damon stepped up to Ray, presented me by raising his hand, and said, "Soldier Sugarton, as requested, sir!"
"Good, put her on the table," Ray replied, sitting down in the head chair, close to two of the monitors. Damon complied, so I jumped out and stood there, looking up at Ray expectantly. Without being dismissed, Damon moved a few steps away, put his hands behind him, and stood at attention. Well, parade rest, I guess it's called, but I didn't know that at the time.
"Good morning, Wendy," said Ray, putting his fingertips together and flexing them back and forth. "I trust you slept well?"
"Well enough," I replied, wondering if he'd somehow found out about my nocturnal wanderings, and wanted to see if I'd admit it. No chance of that, though--he'd have to pry that out of me.
"Good, I'm glad you've settled in here. I suppose you observed the cage being carried out of the building on your way in?"
"Yeah, I tried asking about that, but soldier-boy over there wouldn't tell me a damn thing. What's that all about?"
Ray glanced ever so slightly in Damon's direction. "The lieutenant knows, as all good soldiers do, the value of compartmentalized information. However, I wanted you to see the cage for a reason. It contained someone you know--Janice Kerrington, one of the minis from your quadrant. She won't be around for roll call any more, so adjust your counting appropriately."
I nodded. Once again, I shouldn't be surprised by the supposed "coincidence" of passing Janice on her way out. Ray set that up just so I'd see it, and ask about it. Well, fine, I'll play his little game, if that's what he wants. "Won't be around anymore?" I inquired innocently. "Why, where's she going?"
"To a new home," he told me. "Surely you've heard by now about why the minis are here, haven't you?"
"Yeah, of course," I admitted. "I figure you sold her to somebody. Who's the lucky new owner?"
Ray smiled. "That, you don't need to know, except that he's someone who I'm sure will take good care of her. The minis are all selected very carefully from the population to meet the anticipated needs of our clients. Their time here puts them through various tests that ensure they fit more specific needs. In this case, the interested party wanted someone whose appearance and personality matched precisely with Janice. This system ensures both master and pet will be mutually compatible."
"Master and pet," I replied, shaking my head. "I see what you're doing here, matching them up as best you can, but this is still just a glorified pet store."
I shouldn't have said that, but I couldn't help myself, and I'm sure my disdain for the whole process showed in my face, anyway. Instead of being angry, though, Ray just laughed. "That's a rather crude description, Wendy, but accurate enough, I suppose. Yes, this is really the ultimate pet store, isn't it? I don't see why you should be so surprised by this. The Compound was the same sort of thing, only we kept all the pets in one place. Now, I've expanded the business globally. I assure you, though, none of the dolls leaving here will be mistreated. They're too expensive for that. Oh, I'm sure some will be hurt from time to time, but then, those are the ones who won't mind. As I suggested before, our profiling is quite thorough."
I nodded. "Yeah, okay, I get it, but what's this have to do with me? Are you suggesting I'm going to be sold like that, too?"
He chuckled again. "Oh, no, certainly not! I couldn't sell you, Wendy. You're far too valuable to me. I like to think of you as my own little pet, just like the other dolls here. Although, I suppose, it's hardly fair to think of Dena that way. She most definitely belongs to Frank."
"Somebody call me?" Frank bellowed, plopping down in the chair next to me and taking a big bite out of the glazed donut in his hand. "You ready for the briefing yet, or what?"
"Not quite," Ray replied. "I was just explaining to Wendy the nature of our business here. She has the right to know what's going on, after all. If she's going to be staying here, that is."
"What do you mean, 'if'?" I put in. "I thought I'd be here for the long haul."
"Well, certainly, if that's what you want," Ray told me, "but then, we never quite discussed the duration of your stay here, did we? None of you dolls are being held against your will, after all. Once you've helped me acquire Kate Powers, you're free to go--and you can take Marianne along, if you so desire."
Well, that's not what I expected to hear, and I suppose it showed on my face. "You thought maybe you were a prisoner?" Ray inquired, seeing my confused look. "I suppose you might, considering the tracer we're using on you, but that's just for our own security. We must be certain of your motivation."
I nodded, because that made perfect sense--I would've been disappointed if they'd trusted me so blindly, after all. They could've done without the bomb, but then, they might not know I knew about that part. I still felt pretty surprised that they were giving me a way to opt out of this whole thing after we finished up with Kate. I didn't expect that. But then, just like Mack's fellow bodyguards who didn't join up with the rest of them, I suspect I wouldn't be allowed to leave quite so easily. I didn't say that, though, instead simply replying, "Well, right now, my motivation is to help you all catch Kate McBitchy, and after that, we'll see. I wasn't sure about this place at first, but I think it's growing on me."
Frank laughed at that. "Nice turn of phrase, as Ray might say."
He nodded. "Certain well-known terms and phrases definitely take on a different meaning in our line of work, don't they? In any event, I'm glad you're starting to fit in here, Wendy. You seem to be rather insightful--I'm sure you haven't failed to realize that your job in the quadrants is more than just simply bossing around a bunch of tiny women."
"Yeah, I got that," I replied. "It's part of your evaluation thing, right? You watch how they react to what we dolls put 'em through."
"Exactly so. See, Frank, I told you, she's a quick study. You may worry that some don't seem to fit in, or are troublesome or problematic, and that we may just dispose of them like sometimes happened back at the Compound. I assure you, that's not the case at all. Not one mini has been dealt with in such a cruel, barbaric way. The ones who leave have all gone to new owners, or been returned to their old lives, if they didn't fit our profiles."
Now that last part, I knew, was a lie--but he said it so smoothly I didn't really notice, which is just as well, or I might've given myself away with my reaction. Instead, I simply said, "That's good to know, I guess."
"In any event," Ray went on casually, "after you return, I hope you'll consider staying with us. Your job is important--very much so, in fact. You'll be helping us to ensure the minis wind up in proper homes where they'll be treated appropriately. We want them to adjust to their new lives with a minimum of trouble, after all. While you remain here, you'll be treated respectfully, not tortured or humiliated like at the Compound--unless that's what you prefer, of course."
"Not really," I remarked.
"I didn't think so. You seem like someone who appreciates an appropriate amount of attention, and doesn't mind reciprocating. I've heard nothing but good things about you since you got here, and we'd love to have you stick around, should you choose to do so. You've been so long without a home, and this one is ideal. We offer you protection, attention, and a rewarding job to fulfill, with everything you'd ever need and none of the dangers of living on your own. Plus, you'll be with friends, and those you care about. What more could you ask for?"
"Not much, I suppose," I replied, unable to sound enthusiastic. He certainly made the Ranch sound perfect, though. He didn't even bother to remind me I'd be allowed to stay at my favorite size, too--I guess he figured he didn't need to point out something so obvious. "That's quite a pitch, actually. Did you work real hard on that?"
Frank almost choked on his donut, but Ray only laughed again. "Ah, I love that sardonic wit of yours, Wendy! Another reason I hope you stay. In any case, you don't have to decide now. You have a mission to perform first, and that's why I've brought you here this morning. I just wanted you to know that your home will be waiting for you, regardless of whether you succeed or fail."
"Thanks," I replied honestly. "I appreciate that. I'd been wondering what might happen if I didn't come back with Kate in tow."
"Ray'll be fucking disappointed as hell, that's what'll happen," Frank commented with a big grin on his face. "All he's ever done since we got here, seems like, is talk about how bad he wants his hands on Kate Powers."
"It's true, I do talk about her quite often," agreed Ray, but I caught the barest hint of irritation in his voice. "She's been a source of constant vexation to me. Sometimes, like Frank here often suggests, I contemplate simply having her picked off by a well-placed high-powered sniper rifle, but that seems like the easy way out for someone like her."
"I'd be disappointed if you went that route," I put in. "If, after all this time, she still hasn't found your little operation here, then you must know you're safe enough that you can do whatever you want. I'll draw her in for you, and after that, you do whatever you want, as long as I get a chance to rub it in her face."
"You'll get that, and more," agreed Ray without hesitation.
Frank slapped his hand on the table. "Glad you're both on the same page," he announced. "Now, enough screwing around, let's get the hell on with it, all right? Tell her what she needs to know, and then we'll get her on her way."
"On my way?" I asked, just barely catching myself in time to avoid sounding too terribly shocked. "I thought I wasn't leaving until tomorrow?"
"No, that's when we expect you to actually complete your mission," Frank told me with a knowing smile. "In order to meet that schedule, you're outta here in half an hour."
Half an hour! I couldn't go that soon--I had to talk to Marianne, get my gear, reassure Dena...and try to figure out some way to get word to Sally, if all possible. Not that I could, though. There's no way I could ever get to her in time, if she'd stayed upstairs. The only hope I had, and it's a faint hope indeed, is that she'd managed to get down here to the war room in the hour or so since I last saw her. For someone a third of an inch high, left at basically the opposite side of the house from here, I very much doubted that.
I couldn't really let them see how upset I was, though. Very quickly, almost automatically, I replied, "So soon? I barely had a chance to get breakfast."
"Oh, don't worry, you'll have time to better prepare yourself. That outfit you have on, for example, appealing though it may be, just won't do. In fact, it'd be better if you wore what you had on when you got here. That way if you do run into Kate, she won't be surprised to see you in something different."
"Okay, sure," I agreed. "Makes sense. I stuck it under my bed, I think. I'll also need to get my weapons and other stuff. And a bit more food."
"But of course," agreed Ray, "but first, we need to fill you in on what you'll be doing. Frank, go ahead, this is your territory."
"Righto," he replied, downing the last of his donut and chasing it down with a couple sips of coffee. "Okay, here's the thing. We spent a shitload of time yesterday trying to figure out how to best present you to Kate. Dangle you over her head like a worm on a hook, as it were. We know a few people we could've tried to use, but we rejected them all. We don't really know for sure who the damn FBI's watching or has suspicions about, so we figured it's best to go with someone totally unknown. And by that, I mean somebody even we don't know."
I rubbed my chin with my fingers. "So what's that mean, exactly? You're just gonna dump me somewhere and let somebody random find me?"
"Basically, yeah, that's exactly what I mean," Frank replied. "Don't worry, you've got a tracer, and we'll be close by, watching to make sure nothing bad happens. There was this study done this one time, I don't know if you ever heard of it--the government planted tiny people in hazardous situations, just to see what ordinary people would do if they found one. Most of the time, they just took 'em home like little keepsakes, with sex games starting real soon after."
"Not surprising," I remarked. I hadn't heard about that particular study, but it doesn't surprise me something like that would happen. If there's something people want to learn about badly enough, they'll run an experiment for it, sooner or later.
"So anyways," Frank went on, "it strikes me you could do something like that. Let yourself get caught, and whatever chump grabs you thinks he's got it made. Eventually, though, he'll brag about you, or show pictures of you on the net, or whatever. If he doesn't, you can talk him into it, or get on yourself and pretend to call for help. It doesn't matter, just as long as the word gets out. We'll be listening in, so we'll know to get ready for Kate when that happens."
"This is all well and good," I replied, "but what happens if whoever grabs me is a real sick bastard?"
"Oh, come on, you can't possibly believe you'll run into anyone worse than Ray here," chuckled Frank.
I glanced at Ray and nodded, letting the corner of my mouth turn up into a smile, which he reciprocated. "Yeah, good point," I replied. "Okay, fine. I can probably take anything some random guy can dish out, anyhow. What about the opposite extreme, though? What if he's just way too nice?"
"Well, if that happens, I'm sure someone as smart as you can come up with a great story that'll convince the poor sap to get online and talk about you," said Frank. "You don't care about really being rescued, anyway. You just want Kate to know where you are, and preferably that you're somewhere you can't--or won't--escape from easily."
"Hmm, yeah, okay, I think I get it," I replied, nodding as I considered the various ramifications. Of course, I wouldn't let my choice be totally random, if I could avoid it. Just like back in that parking lot in Colorado Springs, when I watched people coming and going from the supermarket, I could probably spot a likely candidate well enough. "Fine, sounds like a plan. I suppose you've got a place picked out to dump me, then?"
"Yeah, the perfect spot," agreed Frank immediately. "Someplace you can take your pick of people to be noticed by, or to hide in their belongings, or however you want to do it."
"Where's that?" I asked curiously.
"The sort of place all you chicks love to visit all the time," he replied with a big grin on his face. "A shopping mall."
So, yeah, that's their whole plan, in a nutshell...dump me in a mall, somewhere in the Midwest, and see what happens. That's it. No fancy gadgets, no backup, no elaborate strategy, nothing. Just me on my own, a little piece of human bait that would hopefully get Kate's attention and draw her close enough that they could grab her.
And then what? Bring her here, I guess, and torture her to death, or at least enough that she wished she were dead. That's what they intended, anyway, but I'd already talked to her, and I knew that's exactly what she wanted. She wanted them to come after her, don't forget. She'd have a plan for that, right? So I didn't have anything to worry about, really. I could go about my business and do exactly what Frank and Ray expected, knowing that's also exactly what Kate wanted. And then when she executed whatever amazing last-second heroic bullshit she had planned, Marianne and I would drop our tracers and get the hell out of there, out of the line of fire.
Sounded like a plan to me, I guess, so I nodded and didn't really ask any detailed questions or anything. I had what I needed to know, really. Frank and Ray traded wisecracks for another couple of minutes, decided I'd heard all I needed to hear, and called Damon back over to carry me back to the dollhouse.
I'd hoped to find Marianne, so I could say goodbye, but she wasn't there. I took my time collecting my gear and changing back into my catsuit, which of course remained completely covered in dust and cobwebs from my early morning meanderings. To take care of that, I got in the shower and washed off thoroughly, deliberately dragging my feet while the "lieutenant" waited impatiently outside. I heard him call out a couple times to hurry it up, which is exactly what I wanted to happen. His loud, bellowing voice would be sure to alert somebody else to hurry back here as fast as her little feet would carry her.
