Bunker Pt 4

§ In the Hunting Cabin

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We left town immediately. After a few hours of walking in the dark, we arrived at the hunting camp led by the Old Indian. The camp was in a small, sheltered fissure of a canyon. During the short trip to the camp, Maggie had become more withdrawn, refusing to let anyone but the Old Indian touch her. Once at the camp, George and the Old Indian set up camp. I investigated the cave, finding a small cell in the back that the Indian had used as a sweat bath. I got the idea to cure Maggie with some mumbo-jumbo, the sweat bath, and my necklace.

With the Indian's help, I set up the bath and invited Andrea and the Witbiers inside. Using the necklace I relaxed them while fueling Andrea's natural lust. I started by making George talk about what was bothering him. He was mad that Maggie wouldn't tell him about what the Sheriff was doing to her. I then made Maggie tell her side. She told how she hated the Sheriff for what he did to her, but how, at the same time, it excited her in new ways. She said she still loved her husband but no longer felt worthy of him. She described the acts that made her feel "dirty" or "bad." I invited her to do these to George and Andrea, joining in when everything was in full swing. After we had finished, we dried off and went into the main cavern to eat.

Over dinner we compared notes. I was excited that we had concrete proof that we were in a separate dimension. George’s mind had vivid memories of the South's great victory at Bull Run, followed by their capture of Washington and President Lincoln. England and France had become CSA allies, while Germany and Russia signed treaties with the USA. With both CSA and USA weakened from their disrupted economies, France and Mexico reclaimed vast territory in the Southwest.

After dinner, Sue went to the back of the chamber with me to sit down and discuss what she found at the Sheriff's house. She showed me the books and pictures she had stolen from the Sheriff's safe. I recognized a man in one of the pictures as Detective Neil. The ledger book recorded amounts of silver bullion the Sheriff gave to Michael, presumably Detective Neil, and the number of suspects turned over for interrogation. The entries were regular, spaced 1 week apart. The diary included notes on travels to other dimensions made by the Sheriff before being assigned to this post.

His duties in Fry included watching for strangers that passed through the gate and accounting for the bullion mined in the illegal silver mine. Each week, he would deliver the box of bullion to Michael, who was the steward for "Lord Peter." What really caught my interest was the matrix of origins, coordinates, and destinations for the Sheriff’s Time Machine. The Sheriff had been a meticulous traveler, recording how to get there but also places to stay, how to dress, and where to get equipment in each world. All that remained for me was to find which location hid Peter and then find Lucy's killers.

That night I figured that they have only one or two days before Michael came to check on the Sheriff. Everyone took turns at a lookout post that guarded the road from the arroyo to the town. My only worry was that the French would arrive and complicate things.

One afternoon, while on lookout with Sue, she asked me about the look of concentration I had when I put the Sheriff to sleep. She wondered if I had some kind of telepathic power. I flinched, her guesses coming too close to the truth. Trying to make light of her comment, I told her that it was all a coincidence. The sheriff had been drunk and just passed out. Sue didn’t buy it and I knew it.

§ Michael Arrives

Three days after we arrived in Fry, Andrea and Augie noticed a man who matched Michael's description. The town was in a flurry of activity. People were stocking up on basics, getting ready for the impending arrival of the French. Planning quickly, we decided to capture him as he met with John Foster. Sue showed me how to get into the Sheriff’s bedroom.

We hid in the same armoire Sue had used earlier and waited for our prey. Soon after we settled into our hiding place, we heard Foster and another man walking through the house. Foster's tone was deferential, almost defensive, as he tried to answer the other man's questions. As they searched the Sheriff's study, Foster called the othe rman "Lord Michael." My heart stopped. If Detective Neil saw us, we'd be dead. Fortunately, other events took over.

Looking around, Michael found that the safe was empty and concluded that Foster had done something with the silver and the amulet. He accused Foster of being careless, losing the "rutters," as he called them. Foster shrank against the wall, his eyes wide with fear. Stepping to the middle of the room, Michael turned and faced Foster.

"Lord Peter will be most displeased to hear that you cared more for the quim of some slut than for his rightful tribute." His tone had all the power of a death sentence.

I was amazed when Michael, who wore an older, head mounted MC device, narrowed his eyes and concentrated on Foster. Foster grabbed his head and, as his eyes rolled back into their sockets, he crumbled to the floor. This showed me a new side of the device, the ability to harm.

Michael prodded Foster's body with his toe. Satisfied that Foster was dead, Michael looked around and appeared ready to leave. Suddenly, from behind the kitchen door, Evie hit him over the head with a whiskey bottle. Michael joined Foster on the floor, knocked unconscious. Evie ran out the door and into the street, giving me a few precious seconds to rifle Michael's pockets before escaping.

Foster's deputies arrived soon thereafter and arrested the still unconscious Michael, lynching him immediately in the town's central square. As I saw them throwing the noose over the gallows, I couldn’t help muttering," And may God have mercy on your soul."

