by Linda Mooney
"Bob the motherfucker is going to starve us. I'm betting we've seen the last of him. Maybe he'll have some water sent in, but I doubt it. Two, three days? I've heard of people living for nearly two weeks without any sustenance. Wonder how long I can manage to hold on?"
"We...won't..." He could speak, but moving his mouth, his lips and tongue, was difficult.
Sherandar reacted immediately, bending down to where her face was even with his. "Quazar? You-you're awake?"
"Kind...of. Hurt."
"I wish there was something I could give you," she apologized. "Those turds left us here with nothing."
Gradually, and with great effort, he managed to lift his eyelids. He was met with a bruised and bloody, yet infinitely beautiful face.
"They...hurt...you?"
"I don't know. I'm thinking this all happened when we were struck by that bolt of lightning." She drew an imaginary circle around her head.
"Bolt?" he gasped. His memory was hazy.
"Yeah. And I'm pretty sure it was black like the other one that took you out. It looked like it before whammo."
Quazar thought back on what the man had said. "Neg...ative."
"Yeah. Bob the wonder wuss said he used a negative bolt. I'm thinking it has some type of negative charge to it, which could explain why it was black in color."
He focused on her again. "You? Okay?"
She gave a little shrug. "Other than a mother of a headache and being stripped bare ass naked, just peachy. I mean, I don't think they took advantage of me while I was cold-cocked, if that's what you're asking." Her gaze grew more worried. "How much of that convo did you catch?"
"All...of it."
"Then you know what the outcome will be for the both of us."
"Hey." He tried to smile. "We're...not down...for...the count...yet."
He could feel his grasp on consciousness loosen. It was his body's way of shutting down all unnecessary systems so it could concentrate on regaining energy.
"Hey. Sher."
"I'm right here. Nowhere else to go, you know?" She laughed softly as she tried to make light of their situation.
"I must...rest...now."
"Go ahead. If any new developments pop up, I'll try to revive you," she promised.
As he drifted away from the present, he realized her fingers no longer stroked his face. Instead, they cupped his chin, and her thumb swiped lightly over his lips. If he could have kissed it, he would have.
Chapter Eight
Steps
He had no idea how long he was out of it. But when he came to this second time, it was dark. There was absolutely no light where they were being held. And no sound penetrated the silence.
He felt somewhat stronger. The intense agony had mellowed. No, not mellowed. Poor choice of words. More like...subsided. But it was still there, coating his inner organs like a thick phlegm.
His fingers touched the floor. He had some sense of lying on his right side. Lifting his head wasn't an option, but he could move other parts of his body, slightly. Enough to where he was able to emit a small, palm-sized flame in his right hand.
This time he could see the other side of the small cell. Assuming he was backed up into one corner, the cage couldn't be more than ten by ten.
Sherandar wasn't within visual range. A sliver of cold dread went through him. What if they'd removed her when he was unconscious?
The bars are welded shut. Titanium bars. It would take too much time, effort, and energy for them to arbitrarily burn a doorway into their specially-designed trap to remove her, he told himself, hoping he wasn't wrong.
Something nudged his arm. Or someone. Quazar managed a small grin as relief wiped away his worry.
Presently, a familiar face bent over his. "Hey, partner. Feeling any better?"
"How...long..."
"You were out for two days. At least, I think it was two days. Hard to tell when there's no window or clock."
"You...okay?"
"I'm hungry and thirsty. Otherwise I'm peachy keen." Her demeanor changed, and her eyes reflected her worry. "How about you?"
"Help...me up."
"You sure? I mean—"
"Sher."
"Okay, okay." She disappeared from view. There was a tug at his back. Her hands were underneath his armpits as she tried to lever him into a sitting position. He held his breath, waiting for the pain to slice him to ribbons, but it didn't come. There was only that cold, flat numbness. Vaguely, Quazar wondered if this was the way quadriplegics felt. Their bodies entirely oblivious to the brain's demands, yet their minds continued to function at a normal level as usual. It was as if he was trapped inside a box of flesh. Helpless, and with no chance of escape. Forced to live this way for an untold number of years. The thought terrified him.
"All right. There. Better?"
He was propped up, his back against the bars. Sherandar sat on her knees beside him. In the wan light coming from his hand, he noticed the bruises and marks on her pale skin. Wounds he hadn't seen earlier, except for the ones that discolored her face.
Unable to help himself, his eyes roamed over her body. Pausing at the sight of the small, full breasts with their quarter-size areoles and nipples like ripe raspberries. The way she sat prevented him from seeing further down, past her belly, but by the way her ribs and collar bones protruded, he could tell she hadn't been eating right for way longer than these past two days.
"We have to...get out of here." Good. He could manage a sentence.
"Hey, I'm all for that, but how?" She threw a thumb over her right shoulder. "They got cameras on us, and you know they're manned twenty-four-seven. First sign of a jail break, and they'll be in here like sharks in a feeding frenzy."
"How many?"
"Sharks?"
"No. Cameras."
"As far as I can tell, just the one."
"You're certain?"
