Run - Chapter 47: Chess (mf oral swallow masturbation)

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Chapter 47: Chess

"You have to fucking be kidding me," Gene shook his head, "a fucking submarine?"

Bridgewater ignored Gene's comment. "Are you sure that's him, Silver?"

The technician nodded, "Absolutely. The signal was received in Portoferraio. We know the Mantis has been there for two days. What are the odds that's coincidence?"

"And you can track it?"

Silver nodded, then shrugged, "Pretty certain I've got the lock, but Utah's no idiot. He'll have some way to switch things up soon enough. We have to be quick."

Bridgewater chewed his thoughts a moment. "We can't follow him in a bird. Our options are limited, it seems. We need to get to Israel and find Spider."

"What does that get us?" Gene asked. "Doesn't that just put us that much further from my wife?"

"For a short time, yes. What it gets us are the tools we require to get where we really need to be as quickly as possible."

"Where's that?"

"The one place where Utah can't run from us. It won't be easy to get into, though."

"Where?" Gene repeated.

Bridgewater looked at him with steel in his eyes, "We have to take back the Cambridge."

- - -

Logan was cold, shivering, his fingers already feeling thick and weak. He'd been crawling for at least an hour or two, though there was no easy way to track time in the dark passages lit only by his flashlight. He'd made a wrong turn twice and had to backtrack after consulting the hand-drawn map of the system. It was much easier to get lost than it should have been. Several times, the map differed from the actual layout, and Logan hoped that those differences didn't lead him in the wrong direction.

He paused at the first really narrow part he'd come to. Some of the passages had been small, but he'd still been able to stay on his hands and knees and move rather freely that way. The passage ahead was half that size, and Logan knew he'd be forced onto his stomach to inch his way forward. He tied the pack across his chest and pushed it forward of him to keep access as he moved, the flashlight held awkwardly and doing as much to blind him as help him see. Logan switched it off, figuring there really was nothing much worth looking at with the bag blocking his view and just enough room to keep his head raised a couple of inches off the bottom.

Inside the narrow passage, it became clear quickly that the skin on Logan's shoulders and outer thighs was being dragged along each time he clawed his way forward. It stung a bit. At one point, his underwear caught on something and in the tight spot, Logan could do nothing as they were pulled down his legs slowly. He tried to keep them caught on his ankle but they tore free and he lost them.

It was as good a time as any to get out the grease. The tube squirted easily into his fingers, but trying to work his arms back turned out to be too frustrating to continue. Instead he slathered the sides of the access and hoped his skin would coat enough to move freely.

Generally working after a few feet of movement, his skin now sliding more easily over the metal, Logan continued to coat the sides every minute or two to ensure he could move freely along.

The passage began to incline and soon was pointed so far up it was hard to pull himself further. It took every muscle in his arms, shoulders, thighs, and feet to keep going, and the slippery sides made it that much harder to maintain enough friction to push against.

It took most of an hour to finally get free of the narrow access and Logan rolled out into another intersection with enough room to stretch out and catch his breath. Everything ached. But Logan was determined not to quit, steeling himself with promises of Anna's endless gratitude as his reward. He consulted the map again, turned left, and, on hand and knees, kept inching his way towards his goal.

- - -

"You really are a striking woman," Haul said loud enough to rouse her from sleep. Tamara jumped against the wall and pulled the blankets up high defensively. Whatever dream she'd just awoken from had been frightening and added to the startling effect of hearing the man's words echo in the small room.

"What do you want?" she growled, trying to slow her heartbeat.

"Oh, nothing anyone else wouldn't want, I suppose," he said with glee. "Everything."

"That's rather specific," Tamara muttered, her words filled with sarcasm.

"Oh, but it is. You see, when one limits one's self to seek only some things, all other things are sliced away. I seek only to know the limits, not some lessor result. By seeking everything, as any sane person should, I can discover what is and what is not possible to obtain."

"You're insane," Tamara spat.

"My dear, I'm offended. My sanity has only ever been questioned by those who would soon be dead, and I assure you, I haven't yet decided when that might be for you."

