03. The Maze in the Mirror (39 page)

"Never," she replied, teeth clenched. "Never."

He gave a sigh, then concluded, "I will leave you now, and an aide will take you out and teach you the essentials. You might not see me again, but I will see and hear of you. Dream of a rescue that won't come. Your husband is already in our hands but does not suspect that you are in mine. Even if he did he could not help you, but if he does not he can not even make the attempt. Your son is safe and well in his own home world and under family care, but remember that he is vulnerable. I know you are bright and resourceful and capable of self-sacrifice, but if you have any bright ideas and
even
attempt
to betray this place, your son will bear the brunt of
my
anger. And if you try and kill yourself, I will replace you with him."

"You leave Dash out of this, you bastard!"

Carlos chuckled. "I intend to, for now. The Company, not I, makes war on children. He is out of my mind and plans-unless you give me cause to remember him. So, do nothing but be what I want you to be. In not too long from now, our grandest plan will be executed, and the Labyrinth itself will be destroyed, and I will no longer be able to touch your precious son-nor you to ever leave here. I must leave you now. This is a busy time. But I will be seeing you often."

With that, he turned and was gone. She couldn't see him, only hear his footsteps vanish in the distance, jackboots on tile, but she didn't need to see for that.

She sat up, but she felt sickened and depressed. He'd really got her this time, that son of a bitch! But, no. She couldn't give up. Not completely. Not on the strength of his words and his say-so. Maybe he was right about her, but if they were playing with Sam they still might get more than they bargained for, and maybe Sam at least could get back to Dash.

She already missed him so, and the idea of not ever seeing him again, not watching him grow up, was horrible. Still, that was out of her hands. Maybe ever escaping from this place was, too, but sometime, somehow, there must be something she could do to screw them up here. She would play their games, but she would not surrender.

More boots on the floor, coming towards her, but this time a woman just from the sound of it. "Come with me," said a low female voice in tones cold as snow. "Take my hand. I have been ordered to orient you."

They went down some corridors and up some stairs and through some thick guard doors and finally were out in what felt like open space.

"This is the main front door that leads out to the entryway," her guide told her. "In front of you, facing into the Castle, is a grand staircase with ten steps leading to a 'Y' split on a landing, and then ten more in either direction. To your right, the lounge, with chairs, couches, wide windows, and the like. To your left are various public rooms. To the right of the staircase and behind it leads to dining rooms and then the kitchen. The same way but on the left and behind the stairs is the way to the recreation halls, and the rear exit to the gardens, tennis courts, swimming pool, and such. The carpets are raised or worn to all the areas. You will learn them. To ask for help is forbidden, but you may take it if offered."

"Thanks a lot," she said dryly.

"The second floor is a broad balcony leading to offices. You will not go in the offices on your own. Upper floors are private rooms. You are also not to go there on your own. You will remain on public view at all times. Sleep on the couches or rugs in the den or wherever you feel like it, but yield any space on demand. To eat, find and go to the kitchen. They will give you leftovers. Speak not at all to anyone unless directly addressed and a response is required. Be seen and not heard. Any infractions will be reported and punished immediately or at pill time, as we call it here. Do not search for your shot. We will find you. You will get
it at the same time every day as you have been put on a schedule. You will begin to feel withdrawal after twenty-six hours, and no one has ever gone more than thirty or thirty-one hours. Now, come. We will go out by the pool and I will show you the bathrooms you may use and the showers."

It took her several days of concentrated learning and lots of mistakes to get even the basics down, concentrating on the Johns, the showers, and the kitchen and den area. At first she was highly self-conscious when she realized the large number of people here, but after a while she ignored the comments and snide remarks and decided that she'd just act like she wasn't this nude example and screw them.

They fed her in the area where they threw the garbage, just out back of the kitchen, and they fed her literal leftovers. Half-eaten fruit, remnants of bread, leftover stew, that kind of thing. When you were hungry enough you stopped asking questions and just ate it. Some of it wasn't half bad, although she was glad she couldn't really see it, and it included leftovers of beer and wine as well.

There were lots of problems initially, of course, when she did back talk or flinched when somebody started pawing her, and then she found out what the electric whip was like. It was a searing pain in a whip-like slash that felt like it was taking all the skin off you, but which left no marks and did no permanent damage. It was apparently not something for her benefit but a stock weapon of the guards to the sensitive areas and you didn't want it twice. She got it a lot more than that, though, as they tested her and deliberately tried provoking her and stringently enforced their rules.

It was a super incentive and she learned real fast.

That, really, was the most disheartening thing of all-how fast she'd become just what he had described. It was terrible how quickly pretending you didn't mind it when they fondled your breasts or put a hand on your crotch turned into reflexive, natural behavior. How easy it was to give sexual favors and indulge whatever they wanted and stick your mind in parking gear someplace. How the first day she went without punishment somehow seemed a great triumph when actually it was the first badge of their victory over her. That the easiest way to never be punished was to totally accept your condition and position and to not really think at all, to no longer mind being treated as an object and to even look forward to violations and indignities because they were at least attention. And how her face now seemed frozen in a nice, friendly smile.

She had always looked back on her Shadow Dancer time with some ego-inflating colorations. To her mind she'd resisted all the way, never given in, never surrendered. Now, of course, she was face to face again with the concept that it wasn't true, that they'd gotten her and put her through their remolder rather smoothly, and that this time it was happening again only much, much faster.

