Shepherd Read online

  “Fine.”

  She whipped back to stare at Clay, not certain she’d heard him correctly.

  “Don’t look so happy. You’re not going to like this. I need to search you for devices first.”

  Okay, she could handle a pat down. From the look on his face, the procedure wasn’t going to be easy, but if she could finally leave this blasted room, she would endure it. “I’m sure I can withstand a search.”

  “Sugar, you can’t stand the lights off. Do you have problems with tight spaces?”

  The blood rushed from her face, and dizziness surged. Clay’s hands forced her head between her knees before she had a chance to pass out. All she could focus on was that he was going to lock her in another damn box.

  “Slow down the breathing, Esme. You don’t have to leave this room. This was your idea, remember? You don’t have to go through with anything. You’re in control. Now breathe, slowly.”

  Clutching his wrist, she inhaled and exhaled, not wanting him to release her. Despite the fear, more than anything, she wanted out of this room and some human contact. “I can do it.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  She lifted her head, still holding tight, and stared at him. “Tell me what I would have to do.”

  “You stand in the cylinder—I barely fit if I squeeze. Once the door closes, there’s darkness and an infrared beam travels from your head to your feet and back. The entire sweep takes about two minutes. You can’t talk or move, though breathing won’t affect the scan.” He hadn’t held back on his description and now shook his head as if she’d already rejected the idea.

  “Can you talk?”

  His eyes widened in surprise. “To you in the cylinder?” He looked away in contemplation and then back. “Yes. There’s no effect on the scan from external vibrations, only from your body. Have you forgotten how you deal with the dark?”

  “Teach me.” She gritted her teeth and gripped him harder as a look of exasperation swept across his features. “I’m serious. I’m not saying you can shove me in there today and I’ll be okay. But if I have a few opportunities to acclimate to the emptiness and you promise you’ll talk to me, I think I can do it.”

  “I have other things to do than train you not to be afraid of the dark.”

  “Like staring at those images you bring up all the time?”

  “You’re not helping your case here.”

  His growl made her move forward and latch on to his shirt. “Has it occurred to you that if I’m out there, maybe you’ll get more done, maybe you won’t be checking on me all the time? You’d have someone to bounce ideas off of too.”

  His burst of laughter rumbled beneath her fingers. “If you know more than you do now, I can never let you go.” Then he leaned close enough for the warmth of his breath to brush her cheek. “You get that. I know you do.”

  Somehow, the threat lost its power when she was close enough to see the different colors of gold, wheat, and brown in his eyelashes. “So now I’m trapped here, doing nothing? At least put me to work, for heaven’s sake. Before I lose my mind.”

  “You have a strange sense of priorities.” He whipped the blindfold out of his pocket and dropped it in her lap. “Practice with this first.”

  “I can’t do it alone.” Refusing to let him go, she held on to him.

  “Fine. Stand up.” He snatched the blindfold, pulled her to her feet, and turned her away from him.

  She glanced over her shoulder as he took a step back from her, warily estimating how far away he planned to go.

  “I can’t be in the cylinder with you. If you do this, you have to handle it with just my voice. Now start by closing your eyes.”

  Fisting her hands, she took a deep breath and turned away. She sensed him move closer, her instinct confirmed as his breath feathered past her cheek again. The air stirred as he reached around her but didn’t touch her. At the cloth’s contact with her cheek, she jumped.

  “Relax, Sugar.” His arm pulled her against his chest. “We’ll start closer until you can do this without me.”

  “I need your voice.”

  “I’ll talk, Esme.” The light touch of his fingers looping the cloth at the side of her head brushed against her hair. “Do you feel safe enough?”

  She nodded but burrowed back toward his shoulder. He shifted, putting a little more space between them.

  “Pretend you’re just waking up; everything’s soft and comfortable.”

  As his breath left her cheek, she dug her fingernails into her palms. She could do this. It wasn’t as if fear of the dark provided a useful skill set—no time like the present to get over it. “Clay.”

