Chapter 8

            “How far is it into the city from here?”

            It was the first words he had spoken to her since they had left the safe house through the underground tunnel that would take them to the city’s edge.  They had been walking in strained silence for over twenty minutes before his voice broke the silence and echoed in the tunnel.

          Des responded without turning around.  “About five miles.”  Then, almost an afterthought.  “Your feet okay?  The ground is likely cold if the air is any indication.”

            She could hear him trudging along behind her but he had made no indication that walking on the rocky, dirt pathway was bothering him.  Then why did you ask? That little voice was back again.

            She started to think he was ignoring her until he finally responded.

            “They’re fine.  I don’t seem to feel the cold as much as you do.”

            Des shot a glance at him over her shoulder, taking in the overly tight t-shirt and too short pants, then down to his bare feet.

            She snorted, “I don’t think you feel the cold at all.”

            “I don’t think I feel much of anything.”

            That cold assessment gave Des mental pause, but she didn’t stop walking long enough to challenge him.  He’d obviously felt something, at least on some level, when she had grabbed his crotch in the transporter.  But she wasn’t about to bring that up.

            “I’ll treat your feet again when we hit the club.”

            They were silent again for another five minutes when he spoke again.

            “What club?”

            Des sighed as she took another curve in the tunnel and half slid, half jumped down a small hill where the dirt was looser.

            “My sister and I own a nightclub called Club Moan.  That’s where we’re heading.  This tunnel comes out right into the basement of the building.”

            “That’s an…interesting name for a club.”

            Des had to smile, though she had no intention of letting him see it.  “Yeah, it’s rather fitting, too.”  Let him read into that what he wanted to.

            She waited to see if he would ask her any additional questions and wasn’t surprised when he did.

            “So, what type of club is Club Moan?”

            Des shrugged, “Oh, you know.  The usual type – music, dancing, drinking, lots of bodies gyrating.”

            “A strip club?”

            Des snickered.  “Do I look like the type of person who would run a strip club?”

            That seemed to quiet him down and they continued through the tunnels, edging closer and closer to their destination.  Part of her wanted him to stay quiet so she could think.  But another part of her was enjoying their banter and hoped he would continue to ask her questions.

            He didn’t disappoint her.

            “Actually, you look more like someone who would run a fight club.”

            That brought Des up short and she turned to face him.

            “Thank you.”

            “For what?”

            “For giving me the benefit of the doubt that I could hold my own in a fight.”  She gave him a once over.  “Well, against most people I can hold my own.”

She turned on her heel and continued through the tunnel, not giving him time to say anything in response.

He’d seemed surprised at her words, but she was sincere in her thanks.  Despite her prowess in the ring and the way she handled herself in a fight, most men still underestimated her.  When she told them that she ran a club, the majority of them did assume that it was a strip club, and in Four Crossings there were plenty of those to choose from.

            And though Club Moan wasn’t a boxing or fighting club, Des did teach self-defense and fighting technique classes there during the day.

            Michael had never seen her fight, and thank goodness he didn’t seem to remember their battle in the container.  But he had apparently assessed her and found her to at least look capable.

            Her last response had apparently satisfied him for the time being, so they completed the next thirty minutes of the walk in silence.  Des could tell they were nearing the club as some of the music being piped throughout the building was filtering down into the tunnel.

            “We’re about three minutes out at this point.  The club’s in full swing so you may want to cover your ears once we are directly underneath.”  She had to raise her voice to be heard over the rising din.

            He sped up so that it would be easier to hear her, but the music was almost painful in its intensity.  He raised his voice so that he could be heard.

            “You call this music?”

            Des turned and smirked at him.  She wouldn’t tell him that she actually agreed, but they played what their customers wanted.

            “I’m sure they had techno/dance music back in 2012.”
            Michael nodded, “Yes, but I had hoped it would have gone away twenty years later!”

            Des smiled but shook her head.  She started to say something else, but they turned the final corner into what looked like a dead end.

            “Another hidden door?”  Michael leaned over and spoke loudly into her ear, his hot breath sending a slight tingle down her spine.

            Des leaned away from him slightly, surprised at her body’s reaction to such a simple sensation. She glanced at him uneasily out of the side of her eyes, nodding in response to his question.

            She placed both hands flat against what looked like a ten foot by ten foot brick wall and pushed, putting most of her weight behind it.

            Michael watched in fascination as the entire wall moved slowly but steadily inward, stopping with a thud that was felt but not heard over the pulsing of the music.

            There was now a two foot space available on either side of the wall.  Michael started to move towards the opening on the right, but Des stayed him with a hand on his chest.

            She pointed to herself and then gestured that she would go through first.  He nodded to show that he understood and then watched as Des carefully moved towards the opening, sliding just her head out and looking around.

            She didn’t spend a lot of time checking, and apparently seeing what she expected to see, she slid through the space, gesturing with her left hand for him to follow her.

            It was a tighter squeeze for him, but he was also able slide through without too much difficulty.  He stepped out into a hallway, his eyes going to the wall.  The mechanics of it were definitely old school, but whoever had designed it had done a masterful job of building it directly into the structure.

            He found himself looking down at his bare feet against a hardwood.  It appeared that the floor itself moved along with the wall, the way it had been laid down camouflaging the motion.

            Des signaled for him to back up and watched him until he had stepped off of the area of the floor that was connected to the wall.  He watched her in return, curious to see how she would get the wall to return to its spot.  Because the floor and wall seemed to be connected, he didn’t think she could just reverse the process by pushing on the door.

           His assumption proved to be both wrong and right, as he watched her turn and push against the opposite wall.  The walls on this side of the tunnel were made out of simple grey cement blocks.  A section of the wall, equivalent in length to the hidden door/wall easily moved inward and Michael noticed that this section of wall did not actually touch the floor.

