Elgin’s Trial
By Mr. J.
Chapter XXII: No Exit
Tracy Elgin secrets the earrings into her bra and scans the hallway before breaking into a jog at breakneck speed. If she manages to get to Jill before the interrogation gets underway, maybe they’ll be able to get out before the guards kill them. Either that or be brainwashed along with several of Frank’s other victims. She doesn’t allow herself to think about it as she sprints in her skivvies. She’s in a race against time, and there are lives to save.
As she comes to a fork in the labyrinthine corridor she pauses to consider the best possible route. If her memory serves her, she was carried through the left side, but she was delirious at the time. Part of being held in an underground complex of hallways and adjoining rooms is that it’s really hard to tell one passage from another. The light at the end of the tunnel could either be a godsend...or a trap.
She steels herself and barges through the right hand side, careful not to attract any undue attention—not that she isn’t being watched. There are probably enough hidden cameras trained on her to film a year’s worth of voyeur videos. She takes no pleasure in knowing there are guards probably masturbating to her right now, the bastards. It’ll be the last thing they see too, if she has her way.
Tracy halts as she spies a guard on patrol in the maze-like passageway, a haggard look on his face as he takes a drag off his cigarette. She ducks behind a wall while she tries to figure out a strategy. His footsteps reverberate throughout the infrastructure.
She spies an opportunity as his back is turned and walks stealthily down the hallway. Her heart races with each step. She struggles to stay calm, controlling her breaths in rhythmic fashion. Only one thing is dominant on her mind: Don’t screw this up,
Emboldened by her success thus far she rounds the corner, relaxing her shoulders. She steals one last glance at the out of shape sentry, a small pot belly protruding from his waistline. Confident that she won’t be caught, she tip toes quietly past the sentry with unbridled confidence, suppressing a smirk at the incompetence of Divinex’s security.
A loud click stops her in her tracks.
“Who goes there?” The sentinel adopts a wary pose as he spots the intruder in his midst.
Tracy suppresses a gulp as she turns around. She gazes at the menacing AR15 in his hands. All it’d take is a slip of a finger to take her out, and she doesn’t have a knife, even.
She pushes the thought aside and smiles politely.
“Is there a problem officer?”
“Who are you, and why aren’t you wearing any clothes?”
“Pardon me. I was just coming back from hitting the showers.” She replies in the most innocent voice she can muster.”
“Where’s your swimsuit?”
“I just got a memo from upstairs about a meeting—something about mental health—and I guess in the confusion I left it at the pool. I was hoping I could run into my quarters and get changed before I go.”
The officer looks her over skeptically. A voice in the back of his head scream at him to take her into custody, but something about the woman’s composure—and her ample, supple breasts—gets to him. He ignores the erection swelling in his pants. But each passing minute makes it harder to control.
“Mental health, huh?”
“Yes. I’m a psychologist—an intern actually—the boss hired me a few weeks ago.”
“You work for Frank?” The officer is incredulous.
“Yes sir.”
“Show me your ID.” He gestures with his gun.
“Excuse me?”
“Show me your ID.” The officer’s tone is more strident.“Strip.”
Tracy gazes at him blankly, pretending not to understand the implication.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Take off your clothes. I’m sure they stamped you somewhere.”
“I don’t care what you’ve heard officer.” She assumes a dignified tone. “But not all of us are slaves.”
“I wish there was some other way.” He says by way of apology. “But after the breaches of the last several days...”
Tracy coyly eyes his crotch and face. They exchange furtive glances, neither venturing to say a word, yet saying much. The guard unzips his pants as she crawls toward him, glancing hesitantly at the eye in the sky. He turns down the walkie-talkie as he nods in approval at her. No need for any distractions—he’s on break now.
She reaches into his pants, seeming to enjoy taking part in the debauchery. A wicked smile creeps across his face. He takes it all in as he gazes at the ceiling, anticipating the pleasure about to come. Tracy glances innocently at him as she strokes his member slowly.
