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.
***