Sure enough, my stalling tactics worked, because I heard the elevator fire up while I dried myself off. Good thing I didn't try using the lift last night, huh? If Dena heard the faint floorboard creaking as I tiptoed out, the grinding noise coming from outside would've woken the whole dollhouse. Even Damon didn't miss hearing it, because a moment later, he said, "Who is that? Soldier Tarinski, I shouldn't be surprised. You are ordered to retrieve Soldier Sugarton at once!"
"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Marianne replied, hurrying in to find me. Since I didn't hide, but stuck my head out the door to get her attention, she spotted me immediately. We embraced and kissed a few times, needless to say--not as much as I would've liked, but enough to get by.
"You better be careful out there, love," she told me, starting to tear up as she realized I'd be going away in just a few minutes. "I don't wanna lose you again!"
"Oh, c'mon, don't cry! This won't be that hard. They're gonna put me in a shopping mall and keep eyes on me the whole time. I'll let a few people take pics of me, and when Kate shows up, they'll make the grab. No problem at all."
"What about the tracer?" she asked in a low voice. "What if Dena tells on me?"
"She won't," I insisted. "Just give her the robot after you spit it out. It'll be attached to the bottom of the tracer. You're gonna have to make yourself puke sometime later today, don't forget. Do it where nobody else can see. Outdoors, if possible."
"Okay, I guess. Anything else you want me to do?"
"Just watch my quadrant," I told her, pulling on my boots and gloves as I spoke. "Tell them if they win, even though I'm not here, my deal's still on. I'll tell them my story when I get back. I'll have even more to tell them then, so it should be even more reason for them to work hard."
"What happens when you get back?" Marianne asked worriedly. "What do we do then?"
"We'll have to talk about that later," I replied in a quiet voice, "but Ray wants us to stay and keep working for them. He made it sound real appealing, I admit, but no matter what they might tell you, I'm not planning to stick around, okay? We'll figure something out, but I still want outta here. You do too, right?"
"Oh, yeah, more than anythin'," she agreed at once. "We just gotta do it so as nobody else gets hurt, okay?"
"I'll try to think of some way to make that happen," I said, picking up my spear and checking one last time to make sure I had everything (especially my tracer). "Now I'd better head out, before Damon blows a gasket."
"Yeah, good luck out there," Marianne agreed, giving me one last kiss. "Bye, Wendy! I love you. Come back to me, okay?"
"I will," I agreed at once. "I love you, too."
I didn't want to leave her, of course, but I didn't have much choice. I'd never gotten the chance to ask if she could come along, but then, I'd already decided not to bother. They wouldn't even consider allowing that, I'm sure, but even if they had, I didn't want Marianne out there in harm's way. I had no idea what might happen when Kate and the FBI showed up. She told me she'd take steps to keep things simple and quiet, but things rarely work out as planned where she's concerned. I felt pretty confident that in such a situation, I could save my own ass, but I didn't want Marianne there, holding me back. Call me insensitive, but I remember how she'd reacted the other night when the scorpion came at us. If she did something like that out in the real world, with real danger threatening us, we could both get killed. I promised her I wouldn't put her in that kind of situation again, and I intended to live up to that promise.
So instead, I had to leave her behind, which hurt almost as much. I really didn't want to leave, especially with her crying behind me as I headed out of the dollhouse. That's the last thing I saw her doing as I departed, but I barely even had time to turn and wave at her. The instant I stepped out the front door, Damon snatched me up and hurried right out of the Barn. He seemed rather angry, actually--one of the few times I'd seen him look anything less than professional. "Sorry," I called up to him, "but you couldn't possibly expect me to leave without saying goodbye."
"Your personal attachments are secondary to the mission," complained Damon. "Thanks to you, we're going to be seven minutes late in departing. The General won't be pleased."
"Ahh, he'll get over it," I replied, totally not caring what "the General" thought of the delay. Wherever I might be going next, being seven minutes late wouldn't affect a damn thing. If it did, he would've been in a bigger hurry earlier during the meeting. None of the people there seemed the slightest bit rushed.
Damon carried me out past the restoration shack, where I'd seen some cars parked earlier. These weren't limos or anything, just ordinary sedans and minivans like you'd see pretty much anywhere. They didn't want to attract attention, I suppose. Ray wasn't there, but Frank waited alongside several of the guards, including Mack and the two Carrolls, plus a couple others I hadn't met yet. Frank didn't look the slightest bit concerned, probably because the delay gave him time to smoke another cigarette, which he flicked away into the gravel as we walked up. I wrinkled my nose at the overwhelming tobacco odor and tried to ignore it as best I could.
"Soldier Sugarton, as ordered, sir," said Damon, not bothering to mention his lateness.
"Good, good, now get in the car and get the hell out of here," ordered Frank. "Here, you'll need this." He handed over a small container, one of those metal tins that usually hold mints or small candies or whatever.
"Yes, sir," said Damon, looking ever so slightly disappointed.
I got the impression he didn't really like something about the tin, but his supposed military training didn't allow him to question orders. So, I decided to ask on his behalf. "What's that for?" I called out, before Damon could move off towards the car.
"Something to help you sleep," Frank explained. "Sorry about that, but we aren't taking any chances."
"What, you don't want me to see where we're going?" I replied. "It's not like I'm not gonna figure it out ten minutes after we get there, y'know."
"It's not that," he replied with a shrug. "We don't want you to see where we are right now. The last thing we need is your big mouth blabbing our location to the Feds."
I rolled my eyes. "Like I'm gonna do that," I said with a shrug, "but yeah, okay, I get the security thing. Besides, it's cool, I figure we'll be driving for a while, so if I have to sleep through it, that'll be fine with me. What's in there, a little syringe or something?"
"Just a couple sleeping pills," Frank assured me. "Miniaturized, of course. Take them as soon as we're on our way. Lieutenant, make sure she does."
"Yes, sir!" Damon said instantly. "Now come on, enough stalling, soldier. Into the car."
He carried me inside and let me hop onto the back seat, whereupon he opened up the little tin. To my surprise, I found a couple blankets and a pillow in there, along with a miniaturized bag containing a water bottle and a packet of pills. Apparently, I'd be expected to sleep inside the container, probably with the lid shut, just as a hedge in case I faked drugging myself.
Well, I didn't like the idea of taking any pills--I'd had enough of that to last a lifetime--but it's that or spend the whole ride trapped inside that metal container with the lid snapped shut. Might as well just do it, right? Without any complaining, I took the tablets out, chased them down with some water, and stowed both the bottle and bag in my pack. At my size, nothing gets left behind or discarded, after all. Then I curled up amidst the blankets, setting my pack to the side where I wouldn't roll over it, and tried to get comfortable, wishing I didn't have to bend my legs quite as much to fit inside.
"Sorry to make you do this, Soldier Sugarton," said Damon, and he actually looked like he meant it. "If you wake up, just bang on the lid and I'll let you out, okay?"
"Sure, sounds good," I replied, and he closed the top, sealing me in darkness. Not completely, though--I found a couple small holes punched in along the bottom, to make sure I had enough air. I probably wouldn't have to worry about it, but you never know.
I settled in, shifting around a bit, adjusting to the car's motion as it started forward. Once we got off the gravel and onto the street, the vehicle stabilized and I felt somewhat comfortable. To amuse myself, like I often did while traveling by hanging onto bumpers and whatnot, I tried to keep track of turns and guess at mileage traveled. I think maybe I might've gotten a couple miles before I fell soundly asleep.
When I awoke, I found myself in somebody's hand, sprawled out on my chest with my face poking between two gigantic fingers. Another finger gently caressed my hair, occasionally making its way down my back, an altogether pleasant sensation that made me shudder involuntarily. I could feel goosebumps all over me, pretty much from head to toe, and I didn't mind that much, either.
"You're awake," Damon's voice said quietly. "It's okay, you can get up now. We're almost there."
I turned my head to look up at him, smiling blissfully. "Nah, I think I'll let you keep doing that, if it's all right with you."
He grinned. "Yeah, I thought you might. The others like it, too. I can do your legs, if you want."
"Go anywhere you like," I sighed happily. This is the sort of thing a girl likes to wake up to! I didn't expect someone like Damon to be the one massaging me, though. "So what's the deal, you got orders to make me feel better?"
"Nah," he replied, shrugging. "I just figured you'd like to wake up to this instead of curled up in some cold, dark metal tin."
Hmm, so, he's got a mind of his own after all, does he? "Well, I appreciate it," I told him. "That feels really good. Mind if I stretch out?"
"Be my guest." He didn't stop his slow, steady rubbing as I maneuvered to a more comfortable position, with my arms and legs spread out a bit. That's not the only reason I moved around, though--I wanted to see what he'd done with my pack and weapons. They were still in the tin, sitting on the car seat close by. That's where my tracer was, too, which made me a little nervous, but I figured it'd still be close enough to not cause any problems--as long as I didn't get out of the car without it.
After I settled back in, he extended his massage to the rest of me, working on my shoulders, upper arms, upper and lower back, and thighs, skipping the forearms and calves because of my boots and gloves. He hadn't bothered to try removing any of my clothing, but the catsuit is so skintight I didn't even notice. Even so, he kept his fingers away from my private parts, and didn't do anything stupid like try to tickle me. Apparently he was content with just giving me a massage, and nothing else. For now, anyway.
A few minutes passed while I just shivered and shuddered under his touch, wondering if he intended to take this any further, which would require me to remove certain feminine products from my nether regions. I hadn't expected anything like this on the trip out here, after all. "So," I finally said, "the other dolls like this too, huh? I can see why. They never said you do anything like this, though."
"Oh, I suppose I'm not nearly as exciting as the other guards," Damon explained, still keeping his voice low. I could hear some country music playing out of the radio up front, which I suppose kept the driver entertained. "The others, they've all got their personal perversions, but I don't make any of you put up with that."
"Really? Not ever?" I asked curiously. "It's a rare man who wouldn't take advantage of this kind of opportunity. Are you gay? You can tell me--I'm gay, too, y'know."
"Nope, totally hetero," explained Damon. "I guess you can say my momma raised me right, though, and I'm not referring to sexual orientation. You may be small, but you're still a person, right? That means you deserve the same respect I'd give anyone else. Would I rape a woman just because she looked as sexy as you? Certainly not. So I wouldn't use my fingers on you that way, either."
I didn't miss the complement, and blushed ever so slightly at his words. A rare guy, this one, I thought to myself. Most men I've met immediately stop thinking of doll-sized women as human beings. But, then, I suppose I've been exposed to only the worst in people for most of my life. It's nice to meet someone different. "Well, thanks for that," I replied after a moment. "And for the complement, too. What if I told you it's okay, though? If I asked, would you move that finger down and in a bit further?"
He chuckled at that. "Now, Soldier Sugarton, I have far too much respect for you for that. I barely know you, after all."
Wow, actually refusing an open offer, too? Maybe he really was gay, but just wouldn't admit it. "What if I begged?" I went on. "How about then?"
He sighed, and flashed me an exasperated look. "I'll tell you what I tell the others, every time they try that. I'm not interested, okay? If we were lovers, yes, but we aren't even friends, at least not yet. I was raised to believe sex, even the kind you're suggesting, is something special that bonds two people together. It's not a cheap thrill, like some kind of amusement park ride. I don't expect you to feel the same, obviously, because you were brought up differently, and I won't treat you any differently for asking, either. I just expect you to respect my beliefs, and I'll respect yours, okay?"
I nodded. I'd thought of Damon as someone a little addle-brained, like a human robot under Frank's control, but there's a whole lot more to him than that, it seemed. "Okay, sure," I replied with a bit of uncertainty. "Look, this may sound a bit insensitive, but…"
"You're going to ask about the military thing, aren't you?" he went on, continuing to massage me gently, moving without prompting from one part of me to the next at just the right speed. By this point I'd awakened completely, having shaken off the sleeping pills (which made up for last night's lack of sleep quite nicely, I might add), and while Damon did a pretty good job of relaxing my muscles, he didn't make me sleepy. In fact, I'd actually started to get a bit turned on, which didn't bode well, seeing as he obviously didn't intend to finish the job.
"Yeah, I am," I replied honestly, trying to think about something else other than the amazing feeling of his finger roaming around on my skin. "It's just that you act so formal all the time--it seems out of place, around all these other civilian types."
He nodded slowly. "It's a problem I have," he told me. "I've seen psychiatrists about it plenty of times, but basically, whenever I'm around anyone in authority, I just sort of slip into this military mindset. I can't really control it--I don't even realize I'm doing it, really. It just seems ordinary and natural to me. The docs say I'm schizophrenic, and one even told me I had multiple personality disorder, but I don't think so. I can remember everything, and I make the same choices I'd make every time, when I think about it later. I just do it from a military perspective, that's all."
"So it's still you, then," I replied. "You're still the same guy?"
"Yep," he assured me. "I become Lieutenant Lohnstein, answering to Generals Lassiter and Ellsworth, but inside, I'm still the same old Damon."
"So you see a military hierarchy in your head, then? The other guards--are they lieutenants, like you?"
"Basically," he explained. "I treat them like that, at least, even if they don't see it that way. I don't ever try to give them orders, except if one of the Generals told me to do so. Then I expect them to obey, as they should, and they usually do, unless they want to have to explain themselves to Frank or Ray. You dolls, I consider sergeants under my command, while the minis are like little prisoners of war."
"If I'm a sergeant," I replied, "then you can give me orders and I have to obey, is that right? That's not how I see it, y'know."
"Well, sure, that's what I expect, and when I'm in military mode, I'll get upset if you don't, like when you didn't come out of the dollhouse this morning. But, see, there's something a lot of civilians don't understand about NCOs--that means non-commissioned officers, like sergeants in the Army. They're experts in their fields, usually with a whole lot more experience than us officers, so while technically they have to obey orders, that doesn't mean they always will, especially if those orders are stupid, or will get them killed."
I nodded at that. "So basically that means if you tell me to do something, and I don't like it, I can ignore you?"
