The rest of the week followed in a similar fashion for Tamara: wake up, shower, eat, walk silently to the lab, cooperate with Dok's plan for the day, then pass out exhausted and sore at the end of it.

The days were generally divided into two parts. In the morning would be any diagnostic examinations or medical procedures. Dok seemed to have an endless variety of tests to run and samples that needed to be collected. There was plenty of sitting around just waiting and observing, too, especially if he had other patients to attend to. More than a few soldiers called on him with strained muscles, but if this was unusual in any way Dok made no mention of it that she heard.

The afternoon was usually dedicated to something cerebral. If the doctor didn't have questions for her, then he provided her with written IQ tests or logic puzzles to solve. It took some effort on his part to convince her that her future stake with Millennium wasn't based on how well she performed, provided she followed instructions and took the tests seriously.

"Roger is the smart one. I'm no good at this!" she finally exclaimed in frustration after staring at the same algebraic equation for two minutes.

"Just keep going. The timer is still running." Dok was holding a stopwatch in one hand and somehow managing to input data into his computer with the other hand. As usual he was never content to allow himself a moment to not be completely busy.

Tamara decided right then that taking these tests ranked worse than push-ups, but better than physical exams.

Not that she was particularly looking forward to the push-ups, which usually came at the very end of their time together.


At long last Sunday arrived, which was when she could finally visit with Roger. It was also a whole day that she didn't have to spend in the lab. Tamara would have felt something like happiness if the situation hadn't been so sour otherwise. As it was, she paced around her room and occasionally peeked into the hallway to see if anyone was coming to collect her.

Someone finally did arrive around four in the afternoon, though it wasn't her usual escort. This soldier was impatient and dour, and seemed intent on holding her by the arm and steering her the entire way to their destination. So excited she was to see Roger, that she hardly paid notice to the unnecessary show of force.

The two of them passed through the familiar hallway containing the lab entrance, then continued weaving their way through the lowest levels of the base. In this manner, they only passed a few staff so she didn't have to deal with too many stares as she had on that first day.

They finally arrived at another deserted part of the base. There was one soldier stationed outside a heavy armored door, sitting on one of a pair of metal stools.

Once he let them inside, Tamara took in the low lighting, the metal bars, and the long row of spartan cells. All were unoccupied, save for one.

"It's only for an hour," her escort said gruffly, releasing her arm, but she didn't hear him. She and Roger were already embracing, kissing, stroking each other's faces, anything they could accomplish with the barrier between them.

"You're here!" Roger cried. "They didn't tell me when I would see you again." His voice cracked and Tamara could feel him shaking with emotion.

"I can come once a week. It was the best I could do." Tamara felt overcome too, but she wanted to stay strong for Roger, who was clearly overwhelmed right now.

"I was so scared. I thought all kinds of horrible thoughts. What they might do to you."

"It's okay, I'm okay," she lied expertly. "Look at me, I'm perfectly fine."

He did look at her then. She definitely seemed pale and worn out, but there were no cuts or marks on her face. Taking one of her arms, he moved the loose-fitting sleeve up and stroked the underside of her soft skin. No injuries here either, just a few faded bruises.

"You're here," he repeated softly.

After a little while the soldier exited to have a conversation with the guard in the hallway. The hour went by all too quickly, during which they mostly sat holding hands in silence, their foreheads pressed together through the cell bars.

There were so many things Tamara wanted to say about what she had experienced since their arrival, but seeing Roger's bleak situation now she couldn't imagine complaining to him.

Other than a cot similar to hers, there was nothing in his cool, damp cell to speak of. It was smaller than even her unimpressive room. When she thought of him passing hour after endless hour here alone, she couldn't think of a single comforting thing to say. All she could do was squeeze his hand, which had also been stripped of its wedding band.

When it was time to go, Tamara kissed him on his stubbly cheek and whispered, "Just hold on for another week. I'll see what I can do."

She felt guilty that she had spent so much time worrying about herself that she had hardly considered that he might actually have it worse than she did. She promised herself to rectify that, if it was even possible.

On the other hand, was she truly that much better off? She pondered this as she was again led roughly through the dim halls back to her room, avoiding meeting the eyes of the curious.


As if that first week had not been intense enough, the second really kicked things up a notch.

"We're not slowing down," Dok had said.

The doctor would not leave the slightest medical concern to chance. A suspicious mole on her back required biopsy and removal. And when a sudden rash appeared on her arm one day, Dok decided that he may as well order a full set of allergy tests. It got to the point that she was almost afraid to cough, as if that might set him off running to find her a new set of lungs.

At that point he had returned another of her possessions, the daily planner. What had once promised birthdays, holidays, and future family vacations was now replaced by exercise regimens, vitamin checklists, and places to log any physical symptoms that she noticed as they occurred. Any previous markings she had made were whited out, and even the pre-printed holidays like Christmas and Easter were missing, which she all found rather heavy-handed. Dok had removed the pages with the home addresses and phone numbers of all her friends, but he had left the binding intact. The violet flowers on the book's cover gave her something pretty to look at while she was stuck in such sterile environments. When not in use, she stood it upright on one of the filing cabinets in her room to help brighten up the place.

Examining the doctor's questionable handwriting that evening, she noticed the word "out" listed for the next day. Holding out hope that it meant she might get to go outside, she was not disappointed when the morning arrived.

"Yes, I can't reasonably supplement all of your Vitamin D so this is a compromise. One hour, full sun, twice a week. I don't particularly care what you do with that time, except that you use the appropriate amount of sunscreen."

Tamara pulled a face, but inside she was a little pleased.