"Lucky me," responded Tamara.

"Perhaps I am insane, my dear, perhaps it is true what you say. See," his hand slid over the blankets to once more cup the general area around her pussy, "I've decided to be merciful before the Mantis arrives. I will give you what you really need one last time..."

The look in the man's eyes was frightening, but Tamara was able to calm herself and think clearly. She saw his overconfidence in himself, appearing to think his presence was imposing, that she was weak compared to his strength. Physically, he was right, though it was less of a difference than the man believed. Tamara's weeks on the run had added lean, tough muscle to her body and she had no doubt she was stronger than she might appear. She would let him do what he was going to do and use it against him as soon as there was an opening. Tamara let out her breath and let the blankets fall down to her lap.

He purred and pulled her shirt off quickly, exposing her breasts to his eyes. "Mmm, yes, my dear, those are quite lovely. A gift of motherhood for the world..."

She kept her breathing calm as his fingers gripped her tits roughly, squeezing them hard. Haul pulled away the blankets, then unzipped and unbuttoned her pants, his fingers soon pawing at her hairy cunt. Tamara swallowed a moment of revulsion, but she stayed alert enough to notice him beginning to shuck off his pants.

The opportunity was there in an instant. Tamara's knee came up hard and smashed Haul's balls against his groin. He let out a yelp, gasping. Tamara's hidden hand moved quickly, the narrow end of the hairbrush she'd hidden slammed into Haul's windpipe, sending him sprawling and trying to suck in air.

She was on him in a flash, using the brush to pummel his stomach, knee crushing his nuts with force. Haul's eyes were wide and frightened, the man unable to breath beyond gasps. Tamara didn't smile as she wrapped her fingers around Haul's throat and squeezed. "You're right, Haul," she told him, "wanton slut isn't my look. So here's the woman who wants to squeeze your throat until it turns to jelly. I hope you enjoy."

Haul struggled under her, but Tamara was all tense muscles with the force of raw anger on her side. She watched his eyes bulge and then relax as his brain's access to oxygen was diminished and stopped.

Long after he'd appeared to pass out, she held his throat tight. She realized there was no way he was faking it at some point and let go, her muscles clenching, her teeth grinding. It was hard to try to calm down, but she'd never so directly killed anyone before, and the way in which she'd done it frightened her.

But she easily remembered the threat to her life, to her sanity, to her kids and husband's safety. The smile slowly spread on her face as she looked down at her work, bruises already forming on Haul's neck, perfect imprints of the clenched fingers she'd held there.

Tamara pressed a finger to his neck to check for her pulse and was disappointed that he still had one. For a moment, she considered ending his life, her true intention while she was strangling him. But then she realized the next step in her plan didn't really exist. She was on a boat or a sub. If the latter, she didn't know how to operate one. She had no idea where she was or where to go or even if there was a way to elude anyone else on their way to kill her. She might need Haul some point soon. It made her regret, briefly, that he'd passed out.

She ducked out of the room and found herself in a narrow hallway. Her first concern was ensuring Haul was bound. A small door opened a narrow pantry where she found rope and duct tape, and for several minutes, she tied up Haul, tight enough to keep him from escaping, she hoped. Tamara left him on the floor and tried to discover some way to get off the boat.

- - -

"So... my sister and your brother christened the bathroom earlier," Georges whispered to Lauren as they idled just inside the supply room. They'd spent the last few hours hustling ammo crates and other items needed by those further up the bunker. It wasn't clear what was going on elsewhere. She'd seen Anna a few times, as well as Henderson and Panthea, but thus far, there was no sign of a fight taking place outside the underground compound. Lauren was worried about Logan, her brother gone much longer than she thought his task would take, but Anna shared no updates and Lauren hoped that meant things were fine.

"No surprise," Lauren replied, "my brothers are such pervs."

"And you assume you're not?" Georges laughed.

"No... I'm a perv, too, I suppose."

"Me, as well," the handsome boy told her. "Wish you and me could fool around right now..."

"But we can't," said Lauren, "too much to do."

"We've been waiting for an hour now," he told her, "we could have been fooling around that whole time..."