"Well, not exactly," he explained, shaking his head and frowning. "Let me try this again. You're an expert in your field, which in this case is being tiny and cute and using those assets to complete the mission you've been assigned. If I told you to do something that interfered with that mission, or that you felt endangered you unnecessarily, you'd be within your rights to refuse. Any other time, though, you should defer to me, just as you'd refer to any of the other guards."
"Oh, okay, I get it. Well, tell you what, I'll obey you only when I feel like it, cause I don't believe in all this military crap, but I promise most of the time I'll feel like it, okay? Mostly because I wouldn't want to miss out of any more of these amazing back rubs."
"Fair enough," he agreed, chuckling at me as he squeezed my left thigh a bit harder than usual, and I gave an audible gasp and shuddered all over. "I'm not above a little bribery, too, if it comes to that."
"Ooh, that feels awesome," I told him, relaxing completely. "It's a shame you won't do anything more, but I get your reasons. You want me to reciprocate a bit? If you stretch out on the seat here, I bet I could work on your back."
"Not likely, at your size," he said doubtfully.
"Try me," I replied. "I'm stronger than you think."
"Nah, I believe you, but I don't think I can get comfortable on this little seat. Besides which, we're about exit the highway, which means the mall's not far. Here, get your stuff. We'll need to be ready to move as soon as we stop."
"Why, what's the hurry?"
"We need to limit our appearance as much as possible," Damon explained. "These days, there's cameras everywhere. Frank picked Phil and I to do this job because he thinks we're the least likely to be spotted by facial recognition software, which is probably true, but you can never be sure. We're going to park, go into the mall, get something to eat, come back out, and leave. While we're in there, you'll make your escape, and then you're on your own."
"Fine," I agreed. Sure enough, exactly as predicted, the car exited the highway and I felt ourselves slowing down quickly. Through the windows overhead, I could see streetlamps going by, an exit sign, and finally a traffic light as we passed beneath it. "One thing, though," I asked curiously, "how do I get in touch with you, if something goes wrong? What if somebody gets in a car and drives to Mexico? What then?"
"Well," he told me, "you've got a tracer, and we'll be monitoring it closely. We expect you'll be moved to somewhere else within the city, sooner or later, but if you leave it, we'll intercept the driver and start all over. Also, if we haven't seen any evidence of you online within 24 hours, we'll do the same. Since we'll know where you are, we'll be able to tap into your captor's wireless and keep an eye on his transmissions. That's the other reason we brought Phil along--he's pretty good at that sort of stuff."
"Damn straight," the driver called out, joining the conversation for the first time. "I'm the fuckin' best, and don't you ever forget it!"
"Yes, yes, of course you are," replied Damon, giving me a comically exaggerated eye roll that made me giggle. "How close are we, anyhow?"
"Couple minutes, probably," replied Phil. "Depends on the lights. Damn! Missed one. Stupid city timers!" He grumbled something else a bit more colorful as the vehicle came to a halt.
Damon took that opportunity to set me back in the little metal tin, where I recovered my bag and picked up my spear, as well as the knife I kept strapped to my belt. Hopefully I wouldn't need either for this, but you never know. "Where are we, anyway?" I asked curiously. "I can't see a damn thing down here."
"Memphis, Tennessee," replied Damon. "Ever been there?"
"I was on a truck that rolled through here once," I replied. "At least, I'm pretty sure it did. I wound up in Little Rock that night. The next day, I was in Oklahoma City. That's one of those times when I was just wandering around the country, not really caring where I went."
Damon nodded slowly. "I can't even imagine that kind of life. Traveling where the wind takes you, no cares or concerns, avoiding people…" With a sigh, he closed his eyes, and his face suddenly became blank, almost serene. Then his mouth opened and he quietly said,
Blow, blow, thou winter wind,
Thou art not so unkind
As man's ingratitude;
Thy tooth is not so keen
Because thou art not seen,
Although thy breath be rude.
He blinked a couple times and opened his eyes, grinning as he saw the rather surprised look in my face. This guy, Damon Lohnstein, the schizophrenic military wannabe, had the soul of a poet…?
"What's the matter?" he asked curiously. "All military students study Shakespeare. Didn't you know that?"
"That was Shakespeare…?"
"Yeah, he didn't just write plays, you know. He was a poet, too. That one's always been one of my favorites. It reminds me, sometimes, that no matter how bad things get, it's your relationships with people that are truly important."
I nodded. That's not what I took out of his little verse, actually--it seemed to say that nothing nature can dish out can ever be as harsh as what humans do to each other. But to each his own, I guess. "Hey, I've got one for you, too. How about this…?"
How many times must a man look up
Before he can see the sky?
Yes, and how many deaths will it take till he knows
That too many people have died?
The answer, my friend, is blowin' in the wind,
The answer is blowin' in the wind.
He started shaking his head about halfway through, and I had to really work to not start singing, which wouldn't have been pleasant--I don't sing very well at all, and I doubt my tiny little doll squeak would do that particular verse much justice. He laughed as I finished and said, "Hey, that's not fair! I stuck with Shakespeare. You didn't have to trump me with Bob Dylan!"
"Hey, at least we both like the classics," I replied, and rather wittily, I thought. He laughed at that, but before we could continue our banter, the car started to turn.
"Okay, you two," called out Phil, "time to get ready. Parking lot ahead--I gotta roll down the window for a ticket, and there'll be a camera for sure."
"Got it," replied Damon. "Okay, time to get back in the tin, and we're going to go for a walk, okay? Once we get food and sit down, I'll pop the lid open and you can slip out however you need to."
"Okay, sure," I agreed. "Thanks for talking to me, and thanks for the massage, too. After I get back, you can do that again, any time you want."
"I'll be happy to," he replied, closing the lid and sealing me once more into darkness. "Good luck, Soldier Sugarton."
The car stopped and started a couple more times, turning occasionally, and finally came to a halt in what I assumed must be a parking spot. The engine shut off, ending the faint vibration I could feel through my metal container, and then I heard the car doors open. After that, I found myself roughly flung about as Damon lifted me up, climbed out of the vehicle, and presumably shoved the tin in his pocket. I wound up sideways, bunched up amidst my blankets along one edge, cursing under my breath.
After that he started walking, and I had to endure his leg swinging back and forth. Just as I got used to this treatment, he must've found some stairs, because then I got bounced up and down repeatedly for about fifteen seconds. After that, I didn't mind the ordinary walking so much anymore.
The noises from outside got louder--I could hear people talking, like a low roar slowly gaining in strength as more and more voices got added to the clamor. Damon stopped walking, and I heard Phil's voice say, "Okay, here we are. What's for dinner?"
Dinner. Hmm…yeah, felt pretty hungry too. I hadn't eaten since breakfast, after all. I had a few munchies in my bag, but couldn't get to it at the moment, seeing as I'd gotten tangled up in the blankets. Instead, I occupied myself thinking about the timing. If we'd really been an hour southwest of Amarillo, like Sally said, and drove all the way to Memphis, how far was that? Like I told Damon earlier, I caught a ride once from Little Rock, which isn't far from Memphis, to Oklahoma City, and that took what, five hours? I tried to picture the map in my head--that's a halfway decent chunk of our whole trip today right there. So, ten hours, if they didn't stop? Yeah, that added up. If they took a lunch break, it'd be dinner time right now.
I listened as Phil and Damon ordered hamburgers that were probably greasy, messy, and terribly bad for you, which of course made my mouth water all the more. I can't remember the last time I had a real burger in my scale. Every now and then, in my wanderings, I'd get a chance to nibble on some leftovers, but they were almost always cold. The thought of chowing down on a big, thick, meaty burger with all the trimmings set my stomach growling pretty fierce.
I almost started trying to disentangle myself from the blankets when the tin started moving again. Damon must've taken it out of his pocket, because a moment later I felt it straighten out and then clang to a halt on a flat surface. The lid then popped open slightly, just enough to let in a crack of light, but before I could try anything, the tin slid rapidly sideways and the light got cut in half. I very faintly heard him say, "Deploy at will, soldier!" Then his footsteps tromped away.
I peeked out the gap. He'd definitely slid my container underneath something, giving me plenty of cover. Cautiously, I crawled outside, making sure I had my weapons and gear with me. Something made of plastic towered overhead, with a gap of about six inches underneath. Some dust and a couple dead insects occupied the space with me, as well as a flattened ketchup packet with one end torn off.
I eased myself up to the edge and looked outside, making sure I remained in shadow. I could see a number of people, most sitting at tables, eating a meal or talking loudly amongst themselves. To the left, a couple more individuals waited in line or stood off to the side, expecting their order--Damon among them. He stood next to a slightly overweight man in jeans and T-shirt, who I took to be Phil. Damon had a handful of condiment packs in his hand, along with some napkins and a couple of straws. So, that's what he'd put me underneath--the supply rack for those same items. Good thinking, lieutenant!
I checked the other sides, and found I could easily drop down the back if I wanted, remaining out of sight. From there, I could either climb onto somebody's foot, work my way in behind the nearest booth, or sneak into the back through the swiveling employee door--whatever I chose. Or, if I felt really bold, I could just hop onto the next tray that got set down nearby while its owner collected napkins or whatever. That'd get me spotted for sure, but I didn't think I wanted to be so obvious about it. What if the person who saw me made a scene? Letting the whole restaurant know I'm here probably wouldn't be the best idea.
I didn't leave right away, though. Instead, I surveyed the scene for a while, looking for someone I could reveal myself to. From here, I could see just outside the front of the restaurant, into the rest of the food court, which literally swarmed with people. Behind them, I noted a fenced-off area with some plants growing through, including some trees, with light shining down from a skylight out of view from my position. Now that might be a better spot to get to, if I could somehow make it over there…although first I had something much more important to do.
I lowered myself down the back and slipped underneath the nearby booth, where a couple of people sat eating and chatting among themselves, paying no attention to anybody else around them. From there I made my way to the next booth, this one empty, and then slipped through the shadows to the back of the trash can. From there, I grappled up the back, pulled up my rope, lowered it down inside, and dropped down amidst the garbage. I only had to root around for a few minutes, letting my nose guide me, before I found a wrapped-up chunk of burger somebody didn't bother finishing. Still partway warm, too. And with cheese. Yummmm…!
I know what you're thinking. Eating out of the trash is disgusting, right? Well, believe me, this is nothing compared to some of the shit I've had to eat when things get rough. Out on the road, I'd do damn near anything to find a bounty like this. Fresh (well, mostly fresh) hamburger, molten cheese, bread without any mold on it…even a piece of pickle, and a chunk of onion, too! All the food groups, right there, and if I had to sit in a garbage can to eat it, that's damn well what I'm gonna do. So wrinkle up your nose all you want, but to me, I had one of the best meals I've had in ages.
Despite the meal's tastiness, I hurried through it, knowing I didn't really want to stick around here too long. As soon as I got done, I washed it down with some condensation from a soda cup jutting up out of the refuse nearby. That, at least, you can't complain about, right? Anyway, I then pulled myself out, and none too soon, because less than a minute later somebody walked up and dumped in some more trash, which would've probably landed squarely on my head. It wouldn't hurt, probably, but I might've gotten doused by who knows what, so it's just as well I didn't stick around.
Back on the floor, I moved out towards the edge of the restaurant, trying to get a better look at the rest of the mall. Sure enough, I could now see most of the food court, which encircled the garden-like central area. People were everywhere--there's no way I could've crossed that space without being seen, and very likely stepped on. So I waited, staying near the trash can, just in the shadows by the corner. I knew eventually somebody would stop there, and I could make my move.
Sure enough, a woman walked up carrying a handful of shopping bags and a tray full of trash. The bags dangled close enough to the floor that I could take a shot, so I jumped and found a handhold. Before she could start walking, I used my knife to slice an opening along the edge, then pulled myself up so I could get into a more stable position. I didn't intend to stay long, so I didn't go inside, just sort of hung there as she walked away.
Oh, incidentally, don't try this at home. The only reason I could pull this off is because I'm so small and my muscles are a whole lot more efficient. If you don't believe me, try hanging onto something (say, the roof of your house) with one hand while you dangle freely, and use your other hand for something else. You see this sort of crap in the movies all the time, but trust me, you can't possibly do it at normal size. Not unless you're an Olympic athlete. But at doll size, it's easy mode. I wouldn't be able to get around as easily as I do if I couldn't do things like that.
So anyway, the woman started making her way through the crowd, working her way past several long lines of people waiting at other vendors--exactly as I hoped. Sure enough, she got pretty close to that garden, passing by a cluster of metal tables for diners who didn't want to sit in the limited area inside each restaurant. I waited, picked my spot, and hopped off, darting quickly between a couple of patrons' feet and taking cover next to the chains holding the table in place.
I looked around, wondering if I'd been seen, but nobody seemed to be staring in my direction. Perfect. I dashed off towards the next table, and from there hopped up through the fence encircling the garden. Just like that, I'd made my way to the ideal central viewing area, where I could pick and choose among literally hundreds, if not thousands, of potential new "owners."
I watched for a while, catching my breath and letting my food settle. I tried not to wonder what Marianne was up to, back on the Ranch. I missed her already--despite the danger, I found myself wishing she'd come along. She probably would've been terrified beyond reason, but once we'd gotten here, to this peaceful spot among the carefully tended bushes and vines, I could think of plenty of ways to comfort her.
Well, best to not think about that, I told myself. I'll see her again as soon as I get done with this "mission" I'm on.
As I watched, I picked out Phil and Damon eating their dinner across the way. Damon kept looking back over at the condiment stand, where he'd left me, and I wondered if he hadn't seen me leave. After he finished, though, I saw what he'd really been keeping an eye on--the little tin he'd left underneath the rack. After he dumped his trash, he went over there and recovered the container, checking inside to make sure I'd left. He put it in his pocket, glanced around randomly, and gave a very brief little wave. He never once looked at me, which I took to mean he had no idea I'd gotten all the way over here--and if someone who knew I'd been there hadn't seen me, that meant I'd probably made it without anyone noticing.
