The Devil's Equinox Ch. 04

Baxter's awareness first touched on a world that was blurry, streaked, utterly strange and cold; when a wet leaf almost smacked itself against his face he lurched back instinctively, coming completely back to wakefulness. He was sitting in the cold rented Toyota, one of his hands on the steering wheel still. The near-gale raging outside had just deposited another shredded leaf on the windshield.

He blinked. What the hell had just happened? Did he and Shari just ...? Shari was sitting next to him -- fully dressed -- in the passenger seat, serenely staring out the window, in the direction of the house. He could see its lights, distorted by the water cascading off the car.

He must have imagined everything, although if he had it would be the first time something like it had happened to him. Baxter strongly suspected the strange scent he caught a whiff of back at Vayle House; it was just possible that an airborne hallucinogen had been added to the air there. But ... why? Just to keep them from leaving? What possible purpose could that serve? He had more questions than answers.

After gently waking Shari, he stared at her for a moment, before admitting, "I ... dreamt ... that we ... had sex in the car. I must have fallen asleep, or something." Every bone in his body screamed at him that this was just not him; Baxter Bennington did not fall asleep -- ever -- unless the time and place were appropriate. Hell, his entire career could be said to depend on his control over his ability to sleep. In fact, combating fatigue was a part of the syllabus he taught trainees; heavy-lift helicopter pilots were occasionally called upon to show extraordinary endurance in the cockpit, it was just a fact of life.

It was a statistical impossibility that he would fall asleep driving a rental car home after an only eighteen or nineteen-hour day.

Shari blinked. "I was fantasizing about the same thing," she said quietly, looking him directly in the eyes. "It was some sort of daydream, because I wasn't asleep." She looked herself over, appearing to check her clothing. "I ... it was a hallucination, Baxter, definitely."

Baxter started the engine, a part of him wondering what exactly Shari had fantasized about. The clock showed that they had spent an hour sitting out here, doing ... nothing, nothing at all, but especially not leaving. He felt like going back there and causing a little trouble. Then he remembered the woman in the cage, lifting her head in a silent, desperate plea.

"Based on the evidence so far, I think we're stuck here," Shari said, looking back to the house. "Maybe for the whole three days."

"Then let's at least get the hell out of this car," said Baxter.

"I wouldn't mind looking for the woman in the cage," Shari added quietly. "Now that I've worked myself up to be brave."

Baxter thought it was odd, a gifted surgeon at the top of her game questioning her courage. He couldn't imagine the kind of bravery it took to start medical school, make such a long-term committment basically as a teenager -- without any hint of success or failure for year after year -- and then see it through mercilessly, overcoming every emotional and situational obstacle thrown in her way. That was the kind of courage he did not think he could ever muster.

He preferred the simple bravery of flight operations: carefully assessing the risks beforehand, assigning them values, playing them off against each other; going into every situation knowing the odds of success and failure, and always weighing them in his favor. That was the way to survive in the air -- you went with the plan that offered the lowest risk possible, and then worked the hell out of it, each to his own ability.

As they drove back to the house he realized how little real information they had. All they really had to go on was that they saw three dozen nude adults of all ages walk onto the property having a last toke before they went in, presumably for the next three days. They had spoken to Julius Vayle, who claimed to be Ernest Vayle's adopted son; who appeared to be at least heavily involved in some type of bizarre sexual activity here, the precise details of which had not been outlined. Vayle also claimed to have hired every "performer" here for decent wages.

Baxter simply didn't trust or care for the man, nor did he intend to simply take his word for it that the woman in the cage was there of her own free will. They were not leaving until this idiocy was sorted out.

They slid to a halt before the main house, made their way up the wide stair. The night raged dark and cold about them as they went in.

***

Shari came to with a start, and quickly glanced around. "Wha --"

Her hands and feet were ... restrained? She was actually tied down onto a hard surface, her arms and legs spread as far as they would go. She struggled experimentally, testing her bonds; it was useless, they were thick leather straps. What the hell? Who did these idiots think they were, actually drugging her and tying her down? Did they realize how many laws they were breaking? What did they think they were going to do, keep her tied down until she said 'Uncle'? Wasn't going to happen.

Where was Baxter? If anyone could get her out of these straps, it would be him. Vayle House was rapidly turning into one place she wished she had never heard of. She looked around, searching for anything that might help her off this slab.

She was in a large, round chamber, about nightclub size, but far taller, and with no visible exits. Hung in two rows all around the room, about ten feet off the floor, were sixty-inch television screens, one after another. At the moment they showed multiple views of the woman they had seen brought in the cage. She was a tall, gorgeous redhead whose wild hair covered her face. Shari was shocked to realize that the naked woman was attached to the wall by a thick rope tied around both hands. It appeared as though she had complete freedom of movement other than that. Right now she was kneeling, resting against the wall. One of the TVs arranged on the ceiling showed her lips moving.

She was speaking ... and Shari could just make it out. "Please ... " she was whispering. "Please ... "

What Shari had thought earlier was a soft music that was being pumped throughout the place, was actually this woman whispering her plea.

"Ah yes, do you like her, my lady of true, desperate desire? She does that better than anyone." It was Julius, his unmistakable falsetto speaking from somewhere behind her. She couldn't crane her head around enough to get a look at him.

"Get me off this table, you fucking bastard! Immediately!" Shari spat without preamble. Her anger was growing like a beast inside her. "Who do you think you are? When the police get through with you'll never see the light of day again, I promise you!"

Completely unaffected by her enraged outburst, Julius stepped into view, closing in on one particular monitor. As he turned his sad eyes to Shari, his thumb indicated this particular view of the redhead. "Do you see? She only has one desire, one true wish untainted by any other considerations. She is dripping need, dripping desire. That is pure, powerful, sexual energy. Something you're going to provide us as well."

"Are you fucking completely insane?" Shari shouted. "Get me off this fucking table, get Baxter in here, and let us the fuck out of here!"

"I'm not sorry that it's not going to play like that, Ms. Vayle, in fact, I'm looking forward to how it plays. We all are." Julius indicated the monitors, which suddenly displayed what appeared to be the interiors and exteriors of other places like this one. The televisions displayed more than a dozen different locations, with the folk in them as foreign to her as their architectures.

"We are but one node of many, all feeding one central hub," Julius continued matter-of-factly. "The whole campus, everything contained within the dimensional gate, all sits squarely on a natural ... let's say lens ... whose purpose is to focus sexual energy generated right here. By us. By you."

Shari allowed her head to drop to the table. Dimensional gate? She realized slowly that she had taken the wrong tack right from the start, and that it was going to cost her. Clearly Julius was insane. She hadn't minored in psychology, but from her basic med school practicum she recalled that the mentally ill had to be approached differently. She had to discover exactly what it was he wanted, and then guide them both to a solution that worked. Or she and Baxter might really be in danger here.

She attempted to relax as much as she could under the circumstances, to not waste energy butting her head into a wall. She suspected she would need all her mental stamina for what lay ahead. She needed to find the one slender, vulnerable nerve in Julius's sick mind, and slice it off before it did any more damage.

"What do you want?" she asked, her voice under control again.

Julius leaned forward, smiling sadly. "That's better," he said.