“Do you want me to go faster?”
“It’s okay. Yeah. A little faster. That’s alright. That’s alright—OW!”
The guard doubles over in pain from the abuse as Tracy wipes her hands, smirking herself at the irony of the situation. She quickly disarms him, slinging the rifle over her shoulder before moving on. Her eyes dart to and fro as she strolls down the hallway, trying not to appear more inconspicuous than she already is.
“Officer down in corridor 16! I repeat officer down!” A voice squawks through the walkie-talkie. “Please respond immediately!”
She ducks into yet another corridor, speeding up her pace once more, her objective not far from her mind. Rivulets of sweat flow through her palms. If she doesn’t hurry up in time...
Tracy dares not think about the consequences.
She spies a pair of guards hurrying in the opposite direction. She flags them down, grasping her stomach and panting heavily. The men rush toward her without much thought, heedless of the danger. She grimaces, hoping they’d take pity on her.
“Something wrong, ma’am?” One of them approaches her.
“The woman.” She gasps for breath. “My partner and I caught her running away. Me and my partner—we tried to stop her...but it was too late. She forced me to take off my clothes. You’ve got to stop her.”
“Where did she go?”
“That way.” She directs them. “Please hurry!”
“Do you need any assistance? Do you need to go to the infirmary?”
“I’m fine.” Tracy recovers. “Do you know where interrogation room is, by any chance? I have a very important message to deliver.”
An officer points her straight ahead, completely oblivious to her true identity. As she walks on her merry way she wonders if her ad-hoc plan is a little too easy. There’s no way a person in her situation could get away with this, not least an escapee. Divinex’s security may be extraordinarily sloppy, but she isn’t taking chances.
Banging loudly on the door, she prays that the previous encounters with Frank’s goons were just accidents of fate. Yet she can’t shake an ominous feeling. She struggles to hold back the fear. Fear causes mistakes. Mistakes cost lives. Not to mention nausea.
“Security!” She yells. “Let us in!”
“What’s the password?”
“It’s urgent! We have a message to deliver to Dr. Trace!”
“On what authority?”
“The highest authority. Now stop dicking around before someone gets hurt!”
There is a brief lull as the parties behind the door process the request. Tracy holds her breath. Could they be onto her? She prays it isn’t so. The door slides anti-climatically, revealing a mustachioed gentleman in his mid to late 50s, along with a younger assistant.
“Thank you.” She acknowledges them with a nod.
“What’s the message?”
She listens to Jill’s voice droning mechanically through the intercom, devoid of emotion. It doesn’t take much of a leap to figure that she’s been broken. Tracy glances at her sitting erect, hands on her knees as if waiting for a teacher to call on her. Her eyes are dispassionate and cold.
Tracy wonders what she’s told them, how much. Have they already connected the dots, or is this just a warm-up? She pulls herself away from the heart shattering scene, fearing the worst. A flicker of hatred flares in her eyes as she stares at her replacement.
“Let her go.” Her voice is strident.
“Excuse me?”
“Let her go. Boss’s orders.”
“But we’re not even half finis—”
The doctor feels something pointed poke him in the stomach. His face takes is ashen as he notices the barrel of Tracy’s rifle against him, her finger lightly touching the trigger. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.
“This is madness.”
“It’s her or your life.”
He nods approvingly at his assistant.
Within moments Jill is abruptly escorted out of the room by a pair of guards. Dr. Trace tells them little. For the most part they appear unaware of the actions transpiring in the next room, yet Tracy continues to press the rifle into him. She nods at Jill as she walks into the room in a daze.
“What’s going on?”
“No time to explain.” Tracy grabs the doctor.
“What are you doing?” His voice is shaky.
“Insurance. Now if you don’t mind, there’s a prisoner I’d like to visit.”
Dr. Trace doesn’t say a word.