  “Right here, I’m not leaving you.” However, he’d moved farther back, and she didn’t bother to hide her shiver, instead wrapping her arms around herself as she strained to listen for his movements. A shift in the air current brought the male musk of him to her, and she relaxed.

  “The cylinder has plenty of oxygen. I’ll be on the outside monitoring the whole process. If for any reason, something goes wrong, I can have you out in two seconds, literally. I’ve timed the release mechanism and gotten a dummy out of the cylinder in one second. I figure flesh and blood requires more care.”

  She stifled a laugh, which came out more panicked than she’d intended, but she could sense him moving away as he spoke.

  “You’re certain I’ll hear you inside?”

  “I’ll test it for you, Sugar. You’re doing great.”

  Great except for the uncontrollable shakes.

  Then the lights clicked off. She wasn’t sure if the click clued her in first or she acknowledged the darkness behind the blindfold. Either way, the scream erupted from her lungs at the trigger.

  “Stop,” Clay commanded in her ear as his arms wrapped around her. “I’m here, you’re not alone. Don’t scream. Keep your eyes closed if it helps, but I’m right here. We’ll change strategy. Fight the dark with me beside you, and later—in another session—you can work up to doing it with only my voice.” He rubbed her arms. “That’s it, just listen to me. I’m not good with stories, so how about the disassembly and service of a K39 laser assault cannon? There are five replaceable parts…”

  The only thing she focused on was his voice, his touch, and the scent of his skin. Her screams had stopped with his order. The shivers took longer, and damn, she wanted that light back on. Being held made it almost worth the terror.

  “…then you clip in the crystal, lock the chamber, and energize to full capacity to the count of three. The sequence is important, because if the chamber isn’t locked, you’ll receive a backlash from the charge. Not fatal but unpleasant, and you’ll find yourself drooling on the floor.” He’d walked them both backward. She heard the click, and light flooded in a dark gray beneath the blindfold.

  “You did well, Esme.”

  “Your recounting of laser-weapon maintenance would have sent a baby to sleep.” Her voice came out a bit strangled, but at least she’d forced herself to speak.

  With a chuckle, he released the loose knot of the fabric. “I’ll try to think of something more colorful for the tube.”

  He pried her fingers from her tightly clenched fist, pressed the cloth into her palm, and curled her fingers back. “Keep it, get used to it, and maybe you can do this with me in the dark without the blindfold next time.”

  Maybe? She blinked like mad and stared at him with a nod. No maybe about it. The cloth had to go. She was getting past this and out of this room. No matter what it took. As long as he didn’t leave her alone, she didn’t need the cloth. She needed only him to survive the dark.

  ***

  Esme had convinced herself she was past the hard part, having mastered the dark. The narrow tube suspended by thick metal cables from the ceiling and covered in crystal panels made her consider accepting failure. A waste of the last three days navigating her fears. Every two hours, she had confronted her terror, first with Clay’s help, then with only his voice. Yet the metal cylinder
sent a new spike of immobilizing fear down her spine.

  “Stare at it and it will consume you. Come here, Esme.” Clay held out a hand to help her across the ramp.

  She glanced around the large circular chamber and then down at the seventy-foot drop below the ramp. He waited, palm open, seeming the more determined of the two of them to force her past this newest stalemate. He saved her name for the commands, as if giving a silent signal to let her opt out of orders to Sugar. But for Esme, he brooked no refusal.

  “Run through the test with me for sound check, and if you don’t want to do this, you can return to the room. You’re in control.”

  A prisoner in control. She wanted to laugh, but bit it back at the expression on his face. His concern, etched in tight muscles across his jawline, was obvious as he perched on the catwalk surrounding the scan tube and waited. With a nod, she grasped his fingers.