Sue was mad. She had wanted to capture and question Michael about his involvement in Lucy's death but I was unwilling to use the necklace to question someone as obviously experienced as Michael. Instead I went to the arroyo and found Michael's Time Machine. I read the settings on the dials and cross-referenced them with the Sheriff's travel diary to calculate Michael's point of origin. Sue pointed out that the coordinates allow for three possible origins, not to mention all of the places that Michael could have been that the Sheriff hadn't. I wasn’t worried, however, calmly explaining that the contents of Michael's pockets (a set of keys, some mail, and an address book) reinforced and confirmed my solution.

Back at the hunting cabin, I announced my plan to go to Peter's world. Everyone volunteered to come with me. I mentally noted the varying motives of my fellow travelers, but told the Witbiers to stay and rebuild their lives. The Sheriff's diary indicated that Peter's headquarters was in a place similar to 1920's New Orleans. The plan was that we would travel as 5 male laborers.

While the girls were busy altering Augie's clothing to fit themselves, I read through the correspondence we had found on Michael. Like most business travelers, Michael had traveled light. Keys, money, his address book, and some mail were all that his pockets contained. I thumbed through the date book and found one of the days noted with "Peter's Masked Ball." I only hoped that the date hadn't passed.

By the next morning, everyone was ready to go. The sight of the girls checking their weapons before boarding the Time Machine was unnerving. I hoped that our single shot .45's would be a match for whatever Peter carried. We climbed into the machine. I set the dials and we disappeared from the canyon in a ripple of shadow.

§ Peter's World

The trip to Peter's world was short. No one experienced the discomfort they had in traveling to Fry. We had just started to experience the tingling sensation when the machine abruptly re-materialized in a large open space, like a warehouse. The amount of silver Michael had usually transported was small, so I had hoped that there wouldn't be a reception party.

Luckily the warehouse was empty except for a shiny black car. We loaded up in Michael’s Model A Sedan and looked for a clue to tell us where we were. Using a map found in the glove box, we found Michael's house in the French Quarter in only a short while. His keys let us into his house and found his housekeeper/slave, Yvonne.

I had Bert tie her up and put her into her rooms until I could question her. I intended to probe her for Michael's mind controls that I was sure would be there. I hoped that they would give me some clues on how Peter used the MC Device. I was afraid that, with the thirty odd years of practice he had on me, Peter's mind control techniques would quickly overwhelm me.

The girls, meanwhile, found appropriate clothing, money, and other necessities that we would need during our stay in 1920's New Orleans. During the search, Bert found the invitation to Peter's Masked Ball. It was in two nights. That was our chance to meet Peter face to face.

While everyone worked on the logistics of getting around town and to the party, I went to Yvonne’s rooms and experimented. I found that Michael had her "programmed" for lesbian and group sex in addition to her housekeeping/cooking/bodyguard duties.

She told me all about Peter's parties with relish. She explained that they were like Roman orgies, each room and niche in the Garden District mansion housing had its own sex show, the diversity of which boggled my mind. I took careful notes on the layout of Peter’s house, sure that I would need to know my way around. While she talked, I searched through her mind. Some things I found were readily explainable, others were not. Rather than risk hurting her, I left her tied up and returned to the main house.

After everyone had settled in to Michael’s house, I sat in the courtyard mulling over a plan to capture and question Peter. Sue was positive that Peter was behind Lucy's death. She said that she would rather skip the questioning and get right to the execution.

I decided that, given the bulky nature of Peter's MC Device, it was unlikely that he would use mind control during a public party. I told the group that we needed to come up with something that would earn us a "private audience" with Peter so that we could get him alone. My idea was to dress Sue in a leather dominitrix outfit with Bert and Andrea as her submissives. I suggested that the highlight of the act would be Sue doing them both with a strap on. I would act as the chauffeur and Ernie would stay and guard the house.

§ Peter's Party

The party was in full swing when we arrived. Inside the house was an orgy. Various groups performed sex acts in the alcoves and rooms, guests milled about discussing what they saw. We walked around noting people. I found Peter immediately. He was a well-dressed man surrounded by sycophants. He seemed to enjoy watching the festivities rather than joining in them, leading me to conclude that Peter was the type that got his kicks from controlling the emotions of others rather than by participating in the act itself.

Sue led her two assistants through the party on leashes. Playing her role to the hilt, she haughtily stalked up the stairs seeming to size up her competition. The trio found a room where another dominitrix was performing with a slave girl. Rather than wait or look for another room, Sue took the opportunity to join in, showing the crowd her strap on before entering the slave girl from behind. This was obviously something the crowd found new and exciting. Sue's act had them groping each other, some disrobed and groveled at her feet, begging to enter the scene.

Sue had Andrea brought forth on a leash and made her eat the other dominitrix, drawing gasps of disbelief from people in the room. This brazen pornography shocked the jaded 1920's crowd. Sensing that she had their attention, Sue concentrated on using Andrea as the center of attention. Drawing her forward, Sue pushed her hips forward and made Andrea suck her dildo before Sue entered her.