            He wondered if he would have noticed the slight space if he had not seen it with his own eyes.  At the thought, he heard a click in his mind, and the hazy film that had come down over his eyes when he had been out in the dark seemed to slide into place again.  He was immediately able to see the outline of the wall and the slight space at the base.  He watched as Des pushed the section of wall inward almost three feet, exposing the section of the floor that had moved, plus additional space that she could step into.

            She sustained the pressure on the wall with her hands as she stepped down into the exposed space.  She then used her booted foot to push against what looked like a latch.  The latch released and Des then applied the full force of her foot against the floor to nudge the wall.  It had to have been on some sort of track as it easily rolled back into place, again with a thud he could feel but not hear.

            Once the other wall was in place, Des stepped out of the open space, releasing the other wall, which allowed it to immediately slide back into place.

With both walls in, Michael could see that they were in what appeared to be an underground space, with no windows along the parts of the hallway that he could see.  He glanced down the space and both felt and saw the film lift from his eyes.  He wondered if his eyes would have appeared silver, like Des had mentioned to him earlier. 

He definitely knew that something odd was going on with them because he was now remembering something else – he usually wore glasses or contacts for his eyesight.  He could tell without touching his eyes that he did not have contacts in, yet he could see perfectly.

            The music was twice as loud now that they were actually in the club and Michael fought the urge to put his hands over his ears.  He looked at Des and wondered at her ability to seemingly ignore the noise.

            “You must be used to this!”

            Des again nodded rather than trying to respond verbally.  She gestured with her hands for him to follow her, and set out down the hallway.

            Michael wouldn’t admit it to Des, but he was starting to feel an ache in his feet.  Whether from the original cuts and bruises she had treated, or new ones from the tunnel, there was definitely pain there.  The hardwood floor was smooth and cool and soothing against his feet.

            He wondered if Des would remember that she had promised to treat them when they got to the club.  It was funny, but he was looking forward to having her take care of him again.

            The hallway was at least two hundred feet long in the direction they were heading.  Michael got the idea that the club took up a lot of real estate.  They finally reached a staircase and he followed her up what appeared to be four winding flights.

            They moved across a catwalk-like structure high above the floor and then through a door that led into a room lined with shelves and shelves of books.

            The immediate muffling of the loud music once the door was closed was the first thing that he noticed.  The room itself was the second.

            “Whoa.”  Michael stopped and stared at the large numbers of books, often double-stacked onto the shelves.  He looked at Des who was running her hands over a set of books across from him.

            “You’ve read all of these?”

            Des looked up at him and simply smiled.  Michael walked closer to the shelf nearest to him and started perusing the titles.  He saw a number of books that were considered to be classics in his time.  It was comforting to know that people were still reading some of the same stories.

            There were also titles and authors that he had never heard of, though that wasn’t surprising.  He hadn’t had a lot of time to read in the past few years.  He froze at what was obviously a memory that had come to him so easily.

            Did he like to read?  He frowned slightly as he pulled a book off of the shelf.  He glanced at the back cover, slightly torn on the edges but still clear, and started reading the synopsis.  He smiled as he read.  Yes, he liked to read.

            He looked up from the book to find Des watching him.

            “You can come back in here later if you want.”

            He put the book in his hand back on the shelf and nodded at her.  “Thanks.  I’d like that.”

            Des nodded in return.  “Come on, we need to get your feet cleaned up and I need to get to my computer.”

            Though he had wondered if she would remember, he wasn’t really surprised that she had.  He thought about telling her that his feet were starting to hurt, but held back.  He decided to focus on the other thing she had said.

            “You have a computer?”

            Des lifted her brows at him.  “Of course I have a computer.  You can’t survive in this day and age without one.”

            Michael frowned.  “But you said that our communication systems were destroyed during the war.”

            Des nodded, “They were, but that was twenty-two years ago.  Food and medicine were our first priority for rebuilding. But those were closely followed by transportation and communication.”

            She patted her front pocket where he had seen her place her phone.  "We still have mobile phones, though we can’t use them to call overseas, and trying to call outside of Four Crossings is pretty damn expensive.”

            He mulled over her words before he asked his next question.

            “So, there’s nothing new since 2012?”

            Des shrugged, “I’m sure there was and is, but I was twelve in 2012.  I don’t remember what we had and what we didn’t have.”

            He looked at her in surprise.  “You’re thirty-two?”

            Des was surprised at how quickly he had calculated her age.  “Yeah. Why?”

            He shook his head slightly, “You don’t even look like you’re twenty-two, let alone thirty-two!”

            Des again shrugged, a slight ache in her shoulder reminder her that she had been doing that a lot lately.  “Yeah, I get that a lot.  I would say the same about you, but I think you had a little help in retaining your youth.”

            He scowled at her.  “Not that again.”

            Des turned and headed for the door on the opposite side of the room.  “I’ll clean your feet, get my computer, and prove to you what year it is.”  She shot him a look over her shoulder.  “Come on, old man.”

            Michael’s scowl deepened but he followed her anyway.  They left what he would call the library and headed down another long hallway, this one lined by doors every six or seven feet.  He guessed these were the living quarters and he noticed that in the hallway he could again hear and almost feel the pulsing of the music from below.

            The library would definitely be seen as a sanctuary, even if it weren’t full of books, simply for the absence of the noise floating up from downstairs.

            Des passed by the first three doors before she stopped at one on the right.  She surprised him when she raised her hand and actually knocked on the door.

            Michael had assumed that these were Des’ living quarters, but you usually didn’t have to knock in your own home.

            He started to ask her about it when the door swung open revealing a woman wearing a short black pleated skirt that barely reached her upper thighs, a mid-riff baring red shirt with the words Club Moan emblazoned across the front in black sequins, and calf-high black boots that were covered in silver buckles.

            “It’s about damn time you got here!  Claire called in sick so I need to cover the corner bar until Terry can make it in.”  She pushed through the door, moving Des out of the way and gave him the once over.