Part of it was the boredom. Yeah, they did a lot of fondling and kidding, but mostly she was ignored after a while as they got used to her and she got used to becoming Carlos' pet. It took her some time and effort to learn that carpeting, to learn the basic layout of the Castle and its public furnishings and the like, so that she could walk from one specific place to another without problems and felt
comfortable there, but after that there was nothing else to do. Because she couldn't see, she couldn't read. Work of any sort was denied her, as was simple conversation with a staff who could also be punished for violating the rules over her. She was afraid of the pool, never having been much of a swimmer and not being able to see or have a companion there just was too scary to her.

About the only recreational stuff she could use was the exercise machines, which were individual and very much like a typical health club. She went at them with a passion, having nothing else. Every once in a while somebody would come and get her and they'd trim her nails and do her hair and somebody would give her a rough and easy physical, but that was it. And, once a day, somebody would come by and hand her one of those little automatic injection capsules, often without a word said. The stuff did give you a real rush for a while, although it was nothing like the intensity or duration of the old juice.

She slept when she wanted, ate when she wanted, and except for that capsule there was no sense of time at all. The place ran twenty-four hours in shifts, and there were always people around. Still, now that she was able to get around the place pretty well and confidently, and now that she'd picked up, identified, and classified more voices than she could count, the only thing she could do was listen. And people after the first week or so tended to talk as if she wasn't even there or capable of hearing. True, a lot of it was in languages she couldn't understand, but a fair amount was in English.

One thing she learned was that all the big
activity was due to something big that was going to happen in the near future. Carlos himself had said it the first day: they were going to destroy the Labyrinth and this world and all the others would be isolated and have to be self-supporting. And the only hitch was that some big shot in the enemy organization-but not Carlos, damn it--had been knocked off and nobody knew by whom.

That had given her something of a target at least. If they actually did it, then Carlos, whom she hadn't heard since that first day here, would be here all the time. More importantly, if they succeeded then Dash would be safe from him and his minions and she would no longer have a knife at her heart. If she was cut off, she might be able to kill the bastard before they cut her down, since she'd have nothing else to live for. That, however, would take some planning. An idle brain was the devil's playground, and she was nothing if not idle.

She also picked up something in idle gossip among the kitchen staff that she hardly believed. They said that Carlos himself was addicted to something. That he'd gotten hooked when trying to hook the Company, when playing with the alien viral drug to see what it could and would do. It made sense, in a way. If he'd been accidentally infected with the juice itself, he probably grew his own supply right here. She wasn't sure how she could use that, but it was fascinating, and seemed, somehow, poetic justice.

She remembered what that guide had said and wondered why it had been emphasized. A trap, maybe? Carlos wanted her to hate him, to dream of destroying him. She wouldn't put it past him, but it didn't matter. It was
something.
Delivery every
twenty-four hours. Hold off on the pill, see how long before the first withdrawal symptoms set in. How long could she stand it? Maybe if she got on those exercise machines and beat hell out of them it would help. Take the thing only when she'd pushed herself and could stand it no longer. Then the next pill would be that much later before it wore off, and so on. If she could hold off 'til thirty hours she'd have an extra pill every four days. But where to hide the extra?

The best place was under the loose boards on the garbage dock. Usually nobody was there with her-she was getting quite good at that-and she was pretty damned sure there were no monitors there because that's where the kitchen staff would hang out and grumble. Palm a napkin, wrap the pills, hide them under. If they were still there in a couple of days she'd know she'd gotten away with it.

Timing the withdrawal was tough, but there were time signals in the gym and a couple of other places. Not that it mattered. She was going as long as she could, and the fact that she had pills sequestered and they were still giving her another each day was proof she was doing it. Really knowing this place, and with several days margin, she had potential for some freedom of action if and when the opportunity ever came.

And then there was the guy. She didn't know his voice and had no way to trust him, but he'd seen her and called her over and started playing with her as many often did, but then he leaned over and whispered, very softly, "Say nothing. I'm a courier, not one of these. I was told to find you and tell you to sit tight and be prepared. It might be a while
but sooner or later they will try and get you out of here. Your injection can be duplicated if you have a sample. Say no more, let's just make out."

A trap? A plant? A tease on Carlos' part? How could it be anything else? Who could get in here, get so close, dare this sort of thing? But what if, just if, it wasn't? What if it was Sam?

But if it was-even if it was-how long until he could come for her? And could he get through to this fortress and find her still alive?

She had to wait, and endure, and, as time dragged on, not count on it.

And then there was the day when the whole place changed into Bedlam. There were more people around than she'd ever known before, and everybody seemed excited or angry or impatient, and all she could do was keep out of the way and try and learn what was going on.

Something about Upline batteries exploding prematurely. The Labyrinth was weak and partly wrecked over a fair length but still operable, but lots of switches were sealed and frozen shut and lots of sidings were wiped out as if they didn't exist. Some even said that the Company World had been sealed off and left powerless, but she took that with a grain of salt.

That would mean, though, that whatever happened took place "left" of Zero, since that was where the Company World was. That also suggested that this world, Carlos' world, was "right" of Zero, since everything seemed to be functioning okay here.

Certainly they weren't too sad about the "disaster," so maybe the Company World
had
been zapped. There was a lot of raucous celebrating and
talks of when "they" would take over, that was for sure. She longed to ask questions, to find out details, but she could not. But, that night, they'd scheduled a big meeting in the rec hall to explain all to the staff. She was excluded, but she knew that area well. Hell, they'd have to use microphones or something, and if she just sat in the bathroom near the pool she could hear what was said. It was bound to be in many languages, but she would wait.

They sure all packed in there, anyway. It must have been hot as hell and looked like a sardine can, even though they were having the meetings by shifts and it was one shift at a time. Sitting on the toilet, though, she could make out most of what was being said.