Soon, as I had hoped, Michael arrived to survey the scene. He appeared to be impressed and, after the act was over, made his way to Sue and invited her back into another wing of the house for a smaller "more select soiree." To my consternation, however, Peter also asked Sue about Michael. I wasn't sure how he'd made the connection between her and his missing steward, but Sue handled herself beautifully. She told Peter that she and Michael were acquainted and that Michael had left instructions for her to receive his invitation if his business trip kept him from attending. Peter seemed to accept this but I couldn’t quell the alarm I felt.

The private party was a much smaller event, held on Peter's terrace. Slaves paraded around dressed like Arabian harem girls, while Peter and his guests lounged on overstuffed pillows. As before, the scene was decorated with slaves performing sex with guests while Peter watched. What was different, I noted, was that Peter had added a turban to his costume, obviously concealing an MC Device. I concluded that Peter was actually orchestrating some of the action.

I hung back and waited for the look of concentration of Peter's face that would indicate he was trying to use the Device to control someone. As soon as I saw it, I slipped into Peter's mind and looked for a weakness. Inside, I roamed the now familiar "house" setting of another person's mind.

What I found disgusted me. Peter had overshadowed his tremendous intellect with an addiction to the power and hedonism the Device gave him. His memories told a story of a man fallen from grace. Feeling ignored by women, he had started by using them, singularly and then in groups, to explore his own fantasies. Growing bored easily, he had sunk into perversion experimenting with men, women, and children in various combinations and activities. I left Peter's mind quickly, the vision of some of Peter's more spectacular debauchery still vivid.

§ The Showdown

I clamped down on Peter’s sleep impulse, trying to put him down as I had done with the Sheriff. Peter, free from the alcohol that the Sheriff had been drinking, fought back. We had a virtual showdown in the passages of his mind as I tried to disable him while he tried to trap me in the labyrinth of his mind.

Only seconds had passed, but we had fought to an impasse. Searching for a way to get the upper hand, Peter activated a control he had inserted into Andrea's mind during her performance. She jumped on me, clawing at my eyes like a wild cat. I disengaged my mind from his, unable to maintain my concentration while Andrea raked her nails down my face. I yelled to Sue to tackle Peter. Our only hope was to get the MC Device off his head. Peter, freed from my attack, tried to resume concentration but Ernie got to him first, ripping the MC Device from his head.

Bert wrestled Andrea off my back, pinning her arms behind her back. Her eyes rolled and her mouth frothed with insane anger. Seeing his trump card subdued, Peter looked up from the floor and gave a little smile.

He said a word. Andrea stiffened and then pitched forward, dead. Peter had gained the upper hand, due to his experience using the "dark side" of mind control. He turned and pointed toward Sue but was too late. Ever the quick thinker, she hit him over the head and knocked him unconscious.

Peter's guests stared at us in disbelief. Most thought that we were acting out some kind of rape fantasy. Ignoring them, we carried Andrea and Peter into an alcove. Drawing the curtains, I took a quick breath before continuing.

While Peter was incapacitated, I continued looking through his mind, wary of the traps that Peter might have set. I found that Peter had been looking for information on any improvements or other devices that Brantwell might have left in the bunker. Brantwell had grown to distrust Peter in later years and, with his usual secrecy, had taken to dropping false clues to mislead even his assistants. .

I was disappointed to find that Peter had not been the one that killed Lucy, even though he had been there. The actual killer had been Michael. When I told the others what had happened, they were deflated by this revelation. Momentarily at a loss for what to do next, we sat in stunned silence. Sue, ever the one to act on impulse, broke the tension by killing Peter with a bullet in the crotch. The echoes of the gunshot still rang in the air as Sue turned to me and announced that she was ready to go home.

We jumped out a low window and escaped to Michael's house through the dark New Orleans streets. Collecting our gear, I felt the accusing stares of my friends. I poured a drink and tried to explain what had happened. I gave the Reader’s Digest version of mind control, but the sight of Peter bleeding to death on the patio tile had sapped everyone’s ability to ask questions. We all just wanted to return to our nice, normal, mundane lives.

We returned to our world, not via the bunker warehouse, but to a lonely spot Michael had used during his visits. We found the car he had stashed for his own transportation in a small storage shed and awkwardly stood around, everyone unwilling to be the first to break the silence. Looking at the digital clock in the vehicle, Bert told us that the two weeks we had spent on the other planes had passed here as well.

We said our farewells and then split. Bert and Ernie went back to their jobs sated by the excitement for the moment, both ready for their next adventure. Sue and I stood alone in the dark storage shed. She admitted that the thrill had gotten to her and that she wasn’t sure that she would be able to return to her mundane, 9 to 5 existence. I reminded her that we hadn’t found Brantwell yet and as long as he roamed free, others might try and take advantage of his devices.

Sue smiled and said that she’d order the pizza while I packed. We hid the travel machine into Michael's storage shed and left for my apartment, already preparing for the next trip.

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