            “Those definitely don’t fit. I’m sure he’ll like what I’ve found a lot better.”

            Michael got a good look at her heavily made-up green eyes and realized that he was looking at Des’ sister, though she was definitely showing more skin than she had earlier in the van.  She also had her long auburn hair pulled up into two pigtails that stuck out from the side of her head.  The look was child-like, but it worked for her and the outfit she was wearing.

            Des gestured at him.  “Esme, this is Michael.”

            Her sister crossed her arms over her chest and looked at him with narrowed eyes.

            “So he has a name?”

            Des nodded, “Yes, and a rank as well, but you don’t need to worry about that right now.  Where did you put his stuff?”

            Esme didn’t take her eyes off of him despite her sister’s loud clearing of her throat.  Des finally had to give her sister’s pigtail a tug to get her attention.

            “Ow!  What was that for?”

            Des scowled at her sister.  “Quit staring, it’s rude.”

            Esme pressed her hand to her head near the rubber band that held the pigtail Des had pulled.

            “Well, damn Sis.  What do you expect me to do?  Even in clothes that don’t fit he’s a fine looking man.”

            Des flushed at her sister’s words and darted a glance at him.  He was sure his face was as red as Esme’s hair but he managed to keep his expression impassive.

            “Just tell me where you put the stuff.  You can go down and ogle all the men you want in the club.”

            Esme rolled her eyes at her sister.  “I put the stuff in the room beside yours.  Figured you’d want to keep him close.”

            Michael wondered at Esme’s words and the resulting scowl on Des’ face.

            Esme turned to him and gave him an exaggerated wink and a smile.  Des saw and physically pushed her sister down the hall away from them.

            “Go to work, E.”

            “Yeah, yeah, yeah.”  Esme turned and sauntered down the hall, the swing of her hips seemingly more exaggerated in the short skirt.

            Michael looked away from the sight of a retreating Esme and back to Des, intend on asking her a few more questions.  But he was stopped by the look of anger on her face.

            “My sister is off limits.”

            Michael was caught off guard by her words.  Did she think he was interested in her sister?  Michael wasn’t interested in anyone in that way, at least now right then.  And even if he were, it would be Des that would catch his eye, not her sister.

            He decided to settle for a half-truth.  “I have no interest in your sister.”  He did not add what he thought in his head. I would be interested in you, though.

            His answer seemed to satisfy her and the scowl left her face.  But Michael was left to wonder at the anger.  If she was only concerned about her sister, a simple “she’s not available” would have worked.  He was surprised that she seemed to be angry at him when he hadn’t done anything other than look at Esme.  It was Esme who had winked at him, not the other way around.

           He wanted to say something else, but Des had already turned and was walking away from him down the hall.  He followed her, taking the opportunity to watch her walk.  Unlike her sister, Des had a more natural stroll with less him sway and a longer stride.

            He had thought Esme to be taller than Des, but he now realized it had been the heels that had given him that illusion.  Des was likely right at six feet tall, though she carried herself like someone much taller. 

And she wasn’t a thin six feet.  Though she was fully clothed, he had sensed her strength when he had caught her in the back of the van.  And as he had watched her move, he noticed that she moved like an athlete.

When they reached the end of the hallway Des gestured to a door on her left.

“This will be your room.  There should be some clothing that actually fits you in there and there’s a private bathroom.  Why don’t you take a bath and clean up your feet?  I’ll come in and see what I can do to repair the worst of the damage.”

Michael nodded at her and then looked at the door opposite of his.  “Is this your room?”

Des glanced back over her shoulder.  “Yeah, that’s my room.  If you need something while you’re here, you can knock and I’ll hear you.”

She pushed open his door and led him into the room.  She walked across to another door and pushed that one open as well.  “The bathtubs are pretty large, so you should be able to soak comfortably if you’d like to.”

Michael smiled, “Do I look like a bath type of person.”

Des shrugged at him.  “You never know about people these days.  Besides, it would be good for your feet if you soaked rather than trying to stand and shower.”

He could see her point there and though he still wasn’t ready to admit it, his feet really were starting to hurt.  “Thank you, Des.”

She nodded simply and then walked past him and out of the room.  “I’ll check in on you in thirty minutes so that I can doctor your feet.”  She turned to look at him from the doorway.  “Will that give you enough time to get cleaned up?”

“Yes, that should be plenty of time.”

            “Good.  I’ll be back in a half hour, then.”  She pulled the door closed behind her.  Michael stood in the center of the room, simply listening until he heard her door across the hall open and close.  Only then did he go into the bathroom, actually looking forward to taking a bath.

            Des closed her door and then leaned back against it, her shoulders slumping wearily as the events of the day began to creep up on her.  Coming back to the club always gave her a sense of peace, but it also reminded her tonight of just how tired she was.

            With Esme down working one of the bars, that meant that Des had one less person on the lookout for the dealers, traders, thieves, and predators that found their way into the club.  She normally went on lookout duty herself, but she needed to take care of her guest first.  And then she really needed to get some sleep.

            Despite the fact that it was only noon, the club was still going strong.  Most people in Four Crossings didn’t think about time in the same terms that they had before the war and the uprising.  There were no such things as five day work weeks, or 9 to 5 shifts.  People who actually had legitimate jobs kept whatever schedules worked best for their businesses.  Those without legitimate jobs did the same, preying on the successful as part of their survival tactics.

            Though Des had been honest with Michael about the joined cities and how people had worked together to create a new government structure, what she hadn’t said was that most of the joined cities had gone corrupt within the first decade.

            A rise of criminal activity had forced the government to make a decision: find a way to clean things up or let the cities go to ruin.  Four Corners had actually chosen an unexpected route – legislating once illegal activities so that the government could better control and profit off of them.

