Hello again. I just feel like updating very quickly. I got rid of the sequel to this by the way, so it won't come out right after this. Sorry. It was too depressing. It was not Holly at all. I'm working on that.

ahava: My most faithful reviewer by far. Yes, I thought Holly might choose to wear something like that. (I don't know though, Trouble mentioned tunics, but for some reason I couldn't quite picture her in any kind of robe:)) The jeans are her.

aperfectattitude: Yeah, thanks. I think my biggest shortcoming is my short chapters. When the sequel is done, it'll have either five page or ten page chapters. Whichever people like best.

bookz: Thanks. You're not doing so bad yourself.

Eva Evans: Yeah. Blunt is out of character here. I have a hard time with that sometimes. I try to mimic the author's character, but sometimes the origonal person becomes distorted, especially if I'm working on my own novel at the moment.

myrhfire: Sorry I didn't answer you before. You're right. It is a shame. When the next books comes out, more people might pay attention though.


Holly was huddled in a tree that shadowed the storage building. She waited there for hours. Studying it from every angle. The sun hang lower in the sky, and she began to feel hungry. She should have eaten that morning.

She cradled the hatchet against her, liking the feel of a weapon in her hands. It made her feel a little less vulnerable.

A seagull screamed above her, scaring her so badly, that she slipped, almost falling out of the tree, and cutting her finger with the hatchet.

Holly resettled herself, pinching her finger tightly. She took a deep shuddering breath. Her nerves were way too keyed up. Even the birds were scaring her.

Slowly, she shifted positions, resting her head against a branch. Were they already dead?

The door she was watching opened, and Arno stepped out. "How'm I supposed to kill him?"

"Any way you like," snapped a voice that grated against her raw fear. "Just so long as he's dead when you're done."

Holly shivered, watching as Arno vanished in the trees on the top of the hill. Who was he going to kill? Who was that man whose voice she recognized so well? It wasn't Artemis's voice. It was a voice she knew.

Maybe it was Turnball's voice. She didn't know.

After a long moment of indecision, she dropped from the tree, creeping towards the door.

Silence reigned inside.

Finally, she twisted the knob, being careful not to step over the threshold as the door opened a crack.


Julius and Vinyáya sat in the dark for several hours, holding a whispered conversation, occasionally punctuated by silence.

After one particularly long stretch of water drips, Julius leaned forwards, resting his head on his knees, and asked, "Vinyáya? Will you please rub my back? It's killing me. Making my headache worse."

Vinyáya obliged, lightly massaging his neck and shoulders. "Julius? Shouldn't we be trying to get out of here? Or at least exploring this cell? Try and find the others? I'm worried about Coral, I didn't have time to heal his leg, and it's going to be a mess."

Julius sighed raising his head slightly. "Yeah. We probably should… but I just— can't think. My head… this darkness. And I'm tired too. And worried about Holly."

Vinyáya stood, waiting for him to join her. "I know. But we should try Julius."

He rolled to his feet, stretching. "Right. Let's go. Try that side over there first."

He led the way, resting a hand on the wall to guide him. The concrete was rough, a makeshift kind, full of pebbles. The water must have been down here a long time. Everything crumbled at a touch.

A corner. He turned with it, trudging on into the shadows.

Vinyáya touched his shoulder. "Did we just pass a door Julius? I thought I felt—"

Julius spun quickly, hand running along until he felt wood. "Yeah. It's a door. Just a moment."

He paused, patting himself down for anything that might give a light. His watch.

The lock on the door was old, rotting away, and broke under Vinyáya's prying fingers, but something stronger, on the outside, held the door closed.

Julius sighed, letting the light on his watch fade. "It's not going to open Vinyáya. Forget it. We'll just have to wait. There aren't any windows, and that's locked."

"Wait for what?" whispered Vinyáya.

Julius shrugged, leaning against the wall. "They aren't going to starve us Vinyáya. They'll come eventually. We'll be fine, I promise. Besides, if we aren't back tonight, they'll send someone to come looking for us. Everything's going to be fine."

Vinyáya moved closer to him in the dark, pressing herself into the back of him, and letting her head rest on his shoulder. Her hand brushed his leg, and Julius froze, watching her tiny arms wrap themselves around his chest.

"Julius?" There was a slight sob in her voice. A voice almost shamed, but showing a hint of fear. "I'm afraid."