The two of them left a moment later, not looking back. I figured now they'd go back to the car and start watching my tracer. I checked just to make sure it hadn't fallen out, and found it safely ensconced in my bag, where it belonged. I wrapped it up in the coil of wire, just to make sure it couldn't slip out if I took a tumble. Losing that at this stage would be an absolute disaster.
I thought about getting to a cell phone and trying to call the FBI. I could've done so fairly easily, I figured. There were ladies seated at several of the tables nearby, and getting into a purse would've been a simple matter. The problem is, I had no idea if anyone else made this trip along with Damon and Phil. They probably did, actually, because Frank would need somebody to monitor communications in the area. If one of them somehow traced a cell call to the Bureau, or to anywhere else suspicious, that'd be that. No, best to stick to the "mission parameters," as Damon would probably describe them.
I watched for another half an hour, looking for the right sort of person. Honestly, I really didn't know exactly what I wanted to see. When I first spotted Andrew, back in that supermarket parking lot, I'd only been looking for a single male with no kids or pets--not that hard to find, really. Now…well, I didn't exactly know what I wanted, which made things harder. I found myself rejecting everybody I saw just because of whatever minor feature occurred to me at the moment. Too fat, too unkempt, too wealthy, and so on.
At first I looked only at men, because I figured they'd be bolder, and more easily manipulated, but then I realized women might work, too. Also, instead of looking only at singles, why not pairs? Would it really matter if I got picked up by one person, or a couple? But then I thought about it more. What is it I really want, anyway? What's my goal here? To be caught, taken to someone's home, and eventually be mentioned online or in some way as to get Kate's attention. Did I want to be made into a showpiece? What if a couple found me, and they showed me around to all their friends? Or what if they turned me in? God forbid I'd find an actual honest person out here, one of the few who'd do the right thing, as it were. If I showed myself to a couple, or a group of friends, or whatever, wouldn't they be more likely to be the voice of reason to each other?
So, yeah, best to stick with an individual, I figured, but other than that, what sort of things do I really care about? Did it matter if they were overweight, or good-looking, rich or poor, bald or hairy, or what? Not really. I wouldn't be able to tell what kind of person they were at a glance, anyway, even if I studied them for a while. Hell, it took me a couple of weeks just to figure out the sort of man Andrew was. I really had no way to tell from here, now did I?
So I widened my search and slowly made my way around the garden, staying near the fence and meandering in among the various bushes and shrubs while working into better viewing spots. I saw a few people, men and women both, who were by themselves and looked like real possibilities, but none of them sat down in any of the metal tables near me. Those got mostly occupied by groups or families. I knew for sure I wouldn't even contemplate showing myself to a family, amusing though it might be to let some little girl think she'd found a brand new doll. That might work, but it seemed like too much of a cliché to give any real consideration. Besides which, she might decide to see if my head came off or something equally stupid. Bad idea.
As I moved along, keeping my eyes mostly focused on the ring of restaurants and their patrons, I made a mistake--I failed to look behind me, or off to the side, because I'd just figured that with the garden off limits, nobody could see me from back there. Well, guess what? Somebody could see me--he'd probably been watching me for several minutes, actually, though he'd given no sign, which is why I didn't really catch on right away. Eventually, though, as I moved behind another bush, I spotted the guy standing there with his hands on the fence, his eyes fixed directly on me as I ducked into the shadows.
My heart sank. So much for picking someone myself--apparently, I had a volunteer! From my concealed spot, where I'm pretty sure he couldn't see me, I checked him out. Dark hair, left to grow a bit too long, so the sideburns backed down over his ears. A narrow face with a wide nose, a little bony, his expression curious, but not awed or overexcited. Ordinary looking clothes, a light sweater over slacks, with no watch or other jewelry, though he did have a tattoo I couldn't identify along the back of his right hand, where he held a closed cell phone. Nothing really memorable about him, actually, except that he'd seen me, even down in among all this cover, which means he's an observant sort.
Not a bad choice, honestly. If he'd sat down close by, I certainly would've considered him without a second thought. The trouble is, he's spotted me, which means I can't sneak up on him now, or have him take me off unawares. That's sort of what I'd intended all this time, actually. I'd already determined not to show myself right here in the mall. I'd go home, do what I could to find out what sort of person has me, and then come up with a story to tell when I let myself get captured. Well, that plan's right out the window now, huh?
Well, I did still have one thing going for me, and that's the fact that he didn't yet know I'd spotted him. I'm pretty sure he couldn't see me where I'd taken cover. So I just kept on going around the center, pretending to keep looking out at the crowd, in no particular hurry. Every time I got to another hiding place, I'd glance over at him, and he just kept on watching, totally entranced by the sight of me.
What would he do when I got close enough? Would he reach out and grab me? Or would he move away and pretend he hadn't seen me at all? He had to be thinking, What the heck is that tiny girl up to? I mean, I kept peering out through the leaves and vines, as if searching for something, so what could I possibly be doing? What story would I tell him, if he did grab me?
I thought about that as I went through the motions, drawing a bit closer to him every couple of minutes. I'm dressed like a spy or secret agent, so what if I told him that's what I was, looking for some target or other? He'd probably buy that, I suppose--but as much as that might work, it could just as easily backfire. He'd be much more likely to keep me hidden. The same goes if I tell him I'm on the run from somebody. So what can I possibly say that would get him to pick me up secretly, take me home, and talk about me online?
I couldn't think of anything, but I kept getting closer, anyway, until finally I found myself almost in front of him. Then I pretended to take notice of him for the first time. I did a double-take at the sight of his leg just visible through the brush to my right, glanced up towards his face, and emitted a shrill cry at the sight of his eyes staring down at me from high above. Then I ducked under some leaves and cowered there, waiting to see what he might do.
He didn't do anything right away. In fact, as I peered out through a space between the leaves, I saw the uncertainty on his face. He probably had no idea what to do next, just like I didn't know what I intended to say. He glanced around, put his cell phone in his pocket, and scratched at his head, looking down at my hiding place a couple of times, and then took a couple of steps away, disappearing from sight.
Did he leave? I thought perhaps he might--maybe he didn't want to risk interacting with me, considering the laws out there against the possession of miniaturized people. That'd be just my luck, huh? He'd just walk off, without even trying. Perhaps he'd taken some cell phone pictures of me already, though, which he certainly could've done, seeing as he had that phone in his hand the whole time. At least then maybe I'd appear on the net one way or another.
Then, all of a sudden, the branches ahead of me ruffled and his back pressed itself against the fence. He'd decided to sit down right there, rather than reach through or bend over, which might've drawn attention to himself. Then he spoke.
"Hello there," he said quietly, his voice just barely audible over the clamor of conversation echoing around in the food court. "You look lost. Do you need any help?"
Okay, I thought, what we have here is almost certainly a "nice guy" type. A concerned citizen looking to help what he thought looked like a distraught, helpless tiny woman in distress. Good. Something I can work with.
I crawled out of my hiding place and over next to the fence, close enough that he could grab me if he wanted. "Yes, you can, I hope," I called out, an idea occurring to me out of the blue. "I don't know where I am. I don't know who I am, or how I got here, or why everything's so big."
He turned his head and saw me. His face was only a couple feet away, and he could've snatched me up in an instant--and I wouldn't have tried to run, either. I saw only concern in his eyes. "You don't know who you are…?" he asked doubtfully.
"N-no," I stammered, realizing how clichéd it sounded to try the amnesia thing--and I'd just been talking about clichés earlier, too. It's the only thing that popped into my head at the moment, though, so I tried to sell it anyway, doing my best to sound worried and scared. "I know I should--I can remember bits and pieces. I was normal--I remember that. Now I'm not. I don't know how I got here. I don't want to be stepped on or anything. Please--can you get me out of here?"
"I guess so," he agreed reluctantly. "Look, I want to help, but I've heard of guys getting thrown in jail for taking shrunken people--"
"Please!" I begged. "Please--don't leave me here…"
"Okay, okay, but I'll tell you what, I'll take you to mall security. They'll figure out what to do with you. There's sure to be a restoration box somewhere in town."
Damn! That's exactly what I didn't want to happen. So much for the amnesia story! Not that he's buying it, anyway--I could see the doubt plastered across his face the moment I tried that lame old trope. "No, wait!" I pleaded, shifting my attitude from terrified and scared to frustrated and determined. "Okay, okay, look, I don't have fucking amnesia, okay? I can't afford to get found out here in the open. Get me the hell out of here, and please don't show me to the cops! That'd be very bad for me."
He nodded and smiled. "Okay, now that I can believe. Nice try, though. You didn't look all that scared wandering around out there."
"You saw me before?" I asked innocently.
"Yeah, I've been watching you for the last fifteen minutes. I came over here to make a call, at the quietest spot I could find, and there's this little figure moving around across the way--I thought maybe it was a mouse or something, but nope, it's a tiny person."
"Damn," I commented weakly. "I thought I did a much better job keeping hidden."
"Well, I must admit, I only barely noticed, and only cause I stood there for a bit," he admitted. "So what's going on? You a spy or something?"
"Not now," I replied. "I'll tell you everything, but not until I'm out of this crowded place, okay?"
"Okay," he agreed, "but how do I know you're not going to report me as soon as I take you home?"
"I'll give you my word," I replied, "but that's all I've got. If you don't want to help me, fine, but get the hell out of here. I was trying to find a way out when you saw me--I was thinking of jumping into somebody's bag or whatever, but you'll do."
"Fine," he agreed. "You want me to, um, pick you up, or something else?"
I could sense his nervousness now. Miniaturization is a notorious enough technology that most people have at least thought about the ramifications, but very few actually have any first-hand experience with it. "I'll just climb on your sweater, if that's okay. I can get underneath and stand on your belt. Once I do, just go about your business, but try not to sit down and lean back on me."
"Okay, sure," he agreed, relaxing a bit. "Go ahead, whenever you want."
I smiled to myself as I slipped under the thick cloth, making him shudder a bit as I brushed against his skin. This might just work, I told myself, if I can come up with a good story by the time he gets me home.
He didn't waste any time, heading directly out of the mall towards the attached parking lot. I just hung on, keeping my boot heels hooked into his belt and clutching at his sweater. I had no visibility, but it didn't really matter--I could hear well enough, and the sounds reminded me of the trip into the mall, only in reverse, and much louder this time. I wondered idly if we'd pass close to where Phil and Damon were watching my tracer, now on the move for the first time since my arrival.
My "rescuer" took a few turns, went up some stairs, and withdrew some keys out of his pocket. I took that as my cue to slide sideways, towards the left side of his waist, so he could sit down without any trouble. He waited while I did this, obviously feeling my movement, judging by the goosebumps on his skin. At least he didn't laugh, because I'm sure this must be tickling him a bit.
As soon as I got out of the way, he sat down in his car and shut the door. "You all right down there?" he asked curiously.
"Yeah, I'm fine," I called out, dropping down to the seat and then down into the gap next to the door. From there I made my way around in front, behind his feet, and then hopped up onto the central divider next to the automatic transmission stick.
He spotted me and relaxed at once. "You seem pretty comfortable down there. I can tell you're used to being miniaturized."
"Yeah, I suppose you could say that," I told him, not bothering to express just how much of an understatement that was. Maybe it'd be best if I'm just honest, I considered. Remember, as far as Frank and Ray knew, Kate never found me back at Andrew's place. I could've just continued the same way, acting as if I'd never spoken to her at all. Might not be a bad idea, I suppose, although if this guy turned out to be too nice, he could just let me go someplace and I'd be back to square one. Or worse, turn me in as a wanted fugitive.
"So you going to tell me what's going on?" he asked curiously.
"Sure," I replied with a smile. "I've lost my memory, and I don't know who I am or what I'm doing here."
He laughed. "You tried that one already."
"Oh, yeah, right. Okay, then. How about this? I'm a super spy, tracking a terrorist with a nuclear bomb in his briefcase."
He shook his head vigorously. "Nope, not buying it."
"Okay, how about I'm an FBI agent hot on the trail of two evil men who shrink down women and sell them as pets?"
"Getting warmer, I think, but you'll have to do better than that."
I nodded, smiling to myself. Nothing like a little humor to lighten the mood, right? "Okay, then, here's the truth, and it's something you can even verify. My name is Wendy Sugarton, and I'm wanted for aiding and abetting in the theft of a miniaturizer in Hollywood a couple years ago."
His eyes narrowed. "That almost sounds believable."
"It's true. Feel free to look it up."
"Oh, I will, but if it's true…what the hell are you doing here, of all places?"
"That's a much longer story. I'll tell you later. What's your name, anyhow?"
"Kirby Barrett," he replied. "Nice to meet you, Wendy."
"Same. You know, you don't seem all that surprised to talk to a tiny person. Most people I've met, however briefly, usually look pretty shocked or scared or whatever."
"Well," he explained, "I work for an advertising company, and we've got several clients in California--sort of a 'country connection' to the West Coast, if that makes sense."
"Oh, yeah, right, this is Memphis, isn't it? I almost forgot."
"Enough with the amnesia thing, already," he replied, rolling his eyes.
"No, it's true, I hitch rides with people all the time--they don't know I'm there, of course. Sometimes, I've got no idea where I'm going. I just hop off whenever they stop, and see where they've brought me."
"Oh, I see. Well, anyway, I get sent out to Vegas and LA all the time on business. I went to the Sidewinder a couple of times, and it always fascinated me. Miniaturization, I mean. So when they opened the Paradisney thing, I made a point to check it out. I've been there at least a dozen times now. So, yeah, I'm kinda used to seeing little people. I just never expected to find one here in my home town."
"You ever been shrunk, then?" I inquired, because, well, I really have no idea what they do at the Miniaturization Experience. I never had any reason to go there--it would've been pretty risky, after all, and besides, I already know what it's like to be small, so what good would going there do me?
