"What do you think our families are thinking right now?"
"I imagine they're thinking we had so much fun that we decided to change our identities and stay in Brazil forever." Roger threw the tiny pebble which rebounded off the far wall of his cell and landed on top of one of the books they had set up as targets.
"I guess I like that."
"It's better than the alternative. But I can't think about that."
Tamara had to agree with him there. The sadness she felt when she thought about her parents and everyone else she had left behind was so overwhelming that usually she had to ignore those thoughts the moment they formed. Maybe Roger was right and pretending something other than the truth was the only way to cope.
"Had any other deep thoughts while you've been here?"
Straightening onto her knees, she threw her pebble which bounced the wrong way completely after hitting the wall. The iron bars she had to aim through were definitely giving her the disadvantage in this game.
"Yes I have. Like what if it turns out that doctor is using you to create a biological weapon that could kill thousands of people? And if so, would you continue to cooperate?"
"You watch too many movies."
But really, Tamara hadn't thought much recently about what Millennium was actually doing with her and suddenly that fact disturbed her.
"That's really horrible, and I don't know what I would do. What about you?"
Roger leaned back against the side wall, having won his third game in a row. "I know my limits, where I will draw the line. Have had plenty of time to think about it."
"He said he just wanted my DNA for research."
"Believe that if you want, but this is no ordinary operation. From what I've seen, everything here is militarized to a fanatical degree." His gaze went to the door where they knew the guards were waiting outside.
"They're planning something," he continued, his voice lowered. "And I highly doubt it's for the good of mankind, considering their affiliation."
"Well, what am I supposed to do about that?" Tamara asked, matching his volume to just that above a whisper.
Roger's eyes met hers and the intensity behind them made her feel more than a little uncomfortable.
"You need to figure it out, Tammy. Decide what you're willing to do, so that when the time comes… Well, it will make it easier for you."
"But what do you want me to do?"
His expression softened a bit of its passion. "I just want you to be okay."
"And if they are using me to hurt people?"
"Like you said, I watch too many movies."
Hearing the door unlocking behind her, Tamara stood up in anticipation that their hour was up.
"Wait! Before you go, there's something serious I need to ask you."
He stood and took both of her hands into his, looking down at them with all solemnity. He sighed heavily as if it were the hardest thing in the world to say.
"Do you think Dok could get us tickets to see Return of the Jedi?"
"You're impossible."
"I know."
At about midnight that night, Tamara awoke to abdominal cramps. At first she turned over and tried to ignore them, but the doctor's stern order to let him know immediately kept repeating in her mind. Reluctantly, she headed to the bathroom to confirm it was what she thought.
Finding it to be the case, she dressed and headed to the lab, her first time doing so unaccompanied. If anyone stopped to question her, she'd just ask them to take her the rest of the way. That shouldn't be a problem.
The real concern was, what if Dok was asleep already? Where did he sleep? Did this constitute an emergency and was she supposed to wake him up? She resolved that she would leave a note on his desk, if there was no other way.
Oh, but what if the lab is locked?
Once the heavy door shut behind her, echoing through the stairwell, she lost all her nerve.
Stupid, she thought. This is stupid. I'll just go back to my room and tell him first thing in the morning.
Confident in the new plan, Tamara turned the metal door handle only to find out in horror that it wouldn't budge in either direction. She was locked into the stairwell, one without an emergency exit, of course.
She brought a hand to her mouth and thought quickly, trying not to panic. She had nothing on her person to try to finagle the lock with, and that trick probably wouldn't work here as it had on the laundry room back at her old apartment. Heinrich had never used a key on this door when escorting her around the base, so it must have an automatic lock that activated at night. Would she have to spend the entire night in here?
The only option, at the moment, was to check the other floors and see if any of them were unlocked. She decided to go down to the basement first and see if she could get to the lab after all. Three flights later, she found out that it had been secured as well. A few hesitant but loud knocks on the door didn't bring Dok to her rescue, not that she expected he would be anywhere near where he might hear them.
Back up the concrete stairs she went, two at a time. None of the other floors were accessible either. Panic and rising dread kept her moving. Reaching the top floor, she gripped the handle and discovered that it had not latched securely the last time it was used and did actually push open. Stepping through, she set it slowly and gently back into the door frame to keep it open, just in case.
The empty hallway looked fairly similar to the one below that she was residing on, with low lighting and an array of closed doors. For a minute she stood, just reflecting on what she was going to do next. It struck her then that despite all those stairs, she wasn't as out of breath as she would have normally been. Apparently all that required exercise was already starting to make a difference.
Despite her reasonably good excuse for being out of her room, she really did not want to get caught wandering around in the unfamiliar facility. Really, the best she could do was to try a few doors, see if there was anyone around here who could assist her in getting back to her room or the lab.
She tapped on the first door, waited a full minute before testing the handle, and then proceeded to the next door. She repeated this process a few times until she came to one with a sign on it that read "Vorlesung." This room was unlocked and she stepped inside, allowing the door to shut behind her as quietly as possible.
Tamara groped around the wall until she was able to find and flick on a light switch. It appeared to be an unused classroom of a moderate size. There was a chalkboard, a projector covered in surely a year's worth of dust, and chairs stacked five high against the back wall.
There was also a telephone resting on top of a desk.
Heart pounding, she padded over to the desk and opened one of its two drawers. It contained office supplies, writing utensils and other junk which she decided to leave alone instead of rummaging through. The second drawer held a couple of 3-ringed binders but they were sadly empty. No clues here as to the location of Millennium's hideout.