  He pulled her next to him and motioned to the handholds, running from head height to ankle level around the circumference of the tube. Once she had a firm grip, he released her hand, planted his palm on the door panel of the pod, and pressed. The rectangle of metal popped out several inches. The entire platform had swayed when she joined Clay on the catwalk. It shifted again now as the door floated up six feet and halted.

  Oh God, the inside was worse. A series of cylindrical bars lined the inside. A floor grate provided support for a person’s feet at the base.

  “What is this place, and why those waffle floors?” She tried to keep it light, but her voice caught, and she gripped the handhold tighter. “You got this where?”

  “A rubbish sale,” Clay said with a surprising grin. “The flooring here and in some of the other areas in the compound allows for circulation of cold or warmth, depending on what’s needed. You have the sound chip I gave you?”

  She nodded and extracted a five-by-five-inch wafer from her pants pocket. Actually, his pants pocket. He’d made her change out of her clothes, giving her the only alternative in his locker, his drawstring pants and a T-shirt that dwarfed her.

  “Place it on the floor.”

  Her hand slid along the hold as she squatted and reached in to drop the wafer on the pod’s floor.

  “Now come with me around the back.”

  The catwalk provided two safe feet of width, but the view through the slats was unnerving. In an effort to focus elsewhere, she zeroed in on the chamber’s design. “The suspension wires isolate the scan from interference of the pod’s motion?”

  The corner of his mouth twitched. “Very good.”

  She glanced up at the cables. “You didn’t assemble this.”

  The smile disappeared. “No.”

  Determined not to let fear win, she continued, “The cylinders inside conduct hot and cold?”

  He nodded.

  Scrutinizing the interior of the main chamber housing the pod, she reviewed the construction from ceiling to floor. He waited, seemingly testing her observation. “The cables don’t conduct your scan.” She waved a hand toward the rectangular crystal implants along the pod’s exterior. “These crystal panels initiate a frequency, simulate the internal image, and store the vibration. The cables don’t look like they house circuits or wiring either, but they have the flexibility to expand and contract because they adjusted to our shifting weight.” She glanced around behind them. “My guess is the size of the holding chamber originally accommodated for dispersal of energy released from this tube.” She tapped the exterior of the scanner. “Intended to contain explosive or unstable materials? Given the pristine condition, I’d guess it was never used.”

  He cocked his head. “Excellent assessment. There’s no way you could have known this, Sugar. This facility was buried a hundred years ago, after the epidemic hit.”

  “I told you. I’m good.”

  “Remember that when you’re inside. Once you’ve gone through the process, you can tell me how you think I rewired the connectivity.” He was keeping her busy, prodding her analytical skills to distract her. She would take any help she could get. “Okay, we’re ready for simulation.”

  He didn’t wait for her concurrence and shut the pod’s door, then tapped at his earlobe. “Conductivity test one for sound within the vibration chamber. Resolution five, proximity floor level.”

  A light pulse initiated from the first crystal on the pod’s panel. A subsequent response emanated in series through every crystal embedded at one-foot intervals along the outside of the tube—every crystal except one. Esme’s stomach flipped. “It failed.”

  Clay frowned as he listened to a relay in his ear-device. He shifted a look toward her as he took in her comment and glanced up toward the crystal she indicated with her nod. “Yes.”

  She focused on the holograph of schematics produced on the control panel. “The crystal is functional, charged, and some signal is proceeding forward, just not all the way.”

  “Yes.” His frown deepened to a scowl, and he looked up.

  Turning again, she canvassed the large chamber, the rounded outer walls and tapered ceiling. “What was this room?”

  “The fermenting tank for a small brewery. Some kegs are still in an older section of the building. Later someone converted the site for testing the infected plant sources.” He glanced back when she didn’t respond. “It’s clean. I eradicated all the toxins via ion pulse and laser sweep.”

  “Through the circuits embedded up there?” She pointed to a series of small protrusions along the wall, five feet above their heads and in line with the nonfunctioning crystal.