            She had told Michael that killing in self-defense was allowed.  What she hadn’t mentioned was that the government often hired out to have certain elements of the Four Corners’ society eliminated.

            You had to be careful who you associated with and who you crossed.  Working with Arguletti was never going to be her preference, but she knew that she needed him as her connection to the government.  And in some ways, her protection from them.

             Des wondered how long it would take Michael to take a quick soak so that she could treat his feet again.  Though he never seemed to show any discomfort, she knew his feet had to be bothering him, and he had likely reopened some of the gashes she had treated earlier.

            She pushed herself off of the door and headed to her own private bathroom.  She kept a full store of first aid supplies in there, and she could also take the opportunity to take a shower too.

            Thirty minutes later, her hair now pulled back up in a loose coil, she went back across the hall with her first aid supplies in her hand.

            She knocked on the door. “Michael?  Are you ready for me to work on your feet?”

            She paused and waited for a response.  When she didn’t hear anything she knocked again, louder in deference to the music from the club.  “Michael?  It’s Des.  I’m here with my first aid supplies to treat your feet.”

            Again, no response.  Des began to wonder if something was wrong.  Maybe he wasn’t even in there.  She decided to check the room first, hoping that Michael hadn’t decided to venture down into the Club.

            She turned the knob and cautiously stuck her head into the room.

            “Michael?”

            Nothing seemed disturbed and she could see piles of clothing lying folded on the bed.  She stepped into the room and edged towards the bathroom door, which was open a crack.

            “Michael?”  She made sure to raise her voice, though the music wasn’t as loud inside the room as it was out in the hallway.

            She reached the bathroom door and noted the discarded t-shirt and torn camouflage pants near the door.  At least he had come in and gone into the bathroom, but that didn’t mean he was in there now.

            And if he was in there, why wasn’t he answering her?  She nudged the door open slowly, her eyes quickly sweeping the room and zeroing in on the oversized tub in the corner.

            She could see the top of Michael’s head where it rested against the side of the tub.  His large arms lay over the sides of the tub, his fingertips touching the floor.  His knees were raised, likely to accommodate his size so that he could fit into the tub.

            Des sighed slightly. Looks like he had fallen asleep, something she wanted to do as well.  Her shower had actually given her another burst of energy, but the warmth and comfort of the bath had likely nudged him into sleep.

            Des raised her voice.  “Michael!  Wake up, it’s time to treat your feet!”

            When her loud voice in the room didn’t get a reaction, Des frowned with worry.  There was no way that he had not heard her, and unless he was a seriously sound sleeper, she would expect at least some indication that her voice had reached him.

           Des stepped closer to the tub, conscious of his nakedness, but now more concerned than she had been before.

            “Michael?”  She walked around the side of the tub, her eyes trained on his face and she froze when she saw that his eyes were wide open, but they were completely silver.

            “This can’t be good.” 

            The last time she had seen his eyes full silver had been on the transporter, and he had been trying to kill her at the time.  Though he was seemingly inert right then, she knew how quickly he could move.

            Should she risk trying harder to wake him, or hope he would come out of it soon?  Part of her wanted to err on the side of caution and leave him in the tub.  But another part of her knew she needed to get him out of the water.

            She put the first aid items down on the sink counter, and crouched down by the tub near his head so that she could speak directly into his ear.

            “Michael, I know you’re in there, even if you don’t seem to remember anything when you’re like this.  You have to snap out of this…whatever this is and wake up.”

            She spoke loudly, though she kept her level just short of a yell.  When her first efforts didn’t work, she decided to try a different avenue.

            “Lieutenant Scantorri, I order you to open your eyes, immediately!  That is a direct order, soldier!”

            She kept her eyes on his the entire time, looking for any indication that he was aware of her and could hear her.  She saw nothing, not even a flicker of his eyelids.

            She glanced down at his chest, half in and half out of the water, and could clearly see it rising and falling as he took deep, even breaths.

            “At least I know you’re alive.”          

She rested her arms against the side of the tub, simply watching him as she tried to figure out what to do next.

            Back in the transporter, he had come alive when she had slipped and fell into those buttons on the bottom of his box.  Des frowned as she thought back to that.

            What were the odds that she had actually slipped and hit the right button to wake him up?  What if what woke him up was the contact she had made with him?

            It was simple enough to check, and she could make sure she stayed at a safe distance in case he reacted the same way and tried to grab her.  She started to reach for his shoulder but realized that she would easily be in arms reach.

            Glancing down his length in the tub, she decided that touching one of his upraised knees would be the safest option.  She then pulled the pin out of her coiled hair and finger combed her wet waves so that her hair was clearly visible.

            Even if Michael couldn’t grab her, she didn’t want him coming out of the tub after her either.

            Taking a deep breath, she reached out and lightly brushed her hand over his left knee, her eyes never leaving his as she watched for a reaction.

            When the light touch didn’t work, she decided to go for a stronger touch.  This time she clasped his knee and shook it slightly, saying his name at the same time.

            She saw the change immediately, but she had underestimated his quickness and his reach.  Before she could even take a breath to scream she felt Michael’s hand grab her arm and found herself pulled over the edge of the tub and into the warm water.

            “Michael!  It’s me, Des.”

            No sooner than he had grabbed her, then Des found herself released, but the damage had been done.  She was now in the tub, submerged to the waist and lying fully across Michael’s impressive chest.  Since he wasn’t trying to hurt her, Des assumed he was now aware, but that didn’t mean she was ready to look at him just yet.

            Coward, she thought to herself. 

It was Michael’s questioning “Des?” that made her look up.

            He was looking at her with complete surprise and something else that she couldn’t quite decipher.  He was also blinking water out of his clearly hazel eyes.

            “Yeah?”

            “Why are you in the tub with me?”

            Des wasn’t surprised that he again had no memory of his actions..

            “Yeah, figured you would notice that.”