Disappointment took over for a moment, but then she regarded the phone. Was it possible?
Holding her breath, she dared to pick up the receiver and nearly slammed it down the moment she heard a dial tone.
She glanced at the door in terror, ready for armed soldiers to enter and gun her down for the simple act of touching the telephone.
Collapsing to the floor behind the desk, she hugged her knees to her chest and tried to calm down.
Okay, okay. I have to do this, I have to try. Oh God, please don't let them find out.
Who could she call? This was Brazil, or so she still assumed. Emergency services certainly had a different number than in the United States. How did one reach an operator? Someone had probably mentioned it at the tourism office when they planned this trip, but she clearly hadn't been paying attention.
Deciding quickly, she knelt beside the desk, picking up the receiver and hitting the re-dial button. All that remained was to pray for a miracle.
A string of tones played quickly, then the phone began ringing. After four rings there was a click which caused her to jump.
"Olá?"
That was definitely a Brazilian greeting, not a German one.
"Yes, hello? Does anyone there speak English?"
She was shaking so hard that she was certain the man on the other end could hear it in her voice.
"English, oh yes. Hello hello! Good night or is it good morning? What can I do for you?"
"Uh, this is going to sound crazy, but I need the police."
"Speak up, I can't hear you."
"Sorry, I need to talk to the police. I had your number and…"
"Police? Is this a prank or something?"
"No! No please, don't hang up the phone. I really need help. Will you please listen?"
"Oh sure, senhorita. How can I help you?"
Tamara took a deep and shaky breath. "I was kidnapped a few weeks ago, at the Carnival. These men took me and my husband. My name is Tamara Larson."
She paused to let him take in this information.
"Tamara Larson" he repeated slowly. "I think I might have read that in the newspaper. Two Americans. Newlyweds, right?"
"Yes!" Tamara's heart soared. "That's us! We're in the middle of the forest…somewhere. It's very humid and all I can see are trees. We took a plane and a helicopter to get here. There's a huge bunker, some scaffolding, it all must be visible from the air. It's run by some kind of German military organization. They say they're Nazis!"
"Oy, slow down now! Forgive me, but this is all becoming a bit hard to believe."
"But it's all true! Please, we need help. Can you alert the authorities that we are being held against our will? Let them know we're alive so they can contact our families back home. And if possible, come search for us?"
"Calm down, calm down. Look, I will do everything I can. I took a few notes here, wrote down what you said."
The man cleared his throat loudly, almost dramatically.
"Okay, so you were taken by these men and they are hiding you in the Amazon rainforest. It's a large building and it's run by Nazis. Hey, what's the name of this organization?"
"They call themselves Millennium."
"Mil-len-ni-um. Is that with two L's? Oh never mind, I got it."
He was silent for a moment. She thought she heard some kind of shuffling or flapping noise in the background, but couldn't figure out what it represented. At last, he spoke again.
"Are you still there, senhorita?"
"Yes, I'm here." She sniffed to hold back a small sob, the phone cord twisted impossibly tight in her fingers.
"This sounds like it's quite a trial. Is there anything else that I can do for you?"
"Well, are you a man of any faith?"
"Sure, Momma raised herself a good Catholic."
"Then will you pray for us? I'm just so scared that we will never get out of here."
Alive.
"Oh, I will pray extra hard that you survive this. You sound like a nice girl."
"You're so kind." Another sniff. "Will you please tell me your name?"
He repeated it for her several times until she had it memorized.
"I really have to go now. You got all that information, right?"
"Every last word. I wish you the best of luck, senhorita."
"Thank you so much, Mr. Alhambra."
She had done it. Finally their salvation was at hand.
Trying to sleep in the stairwell was far from pleasant, as it was musty and almost unbearably hot since the air-conditioning did not vent in there. Also, between the stomach cramps and adrenaline, Tamara could do no more than snooze here and there until the door to her floor unlocked with a loud buzz around 5 am. Happily though, no one caught her and the only real downside was that she was extra tired that day.
She apologized profusely to Dok about the delay in telling him that her period had started.
"Why the big concern? I told you to tell me right away, meaning the next time you saw me. Do you always take things so literally?"
As if she hadn't felt foolish enough about her antics that past night.
"But what if I did need to tell you something, like in an emergency? What am I supposed to do then?"
He huffed in annoyance, shaking a vial vigorously between his fingers
"We can figure that out later. I just don't have the time right now. Also, why did you sleep so poorly last night? Were the cramps that bad?"
"I guess so."
As guilty and uncomfortable as the situation made her feel initially, Tamara's mood improved considerably after several days passed without incident. Despite the fear she had felt around the act of making the telephone call, she suddenly felt empowered and like she could stop being such a victim.
She even felt bold enough to talk to Heinrich during their walks together, who answered her questions politely but in understandably as few words as possible.
"So how did you end up with this assignment? I mean, accompanying me around."
"Ooorders from He-He-Herr Major."
"Oh, I see. I hope it isn't taking you away from something you'd rather be doing."
He merely grunted in response.
Despite her excitement at having gotten a call to the outside world, Tamara didn't dare mention or hint at it to Roger. For all she knew, their conversations were somehow monitored or otherwise recorded.
Roger did notice a change in her, however.
"What's come over you? You haven't kissed me like that since Rio."
"I know, and I'm sorry," she said, surreptitiously passing him a crushed roll that she had smuggled inside her dress sleeve. "I've had time to think, and I'm going to try really hard to make the best of things."
"That's wonderful, Sweetie. I'm glad you're feeling better. Me? I feel like I've been in this cell for a Brazillion years."
She actually laughed this time.