  “Hmm, good catch. I didn’t disconnect the main circuits for that process in case I needed them later. They’re inactive, but the residue would be enough to scramble the voice feed and break the relay. Disrupting the circuits’ line of sight should be enough to reestablish the transmission.” He opened a small panel on the pod’s surface and shuffled through what appeared to be an assortment of spare parts.

  “That one.” She motioned him back to a thick cylindrical handle and gestured for him to give it to her. Pursing her lips, she pressed her thumbs along the base of the magnetic wrench and shoved. The cover for the power module popped free. Curved like a small tunnel, the cover could fit over the crystal, allowing the directional pulse to flow uninterrupted from crystal to crystal without additional modification to Clay’s circuits on the chamber wall. She held it out to him with a smile.

  He shook his head, but one side of his mouth curved upward. “You get more dangerous by the minute, Sugar.”

  A few minutes later, with the adjustment in place, he initiated the test again. “Conductivity test two for sound within the vibration chamber. Resolution seven, proximity floor level.”

  Each crystal activated, and the screen on the panel reflected circular waves of green, rippling in correspondence with Clay’s words.

  “You increased the volume.”

  He nodded. “I promised you would hear me loud and clear.”

  Chapter 4

  The image on the plasma screen distorted into an outline of a dandelion stalk instead of the hourglass curves of the woman in the tube. She was holding his damn shirt to her face.

  “Esme, I need your hands by your side to complete the image. Or we’re going to be here all day.”

  The platform shifted slightly, and the image shifted as well. Like reflections on water, her shape elongated and widened. Then slowly it reformed into the sensuous curves of breast and indent of waist he was becoming all too familiar with. The extra haze at the top of the image carved a painful edge of desire in Clay’s loins. She had tied his shirt to her head, imprinting him on her, imposing his presence over her fear. Her actions resonated as a heavy pressure inside his chest.

  The blindfold usually instigated her visceral reaction of shivers and shallow breathing, but his scent—somehow she’d conditioned herself to accept it as a haven.

  He fought back his reaction when she balked at the closing door and asked for his shirt. He’d hidden the hot wash of Neanderthal p
ride at her need to take him with her into the dark. Alone, without her able to witness his reaction, he shifted his erection to lessen the discomfort and let out a frustrated breath.

  “Head high, Esme. You can tell me how I know what you’re doing when you come out.”

  Her image shifted, her hands now loose, her fingers wiggling by her side. Yet he knew she was terrified. A truly incredible, if dangerous, woman.

  “If you can hear me, raise one hand.”

  Her fingers lifted to her shoulder and waved, then returned to her side.

  “Good. When the scan starts, you’ll hear a high-pitched whir. It won’t be loud, and I’ll talk over it.” He keyed in the sequence for the scan’s intensity, the duration, and the three-dimensional slices he required. “I’m not from this city. I used to lead a border patrol unit in the northern sector, along the western coasts.”

  Her image shifted. Damn it, he should have worked in that detail of his Regent duty before he put her in the tube. “Long time ago, Sugar. Bad time, one I’ve left behind. You could say I was sort of born again here. At any rate, the trek from one end of the country to this one took a long time. I had to recover from some physical issues. My companion, the man who saved me, had enormous amounts of data on each of the sectors we passed through. Frankly, I never would have taken the time to enjoy the trip if every step we took wasn’t so excruciatingly slow.” Due to his pain and recovery, but there was no need to embellish the tale for her.

  The scan line had passed below her breasts, heading for her hips. No devices registered so far.

  “I was familiar with forests. I get that New Delphi’s grid is surrounded by woods. This east coast vegetation looks more like overgrown brush compared to my old home. There we had trees, huge pines that brushed the clouds and covered whole segments of land for miles. The tart smell of the woods lingered in your nostrils for weeks. I can still smell it if I close my eyes.” He didn’t mention the miles he’d canvassed in search of infected survivors or the hundreds of people the Regents had sacrificed in the name of containing the risk of a new virus outbreak.