"I know." He didn't know what else to say. It was no use pretending he wasn't afraid either, or that he knew what to do, or what was going to happen to them. He didn't know how to talk to a woman. He rarely did. In fact, the only woman he'd probably ever talked to, talked to, was his mother before he turned five.

He watched Vinyáya's fingers, clinging tightly to his shirt, and realized suddenly, that Vinyáya trusted him, and was begging for help. She was scared, she didn't know what to do, and she wanted him to make it better.

Julius hesitated, and then covered her delicate little hands with his own. "It'll be okay Vinyáya."

He pulled her down on the ground, setting his back against the wall, and letting her rest her head on his chest. "I promise."

He felt rather like an overwhelmed baby-sitter. Now what was he supposed to do?

Vinyáya pushed her face deeper into his shoulder, and Julius realized she was crying.

It suddenly dawned on him, that perhaps, it did not suit his position to encourage this behavior. What if she were to take to mean encouragement for… something more…?


Trouble sat up, rubbing his forehead. He had a lovely cut on it. Things did not look good. Not that he could see much, but that was what didn't look good. Not much.

Concrete. All around him.

Slowly, he inched forwards.

Something warm, and solid in front of him, made him stop. "Who's that?"

A low, muffled groan.

Trouble felt around, and got a scream for his pains. "Coral? It that you? What's the—"

"My leg," panted Coral, straining not to cry. He shut his mouth stubbornly. He would not cry in public.

"What'd you do?"

"Fell in the ravine. Vinyáya took me back to the shuttle, but she heard a noise outside, turned around, and just sort of fell over. Then… it was someone behind cam-foil. Big. Maybe a human. I think they thought I was unconscious, because they took all the weapons, and cut a lot of wires, but I didn't see who it was. I started to reach for my gun, and they shot me with a tranquilizer gun. I blacked out, and just woke up a few moments ago."

Trouble stood up. "Alright. I'm going to explore in here. See if there's anyone else. If you need anything, call. I'm sorry I can't heal you, just try and block the pain."

Coral grunted, and listened to Trouble's shuffling feet on the wet concrete.


Artemis sat in his study, gun in hand, and ready, painfully aware that the procedures could not move on unless he knew where Juliet was.

A noise downstairs startled him, and he rose quickly, forcing himself to be quiet.

Nothing moved. He could almost hear the dust settling it was so still. This place was eerie. Was there something, or someone downstairs? Was there not?

No, there was.

He just didn't know who. It wasn't Juliet, she would be calling for him. It wasn't the LEP. The ones here were still locked up. The ones below, had not yet figured it out.


Holly caught sight of the body bag, lying in the thin stream of light from the door.

There was something in it.

She let the door swing open a little farther after a few minutes ticked past, leaning closer.

Someone shoved her from behind, sending her tumbling inside.

"Hello. Who is this? The pretty corporal? Back from the dead, and trying for commander?" Turnball stood over her, smiling threateningly. "Julius must not like this."

Holly groaned, rolling over to spew a mouthful of vomit across the floor. "You again."

"Yes, it's me again. Nice of me to drop by, isn't it? The same old routine. Only this time, I'm not the one doing the capturing."

Holly rested her head on the concrete, trying not to think about her churning stomach. She could hardly move from the pain. "No. Arno Blunt is for you, isn't he?"

Turnball looked surprised. "I see we've been observant."

"I know him."

Turnball nodded thoughtfully. "Oh yes, from that illegal affair over the computer, and Fowl. Jon Spiro and whatnot, wasn't it?"

Holly's answer was another mouthful of insides.

Turnball leaned down. "Speaking of Fowl, did you know, that he has the other eleven locked up in his basement on the other side of the island? He's quite clever."

Holly glared at him, as he lifted her head, letting a hand wander over her helpless body with amusement in his eyes. "You're a gorgeous woman, Miss Short. I'm surprised you're not married yet. Perhaps it's your temper?"

Holly spat. "Go to hell Turnball, you bastard."

Turnball smiled, catching hold of her slender wrists, and snapping a pair of handcuffs over them. "It would be viciously fun, to break that temper dear. I might let you live after all. But first, you are going to take a little trip with me, to watch the others die."


Ho hum. By the way people, in case you're wondering, I didn't make anything out of Julius and Vinyaya in this story. Maybe the next one. I just thought they might make a cute couple, and gave them the benifit of doubt in case I want to use that in the future.

Anyway, I'll be back soon. I wish you'd write me sometimes. I'm quite good at writing back quickly. And review, all of you. I'm not a patient person. I won't wait.