It was still February, and Tamara knew that seasonally it was still the height of summer in Brazil. It certainly felt that way, and the outdoors were as hot and steamy as could be. Especially on the empty helipad on the roof of the complex, which is where she found herself confined for the moment. She could have sat, if she could cool off a spot on the ground long enough with her own shadow, but mainly she was content to walk laps around the exterior of the circle.

I better not complain. Roger probably doesn't even get to leave his cell.

Comfort aside, it was freeing to be outside again, listening to the insect and avian noises coming from the rainforest and seeing all of its thick, leafy vegetation.

After taking in all the new sensory stimuli for a bit, Tamara focused her attention on determining if there were any discernible landmarks to her prison. The base stretched out to her left and right, but from this vantage point she could not see where it started or ended. If she strained her eyes into the sun she could see another large structure to the East of this one, but it looked skeletal, possibly just a network of supports and struts. Construction of some kind, she speculated. Nothing else stood out as an identifying feature. There were just too many trees.

How would anyone ever find them in this place, she wondered, if they even knew approximately where to look? If only she could find and study a map, but that still left the problem of alerting someone on the outside that they were even alive. Surely the disappearance of two Americans would have been reported by now.

She walked another slow lap, her mind turning over possibilities, despite the drowsying heat. What about the forest? Could she somehow make a break for it and hide there? Not without Roger, she thought, bitter at herself for even momentarily considering the option. And not without some water or supplies. Survival skills were not her specialty. In fact, the honeymoon had nearly been a camping trip in the Rocky Mountains later that year, until she had hinted to Roger that she might have more fun not having to "rough it" for an entire week. Yet another reason why she blamed herself they were in this dreadful situation in the first place.

The trees held so much mystery though. Maybe there was help out there, although it could be a hundred miles away.

What she did know was that they were well hidden, and even though she wasn't locked up in a cell as Roger was, she was just as much Millennium's prisoner. If only she could get a message to the outside world, maybe someone would care enough to help. The US government would be interested to know that there were actual Nazis holding two of its citizens. Or did she overestimate the worth she held when it came to political powers?

Being an overthinking type made her head hurt. So much to think about, but at least her mind was staying occupied now rather than dreading what the coming days, or minutes, would hold.

A shrill whistle sounded and she heard someone shout, "On the platform!"

Looking down she realized she had inadvertently wandered a few steps away from the unmarked concrete circle. She corrected her position quickly then looked over to where the helipad controller, an older man with a craggy face and Heinrich were standing together. She had made it a point to find out the young soldier's name when it became apparent she was going to see him almost daily as he took her from place to place.

She waved sheepishly at them then continued her slow laps.


"I want you to tell me the moment your next cycle starts, is that understood?"

"Yes, I will let you know if I feel so much as a twinge."

"Good. How was your excursion outside?"

"Hot. Humid." She sucked in her teeth and squeezed the hem of her dress as the needle entered her stomach. "Is it always like that here?"

"Honestly, I don't get out much anymore."

"Well, you should," Tamara offered helpfully, though not at all sure why she did. She didn't even know why she was prolonging this conversation, other than to distract from the shots, which the doctor had said were experimental, but wouldn't cause any negative side effects.

He continued in silence, while she considered her next words carefully. So long as they were being civil.

"Do you have any old books you don't want anymore?" She sat up and pulled her dress down when he motioned that they were done.

The question seemed to catch him off guard and he dipped his head to look at her from above his glasses. "You want reading material? You're welcome to anything in here as long as you put it back when finished."

"Not for me, it's for…well, it's probably not healthy to have nothing to keep the mind occupied." When he said nothing she added, "Don't you agree?"

"I suppose. And just how do you keep your mind occupied, I wonder?" He made a sound somewhere between a scoff and a laugh. "Wishing for my death?"

Only twice a day.

Either that or figuring out how to escape this facility were not going to be acceptable answers.

"Learning how to cope," she finished quietly but with mustered sincerity.

He was scanning a bookshelf now and didn't appear to notice her answer.


On the following Sunday, Roger already had his face pressed up excitedly against the prison bars when Tamara was let into the brig.

"Oh good, my conjugal visit has arrived!"

Tamara wasn't sure she liked his humor today, but she appreciated that he was still able to make jokes despite the situation so she tossed her hair in a half-hearted attempt to be alluring.

"Silliness aside, I have something for you. Most of them are in German, but there's a New Testament in here. Dok said he already figured out the 'water-into-wine' bit and didn't need it anymore."

"Sounds like you two have become somewhat friendly. You call him 'Dok' now?"

"Oh, I…" Tamara looked a bit taken aback.

"I'm just teasing you. I'm so happy for this, thank you!" He took the small pile of books as she passed them through the bars and then set them on top of his cot, which appeared to be broken and tilting to one side. There was no bedding to speak of and it was stained in several spots.

"And you can thank him too, if you want," he said as he returned to her for a greeting kiss.

Tamara felt his thinning waistline underneath the baggy prison clothes as they awkwardly embraced. She recalled what a big eater he had been just a few weeks ago.

"You're so skinny. More so than usual. Are you sure you aren't being starved?"

"Nah, it's simple fare, but it keeps me alive."

"I don't know how you manage to keep a good attitude about any of this."

"Don't really have a choice." He broke eye contact and looked down at her hand, which he was distractedly massaging.

They both turned as the prison door shut with a loud clang. Apparently their guard had grown weary of watching them and would pass the time outside again.

"Well, now that we're alone..."

"What are you doing?"

"Sorry," he said, removing her fingertips from his mouth and kissing them instead. "You just smell so good and I guess I am a little hungry."

Given the circumstances, it was hard for her to be frustrated with the poor guy.