"Anna told us to wait for someone to fetch us, and that's what we'll do..."

The supply room was well lit, though no one but the two of them were currently inside, and the narrow passageway to it was empty, so Lauren dared to put her hand on Georges's crotch and rub against where his penis was resting beneath his pants.

"Mmm," he purred, "thought we had other things to do..."

"Not risking doing much," she countered, "but maybe a hand job might get you by..."

He grinned, "Oh, I suppose I could put up with that."

She laughed and smacked his groin. Georges yelped playfully.

Lauren unzipped his fly and reached inside, finding his penis growing erect. Her fingers slipped around his shaft and slowly she began to stroke him beneath his pants. Georges closed his eyes, hand gripping Lauren's shoulder for support. She watched the passageway but heard nothing, then turned back to watch Georges as he started to strain.

He was surprising quick to rise to orgasm. Lauren felt his cock swelling in her fingers, his hips thrusting against her movements. Just as she was sure he was about to release, she dropped to her knees, pulled out his cock, and pointed it between her open lips.

Salty spunk spurted out and splashed against the roof of her mouth and onto her tongue. Georges groaned his pleasure as he ejaculated. Lauren swallowed then slid her lips around the head of his cock, letting him spurt the last couple of globs of cum inside her mouth, swallowing again when he had finished unloading.

Lauren wiped her mouth with the back of her hand then tucked Georges's penis back into his pants, letting him zip himself back up. He kissed her and she knew the sexy boy was tasting his own spunk in her mouth. For some reason, that really turned her on, but the sound of booted steps around the corner caused her to pull back and not consider asking Georges to use his fingers to get her off.

"You two," the man called Oscar growled, "come on. You're needed elsewhere."

Lauren cast one quick glance at the flushed Georges, then followed the man quickly, ignoring the way her swollen pussy had drooled slickness into her panties.

- - -

Logan was almost out of energy. The climb up and through the ducts and access corridors had been hours long and left him weakly avoiding passing out. The air in the last couple of hours had grown stale and heavy, as if it lacked enough oxygen to breath properly. It left Logan tired and in need of rest.

He'd managed to keep going, and when someone from the operations team asked him to check in, he pressed his earpiece and let them know that he was still moving towards the intake.

Logan knew he was getting close. He'd taken the last left turn on the map and should be within shouting distance of his destination. The last climb was the hardest yet, almost straight up. It was narrow, which allowed him to use his shoulders and knees to wedge himself higher and higher. A bit of light started to be obvious above and within moments, he'd exited the last passage into the square room which held several ducts which joined together before going up through the top of the room. Along one wall there was a small door which Logan knew from the map led to a hidden access point on the surface not too far from the intake. He had the keys needed to get through, but Anna told him that was only for an emergency should he be unable to return through the access passageways.

The intake he needed to close was at the apex of that intersection, just below the ceiling. He took just a moment to stretch and try to find whatever strength reserves he had left to climb the ten feet or so up the ductwork. Carefully shouldering the pack, Logan did his best to keep himself steady. Anna had warned him that he could be heard if he made noise near the intake, so he stepped slowly and intentionally avoided hitting anything as his movements felt lethargic and difficult to control.

He steadily climbed the ducts, wincing as small creaking noises echoed loudly in his ears. Enough light was coming in from above to not need the flashlight, and he zeroed in quickly on his target.

The intake flap was stuck in a fully-open position, allowing light to stream through. Logan tried to move it manually but it didn't budge. Anna and the technicians had told him that was likely to be the case, that he'd need to fix the switch which had failed to close the flap. He shifted to the side and found the box which held the switch. Logan flicked the knob left, then right, no effect seen from the flap.

He removed the metal cover and pulled the flashlight out of his bag. Inside the case, the switch was not terribly complicated. Logan got out the multitool and voltage tester. Using the latter, he found electricity flowing into the main board but nothing coming out.

