The Thrill of the Chase -- Part 2

Chapter 15, Tale Four: The Thrill of the Chase -- Part 2 pic and text


He had emerged finally to find death and the cloud, and the Madre still sealed. He didn’t know what the cloud was, but it seemed that some part of it must have reached him in his shelter because he had acclimated to it, clearly. It hurt him much more slowly than it did others. That was to the good, but he suspected that he couldn’t leave, either. He had tried, once. 2140s sometime, he thought, right before he had probably gone mad, and after he had left the cloud behind for clean air he had started to feel dizzy and sick. He had felt better upon returning. He was trapped. He needed the cloud to survive. The first twenty years had been about survival after the War. For the next twenty he had plotted and planned how to get back into the Madre. He had been quite productive doing nothing. He had scoured the villa for weapons and armors that were still lying around, in the police station and other small security posts. He had gathered up chems and necessities, he had made small safe zones. He had learned to avoid the remains of the locals, the ghost people. Then he had gotten bored, really. Nothing he did got him any closer to getting inside. He couldn’t get in, he couldn’t leave, so he had simply obsessed with no purpose, like a gerbil running around its cage. That had been, he thought, when he had gone mad. If it had happened.

The tourists had started coming in around the turn of the last century, finally drawn by Vera’s broadcasted voice, coming for riches. They were at least entertaining, something to occupy his seemingly endless time. Some of them he had watched from the shadows, unknown, some of them he had actually helped. None had come very close to getting inside, most had turned on each other at the thought of better shares for themselves, or had simply come alone and been ripped apart by the ghost people, or choked by the thickest parts of the cloud. Then had come this old man, Elijah. Dean had thought of partnership with him, he was a highly useful asset, clever and creative. Perhaps he had underestimated Elijah, it had never been his plan to wind up collared like this, but he was still cheerful. The old man had a plan to get in, with the Gala Event, and Dean suspected that it might work. But the old man didn’t know about the door inside the casino. The door sealed just as tight as the outer door, with a secret that alone would open it. Only Dean knew about that door. So if he could get in, he could perhaps turn the tables on the old man, in the end.

Into his thoughts this new one came in, drawn in by the call and collared, set to find him by the old man. Quite a beauty! She came and found him and of course he agreed with false reluctance to go with her, as if drawn against his will. But they talked for a time and he saw there was steel under her beauty, she was dangerous. She would be useful, he was glad she had answered the call. But she was dangerous. More dangerous, perhaps, than the old man himself. A useful asset, but not to be trusted. He followed her out of his refuge, and put on his silly, debonair attitude. He could still be quite charming, if he had to be, ruined face and all. As moved along he talked about things, about Vera and Sinclair, this place, the cloud, the tourists. He hadn’t had much practice, he probably babbled, and she gave little indication of listening to any of it, oblivious with the tasks at hand in front of her. But he was hoping she’d have a low opinion of his usefulness. Let her underestimate him. She was useful but dangerous, he’d have her do what he wanted and then he’d have to get rid of her, once she had gotten him inside. Same as the old man. Dean looked up at the Madre and smiled. Between the old man and this woman, he felt it again. They could get inside. After so long, it was good to feel the thrill of the chase, again.