            The real question, Des wondered, was why wasn’t she making any moves to get out of the tub?  He wasn’t holding her at all.  She could blame it on fatigue and the fact that the tub water was still warm and soothing, though she doubted that would fly with anyone.

            She shifted slightly, placing her hands safely against his shoulders so that they didn’t slip down onto other areas of his body. 

            He said her name again, and she realized that she hadn’t answered his question.

            “You pulled me into the tub, just now.”

            He frowned, his hand moving to rub against his temple.

            “I did?”

            Des nodded, almost wearily.

            He shook his head.  “I don’t remember that at all.  Last thing I remember was getting into the tub.”

            He looked around the room.  “Has it been thirty minutes?”

            Des again nodded. “Yep.”

            “Funny, the water is still really warm.  I must have fallen asleep.”

            He was right, the water was still really warm and very soothing, even through her clothes.  Rather than getting up, Des allowed herself to relax further, using Michael as her warm body pillow. 

She raised her eyebrows at him, “You always sleep with your eyes wide open?”

            Michael frowned at her words.  “Excuse me?”

            “Your eyes were wide open and completely silver.  I called your name a few times and tried to get you to respond but nothing.  It wasn’t until I grabbed your knee that you came to.  That’s when you grabbed me and pulled me in.

            She shook her head.  “I thought I was safely out of your reach, but obviously not.”

            “And my eyes were silver, like you said they were earlier in the transporter?”

            Des nodded, “Yep, full silver this time.”

            Michael dropped his head back against the lip of the claw foot tub, his mind working as he tried to figure out what was going on.  What had made him go into this trance that Des described? 

He remembered running the water into the tub and climbing in.  The hot water had felt good against his sore feet and he had happily settled into the over-sized tub for a good soak.

But that was the last thing he remembered.  If he had been asleep, wouldn’t he have been dreaming?  And why would his eyes have been open if he had been sleeping.

He felt Des’ head drop down onto his chest and was brought back to the awareness of their current situation.  He was naked in a tub with a beautiful woman.  The woman was fully dressed, but that didn’t make the situation any simpler.

“Des?”

“Hmmm?”

Michael smiled slightly at what was clearly a sleepy response. 

“Don’t you think we should get out of the tub?”

She sighed heavily and lifted her head from where it had been resting on his chest and propped it up so that she could look at him closely.  After a moment’s hesitation she finally answered him.

“Yeah, I guess so.”  She shifted so that she was now straddling his waist and then gripped the edge of the tub so that she could push herself to her feet.

Water poured off of her from the completely soaked clothes she wore, cascading down onto his chest.

He watched her as she carefully avoided looking at him and stepped out of the tub and onto the hardwood floor of the bathroom.

He followed her up and out quickly and was greeted by her hand holding out a towel for him, though her back was turned.

“Thank you.”

“No problem.”

He wrapped the towel around his waist and watched as Des moved to take her wet socks off, dropping them onto the floor.  Her long-sleeved black shirt followed suit, leaving her in a black camisole and her dark cargo pants.  When she moved to unbutton the pants, Michael cleared his throat loudly.

Des glanced back at him over her shoulder.  “Don’t worry, I’m just getting rid of the top layer.”

She dropped the pants and stepped out of them and then stood before him with her black boy shorts and her cami clinging wetly to her clearly fit, and curvy body.

Michael didn’t mean to stare, but the picture she presented was worth the anger he would likely get from her.

Her long legs were muscular but still lean, almost like a dancer.  Her arms were fully-defined, leaving no doubt of her strength.  And the wet clothing clearly outlined her flat abs and lean hips. 

They also clearly outlined her nipples as they pressed against the wet fabric in a room that was much cooler than the bathtub water had been.  Michael had to finally pull his eyes away as his body began to react in an obvious way.

He cleared his throat again, this time to dislodge the lump that had formed there and tried to think about something other than the too appealing woman in the room with him.

“You can look now.”

Michael’s eyes immediately went back to her and found that she had wrapped a towel around herself, over her still wet underclothes.  But at least she was more covered and less distracting.

She was watching him warily and he wanted to say something to reassure her, but what could he honestly say?  Twice now it looked like he had attacked her, though he had no memory of either time.  He had no reason not to believe her when she told him about his eyes, and he had his own suspicions about that.

But he also still had questions about her, and this place, and why he was even here.  And why she was continuing to help him, though he appeared to be a danger to her.

He started to ask her that question, but decided to hold off until he knew more.  Instead he asked her something more basic.

“What next?”

Des grabbed the first aid items she had put on the counter and then gestured for him to follow her out into the bedroom.

“Next is me fixing your feet, and then we’re going to do a little research on you.”

Michael followed her and moved to sit on the bed.  “Maybe we should wait on the research until you’ve had a chance to rest.”

Des looked at him oddly and then heaved a sigh.  “You’re probably right, but I’m starting to worry that we’re going to run out of time.”

“What do you mean?”

Des looked at him for a long count.  “Michael, there are going to be a lot of powerful people looking for you, and I don’t know how much time we have before that happens.  I’d like to know exactly what we’re dealing with before they arrive.”

It wasn’t the whole truth, but it would work for now.

“Alright, but you still need sleep.  Surely we can wait a few hours?”

Des knew he was right, and though those few hours were important, she needed a clear head if she was going to figure things out.

Because what she hadn’t told Michael was that she also needed to know how she could get him to work with her and her sister to clean up Four Crossing.  He was the ultimate of free agents.

When she had told him about the rules for stolen goods in Four Crossings, she hadn’t mentioned that essentially he was now a stolen good.

And until she officially registered him with the Government, anyone could come and take him away.  Of course, he was a stolen good that could move and think on its own, but that didn’t change the rules of Four Crossings.

As long as he remained unregistered, then he wasn’t safe from the Government or from anyone else.  And Des was determined to keep him away from anyone else who would try to use him against her, if it was the last thing she did.