It was risky, he knew, to handle live wires, but there really was no option. They couldn't turn off the electricity to that isolated part of the system without also shutting off the rest of the ventilation for much of the bunker. Very carefully, as he'd been shown, Logan removed a red wire, then the black one, then several more, using tape to hold them apart but not touching the metal case. The board he removed with the multitool's screwdriver blade, and gently, he tucked it into his pack and brought out the replacement.

Moments later, the new board was in place, and Logan reversed the process he'd used to disconnect the wires. A spark caused him to jump but he didn't lose his grip on the pieces, carefully reattaching each until it was back together. He reconnected the switch on the cover and flicked it left, then right.

The intake flap whirred quietly until it was fully closed. Logan could hear another such flap doing the same further up, and it finished just a second after the first.

Despite being a few meters underground, the sounds of helicopters were obvious to Logan. He felt his pulse racing suddenly, the whomp-whomp-whomp rattling him on his perch. He quickly got down, not worried about noise with the close-above presence of the choppers.

They passed on and Logan began to make his preparations to return to the compound.

Voices were muffled above. Logan listened, pressing his ear against the metal wall. It had an immediate impact on what he could make out.

"You're sure?" a muffled male voice said.

"Completely," a woman's voice answered.

"And they are unaware we have this?"

"Completely."

"Then fuck sake, turn it on already. We're already off track on this side of the ridge, we need some interference to keep them from honing in on us."

"One second," the woman replied. It was quiet a moment, then she continued, "Okay, it's on."

"Good. That the only control?" the man asked.

"It's my prototype... haven't made another until we could test it out."

"So how do we know it's working."

"Listen," the woman said.

Whatever they were listening to did not filter down to Logan's ears.

"Well, fuck sake," the man said, "that's all they're hearing right now?"

"That's everything. Unless they can get this out of my hands, and so long as we stay close enough, all their comms are down."

"Beautiful," the man said as his voice grew distance, "fucking beautiful."

Once he was sure they had moved on, he tried his earpiece. Then he understood what the strangers above had heard. A jumble of static and pops and random clicks was all the reply he got. He tried again and knew it was pointless. He was cut off. Everyone was cut off.

Logan looked down at himself. He was shivering, naked as he'd ever been. Greasy, sweaty, filthy, and exhausted. But he had no choice on what to do next. He fetched the key set from his bag, steeled his courage, and started to unlock the access door so that he could go play hero again.

- - -

The flight to Israel had taken several hours and included a refueling stop in Crete. Gene had managed to doze at times, though sitting upright and in an uncomfortable seat made his sleep of little value. It didn't help to have the bandaged, red-haired man stretched out on the floor of the chopper letting out occasional groans of pain. O'Leary hadn't regained consciousness, and his pale complexion and his weak breathing suggested to Gene that it was a miracle he hadn't died already.

O'Leary had been rushed off for treatment as soon as they put down inside the M1 compound. They were met by twenty or more armed soldiers who looked wary and on edge. Bridgewater had them wait near the chopper until the man he needed to see had come out.

"I'll be a monkey's fucking uncle. Thought you were dead." The man walking up was short and thin, dressed in clothing about the same color as his darkened-leather skin. He stepped close to Bridgewater and stuck out his hand. "Can't say I'm looking forward to hearing your explanation, but we can save that for another day. I'm glad you're back, Aristotle."

Gene's eyes narrowed, "Aristotle?" he muttered to Holly.

"That's his name, Gene."

Gene chuckled but said nothing further.

The two men shook hands and Bridgewater said, "A pleasure to see you again, Spider. Let's move inside. We are in one helluva hurry."

Gene followed Bridgewater and Spider, guards around them through the hallways, until they were led into a windowless room. The side of one wall was a large, open lift and once everyone was on, the technician pressed a button and the platform slowly moved down under the floor.

They passed through a rectangular space with chains and tubes for wiring before, a minute or so later, they were gently settled onto the floor of a well-lit hallway which, on the other end, opened into a room quite out of place given Gene's expectations.

The room was easily fifty yards long and twice as wide, ceilings several stories above their heads. From the edge of the hallway leading in, Gene could only see so much of it, and what was in front of him was rows of trees and bright-green bushes. It looked like an English garden, or maybe an orchard near a cottage in some peaceful romantic location.