She rolled her eyes. "I've had nothing to do in here but examine this place and dream up all sorts of ways to get my revenge on Bob the Dirt Bag while you were out."
He was able to take a couple of deep breaths on his own. It was good to know that he had some control again.
"I think I'm regaining muscular control. Not much, but at least it's more than what I had earlier," he whispered, wondering if the camera was equipped with a microphone. If Bob was capable of having this cage installed, Quazar couldn't see why the man would skimp on the security system. Most likely, the camera was also infrared.
He tried to turn his head, but that much remained out of his grasp. His vision was blurred, and his head pounded. "Sher."
"What?"
"Describe the room. Be precise."
"Precise? Well, this whole room is approximately fourteen by fourteen square feet. The walls are solid concrete, including the floor or ceiling, so I'm thinking we're in some sort of bunker."
"Or someplace reinforced. Go on."
She glanced around. "No windows, no furniture, no outhouse. Nothing but a door to your left."
"Steel or wood?"
"Umm, I'm guessing steel. I remember the guy that opened it had to use a little muscle on it."
"Very observant. Where's the camera? In the corner above the door?"
"Yeah. How'd you know?"
"Typical setup. How is this cage situated?"
"We're in the far corner of the room, abutted against two walls."
"So this cell has just two open sides with bars?"
"Uh-huh." She leaned in closer, a smile on her pale pink lips. "You've got a plan, don't you?" she whispered.
"Keep your face averted...so they can't read your lips," he softly warned her.
She bowed her head, and her thick black hair swung over to cover her face. The ends brushed her shoulders, and Quazar wished he could bury his hands and nose in its wealth. Closing his eyes, he took a moment to center himself.
"You're right. I have a plan," he admitted without moving his lips.
She looked up at him, then turned her attention t
o his slumped body. "What good is it? You can barely move. I have nothing on me, and believe me, they were thorough when they stripped me down."
"Trust me."
Feeling was coming back to his legs, as well as to the rest of his body, but it was slow. Too damn slow.
"Sher."
The corners of her mouth slowly lifted. "I like the way you say that."
"Say what? Sher?"
"Yeah."
"So Sherandar is really your name?"
"In a way," she admitted a moment's pause. She dropped her face again, and this time he noticed how she swayed slightly. The truth hit him like a slap to the face.
"You can't last a few more days, can you?" he murmured. "You're too weak to stand, much less make a run for it."
She peered at him with a grim expression. "Whatever I have to do to get out of this place, I'll do it. Don't worry about me. I can manage."
"How long have you been malnourished?" he gently asked.
She gave a half-hearted shrug as her answer.
"Then tell me this. When was your last big meal? And I'm talking protein, meat, vegetables, the whole nine yards."
He could see her facade slowly crumble. "I don't remember," she admitted in a voice almost too soft for him to hear. "I forget to eat...sometimes."
"You forget to eat? How do you forget to eat? Is it because you're too engrossed with coming up with all those ways to torment me?" He knew his tone was cutting. Worse, he knew why. And it had nothing to do those gadgets she created.
He opened his mouth to continue, when another hard kick from his intuition got him right in the solar plexis.
"Or is it you bury yourself in your creations because you have no other choice? You use your work to help keep your mind off the fact that you're hungry?" he inquired in a gentler voice.
He'd realized long ago, back when Sherandar had first appeared to disrupt his life, that her attacks had come at all hours of the day and night. That alone told him she didn't have a regular job. Or if she had, she was no longer employed. He'd assumed she was able to subsist through her savings, a trust fund, or a wealthy father. Someone or something paid her bills, and afforded her the materials and time to build her little doodads.
Now, Quazar wondered if his original assumptions had all been in error.
One thing, however, was very clear. Unless he did something, and did it soon, he would outlive her. And that was one possible future he knew he couldn't face.
"Help me stand," he ordered her.
"What's your plan?"
"I'm getting us out of here."
"I've already jumped to that conclusion, but how? You heard what Bob the Disgusting said. The only way you're going to get free is if you burn your way out. But if you do, that'll mean toasting me into oblivion."
"Just help me up, would you? Put my back against the bars, facing away from the camera."
It took much effort for both of them to get him on his feet. By the time they managed to have him fully upright, they were both panting from exertion. He gripped the bars as tightly as he could, and prayed he wouldn't tip over.
"Baby steps, Sher."
"Yeah. Sure. I'll make a mental note of that. What's next, Einstein?"
"Now take my uniform off."
She gave him an incredulous look. "Say that again?" she asked breathily.
"You heard me."
He saw her eyes glance at the camera behind him. "They'll see your face," she whispered, shielding herself from its view by standing in front of him. "Hell, I'll see your face!"
"Not with my back to them."
She scanned him from top to bottom. "How will undressing you help get us out of here?"
"I'm going to do exactly what they said I can't do. I'm going to melt this place down until there's nothing left but scorched earth."
Her face paled. "But...but you could have already done that...couldn't you?"
"Yes, I could have. Maybe."
"Then why didn't you?"