Chapter 7

Des took another can of soup down from the kitchen cabinet and set it on the counter.  Michael had already gone through four cans of soup and didn’t show any signs of slowing down.  Of course, if she had been dead for nearly twenty years, she’d likely be hungry too.

He hadn’t taken her pronouncement of his death very well and any hope of them continuing their fact finding conversation had ended right there.  Of course, that might have had more to do with the fact that Michael had started laughing at her suggestion that he had died twenty years early, and hadn’t really been able to stop.  It had taken the enticement of food to bring him back around.

He had a nice laugh.  Des slammed a second can of soup down on the counter next to the first one she had found.  Where had that thought come from?  She should be thinking of ways to convince Michael that she was right, at least on some level, and that they needed to figure out what happened to him.  Not thinking about his laugh, or his smile, or how his hazel eyes crinkled at the corners.

“Jeez, Des.  Get a grip!”

She attacked the cans with the hand opener and dumped the contents into the pot on the stove.  She had been hiding out in the kitchen for the past five minutes under the premise that she was going to make more soup for them.  But the truth was, she needed to regroup and figure out what her next move was.

They had been at the safe house for almost two hours now, and there had been no word from Esme.  They had plenty of time until she was due to meet up with Arguletti and deliver the weapon, or evidence of its destruction.  But she didn’t like not knowing where her sister was when she knew that Esme had driven right into a trap.  She also needed her sister’s brain to help her figure out what they were going to do with Michael.

He might be the weapon that Arguletti and the Government were expecting, but he was also a man who should have some say about his own fate.

She turned towards the dining room where Michael was powering through his second turkey sandwich.  At the rate he was going, there wasn’t going to be a speck of food left in the safe house if they had to stay too much longer.

She turned back to the stove to stir the soup, but her mind was still on the conundrum that was Michael.  Yes, saying he had died sounded crazy considering he was definitely alive now.  But Des had a shadowy theory that she was working with and a lot of it was based on what she had seen and felt in the container, and the story that Michael had told her.

What she really needed to do was some research, but the safe house wasn’t equipped with the technology she would need.  She also knew that the odds of finding any records about Michael were going to be pretty low.

She stirred the soup one last time before turning off the burner and carrying the entire pot into the dining room.

“Ready for thirds?”

Michael looked up from the last bite of the sandwich he had in his hand and nodded, his mouth too full to say anything.

Des ladled the soup, plain chicken noodle, into his bowl and put the rest into hers.  She wasn’t hungry, but it had been a while since she had eaten and she needed to keep her own energy level up.

She settled into her seat and they ate in companionable silence for long minutes, the rhythmic clinking of their spoons against the sides of their bowls and the occasional slurping sound the only noises in the room.

Des was fighting to not focus on Michael and on her food but she must have been attuned to him on some level because she realized immediately when he stopped eating.

She looked up to find him watching her with a look of confusion on his face.

Des raised her eyebrows in silent question and knew when he set his spoon down that he was going to ask her something interesting.

“Before, when you were talking about Four Crossings, you said something about “Joined Cities.”  And I remember from before when you said there were no more states.  What’s happened to the United States since 2012?”

Des set her own spoon down and pushed her soup away.  Her soup would likely be cold by the time she finished this history lesson.  She knew the answer to his question, but wasn’t sure just how much detail she needed to go into, or even where to start.

She finally decided to start with the biggest event and work around that.

“World War III happened in 2016, though that wasn’t the end of the United States.  We struggled on for another two years until the Resistance of 2020.” She looked at him closely to gauge his reaction to her words.

He looked startled but also saddened.

“So World War III finally happened?”

Des nodded once.  His next question surprised her.

“Who started it?”

Des canted her head to the side.  “Does it matter?  It destroyed the world as we knew it at that time and no one won.”

He sat back in his chair, clearly confused by her response.

“What do you mean, ‘no one won.’ Someone had to have gained some sort of advantage, even if it wasn’t the advantage they expected.”

Des thought on his words and saw that he had a point.  She conceded, “You’re likely right.  You’d probably have to look at it worldwide to see if there was an outright winner.  In the US, I guess the winners were the new governments that rose to power after the Resistance.”

“You said the US held on for two years before the Resistance.  Did other countries not fare as well?”

Des shook her head.  “Most countries destabilized immediately following the end of the war.  New boundaries were drawn, new countries were born, and new rulers came to power.”

“Are there no countries from before that still remain?”

Des’ response was immediate.  “No.  It wasn’t possible for the smaller countries to survive on their own, so they often joined forces with neighboring countries in an effort to gain strength.  In most countries the military rose to power and toppled the government that was in place.”

“Is that what happened in the US when the Resistance happened?”

Des shook her head.  “No, the Resistance was mostly led by non-military.  Most of the US’s military was destroyed in the war.”

She saw the look of horror on his face and inwardly flinched at how callously she had said that.

“How is that possible?  The US has one of the strongest militaries in the world!”

Des was starting to regret telling him any of this.  As a military man he would obviously be affected by everything she said.  She leaned towards him, wanting to offer him comfort but not sure how.  She could also see that right now he only wanted an answer to his question.

“We were the target of the war, Michael.  It was because of our supposed military might, our involvement in so many other countries, our impact on the economy.  The war initially started over a downward spiraling economy and just blew up from there.

We were blamed for the failure of the markets, for the starving children in other countries, for…everything.  And so we were targeted.”

He shook his head at her words.  “Was it a nuclear war?”

Des shook her head.  “No, thank God.  If it had been, I’m pretty sure there would have been nothing left.  But Michael, you have to know that humans can do massive amounts of damage without nuclear weapons.”

He nodded.  “Yes, I know that.  I just always thought that if World War III ever happened, it would be a nuclear war.”  He looked down at his now cold soup and seemed to be mulling over everything she had said.  There was more but she wasn’t sure if he was ready to hear it or not.