"No time for explanations, Gene," Holly said quietly when he started to ask about this place, "later. I promise."

He shook his head, but followed as Spider and Bridgewater kept a rapid pace to the left and then out one door.

The next room was more traditional in fashion and utility, several formal couches were around the sides, and a long, rectangular table with twenty or so chairs took up most of the room in the middle. Along the back, Gene saw a white refrigerator, a sink, and several cabinets, along with another closed door to the side.

"You'll wait here," Spider told Gene, "Ari? Let's get this going, shall we?"

Bridgewater nodded, took a few steps, then turned back to Gene, "Rest if you can. We'll be moving as soon as we have a plan in place. I know it's going to be difficult, but what we need to do won't be easy and you can bet it won't come quickly enough for you. I promise you, Gene, we'll get to her as quickly as possible."

He turned and left with Spider. Gene fumed a bit, but it was without much energy. He was simply exhausted. Holly remained behind, as did the others. Silver had already set up at the table, fingers whirling around the keyboard.

Gene yawned and walked behind Silver to stare at the screen. It was all ones and zeros to his eye. "Anything new?" he asked.

Silver's fingers never stopped as he replied, "I'm tracking Utah perfect so far. He can't throw this signal off track. We'll only lose him if he switches his encryption. It's like a lighthouse just over the horizon. You can spot it even on a foggy day if the light is bright enough. Well, right now, Utah's light is really, really bright. I'm working on how to find him again should he switch up on us."

"Where are they heading?"

"Earlier, they were going northeast, maybe to the Tuscan Archipelago, or maybe mainland Italy. But a few hours ago, they turned southeast. Wasn't much in that direction until you get to Sicily. Been a steady course, though, so they're now only an hour or so offshore, hard to say if that's the end point. The receiver shut down a while ago. The Mantis was in Portoferraio, but the receiver was in motion just before it stopped being reachable. No idea if he went to Sicily or elsewhere."

"Sicily..."

"Aye."

Gene wondered what Utah's plans were for his wife. It was frustrating on several levels. The fact that he'd been so close and then Utah had stolen her away was simple cruelty. Had it been Victor, Gene knew the outcome: he'd have killed her. There would have been no reason to try to tease out the end game. But Utah's motives were unclear. He knew Tamara was valuable, no doubt, but beyond that, he didn't seem to be working with Victor, and so far, he'd offered no hint as to why he'd kidnapped her.

"Well," Gene said after his eyes crossed and threatened to close on their own, "thanks, Silver. Keep me updated."

Silver nodded and his fingers danced without pause while Gene walked over to one of the couches and collapsed. He wasn't surprised to feel Holly pushing onto the cushions in front of him. He let out a lungful of air and inhaled against the top of her head as he wrapped an arm over her shoulder. She smelled of days of sweat and no showers, but Holly's unique scent was there, as well. Gene rather liked it, even with the briny, unwashed accents. He kissed her cheek then settled back against the small pillow near the armrest and closed his eyes. He wondered if this insane chase would ever come to an end, and what exactly would be left of his family when it did.

- - -

"What do you mean we have no comms?!" Anna shrieked.

"We're being jammed somehow," the lean female technician told her with just an edge of panic.

"Jammed from outside the bunker? That's impossible!"

Finch was not really understanding the sudden tension which exploded in the room. It seemed that their earpieces were no longer working.

"Nothing is getting through. Nothing? Do we have anything we can use" Anna pleaded.

"There's some backup two-ways in the supply room. Big green boxes marked with the symbol RXC-05. They'll need new batteries installed, those are in the cases, but we can get them to the outposts and squad leaders. Should have enough to go around."

"You four," Anna said, turning to Finch and the others. "Supply room. RXC-05. Bring them all back to the staging site near where you last dropped the ammo. Go!"

Finch and the other three teens raced quickly back through the corridors and soon found the needed cases, each carrying one big box back to the spot where Anna was waiting. "There are two more," Finch told her.