"Sure, plenty of times," Kirby informed me. "That's what they do there, y'know--they let you see what it likes to get shrunk. You've never been?"
"Why would I?" I asked. "I'm already living it."
"Yeah, I guess you are, aren't you?" He smacked himself lightly in the head. "Duh, maybe I should think before speaking next time."
I grinned. "Probably. So they actually shrink ordinary people at that place? I didn't know that. Sounds pretty dangerous."
"Not really. It's very strictly controlled. You go into this room, and they brief you on what they're going to do--you can choose one of several sizes, whatever you're comfortable with, and then you walk through the door you want. Half size, one-fourth, one-tenth, and one-twentieth, I think were the choices. Or you can choose not to shrink at all. I've tried each of them, at one time or another."
"Sounds somehow familiar," I remarked, mostly to myself.
"If you go into the miniaturizer," Kirby went on, "they shut the entrance door, and then they open another on the opposite side, so you can only go out that way. Then they do the next group. At the end you all come out in the same room, all at different sizes, amidst some ordinary stuff like toys, chairs, whatever. At every step there's Disney folks watching over you to make sure nothing bad happens. If anybody freaks out, they get ushered straight into an emergency restorer and out of the building. Otherwise, you can hang out for about ten minutes, but when the time's up, you go out through an exit that passes through another restorer. The way they've built the place, there's literally no way out that doesn't get you back to normal size."
"Sounds pretty tame," I told him. "There's no insects or animals or anything like that? Pretty weak, if you ask me."
"Well," Kirby went on, "if you're a big shot, you can cough up some extra bucks for a special 'extreme' tour that includes some tame mice, a dachshund, and a platform full of plants and stuff to wander around in--sort of like that area back in the middle of the food court, there, but without any trees, because they can roll the whole garden thing in on wheels. I paid for it once--it was cool and all, but nothing dangerous about it. You get to stay almost an hour, which is pretty nice, though."
"How about hanky-panky?" I asked. "They let you get away with that?"
"Nah, it's a family place," he replied, but in such a way that I knew he wasn't telling the whole truth.
"Come on, I know there's got to be something going on behind the scenes," I prodded.
He frowned slightly. "Hmm, yeah, well, maybe there is, but if so, I haven't figured out how to get involved in that. I hear rumors, you know, but maybe that's all they are. It's no secret, though, that people can get in there during off hours. You can watch reports about parties going on, usually with celebrities, but I don't have the clout for anything like that. Maybe someday we'll land a big enough contract. Anyway, whatever happens, it's all completely legal, and everybody who goes in comes out at the same size as before. They're very careful about that, ever since the whole Sidewinder thing."
"I'll just bet they are," I replied. Actually, it occurred to me then that Kirby had no idea who I really was. He didn't recognize my name, although when I mentioned the miniaturizer theft, he knew about that. I suppose he might treat me differently once he knew my whole story.
"Well, anyway," he went on, "I think I'll take a chance and trust you're who you say you are, and I'm not gonna get in trouble or find out I'm on hidden camera. Hold on, I'm backing up the car."
"Okay, sure. You can drive normally, y'know. No need to be too cautious or anything. I'm not gonna slide off or get flung around, unless you have an accident, so keep your eyes on the road."
"Righto," he agreed, starting up the car and backing out. In just a few minutes, we hit the highway, on our way into the Memphis suburbs.
"I have to warn you," said Kirby as he walked up the stairs into his apartment, "I've got a cat."
I'd hunkered down under his sweater again, because for whatever reason he still didn't seem all that comfortable putting me in his hand. "That's okay," I called out. "Just keep it in another room or something."
"Or I could put you in a box," he replied, chuckling to himself as he unlocked the door. "Nah, I wouldn't do that. Oh, I apologize in advance if the place looks messy. I haven't cleaned up in a few days."
"No problem," I replied, letting myself out on the back of a couch as he passed by. He didn't look at me, instead heading straight for his cat, which meowed loudly and didn't seem to notice me right away.
"Hey there, Lady," he called out, picking the black-and-white feline up off the ground. A rather overweight cat, I noticed right away. Probably nothing to worry about, seeing as it obviously got fed regularly. "Lady, I'd like you to meet Wendy."
Suddenly I had this huge cat right in front of me. I just froze, afraid to move, because in the wild, it's the motion that draws a cat's attention. Your best bet, if one spots you, is to stand in place and wait for it to jump. The instant it's in the air, you make your move. If you run, it comes after you, and cats know instinctively where you're gonna be. You've got to let it make the first move, and pray you've got something to hide in close by, or you're toast.
The only time I ever met a cat in the open, without a nice hole or pipe to duck into, I figured my journey was over. I'd been exploring a suburb much like this one, outside of Houston, moving between houses looking for a way inside--I needed food, and badly. Well, I cut under the fence, thinking about how I might slip inside the next house on the block, and got about ten steps into the yard. Then I saw this movement out of the corner of my eye. It's a cat, crouching, tail twitching, the edges of its mouth jumping up and down like it's already tasting me. I glanced around, but the only place to hide was a kid's blow-up swimming pool about five yards ahead. Otherwise, just a few bushes that wouldn't be much help.
I hefted up the needle-spear I'd been carrying, hoping maybe the cat wouldn't like having its nose spiked, or maybe I'd get lucky and hit an eye. I waited, and just as jumped, I flung my weapon and leapt to the right. The spear hit a paw and lodged there, drawing a yowl. When I hit the ground, I ran for the fence and dove through just in time. The only thing that saved me was the cat taking a brief moment to swipe the irritating needle out of its flesh. Then it came at me again, pawing through the fence, not quite able to get its body through.
It disappeared for a moment, but I could hear it going up the nearby wooden fencepost, scrambling over to come at me again. I dashed back through the fence and made for the kiddie pool. The cat repeated its attempt to grab me, missed, and followed again as I ran for my life. I think maybe it missed my foot by an inch as I wriggled underneath the inflatable pool, pawing and pushing its way underneath like cats do whenever they're after something tiny.
I got to the middle of the pool, feeling almost crushed by the weight on top of me, my breath coming in ragged gasps, but I'd survived. Lucky, lucky, I told myself, because I hadn't been patient, letting hunger drive me without checking for dangers before entering the yard. If I hadn't seen that tail twitching, the cat would've hit me without any warning at all. A cat's certain death for someone like me. I wound up waiting there for hours, getting snatches of sleep between annoying stomach growls, finally emerging the next morning, leaving my needle behind, just glad to get the hell out of there.
So anyway, now I'm staring into the face of another cat, which of course thinks I'm a plaything and starts batting at me right away. I have no idea if it intended to eat me or not, and I didn't want to find out, so I backed out of paw range and looked around for someplace to hide if Kirby let it go or dropped it for some reason.
"Now, now, Lady, she's not a toy," he scolded, dropping the cat on the ground. Naturally, it instantly hopped back up on the couch's arm and looked at me with huge, interested eyes. The tail started flicking back and forth like that one back in the yard. Did Kirby really think the two of us could coexist…?
"Um, if you don't mind," I called out, "I don't really want that monster pouncing on me, and it's about to."
"Oh, nonsense, she'll never--"
But of course, she would, and she did. The moment she sprung, I vaulted off the back of the couch, onto a desk sitting along its back edge. A computer desk, I realized immediately, with nowhere to hide except a (hopefully) empty soft drink can. I started to run for it, when Kirby grabbed his cat with a quick swipe of his arm. "I said no!" he insisted. "Okay, fine, I guess you'll have to move into my room for a while. Come on."
He disappeared into the hallway for a minute or two, which gave me time to relax. I glanced around, getting a better look at his apartment, now that I didn't have to worry about that stupid cat. The place didn't look all that big, probably a one-bedroom, judging by the lack of other exits from the hall--I could only see one other door, probably to a bathroom. A small kitchen adjoined the living room, which had a couch and easy chair, plus the computer desk on the back wall, in a position where he could see the wide flatscreen TV from anywhere, even while working.
Clearly a bachelor, I knew at once, although that could be good or bad. If he'd been married, his wife might understand his helping out a miniature damsel in distress, but if he had a girlfriend, maybe not. If he spent as much time on business trips as I thought he did, though, that might not be an issue. Besides, it's not like I'm going to be here long, anyway.
He came back a moment later. "Sorry about that, Wendy. I didn't really think she'd do that. She never goes after cat toys--too fat and lazy."
"She can't help it," I replied with a shrug. "It's hardwired into cats to chase after tiny things. Don't worry about it. I've gotten away from worse critters than that."
"I'm sure you have. You didn't even look scared, and I know I sure as hell would've been. When I did that tour, the expensive one, and the dog came out, I thought I'd never seen anything so huge. How do you get by, anyways?"
"Weapons, and a lot of patience," I replied. "And I always make sure I've got a place to hide. If you hadn't grabbed your cat, I'd have gone into your soda can. She might knock that around a bit, but she'd never get me out."
He nodded. "Hmm, never thought of that. Anyway, whatever, I'll keep Lady in my bedroom for as long as you're here, so no reason to worry. So, how'd you wind up in our mall, anyway?"
"I'm on the run, like I said," I told him, deciding at last that honesty would really be the best policy. Well, as much honesty as I could afford, anyway. I'd just leave out all the recent parts. "I've been hiding from the cops for quite a while now. I don't threaten anybody, and I'm hardly dangerous, but they just won't stop coming after me. This is just my latest stop. It's been a while since I had any really good food, and after the car I was hiding on came here, I hitched a ride in on somebody's foot. I've already eaten--you know how long it's been since I had a hamburger? Quite a while, I can tell you. When you spotted me, I was figuring out how to get outta there."
"Well, you found a way," he replied, accepting my explanation, which is basically true…every word of it. I just left out a few details, that's all. "So does that mean you'll be moving on, then?"
"Soon as I'm ready," I told him. "I don't usually hang around with…well, giants, if you don't mind the term. If you're not gonna hurt me, though, I'll stay here a few days. I promise, I won't eat you out of house and home."
"You're welcome to stay through next weekend," he told me, "but I've got a conference in San Diego the following Monday. I doubt you'll want to go along, and I'll want to let Lady out of the room then, so that's your cutoff."
"Sure, sounds good," I agreed. "I doubt I'll be here that long, though. I don't like being cooped up."
"Well, if there's anything I can do to help, just let me know. I can drop you off wherever you like, or just let you out the door if you prefer."
"I'll figure it out. It's not often I get to pick and choose. You mind if I use your computer? I don't get online much, either."
He came around the desk and sat down, unrolling the foldout screen, which lit up as soon as it flattened out. "Sure, let me set up a profile for you, though. I've got business files on here, so I'd rather you not have my password." He typed a few things, moved the mouse around a bit, and clicked a bunch of times. "Okay, I'll just log out after I'm done, and you log in under the profile name 'Wendy.' Or just use your own screen name, if you want."
"Oh, I wouldn't risk that," I replied. "I'm not gonna put you in any danger. They might think you're harboring me. I'll just stay comfortably anonymous, and you should be okay."
"Righto," he agreed. "Hmm, as long as I'm here, let me check something. You said your name was Wendy Sugarville?"
"Sugarton," I corrected.
He nodded and started typing. I tried not to look too excited as he ran the search on my name. That's what I needed him to do--this is exactly the trigger Kate needed to find me. I'd told her if I got put on camera, I'd give a little wave, though, and he hadn't given me that opportunity, so would she come properly prepared? Probably, but I still would've felt better if I'd given that signal.
"Ah, here we go," said Kirby after a moment. "Hmm, yeah, that does look like you." He studied me closely, but still resisted picking me up for a better look, even though I wouldn't have stopped him. "Yeah, okay, you weren't lying, huh? Wow, it says here you're quite the little troublemaker. And you were at the Sidewinder Casino, too? Oh, my…"
His voice trailed off as he kept reading, taking his eyes off me as he soaked up the info. I glanced up there and found an actual wiki entry for me--I guess there's one for everyone and everything nowadays, huh? Shit, they had almost my whole life history there! Someone did some serious research--or maybe Kate wrote that, considering the depth of information presented on the screen. In fact, I wouldn't put it past her. She would've wanted anyone who found me to know exactly what they're dealing with.
"Wow, Wendy," Kirby said after finishing the encyclopedia-like entry on my life story. "I had no idea. I'm sorry, I thought you might be someone who needed help, but you really don't, do you? Judging by this, you can take care of yourself."
"Yep, that's basically true," I told him. "Sheesh, I never knew they had so much crap about me on the net. It's pretty accurate, too, except they left out the part where I turned the tables on Lou Hamilton."
"Oh yeah?"
"Yeah, basically, I teamed up with Kate there at the end, and shot him for revenge, but then she wouldn't give me amnesty like she said, so I ran off. So I'm still out here, hiding, because if I ever get caught, it's off to prison for me."
"Hmm," said Kirby, "I suppose as a good citizen, I should probably lock you up and call the FBI, then, shouldn't I?"
"You could do that," I agreed, not the least bit worried. "I don't think you will, though. If I did, I already would've left."
Actually, that's not really true--ordinarily, I never would've gotten in this position at all, but I didn't tell him that. Plus, in this particular case, I didn't really care if he called the FBI. That would be just fine with me. He didn't reach for the phone, though, so I guess he's not quite the good, upstanding guy I'd originally thought.
"You're pretty good at reading people," he said after a moment of studying me carefully. "You're right, I won't tell on you. From what I gather, it sounds like you've gotten a pretty raw deal. I won't make things any worse for you. Plus, I think I can be damn sure you won't tell anybody I'm holding you against my will, which means I don't have to worry about getting in any trouble."
"True," I replied succinctly. "So does that mean you're gonna tear my clothes off now and have your way with me?"
He looked shocked for a moment, and then started laughing. "Oh, goodness no! What makes you think I'd do that?"
I shrugged. "Mostly because that's what pretty much every other guy who's ever found me has done."