He finally looked up and caught her eyes.  “So what are these Joined Cities?”

Des sat back in her chair again.  The cities were a safer discussion than the war, though they had grown out of the war and the Resistance.

“After the war and before the resistance, there wasn’t much left that worked correctly in the US.  Our mass transportation systems had been virtually destroyed.  Our communications systems had been reduced to mostly only local range.  And there were enclaves of resistance gaining strength on a nearly daily basis.

The government couldn’t handle any of it, despite their efforts to bring everything back to the way it was.  But most people saw that as the problem.  The way it had been was what led to the war in the first place.  Most people wanted something different, so they set out to create it.”

Des tapped her fingers on the table as she tried to figure out the right words to truly explain the cities themselves.

“Since most communications were only working on a local level, it was easy for small groups from cities in a close proximity to come together.”

She looked around the room as if searching for something and then spotted the old atlas sitting on the book shelf in the hallway.  “It may be easier to show you this one.”  She pushed from the table and went to the shelf, knowing his eyes followed her the entire way.

The atlas was from 2010 but it would still work to illustrate her point.  She blew the dust off of it and brought it over to the table, setting it down in front of him and leaning around his shoulder to open it to the map of the full United States.

“Most of the coastal cities were devastated by the war, so people moved further inland and centered in the major cities.  This put a strain on resources but also stimulated the local trade.”

She placed her finger on Atlanta and then traced it up to Raleigh.  “Atlanta became the southern-most point of a trade area that ran up to Raleigh, and then over to Nashville and back.  The system worked so well that the cities began to work in closer and closer consort on other things, like banking, rebuilding the transportation systems, education, and government.

When whispers of the Resistance reached them, they decided to join, but to do it as one entity, and thus Atleighville was born.”

He turned his head to look at her.  “Atleighville?”

Des had to smile, “Yeah, I know it’s not the best name in the world, but that’s what they decided on.” 

He turned back to the map and pointed to the space that would be centered between the three cities.  “Is this where we are?”

Des shook her head.  “No, we’re farther west.  Four Crossings is here.” She put her finger right where Arizona, Utah, Colorado, and New Mexico met.

“Most people thought they should call it Four Corners, but they settled on Four Crossings instead.  We’re actually in the part that would have been considered Colorado in 2012.”

She could see him frowning as he tried to take everything in.  He was looking at the map, his eyes darting from the left to the right.

“How many Joined Cities” are there?”

“In what used to be the US?”

He nodded.

Des looked at the map and did a mental count.  “Eight. Ten if you count Alaska and Texas.”

He turned to look at her.  “You said there were no more states.”

Des shrugged.  “There aren’t.  Texas and Alaska both declared themselves to be independent countries and function in that way.”

“Four Corners looks like its big enough to be a country as well.  Why do people call them Joined Cities.”

Des had to think on this one.  It wasn’t like she had a history book she could refer to and most of what she was telling him was coming straight from her own memories.

“I’m actually not sure. I think this has something to do with money though.  The Joined Cities might all be governed separately, but they all decided to keep the US dollar as the standard currency.  It makes trade between them much easier.”

She gestured at the map.  “I’m sure there’s more to it than that though.  And Texas and Alaska both still use the dollar as well.”  She could see that he was frustrated with her answer.

He turned back to the map and blew out a deep breath.  Des let him look in silence, her eyes drawn to the area on the back of his neck, close to the base of his skull.

She frowned as she tried to figure out what she was seeing. She thought back to the cold metal plate she had touched when she was trying to see if he was attached to the tubing in the box.  There was no metal plate but there did appear to be something metallic there.

She leaned closer, the lighting in the room not strong enough for her to see the area clearly.  She moved her hand up, intent on running her fingers over the spot when he suddenly turned his head towards her.

She stepped back quickly, barely avoiding smacking their heads together.

He looked at her with narrowed eyes.  “What?”

Des gestured towards his head, “There’s something on the back of your neck.”

He reached his hands up to touch his neck below where Des had been looking.  She gestured for him to move his hand up higher.

“It’s higher up, about an inch.  Closer to the base of your skull.”

He followed her directions and then froze as his hands made contact with the spot.  She could see his breathing change and his eyes start to dart back and forth.  He pulled his hand away and Des noted that there was a slight tremor in his fingers.

 Des took a step towards him.  “You didn’t know it was there?”

He shook his head and put his hands in his lap, clasping them together.  It was a move that Des knew well – a tactic to hide tell-tale trembling.

“I’m guessing that means you don’t know what it is, either?”

He turned his head to look at her fully and Des was struck again by how much he reminded her of the lost children she and Esme helped.  He was afraid and trying to hide it.

“What does it look like to you?”  His voice was thin as he asked the question.

“I’m not sure.  The lighting isn’t good enough in here for me to get a good look.” She leaned a hip against the table and looked at him earnestly.

“I can use a flashlight and try to take a better look if you want me to.”

He hesitated, and she got the sense that he was torn between knowing and not knowing.  He must have made up his mind because he turned back to her with a nod.

“If you wouldn’t mind.”

Des rested her hand on his shoulder briefly before she pushed away from the table and pulled her small flashlight out of the pocket of her cargo pants.

She switched the light on and moved it slowly across his neck. The light glinted off of what looked like three separate pieces.  Two of them were definitely metal, and one was a dark material that Des was not sure about.

“May I touch it?”

Again he hesitated, before he finally nodded his head.

Des moved slowly, not wanting to startle him.  She touched a round piece on the left, her finger noting a slight indentation.  She moved her light over it and then moved her finger to the right to slide across the second piece.

She felt him shiver slightly as she touched what she immediately knew was skin.  Her light went across a black, rectangular shape nearly two inches wide and a half inch tall.  As she moved the light back and forth she picked up hints of numbers and letters seemingly hidden in the blackness.