"You two," she said to Hannah and Georges, "fetch them!" Anna turned to Finch and Lauren, adding, "Got another need for you. Switch out the batteries in the handsets. There should be a base unit for each four radios. Test them quickly, ensure they come through to the base, Lauren, you'll take the bases back to the comms room and stay out of the way there. Wait for someone to find something for you to do, understood?"

Finch's sister nodded.

"What about me?" Finch asked.

Anna let out a deep breath. "I need something less easy from you. I need you to run radios to the outposts."

"No!" Lauren screamed. "Send me instead!"

"No!" Anna answered her with a shout, "there's no time for arguments. Do as I say. When the radios are ready, find me, Finch, and I'll show you where to go. Hurry the fuck up!"

- - -

It was clear she needed to figure out a plan quickly. She'd watched the darkness through the glass in the sub cockpit and understood that the craft was operating on its own. Tamara had no idea whether Haul had plotted a course which would take her to the Mantis, or if it was just set to go forward with no end point determined. What would happen, she wondered, if the course ran upon shallow waters, or a landmass. Would Haul have designed it to maneuver around? Would it slam into rocks and split open? Tamara didn't really want to find out.

She tried to rouse him for several minutes with no luck. She slapped his face, splashed him with cold water, even pinched his arms. Nothing worked. Tamara sat back on the bed, wondering how this might end, and whether it would be a quick death, or a painful one.

She saw Haul start to rock back and forth against his restraints, then a muffled groan came through his gag. Tamara let him stir a moment before she said, "Stop moving. You're not getting free, Haul, so give up any hope of that."

He did still, but he continued to groan and cough through the pillowcase Tamara had used as a gag. She slowly pulled back the covering over his eyes, and she saw Haul's whites were heavily bloodshot, beat red, looking rather frightening, actually. Tamara stared at him a second, then said, "Do you play chess, Charles?"

Haul just stared at her.

"I asked you if you play chess. You may nod."

He did so.

"Good. See, I play chess, too. Sometimes, I make a mistake and my opponent gets my queen. Or I sacrifice a pawn too early or too easily. I bet when you play chess, you're too clever for your own good. See, I figure that, since you know you're smarter than the other guy, there's no way he could figure out what your up to. He can't even imagine the brilliant way you're about to check him.

"The problem, though, is that you aren't the smartest guy in the room all the time. We're playing chess right now, Charles. Just you and me. You may really be the smartest genius of the two of us, but here's the problem for you: I have your queen and all your pawns, and your last rook is trapped. Now... I'm willing to let your king go free for a while, but I want something in exchange.

"Mm-mmmphmm."

"I didn't catch that."

"Mm-mmmphmm!"

"Let's try this one more time," she said, finally pulling away his gag.

"What do you want you nasty woman?!" his voice cracked and strained, his words ending in a coughing fit.

"Oh, no, you don't get to talk to me that way, Charles. The wanton slut is long gone. I'm still the one who rather enjoys wrapping my fingers around your throat and squeezing."

The look in his eyes suggested his terror from those moments had not been forgotten.

"What do you want?" he said more weakly.

"Better. I want to know how to operate this thing."

He stared at her a moment. "You can't."

"Why's that?"

"Because you underestimate my genius," Haul spat. "You forgot to check my pockets when you tied me up."

She looked down to see that his hand was pressed to his side, fingers free enough to access whatever was inside through the fabric. She frantically poked inside his left pocket, then his right, digging out a small remote of some sort. Tamara held it over Haul. "What is this?!"

"A way to keep anyone from taking my baby without my permission. The Mantis has control now. The console won't work for anyone until I give it my access code, and you won't be strangling that out of me today." His sadistic grin made Tamara's heart sink. "It seems, my dear, that your analogy fails you here. You may have my queen and my pawns, but I still have your little king surrounded. The Mantis is guiding you right to him."

"Jesus Christ," she breathed, falling back against the bed. "Jesus fucking Christ..."

The man's laugh was ragged and full of rough, phlegmy sputtering, but his delight at his own cleverness was enough to make clear that he enjoyed the way Tamara's panic showed in her shocked expression.