"Well, those guys are all assholes," said Kirby matter-of-factly. "What kind of man does something like that? Sheesh! No, I promise, I won't do anything like that. Hell, I'm afraid even to touch you."
"Why's that?" I demanded. "I'm not gonna bite, y'know."
"I don't know." He looked suddenly red-faced, and couldn't meet my gaze. "I don't have a lot of experience with this sort of thing."
Aha, that explains it, I thought. No wonder he seems so nervous whenever he looks at me, and won't pick me up in his hand. I suppose I could've kept on pushing, maybe flaunted myself, or even propositioned him, but I decided not to. At least, not right now. Maybe later, when he got more comfortable around me.
"Okay, well, good," I replied, instead of pressing the issue. "That makes me feel a little better. Sometimes I get treated pretty rough. It'll be nice to know I'm safe for a change."
"Yeah, you can be sure of that," he replied, nodding and looking more than a little bit relieved I hadn't gone another way with that part of the conversation. "So, uh, I guess, welcome to my place. Do you need anything? You said you ate dinner already, so what do you want? I can turn on the TV."
"No need, I've got it," I told him, hopping down off the back of the desk onto the couch, and then leaping across to the coffee table where he'd left the remote. As he looked on curiously, I turned the device to face the screen and hit the power button. Then I paged my way through the guide and selected a nature show from one of the fifty-odd channels devoted to that sort of thing. They were talking about crocodiles in the Serengeti and how they attacked wildebeests as they migrated across rivers. Not my usual fare, but I'd been thinking about watching more of this stuff ever since Marianne spit out all that information about the scorpion. You never know when that sort of detail might come in handy.
"Okay, not what I would've picked," said Kirby, "but then, I've got some work to do, anyway."
"What would you be watching, then?" I called out.
"Probably an NBA game, if there's one on," he replied. "Or something else sports-related. I usually put that stuff on as background noise while I work."
"Well, tell you what, you can watch that now, cause I'll be here all day when you're out, anyway, and can watch my fill of this crap then."
"Okay, thanks. See what's on ESPN."
I paged around in the guide, which fortunately let me select by genre, and quickly found him some basketball. I should've known the NBA would be on--it seems like the pro basketball season never ends, does it? College hoops must be over by now, or else he just didn't care about that. Anyway, I sure didn't care about either one, so as soon as he looked away, I hopped off the couch and started exploring.
To his credit, Kirby didn't try to stop me, or move out of his chair to come and watch. I made my way around the apartment, memorizing potential hiding places, checking out escape routes, and generally getting the lay of the land. Climbing up on any of the furniture wouldn't be a problem, and I figured at least a dozen spots right away where I could disappear if I wanted. Plus, he had an electrical outlet behind the couch with a missing cover, giving me the perfect way into the walls if I wanted to get out that way. I figured I'd explore that later, after he went to bed.
I moved out into the kitchen, looking for a way up onto the counter, and caught him looking at me out of the corner of his eye. He pretended not to notice, but I smiled and decided to show off a bit. Next to the automatic dishwasher, there were some drawers, and the slots between each were wide enough to serve as handholds. Using those, and alternating with the handles, I hopped up one drawer at a time, until I got to the top one.
Here, the lip of the countertop protruded too far for me to get by, and also had a curving edge, so that someone working on the counter wouldn't bang their arms into a sharp corner. This would normally make things hard for me, but I used my spear to pry open the drawer (fortunately not the one where he kept his silverware, or it might've been heavier) and then pushed it open about an inch. Now I had enough clearance to hop directly from the end onto the counter, and from there over to the microwave.
Getting on top of that proved no problem, because the back had a fan covered with a nice metal grating that acted like a ladder. Once atop the microwave, I moved out to where I could reach the cabinet overhead, pushed it open with my spear, hopped up inside, and found myself among a variety of packaged food products, including a couple breakfast cereals and some Pop-Tarts…in other words, enough food to feed me for a month. Obviously, getting myself a snack wouldn't be a problem around this place.
I kept on exploring, heading up to the shelves overhead, easily accomplished by stacking a couple cans here and there and hopping up to the next level. I found all kinds of food up there, too, and places to hide if I really needed one. No other exits, though, so after a while I jumped back out and tried the next cabinet over. The others would be more difficult to reach, since I'd lack the microwave, but I felt confident I could get into them using the grappling hook, if I so desired. I didn't see the need to show that particular skill at the moment, though, because I didn't really need to.
Kirby kept pretending to work, but really watched me the whole time while I fully explored the kitchen. The refrigerator, as usual, provided the perfect hiding place if I really needed one, although it did buzz rather noisily. In a pinch, I could also slip in behind the oven, or even into the drawer beneath the oven, which didn't quite shut all the way, leaving a gap I could probably slip through. In short, I had all kinds of places I could hide.
In due course I wandered back out into the computer area, exploring a couple bookshelves, and around the trash can, then underneath the desk itself. Kirby watched me the whole time, not saying a word. Every now and then he'd type something or click on his mouse, but he obviously didn't care about anything on the screen, or the game on TV, either. I had to work really hard to not smile or break up laughing, because it really amused me to fascinate somebody like that. He might as well be hypnotized.
After a while I climbed up one of the power cords behind his desk and walked over to an open spot behind the keyboard. "Nice place you have here," I told him, brushing off some of the dust and cat hairs from my suit. "A bit dirty, but I can live with that."
"Thanks, I guess," he replied. "I really thought you'd have trouble getting around, but I see that's not a problem."
"Nah, I can take care of myself. You got anything to read? I'm bored."
"Uh, sure, I guess. My phone's got some ebooks. Play around with it all you want." He took out his cell, slid open the wide-angle display, and unfolded it overhead so it formed a miniature movie screen. He then shoved it over to the side of the desk, so I wouldn't be right in front of him while he worked.
"Thanks," I told him, moving over and trying out some of the keys. Most smartphones nowadays have so much storage they can even hold movies, and the folding screens make them actually effective at showing them, but I didn't find anything like that. Just some ebooks, like he said. I punched around for a bit, reading the titles and descriptions, and picked a murder mystery novel from the "Marcus Kennedy" series, one I hadn't read before.
If you never read any of those, well, neither had I until I got stuck in the Compound with not a lot else to do. The owners had a couple shelves full of old-style print paperbacks there, and I think I went through half the rack during my stay. Half a dozen of the books I read were about Marcus Kennedy, this ordinary private investigator in a world where it's possible to do magic, but only a few people have the power and those who do have to be registered with the government. Inevitably, every novel would involve magic in some way, but never like you'd expect. For example, I can remember one where all the evidence pointed to somebody being killed by magic, but it turned out it was somebody using ordinary science for special effects. The author, Cyrus J. Gale, sure loved twists like that.
Anyway, the books were always entertaining, but the casino owners didn't put out the whole series, which is something like 20 books in all. I maybe saw half of them, if that. Kirby had the first five on his phone, and of those, I'd read the first two, but not the rest. So I started on the third one, setting the display for the smallest possible text size, and settled in to read.
After a while he stopped watching me, and actually did some work, around the time the basketball game ended and he switched over to the daily sports updates. He definitely worked, though. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see him using one of those graphics programs to put together a bunch of ads for some upscale hotel chain I'd never heard of that must be relatively new. From what I could tell, they were putting in a new one in the San Diego area someplace, and Kirby had to design some promotional ads for it--something he'd be handing out during the convention next week, I suppose. I didn't ask, and he didn't offer any more information, but kept mostly quiet. He'd glance over at me from time to time, and once he brought me a folded-up washcloth to lie down on, so I didn't have to rest on the hardwood desktop. Otherwise, though, we didn't interact much. I suppose I still intimidated him, which is rather amusing when you think about it. Me, the tiny one, doing the intimidating!
I suppose I shouldn't be so surprised, though. Someone like him, a bachelor type, probably got intimidated by women all the time. The fact that I'm small doesn't change that. Plus, I'm extremely confident, and totally unfazed by my situation, which only makes him feel more insecure. I wonder what he'd do if I offered myself to him directly? Refuse, probably, and get all embarrassed and flustered. That might be good for a few laughs, I suppose, but not yet. I didn't want him to overreact and throw me out. Maybe tomorrow.
Actually, I hadn't really thought about this, but what's going to happen to him when all this is over? He might get shot or something, caught in the crossfire or whatever. Best to not think about that very much. I didn't need that on my conscience, too. The less I got to know him, the better. I shouldn't even be thinking about him as a person, really--he's just a tool I need to get the job done. Heartless, I know, but there you are.
Anyway, after I got about halfway through the book, he finished up his work. "Time for me to get ready for bed," he told me. "You can leave the TV on if you want, but turn it down a bit."
"Sure thing," I agreed.
"Anything I can get for you? Some food, or a drink, perhaps?"
"Well, I'm not hungry, and I can get food if I need it, but how about some liquor? You got any brandy, or vodka? Or, hell, a beer would work."
"Nah, I don't drink alcohol, sorry. I could run to the store if you want."
Doesn't drink alcohol? What the hell? Aha, now I get it--he's a Mormon, which might also explain his reticence towards me. Yet I didn't see any crosses or bibles or anything around, and besides, weren't Mormons all about getting married and raising families? Well, whatever, I guess I'd managed to get spotted by the most boring person in the whole damn country.
"Nah, no need," I replied after a moment.
"Yeah, that's the usual reaction I get," he said with a drawn-out sigh. "Everybody thinks I'm some kind of freak just because I don't drink. Well, I can't stand the stuff. It's not that I wouldn't drink alcohol--I just can't stand the taste. There is one good thing about this--I paid my way through college selling my services as a designated driver. That's before they had mandatory breathalyzers in cars, mind you."
I nodded, and this sort of gave me a better idea of this guy's age--about ten years older than me, actually. In case you're not a student of recent history, basically there got to be enough of an outcry about drunk driving that they passed laws making any alcohol-selling business responsible for accidents caused by drunk patrons after they left the bar or restaurant or whatever. So this bred a whole new, and very short-lived, employment opportunity for sober people--the paid designated driver. They'd hang around bars or whatever, driving home anybody who even looked slightly tipsy, getting paid about the same as a pizza deliveryman (including tips). This only lasted about ten years or so before the breathalyzers started showing up on steering wheels, but I guess some people, like Kirby here, took advantage of the opportunity.
Anyway, I'm getting off the track here--the point is, I wouldn't be getting any liquor tonight. "Okay, whatever, to each his own, I guess. Tell you what, if you've got any kind of soft drink, that'll work. Not diet, though."
"Sure, I've got some Cokes in the fridge. You can't get in there, huh?"
"Well, I probably could, if I got created with some kind of lever, maybe a spoon or something…but if the door closed on me, I'd never get it open. Not really worth the risk."
"Okay, makes sense." He went into the kitchen, found a small bowl, and poured in some soda from a bottle taken from the fridge. I didn't feel the least bit embarrassed to slurp some Coke out of a bowl, either. After he went to bed, I thought I might seriously take a swim in it.
"Thanks," I told him. "You know, after you go to bed, I'm totally going to trash your apartment."
He didn't seem at all surprised. "I figured as much. That's what I get for taking in strays, huh?"
"Yep," I agreed. "Night, Kirby. Oh, and thanks for helping me out. I really appreciate it."
"No problem," he told me, heading for the bedroom. "Goodnight, Wendy. Oh, and whatever you do, don't set off the fire alarm, okay? I need some sleep."
Of course I had no intention of starting any fires, but I did have a few other things I wanted to do. I kept on reading for a while, mostly to make sure he got in bed and fell asleep, but also because that Marcus Kennedy book was so intriguing. I think I had a pretty good idea who the killer was, but how they did it, I had no idea. Everybody seemed to think someone used a spell, but Marcus didn't believe it, and neither did I. Then again, maybe it was a spell, and that's the whole point, because the suspects were all supposedly incapable of using magic. Maybe one might be a sorcerer in disguise…
Anyway, I kept on reading for a couple more hours, occasionally getting up and slurping on the soda, and once heading out to the kitchen for a snack from the cupboard. I could hear Kirby's soft snoring by this point, so I had the run of the place, which meant I could also get on his computer any time I wanted.
As soon as I finished the book (yep, it was a sorcerer, like I suspected), I headed over and logged in using the temporary account Kirby created for me. The user profile didn't have any permissions, meaning I couldn't look at any of his files, but I could still get on the net and use his applications, plus save my work if I needed to. I wondered if maybe I could somehow get a message to Kate, if at all possible, assuming I could figure out a way to do it safely.
By now I figured Frank and his goons would be set up somewhere close by outside, keeping an eye on the place, watching my tracer, and tracking anything coming out of this computer. Assuming Kirby got on the net at all while he'd been working, they would've only seen ordinary, everyday traffic coming out of this apartment. Now, after a couple hours of nothing, if the computer suddenly got online, they'd figure I'm the one doing it. So whatever I did now would automatically be suspect.
So, I got on anyway, surfing around, clicking on some obvious things--my wiki entry, again, just to make sure I didn't miss anything, and a few other articles as well, including the blow-by-blow description of how the Compound operated and who got involved (for good or ill). I saw Marianne's name listed among the victims, but when I clicked on her name, the wiki link was red, showing an unwritten "stub." I guess even though Kate mentioned her in the book, she didn't rate highly enough to get her own article, huh? Maybe I could fix that later.
I spent about fifteen minutes just basically screwing around, long enough to make sure anybody watching the signal here would know it's me. Then I logged off, collected my gear, and retrieved my tracer from my bag. I then carefully stowed it in a safe place behind Kirby's computer, where I could easily find it again, and hopped down onto the floor, heading for that electrical outlet with the missing plate.
Enough screwing around, I thought to myself. Time to get down to business.