She leaned closer and held her light at an angle, illuminating what appeared to be a tattoo, the numbers done in a shade of gray that was nearly black and allowed them to blend into the black background.

She wondered what the numbers meant.  Could they be similar to a dog tag but tattooed rather than carried?  She wanted to ask Michael but knew that it was unlikely he knew that there was a tattoo there.

She finally moved over to the right to check the last piece, another rectangular piece but this one much smaller than the tattoo and definitely made of metal and embedded into his skin.

As she leaned closer she realized that the shape reminded her of a USB port on a computer.

She clicked her light off and stepped back.  Michael turned his chair to face her, an expectant look on his face.

“I’m not sure what to tell you, Michael, because I honestly have no clue what they are.”

She could tell that it wasn’t the answer he wanted to hear but he nodded anyway.

“Could you hazard a guess?”

Des took a few moments to think about what she wanted to say.  She returned her flashlight to its pocket and then crossed her arms over her chest.

Michael watched each movement warily but didn’t try to rush her to answer.

She finally sighed and uncrossed her arms.

“There are actually three things back there.  The only one I truly recognize is the one in the middle which is some type of tattoo.”

Michael frowned, his hand going back to his neck as he tried to feel the area she was referring to.

“You may not be able to feel it, but the skin might be a little smoother than the rest of your neck.”

He nodded before removing his head.  “Yes, I can tell the skin is different, but I wouldn’t have known it was because I have a tattoo there.  What is it a tattoo of?”

“It looks like some type of code or serial number.”

Michael looked startled.  “I have a serial number tattooed on my neck?”

Des shrugged slightly.  “I’m not sure if it’s actually a serial number, but it is a series of letters and numbers.  The odd thing is, it’s tattooed in a way that makes it very difficult to see.  I had to shine my light on it at an angle just to pick up the numbers.  Without the light it just looks like a black rectangle.”

Michael swallowed hard at her words.  “And the rest of it?  The pieces I can feel as if they are raised?”

Des gestured with her hands, “The one on the left hand side is a small circular hole.  It looks like something you would jack something into, almost like a headphone jack.  The other piece looks like a USB port.”

“That just doesn’t make sense.”

Des shrugged, “It does if you were dead and then somehow brought back to life and sustained by machines.”

He rolled his eyes at her.

“Hey, I know it sounds crazy, but how else do you explain the fact that you’ve seemingly lost twenty years of your life?  Not to mention the fact that you know nothing about the world today and you were naked in a box!”

Des hadn’t meant to shout and surprised herself by her loss of control. She was known for her ability to hold her temper, especially in front of others.  But here she was yelling at someone who could very well kill her with one blow.

As if to reiterate that fact to her, Michael stood up to his full six feet, nine and a half inches, and loomed over her.

“How do I know you’re telling me the truth about any of these things?  Do you know how crazy you sound to me right now?  Yes, I have some gaps in my memory, and yes, I was naked in a box.  And no, I don’t know why any of this is happening, but there is no way that I died back in 2012!  For all I know, it’s still 2012!”

If he thought his show of anger was going to frighten her, then he had a lot to learn about Desdemona Quinn.  She took a step towards him until they were nearly nose to nose, or nose to chin considering she barely reached his chin.

"I am not the one who is crazy here buddy.  It is 2032 and the world that you knew in 2012 is long gone.  I’m trying to help you figure this whole thing out.  The least you could do is give me the benefit of the doubt that I wouldn’t lie to you!”

Des stood there fuming, waiting to see what his response would be.

“I don’t know you, Des.  Why would I automatically know whether you would lie to me or not?”

Des blinked her eyes rapidly, before she replied, rather lamely, “Because I don’t lie.”

Michael gave her a disbelieving look.  “Ever?”

Des had to sigh at that.  “Hardly ever.”

“And when do you lie?  When it suits you or gives you an advantage?”

Des scowled.  “No, I only lie when it will spare someone pain.”  She looked him squarely in the eye.  “So you see, if I were going to lie to you, I’d tell you that it was still 2012 because that would be less painful than telling you it was 2032.”

Michael had to admit that there was an odd logic to what she was saying, but that still didn’t mean he was willing to believe that he had someone come back from the dead.

“Okay, so let’s say that it is 2032 and I’ve misplaced twenty years.  There has to be another explanation, other than death, to explain my memory loss.”

“And the odd things embedded in your neck.” She helpfully added.

His hand went up to his neck reflexively, but he stopped short of actually touching the spot.

“Yeah, that too.”

They both got quiet and Des noticed then just how close together they were standing.  Des stepped back first, eyeing him warily.  Esme was usually the only person who could reduce her to yelling so quickly.  Even Arguletti had never made her raise her voice.  But she had known Michael for less than five hours and she was already at screaming level with him.

Thinking about her sister made Des remember that she had not heard from her yet.  “Esme, where in the hell are you?”

As if on cue, Des felt her phone vibrate in her pocket causing her to jump slightly.

She could sense Michael watching her as she pulled her phone out and read the text message on the screen.  She tapped out a response and then put the phone away before looking at the man who could be either her savior or the very bane of her existence.

“That was Esme.  We can head back into the city now.”

She could tell that Michael was considering her words and she started to wonder if he would refuse.  She hadn’t considered the idea that he would not want to go with her, but considering their most recent conversation, it was starting to look like a very real possibility.

            She decided to try to reason with him. “What other choice do you have, Michael?  Whether you think I’m lying or telling you the truth, right now you don’t know where you are.  At least admit that so far I’ve done nothing but help you.”

            Her words seemed to get through to him and he nodded.  “Alright.  I’ll go with you.”

            He didn’t say it, but they both heard the unvoiced “for now.”  Des wondered how long she had before he decided to strike out on his own.