Her eyes searched his face, stopping to stare into his eyes. Eyes he knew were brown, but now they looked black and empty. It was then Quazar knew the truth. The bald truth that he had been denying for months. Funny thing, it didn't frighten him. Nor did he hesitate to admit it to himself.
"Because I didn't want to kill you," he allowed himself to tell her, giving her just that small bit.
The glint of tears came to her eyes. "Then explain to me why I need to strip you?"
"You're going to put on my uniform, but you'll have to hurry. Once Bob's minions in the video booth see what we're doing, it won't take them long to put two and two together. If I can't forge enough energy before they get here, we'll both be in for a lot more hurt."
Sherandar bit her lower lip. "Your uniform, it'll protect me from what you're going to do," she stated. It was not meant to be a question.
"I'm not one hundred percent certain, but what other choice do we have? If we don't do something now, I'm afraid we'll never get another chance. Bob could change his mind and separate us."
Before he could say more, she reached up and placed her hands on either side of his face. Getting up on her tiptoes, she pressed herself against him and gave him a soft, simple kiss. "That's for good luck," she whispered, leaning back. "Now tell me where the friggin' buttons are."
Chapter Nine
Escape
"Johnson, you sent for me?" Bob stalked into the control room. His attention went directly to the monitor and the couple on the screen. At first he thought his eyes were playing tricks on him, and he moved closer to verify what he saw. "Is she..."
"Yes, sir. She's taking his clothes off," the attendant verified. "She's also been kissing him." He glanced over at the boss. "I think they're going to have a farewell fuck, sir, pardon my French."
Bob grinned. "Sounds like fun. I never anticipated this happening, but I'd suspected they might have gone sweet on one another when they teamed up." Grabbing a chair, he pulled it up to the table, next to his employee, and settled in to watch. "Are you recording this?"
"Yes, sir. Since the moment I first saw movement coming from them."
Bob kept his eyes glued to the two greenish figures. They apparently didn't know their little watchful eye was capable of seeing in the dark. Seeing Sherandar kneeling in front of the man as she peeled off his boots, he halfway wished she'd give him a blow job. It would make this moment that much sweeter.
"Johnson, turn up the volume."
"All the way at maximum, sir. Sorry."
He strained to hear what they were saying. He knew they were speaking to one another, but with the camera on the opposite side of the room from where the cage sat, their conversation was too low and too soft for the microphone to catch. Damn. It would have been nice to know what they were saying.
He continued to watch, a grin of satisfaction crossing his face. Their actions were pure last-ditch. The final farewell. The inevitable admission of their feelings before they succumbed to the unavoidable.
His grin widened into a smile. He had hoped something like this would occur. A man and a woman, thrown together into an impossible situation with a no-win finale.
Sherandar got the last boot off and moved away, leaving Quazar completely nude, his back, buttocks, and legs bared to the camera. The man's hands gripped the bars over his head, apparently to help keep him upright.
"Johnson, zoom in on Quazar's right hip."
The lens focused more closely on the mark on the superhero's back. The sight of the large bandage taped there made Bob laugh softly. Even though that experimental bolt didn't strike the man exactly where he'd wanted it to, it had downed the man like a bullet to the brain. A first strike that was so successful, Bob knew he'd succeed with his plan.
There was more movement in front of Quazar. What was the woman doing?
"Johnson, pull back the focus."
The camera retreated to its original setting. Bob peered closer. "What is Sherandar up to?" he asked aloud.
"Can't tell
from this angle," Johnson replied. "But, in my opinion, sir, it looks like she could be giving him a hand job." The man chuckled softly.
Bob got to his feet, his eyes still riveted on what he could view. Yes, that could be what she was doing, but something didn't feel...right.
An arm suddenly stuck out sideways, level with Quazar's knees.
A dark-colored arm. An arm inside a uniform.
Bob opened his mouth to order Johnson to zoom in on it, when the tech laughed. "Kinky. She's putting on his uniform."
"She's putting on..."
He jumped for the panel and slammed his hand down on the alarm button, but he already knew it was too late. Growling with rising anger, he watched the screen as Sherandar pulled Quazar's mask over her head, then bent over to curl herself into a tight little ball.
The siren wailed uselessly as Quazar released the bars, spreading his legs and arms. A white light slowly emanated from his limbs and body, growing and widening at a more rapid rate, enveloping everything until the monitor went dark.
The fire alarm whooped. Bob turned his head to look at the other monitors within the small room. At the ones he knew overlooked that area where the concrete building was located. At the intense, nearly blinding brightness smothering the structure with heat equivalent to a small sun. Melting everything within Quazar's reach. Demolishing the cell and the building into nothingness.
Bob watched the place slowly dissolve into oblivion, until the camera gave up the ghost. For several long seconds, he stood there, fists clenched, the alarms and sirens screaming overhead. Taking a long, deliberate breath, he conceded this round to Quazar.
"But this war isn't over," he swore. "I'm not finished. I'll find out who you are and where you are. And when I do, then you will have no choice but to surrender to me. And when you do, I will rejoice when I watch you and your surly lady friend die."