One thing I knew for sure is I couldn't possibly use Kirby's computer for pretty much anything useful. That meant I had to find another one, hopefully far enough away that my watchdogs wouldn't be monitoring me. They'd surely be outside, close by but not in sight, taking stock of comings and goings, and monitoring Kate's location and itinerary. If they were smart--which they were--they'd have eyes watching her as she went to the airport back home, and again when she landed here in Memphis. They wouldn't try grabbing her somewhere public like the airport, though. They'd wait until they had her at a vulnerable point, like when she showed up here to grab me, because that's when she'd be exposed, out of her vehicle, with her bodyguards visible, and any other agents that came along easily neutralized by pre-placed snipers.
She didn't have to come here, though. Not anymore--not now that I knew where to find the Ranch. I only had to warn her, somehow, in a way the others didn't know I'd done it, so she could forget all about finding me. The FBI could move in on Ray and Frank and shut them down, and meanwhile, I'd just disappear. Once the dust settled, I'd contact Kate, who'd give me amnesty and put me in touch with Marianne, and that'd be that. No dangerous hero crap after all.
Not a bad plan, right? Yeah, I felt pretty good about thinking that one up. I got into the walls easily, working my way through the crevices, following the power cables. Fortunately, back when I found that gear in Kate's hotel room, she'd thought to include a flashlight, which proved invaluable here. Don't get me wrong, I would've done this anyhow, even in total darkness, but the flashlight sure as hell made it easier.
The power cables snaked their way through a couple junctions on their way to the load center, which turned out to be inside a small, very dusty storage area underneath the stairs in the apartment building. I searched around for a while in here, looking for a way out, but didn't find one. They had the place sealed up pretty good. I did, however, notice a series of power lines running into the walls, like the one I'd exited through--but one of these looked much larger than the others. Aha, I thought--that must go to the laundry room.
So I followed that one into the walls, and sure enough, it led to a side room filled with coin-operated washers and dryers. Just like I'd hoped, these had external vents leading directly out of the building. I used my knife to cut my way into one of the coiled-up hoses, crawled through a thick layer of lint and dust, and came to the screen covering the outer passage. Cutting through that, I kicked open the plastic flap and dropped to the ground outside, grinning in triumph.
Like I said before, there's always a way out if you look hard enough. I could think of at least three other ways I could've tried to get out of that building, too, if that one hadn't worked. Sometimes the easy solutions are the best, though. This way, I'd left no evidence of my passing, except a couple tiny holes in places nobody would ever look.
I brushed myself off, deactivated the flashlight, and moved into the bushes nearby, taking stock of my situation. I stood on the edge of a street running through this apartment complex, looking out at another building directly opposite. The moon was up and I figured it must be well after midnight by now, so the apartments all looked quiet and dark. Except for a couple of dim lights illuminating a nearby parking lot to my left, I could move about freely, the only risk being spotted if those paranoid guards happened to be watching with infrared scopes.
Actually, that's something I should definitely worry about, I figured. They might just be doing that, not necessarily to watch for me, but to catch any FBI or other units sneaking into the area. With that in mind, I stayed close to the building, moving amidst cover as I headed away from the parking lot. Once I got to the back of the apartment, I saw nothing but an open field behind a fence, tall grass waving in the moonlight and faint wind. Going out there would save me from infrared, but put me at risk to any kind of nocturnal hunters lurking about.
Even though I had the whole night to myself, I really couldn't afford to waste too much time out here. I expected this little trip of mine to take several hours. If I didn't return by morning, getting back inside during broad daylight would be much more difficult. So I didn't want to get hung up in some grassy field. If only I'd been able to spot more buildings beyond there--but no, from my position low to the ground, I couldn't see anything as far as the horizon.
What I needed was to get out of this apartment complex, find another building of some kind, and get on a computer or find a phone. I didn't want to risk doing it here in case they were monitoring the entire wireless net hub, or watching cell transmissions from any nearby source. Actually, I'd much rather be even farther away, but I couldn't risk missing out if Kate showed up first thing in the morning. She probably flew out here first thing, the moment I popped up on the net, almost certainly on a redeye flight--meaning she might well show up midmorning, and I had to be there when she stuck her head in the door.
When I got to the other end of the building, I saw another apartment across the way, but the road headed past this one, following the line of fence, exiting the complex towards a larger street. Across that, I could see the shapes of a couple normal houses shining in the moonlight. Perfect, assuming there weren't watchers covering the entrance there. Good thing I didn't need to follow the road, though. The field would work just fine if I cut the corner.
I moved to a spot where I felt pretty sure nobody in the parking lot could see and dashed across to the fenceline. Now I got more cautious, going through my usual routine: checking overhead, waving my spear in front of me, and all that. I didn't go far into the grass, which towered above me, providing plenty of cover. The thick growth, obviously the first of spring, made the going slow, and bugs were everyplace.
I skirted a couple of spiderwebs, dodged across a few clearings, froze more than once at the sound of something large rustling about, and took refuge under a thick fallen log as a rat skittered past. I swear, there's nothing I hate more than rats. Yeah, sure, cats are certain doom, but there usually aren't that many around. Bugs are everywhere, but they're so stupid, they don't even realize you're edible till you're long gone. But rats, they're all over the place, they hunt in packs sometimes, they can run and jump and climb on anything, and damn, are they ever quick! But there is one thing rats aren't, and that's stealthy--they squeak like brand-new sneakers, so you can hear them coming a mile away. I swear, if they ever learn to keep their little rat mouths shut, my days are numbered.
Anyway, this particular rat didn't stick around. I could hear it moving off, so I trailed along behind, keeping quiet, glad as usual that most animals treat the smell of man as something to be avoided, not hunted. The rat, as it turned out, only wanted to get into a fallen trash can located on the back end of a neighboring lot, beyond the fence at the edge of someone's yard. There were several other creatures there, including a couple more rats, a possum (rooting around close by, but not actually in the trash) and a raccoon, which is probably what knocked the garbage can over in the first place.
Well, I didn't want to go that way, obviously, but at least if I stayed close by, anyone watching through IR would just lose me in the glow of all those other critters. Besides, the animals were busy, anyhow. Why chase after me, when there's plenty of easy bounty sitting right there?
So I worked my way around to the left, staying just outside the fence, gradually moving out of the wind's path so I wouldn't be in the line of travel for any more rats or whatever heading towards the trash. Once I got to the opposite side of the house, I made my way quickly to the back of the garage, looking for a way in. Nothing there--they had an automatic door that sealed up pretty tight. Continuing on further, though, I found a couple of open windows at ground level. The weather seemed a tad too chilly for that, but these might be people who just like it cool, for all I knew.
Whatever--I sure as hell didn't question my good fortune. Grappling up to the windowsill, I sliced my way in through the screen and dropped down inside the house. All's quiet in there, fortunately, with no sign of any pets or anything like that, except a small fish tank softly bubbling on a counter over by the TV. Just the right place, I figured.
I started hunting around, looking for a computer room or cell phone, but didn't see anything obvious like that. The rooms inside were open, but there weren't any computers, as far as I could tell. I did find a briefcase that probably held a laptop, but there's no way I'd be able to get that open without making a lot of noise. There were two people sharing a bed in one of the rooms, snoozing away, and I didn't feel like disturbing them.
I eventually found the phones--one in the woman's purse by the closet, and the other on the dresser next to the bed. In other words, too close to either sleeper to risk using. This place wouldn't do at all. Damn, there's half an hour wasted right there.
I did catch the time, though--just after three o'clock. This is taking too long, I thought to myself, hurrying back out the way I came in. I probably only had time enough to check one more house, if that, but I felt determined to try, heading over to the building next door, a bit quicker than I should've, but then I didn't have time to be as cautious as I preferred. For once, in all my travels, I actually had a reason to hurry, and it felt uncomfortable and dangerous. I didn't like rushing, but I didn't really have a choice, now did I?
The next home had the windows open, too, but only a little. That's enough for me, though. I got in through the screen, just like the previous place, and this time struck pay dirt right away. From the windowsill, I could see a computer over against the right-hand wall, away from the hallway leading deeper into the house. The screen, one of those older flat styles, looked dark, but the light on the computer indicated it had power--so it must've been in sleep mode.
I hurried over there, climbing down to the floor and then up the power cords. In doing so, I noticed plenty of cat hairs on the carpet. That didn't bode well at all, but I could see plenty of places to hide in here. Even up by the computer, there were speakers I could duck behind, a stack of magazines adjacent to the screen, and even a digital camera case with the camera sitting out. The owner must've wirelessly uploaded some photos, leaving the case nearby. Just what the doctor ordered, right?
I moved the mouse as I headed for the keyboard, and the screen lit up. No password required, either--but then, who needs passwords in your own home, where nobody would ever use your computer but you? Grinning, I went straight for the net and started to type in a search for FBI contacts, but stopped myself just as quickly. What if the people watching the wireless nets around here picked up on that?
Stupid paranoia! I couldn't help thinking that maybe they might have a direct line on Kirby's apartment connection, but a more general eye on all the rest in the local area. The kind of scan that looks for keywords, like FBI or Kate or whatever, and would alert them if I tried anything like that. So what to do, then? How could I get hold of Kate without anybody out there knowing? She hadn't given me any way to contact her at all, probably figuring I could just look up her department and call in if I could. And that's what I would've done, too, if it weren't for Marianne.
Crap! Stupid feelings again, screwing everything up! I shouldn't care about anybody else...I should be on my own out here. Nobody matters but me, right? The great and wonderful Sole Survivor, flying solo just like always. All I'd have to do is send an email, y'know. Just one lousy email, and then I could hop back out the window and disappear into the night. To hell with everybody else. They could fend for themselves.
I thought about that for maybe ten or fifteen seconds. So easy...yeah, why not go the easy way, just like always? It's the choice I always made before. Why try to stick it out with foster parents, when I could just run away? Why fight the pimps, when it's so much easier to just turn tricks? Why bother breaking the addiction, when the drugs made me feel so good? Why follow Marianne out of the Compound, when I could stay and live the good life there? And now, why risk my life for anybody else? Just send one email, and I'm done, back to the freedom of the open road...so why didn't I do it?
I heard the song then, those words in my mind, echoing around like the voice of a ghost...the very lyrics I'd used on Damon earlier, coming back to haunt me now...
How many deaths will it take till he knows
That too many people have died?
The answer, my friend, is blowin' in the wind,
The answer is blowin' in the wind.
Fucking Bob Dylan! Why'd I ever quote those lines, anyway? I should've left that verse buried in the back of my brain, where it belonged. But Damon started talking about me floating around in the wind, quoting Shakespeare of all people, and the lyrics just popped into my head. And now the song rattled around, too, a melody I couldn't escape, and the answer to my question was plain.
Too many people have died, indeed. Too many people got screwed because of what I did. I had to try to fix it, if I could, and to hell with myself, for once. If I went out there again, alone into the night, I'd destroy my last chance of redemption. It'd be the end of me. Somewhere out there, on some street or in someone's back yard, my luck would finally run out, and I'd die without anyone ever knowing...and Marianne, and Kate, and everybody else would pay the price.
So I didn't send the email. I guess I never really would've, but up until that moment, there'd been that little bit of uncertainty still hovering around in my subconscious. The slight chance I might still give in to my selfish impulses. Now, all that went away. I no longer had any doubts about myself. I would do this. I would be the hero, goddammit, and to hell with anyone who got in my way!
I also realized just then that I didn't actually have to send anything directly to Kate. I just needed to post a picture on the net. FBI facial recognition software would take over. And best of all, someone left a digital camera sitting right here next to me. Convenient, right? Perfect, in fact. Almost too perfect. I should've known nothing like that would be so easy.
I turned away from the keyboard and took one step towards the camera. That's when I saw it--that brief flicker of motion out of the corner of my eye. Down on the floor, something darting back and forth. A tail, attached to a furry gray body, leading to a black-striped head, with two green, slitted eyes staring hungrily up at me in the darkness.
Ever have one of those moments in life where you just know you're totally screwed and there's not much you can do about it? Well, here's one of those moments. I stood there for about a second, paralyzed with that bone-chilling shock that comes with the overwhelming impulse to do something while the rest of your body just freezes up completely.
I had no idea how long the cat had been there, or how it snuck up on me without any sign, not even the barest flicker out of the corner of my eye. I'd been extremely careful to this point, because I knew a cat lived here, thanks to the hairs in the carpet, but the computer must've distracted me just a tiny bit too much. That, and wrestling with my stupid feelings again. They're gonna get me killed one of these days…
After that brief second of hesitation, where I weighed about a half-dozen options (all of them bad), I made one of two possible decisions that filtered out of the rest of the truly terrible choices flashing through my brain. I could've--and probably should've--just dashed for the camera case right away. Something, some instinct borne of months on my own, told me I'd never get there, or if I did, the cat could fish me out with its paw easily enough. I needed my weapon, the spear I'd set down at by the edge of the keyboard, about three steps to my right. Without that, I didn't think I'd escape this scenario alive.
So I dove for the spear, and the cat instantly pounced, leaping to the top of the desk in the blink of an eye. Just as I wrapped my hands around the weapon, I felt the cat's teeth sinking into my left shoulder and right side, up against my ribs. As it lifted me up, probably intending to run off with me, I reacted by stabbing the spear back up over my head--blindly, since I couldn't see anything at all, facing forward with the cat entirely behind me. The spear hit something soft and yielding, drawing a yowl as the beast's paws came up to bat at its nose, knocking me free in the process. I tumbled over the keyboard, blood spattering everywhere, and rolled to a halt next to the monitor.
The cat lunged at me with a paw, its claws hitting my back above the shoulder blades as I tried to roll. The animal struck again and met my spear this time, yanking its paw away with a hiss. I crouched, barely feeling the pain, body flush with adrenaline as I fought for my life. The cat looked at me warily, batting at its bleeding nose a couple of times and licking its forelimb, and I thought for an instant maybe it might leave. Then it hunkered down, tail flicking, getting ready to pounce again.
I could've run for the wall, thinking maybe I could drop to the floor, but I vaguely recalled a lack of cover that way. The trash can underneath the desk might be my best bet, if I could get to it from this angle. I'd have to go past the cat again, though. Not likely. That made the camera case my only real choice.
