The Prisoner - Carlos J. Cortes [60]
Raul stood very straight, his lips pressed tightly together.
“Let me get something straight. Down here we operate as a group, and I lead. You will do as I say. No questions. If something happens to me, Barandus takes over.”
“Are we in the army now?”
“I wish we were, son. This is a tad harsher, with fewer rules and no safeguards. Of course, if you have a problem, you can stay here.” Henry squared his shoulders and waited.
Raul pursed his lips and nodded once. “Understood.”
“That’s not enough. Here we depend on one another. You will do as I say.”
“Cut it out, guys. Of course we’ll go along. You’re the expert,” Laurel said in exasperation.
Still Henry waited, his eyes never leaving Raul.
“I’ll do as you say,” Raul agreed.
Laurel darted a glance toward Russo. “Are we going far?”
“About three miles in a straight line. Problem is, we have to go deep first. Say an eight-mile round trip.”
“How long?”
Something flickered across Henry’s eyes and Laurel braced herself for a sharp rebuke, but it never came. “Five hours, perhaps six, if we don’t run into problems.” He raised a hand to forestall the next question. “As to the possibility and nature of the problems, your guess is as good as mine.” He turned to the woman he’d introduced as Susan and muttered something.
She trotted to a far corner of the station to rummage in a large cardboard box propped against a pile of others in a corner—their stores, Laurel guessed.
Laurel neared Floyd and Lukas. “You heard the man—five or six hours. Try to catch some shut-eye.”
Floyd nodded. “And you take care.” He reached over and brushed his fingers across her cheek.
Lukas hadn’t recovered his color and looked positively sick. She neared and gripped his arm. He blinked and nodded once. Laurel guessed that a tank full of an oily mixture was on the supervisor’s mind. “Be prepared. As soon as we get back, we can go home.” She hoped her voice would carry conviction, but it failed.
Raul hadn’t moved, probably smarting from Henry’s tug at the leash. She stepped over and draped an arm around his waist. “Angry?”
“No. He’s right. This is terra incognita for us, and they’ve been here for years. It’s just that I hate being blindsided.”
“We’ll figure it out sooner or later.”
He threw an arm around her shoulder and drew her closer. “What do you reckon?”
“About what?”
“Those two. The doctor and Woody boy.”
“They’ll behave, at least for the time being. They have nowhere to go. We are their only chance.”
Raul lowered his head as if to check something on the floor. “And the derelicts?”
“I don’t know about the rest, but Shepherd trusts Henry with his life. His words, not mine.”
“And heavy words at that.”
“You bet. In another incarnation, they must have been close. Shepherd mentioned that it wouldn’t be the first time.”
“That he trusted Henry with his life? Probably the army, then.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Shepherd’s ways, and his attention to detail and discipline. He’s ex–armed forces, and so is Henry, and probably that other man, Barandus. I would bet on that.”
“What would you bet?”
“Get lost.”
Susan returned with what seemed like a brace of ribbons. As she neared the group, she dug into the shapeless mass and shook a handful of dark tapes free.
Henry grabbed some and passed them on to Raul and her. “Here, harnesses. Strap ‘em on.”
The two-inch strips of webbing were stoutly stitched together in places and peppered with buckles. Laurel reached for the contraption and untangled its folds, trying to work out what went where.
“That’s it.” Henry blinked. “Your legs go through those hoops and your arms through there. Then you clasp it shut and tighten it by pulling this end.”
“Where are we going, then?”
Henry’s contortions to work the webbing around his colossal anatomy released a thick waft of stench. “Sewers. Dangerous places.”
“I know about sewers and