I waited. Moving now would only bring an immediate pounce. I needed the cat to be heading for where I'd been, not where I was going. Would it go for a feint, if I started one way? Maybe, but I might not dodge in time, or guess wrong and jump right into it, if it waited a second or two. So I just stood there, waiting, waiting…watching its haunches quiver, the tail flicking faster and faster…
Finally, it jumped. In the barest instant before it landed, I leapt to the side. The cat hit the back of the keyboard and slid forward, its momentum carrying it past me as its claws skittered on the desktop. I ran full speed into the camera case, swung around, and readied my spear. A half-second later, the first paw darted in, then a second time, and a third. When my spear connected, drawing another yowl of pain, the paw didn't return for several seconds.
The cat must've been wondering if I'm worth the trouble. Or maybe it couldn't see me in there. The animal's face appeared suddenly in the opening, as if glaring at me. Then it lunged, perhaps hoping to catch me in its mouth, as it had before. Once again it met my spear, which I drove deep into its nose just before those teeth would've snapped down on me.
That solid blow basically ended the fight. The cat yelped in pain and drew back, away from the camera case about halfway across the desk, where it pawed at the bleeding wound on its face with a look of pain and uncertainty. Most prey my size didn't attack back--so the giant beast had no idea how to deal with me. I could've just stayed put, hoping it'd leave, but instead, I rushed forward, because by now I'd gotten rather pissed off. Instead of making me cautious and scared, the pain of my injuries only angered me. Never mind how huge the monstrous cat might be--I wanted it dead!
So I charged out of the camera case, spear clutched in both hands, intending to leap and stab like some kind of ferocious barbarian warrior. The cat didn't wait around to see what I might do next, but jumped down to the floor and darted over to the couch, where I could just barely see its eyes glowing in the darkness. That must be where it'd been when I arrived--rolled up and asleep, just a few feet away, completely invisible on the mottled upholstery, like a soldier dressed in camouflage. Only when I turned on the computer and started clicking away at the keys did it wake up and come over to investigate.
Damn, what an idiot I am! I should've expected something like that. But I'd been in a hurry, and caught up in my own thoughts, and failed to pay attention to my surroundings. As the cat moved away, though, and commenced to licking and cleaning itself, I felt the adrenaline subsiding. Chasing after the cat would be sheer idiocy. I still had a job to do, and now, bleeding from several wounds, I'd have to make haste.
Keeping a wary eye on the cat, I got into my bag and took out the "care package" Kate left for me back in her hotel room. Among the many items there, she'd provided some gauze wrap and a small pair of scissors, which I used to bandage my wounds as best I could. The claw cuts were tough to get to, just below my neck, but then they weren't that deep, really. The bite wound on my side didn't seem that bad, either, though it hurt more because it probably bruised my ribs. The shoulder, though--that's a different story. The tooth that hit me there sank deep into my flesh, and the wound didn't seem to want to stop bleeding. I cleaned it out as best I could, using the water from the bottle I'd brought with me this morning. Then I thickened up the bandage and wrapped it around my shoulder using a couple of the elastic bands from the supplies Kate provided.
I've got to remember to thank her for those, I told myself through gritted teeth as I finished my first aid. The cat remained on the couch, watching me warily and occasionally licking itself. Even though it obviously considered me too dangerous to attack, it couldn't quite stop watching me. Stupid thing! Oh, well, at least its whiny growls didn't wake up its owners...although they'd get a nice surprise in the morning when they see the mess we made on their computer. I had no intention of cleaning that up, obviously.
I still had to take that picture, though, so I moved over and fiddled with the camera. Fortunately, I had no trouble figuring out how to make it work. Most digital cameras are basically the same, anyway. At least this wasn't one of the ultra-cheap ones with only the bare minimum of features. I needed a flash, and a timer so I could get back in front of the lens before the shutter opened. This camera had both.
Once I had it figured out, I faced the camera towards the wall (so the flash wouldn't be as likely to wake the residents, or be visible outside). Keeping a watchful eye on the cat, I set the timer and hurried into position, where I held up my spear and gave a cheeky thumbs-up. The camera went off a moment later, almost blinding me, which would've been a real lousy time for the cat to come back, but it didn't, fortunately.
Next, I switched the camera to PC mode, went to the computer, and clicked open the virtual drive, where I found my photo in reasonable shape (I didn't stand close enough to be out of focus, for one thing, and the flash in the dark room didn't wash me out, either). Now I just had to upload the pic somewhere.
Fortunately, the residents of this place had a Facelink page, which I suppose damn near everybody does nowadays--the lone survivor of the social and business networking wars of the last few decades, the site lets everybody, even corporations, share photos and blogs and everything else they can think of to anyone they trust to see that stuff. I always thought it sounded like a great way to secretly gather information about everybody--just the sort of thing FBI might do--so of course this made the perfect place to post my photo.
I logged in (the idiots had their password saved on their computer, so I didn't even have to do any hacking), uploaded the pic, and typed a caption: "Look what we found in our cat's mouth! It came from a secret hideout about an hour southwest of Amarillo!"
There, that's perfect, I thought. If I had any luck at all, the Bureau would spot that picture, get the caption, and realize they didn't have to send Kate into that ambush. Now I just had to hope their facial-recognition software and all their other tools would catch the posting in time. I couldn't afford to risk sending emails directly, and didn't have time to hunt down any other methods to send a message. I had to get out of here and back to Kirby's apartment before dawn.
Before I did that, though, I deleted the photo from the camera, and reset the computer so the screen looked like it did before I snuck in. I couldn't do anything about the blood on the keyboard, but hopefully they'd chalk that up to the cat chasing after something and cutting itself. Sure, sooner or later they'd notice their Facelink post, but hopefully not right away. The longer I delayed their inevitable call to the authorities, the better. If my escorts got any idea I'd been here, that could be very bad for me.
Now I only had to contend with the cat. I stepped over to the edge of the desk and looked over at the couch, where those suspicious eyes glittered back at me. I had to get to the window somehow, without provoking another attack. I couldn't afford to have it come at me while I climbed, where I'd be basically helpless. So what could I do? Rush at it again, and hope it ran away? That might work--I could then just hop up the back of the couch, onto the windowsill, and out through the screen. But if the cat didn't run, what then? If it pounced on me, and pinned me with its paws, I'd be screwed.
So as I stood there, wondering about that, something flashed on the monitor. I glanced over there reflexively, and saw Facelink's instant-messenger window pop open. I couldn't quite read the message, so I shifted back to a more appropriate angle, and this is what I saw:
Anonymous> Who the hell is this????
I stood there for a moment, staring at the screen, dumbfounded. Somebody the house's owners knew, online in the early morning hours, perhaps? Or someone else, possibly? One of the guards, monitoring all the traffic in the area? If that's the case, I'm already hosed, I figured, so I might as well find out just how badly. If it is one of the guards, I sure as hell couldn't go back to the apartment!
So I stepped up to the keyboard, keeping a wary eye on the cat, and typed back my response. Keep in mind, I didn't bother hitting any capital letters and avoided most of the punctuation, so don't judge my typing, okay? Oh, and apparently, the owners of this house were named Carlsson, judging by the username that came up. Anyway, this is what I said:
Carlsson2014> the one in the picture
Carlsson2014> why who is this
I waited for a moment, wondering what the person on the other end might say. The cat's eyes were still all over me, and I kept thinking, any second now someone might burst in that front door, and if so, where could I possibly run…? Finally, though, I got this response:
Anonymous> Let me guess, your first name starts with W and your last name ends in "ton"?
Oh, wow, he didn't say my name outright? How thoughtful! So far, there'd be nothing out there to attract any attention to me. So I replied:
Carlsson2014> damn straight, now who the hell are you
The response came quickly:
Anonymous> Omigod, really? It's really you? That sure sounds like you.
Anonymous> I'll tell you who I am but you aren't gonna believe it
Shit, I don't have time for this! Hopping over the keys as quickly as I could, I replied with the obvious:
Carlsson2014> try me
Then I had to wait several anxious seconds. Underneath the chat box there's a little pencil icon that starts waggling around when the user is typing, and then freezes when they stop. I saw it bounce around for a moment and then hesitate, as if the person on the other end didn't want to hit "return." Then, just as I started to go for the keyboard again, the answer came up:
Anonymous> Mark Powers.
Holy shit, Mark Powers? Really? But I suppose I shouldn't be so surprised--of all people, he's the one most likely to be keeping an eye out for anything and everything that might help his wife. Did that mean he'd come along with her, then, after all? Or did he stay back home, to keep an eye on her remotely? Maybe Kate really did intend to show up to the ambush with a minimum of support, as she originally told me.
I didn't ask about any of that first, though. Instead, I replied as follows, and we had a quick conversation:
Carlsson2014> no way
Anonymous> Yeah it's really me. I'm watching the net since Kate can't while she travels.
Carlsson2014> where is she now
Anonymous> About an hour away from landing at the airport, I think.
Carlsson2014> well tell her its a trap shes got no reason to come here
Anonymous> Yeah I saw the photo caption. Thanks. We owe you.
Carlsson2014> no you dont i told her this squares us
Anonymous> Oh yeah true I suppose it does, doesn't it?
Hmm...that made me pause a moment. Did Kate not tell him about our little conversation back in the hotel? I suppose it's possible she didn't bother, since to her it probably seemed like a minor consideration, but these are both FBI agents we're talking about. They probably didn't let any detail slip by. Damn, I'd hate to think what their version of pillow talk must be like. "Oh, yeah, you were great, honey…now about that assassination plot…" Ha-ha!
Yeah, I'm a real laugh riot, huh? But anyway, I now realized I didn't know for sure if it's really Mark Powers on the other end of the messenger window, so I decided to verify his identity:
Carlsson2014> if this is really mark what did i yell when you threw me across the maglev station
I figured he had about five seconds to answer before I knew he's lying. Mark would've known the answer to that question in an instant. If he took longer than that, it'd mean he'd looked it up somewhere, maybe in a transcript file of the event somewhere. Or he might admit he didn't remember, which would be just as bad for him. However, after just a couple seconds, I saw the pencil icon moving, and then this popped up:
Anonymous> As I recall, it was BANZAI!!!!
I smiled. We went back to our conversation then, which went rather quickly from this point:
Anonymous> And just so I know it's you, how did my wife turn the tables on you when you hunted her in the vents?
Carlsson2014> she didnt do a damn thing it was that tiny reyna person
Anonymous> Right. Okay, good, now that we've got that all settled, do you need any help there? We can extract you if you want.
Carlsson2014> no ill go back and wait when kate doesnt show up after a couple days im sure well leave
Anonymous> Okay, we'll probably move on the location you gave us by then, once we find it. Thanks again for everything.
Carlsson2014> no problem leaving now dont contact me here again kthxbye
Anonymous> Bye
The window didn't close, but the anonymous user went idle. Checking one last time on the cat, which still hadn't moved, I cleared out the chat window and closed the box, putting the computer back to its original state. I thought about leaving the picture and caption there, but I suppose it hardly mattered--its presence wouldn't reach the FBI, anyway, because I felt pretty sure it'd already been deleted. If I looked, though, or tried to delete it myself, I'd give away the fact that I knew I'd been deceived.
And I had been deceived, because I knew for sure that wasn't Mark Powers I'd been talking to.
Now, I had no idea who it was--no idea at all--I just knew that wasn't Kate's husband. Here's why: When I asked him what I yelled as he threw me across the room, he answered "Banzai!"--which of course is what I shouted, at the top of my lungs, and pretty desperately, too. Except Mark's not the one who threw me, but that mercenary scout we called "Eye," better known as Alexander Hall. I'm not sure that little detail made it into any of the official reports, either. I suppose Kate or Mark might've recorded the "Banzai!" thing somewhere, or else he just made a lucky guess, but I doubted they'd bother stating who actually flung me across the room. Or if they did, only someone there would've known it was Alex. And since this mysterious unknown typist didn't know that, he couldn't have really been there, now could he? Everything he knew about the incident must've come from official reports he'd read.
So I concluded, as you might guess, that the person I'd been talking to must be Ray's mole in the FBI. That makes perfect sense, right? He certainly would've been watching for posts or messages, intercepting them before they could get to Kate or Mark. So that means I'm basically screwed now, because he's going to report everything to Ray, and Kate's still going to show up and get captured, and I and everything else I've tried to do are toast.
So what's left to do, then? Run away, I suppose. I could just flee out into the night, disappear into some neighboring house to recover from these injuries, and wander off into the darkness once more. Kate would get caught, Marianne would be tortured and killed (most likely), and I'd have to live with the guilt of my failure. No, not live, really, because I'm pretty sure once the grim reality of that set in, I wouldn't be able to go on much longer.
Well, to hell with that! I already decided to give everything I had to try to be the hero here, right? If I'm going to go out, I'll go down fighting. I'd go back to the Ranch as a prisoner, if I must, and try to escape somehow. Like I said when I left poor Janice in the cage, resigned to her fate, I'd never go out that way. I'd battle and struggle to the bitter end, and maybe, just maybe, I could figure out a way out of this. At the very least, maybe I could convince them Marianne had nothing to do with it, and they'd let her go. Maybe I could find the strength to make that sacrifice.
So that's what I decided to do. Steeling myself, I glared at the cat one last time, hopped onto the floor, climbed up onto the couch, jumped onto the windowsill and went out the screen. The stupid beast never even tried to follow me, and in a few moments, I'd made my escape from the Carlsson house.
Getting out of the house was the easy part. Now I had to make it back to the apartment, in the early morning hours, wounded and smelling of blood. Piece of cake, huh?
I hadn't actually allowed myself to pay much attention to the wounds I'd received, but the one on my shoulder hurt pretty bad. Lowering myself down the outside wall showed me that right away--my arm hurt so much I basically descended one-handed. Then the damn grapple wouldn't let go, until I had to tug from an angle with all my