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			DAMSELS UNDER GLASS: THE SERIES
			A Bug's Tale (Charlie's Story) ———————————————— by Van & Courier  ©2000
			Chapter 17

Lourdes leaned close over Janet's cot.  The Navajo cop was looking much better, her color healthy and normal in the early morning light.  "When you get tired of pretending to be asleep, I'll fix you a little breakfast," Lourdes whispered.

Janet's eyes opened.  "It's the damn drugs," she mumbled.  "I can't decide if I feel good, or feel like shit, or feel like feelin' like shit feels good."

"It's the drugs," Lourdes confirmed with a laugh.  She poured some water into a cup, then held the cup to Janet's lips and helped her drink.  "How do you feel about scrambled eggs, toast, and coffee?"

Janet drank until the cup was empty.  "Thanks.  Breakfast sounds good," she said with a tired smile.  Lourdes began moving around the camp, preparing and cooking the meal.

"For the record," Lourdes explained, "you took a round from a .44 caliber rifle in the chest.  One of your lungs almost collapsed and your collar bone has a simple fracture. The lung is fine and the collar bone will heal in a few weeks, but no strenuous exercise and definitely no more getting shot."

"I like that prescription," Janet replied. She looked to the East.  The sun had been up for almost two hours, but Janet quietly sang her chant anyway, belatedly greeting the dawn.  It was good to be alive.

Kat and the Mouse had left at dawn, right when Janet had first regained consciousness.  Very much in a chemically induced daze, she hadn't caught any of the details, but apparently Janet's attacker (and Charlie and Teri's kidnapper) was in custody, and some other kidnapper had also been captured, and Kat and Charlie were going to rescue Teri and some other people (who for some reason needed rescuing)... but everything was okay, nobody was in danger, and...  Janet's only clear memory was Charlie leaning close and kissing her good-bye... not the sort of thing common among the Dineh, but who could deny the Mouse any such display?

The next thing Janet knew, it was... later... and now the eggs were ready.  Janet's medical cot automatically elevated to a sitting position, carrying the compact monitoring equipment with it.  Her left side swathed in bandages, her left arm immobilized across her chest with more bandages, and her right arm encumbered with an intravenous drip, Janet was unable to feed herself.  Lourdes set a folding table next to the cot, settled into a chair, and began feeding the patient and herself.  The light meal passed in companionable silence.

"Why don't you go back to sleep?" Lourdes asked as she cleaned up.

"Can't stay in bed forever," Janet mumbled.

Lourdes grinned.  "Next time you wake, I'll help you get up.  That sound good? ...Janet?"  Lourdes turned back towards the cot.  Janet was already asleep.  Lourdes smiled as Eve slowly lowered the cot to the fully reclined position.  The pilot then turned and finished her cleaning.

"Eve," Lourdes whispered, "everything on schedule?"

"Yes," Eve answered softly, speaking in Lourdes' earpiece so as not to disturb the dozing patient.  "Kat and Charlie will be at Copperhead Canyon in approximately one hour."

Lourdes nodded... and her perpetual smile faded, replaced by a decidedly less friendly, slightly angry expression.  As if by magic, her angelic beauty became hard, her easy, athletic grace dangerous.  She turned and strode purposefully towards the tail of the tilt-wing, then paused near the aircraft's lowered cargo ramp, gazing back at Janet.  The Navajo cop was still slumbering comfortably on her cot.  "Any change in Janet's prognosis, Eve?" Lourdes whispered.  "You still think she'll be ready to travel by this afternoon?"

"She could travel now, if necessary," Eve responded, "but she'll be more comfortable if we wait a little longer."  Lourdes nodded and started up the ramp.  "Lourdes?" Eve said, causing the pilot to pause again.  "Voice stress analysis suggests you are very upset," the AI intoned.  "I remind you that Margo's instructions with respect to the prisoners are that—"

"You don't need to remind me of anything," the pilot muttered—then she sighed, her cheeks colored slightly, and her smile returned.  "I remember my orders.  I won't do anything... excessive."

"Of course you won't, Lourdes," Eve said.  "I know you're incapable of doing anything drastic, but Margo is in a... shall we say... volatile mood over this affair, and causing her anger to be redirected away from its proper targets would be very unwise."

"Very unwise indeed," Lourdes agreed, "and counterproductive."  Her smile faded again, and she resumed her journey up the ramp.

Drake was waiting inside the cargo bay.  Waiting was her only possible option.  Some hours earlier, Kat and Lourdes had released her from the punishing hog-tie in which she had spent most of the extremely uncomfortable night, and still bound with rope from head to toe, she had been dragged back to the tilt-wing and placed her in her present predicament.   Still inescapably bound and weak from the exhausting hog-tie, Drake had been unable to resist (other than by cursing through her gag) as waste-handling catheters were inserted in her most intimate openings with clinical skill.  She was then zipped and strapped into a canvas sheath, and suspended with taut cargo straps in the middle of the cargo bay.

Drake's brave front had faltered when she had looked up and beheld what appeared to be a black steel helmet on an articulated frame lowering from the ceiling.  The helmet opened like a clamshell and despite her best efforts to evade capture, had slowly closed and locked around her head.  Blinded by the helmet, Drake had been unable to follow the details, but the lower portion of the helmet had remained open.  Her ball-gag was removed through the expedient of cutting the strap and jerking it from her mouth.  Before she could say anything (or bite any available fingers), the helmet's wedge-shaped bit-gag slid between her teeth and the rest of the helmet snapped closed.  The bit then slowly expanded to fill her mouth to jaw aching levels.

And then she had been left alone, bound and sheathed, her head clamped and encased, blind, gagged, white noise from earphones built into the helmet droning in her ears... floating... for hours...

She was alone no longer.  Lourdes tapped her TESSERACT signet ring to a small pad on the side of the helmet and its blinding flaps opened to either side, revealing Drakes dark eyes, blinking in the sudden light.  Lourdes busied herself opening the lid of a large metal packing case, giving the prisoner's eyes time to adjust.  "Eve," she said, "pipe me through to her earphones, would you please?  I don't want her to miss a single detail."

"Yes, Lourdes," Eve responded.

Lourdes made sure the case was in the prisoner's severely restricted field of vision.  She could see Drake's eyes focus on the case, then shift to her captor.  "I wanted you to see where I'll be putting you later," Lourdes said, indicating the case with a graceful wave of her left arm.  "We normally transport our prisoners one per case, using much smaller containers, but since I didn't know what I'd be dealing with when I packed for this little rescue trip, I brought one large case, able to hold several."

The case in question was roughly two meters square and one meter deep.  The exterior resembled an oversized piece of very expensive luggage, sculpted panels of brushed aluminum alloy.  From one corner, a fiber optic cable emerged and snaked to a socket in the forward bulkhead, behind the aircraft's passenger compartment. The inside was thickly padded with what appeared to be clear, plastic bladders filled with blue liquid.  Lourdes watched Drake's eyes dart around, taking in all the details.  She could tell when the captive began reading the continuous message banner emblazoned around the outside circumference of the container.

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P R O P E R T Y   O F   T E S S E R A C T I N C. ENVIROLOCK ™ STORAGE MODULE WARNING: POSSIBLE BIOHAZARD IF OPENED IMPROPERLY

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Lourdes leaned down and prodded one of the liquid-filled bladders.  "It's called 'Reflex Gel'," she explained.  "Once it's activated, it expands to many times its current volume 'til it's opposed by a preset pressure, then the second phase of the reaction starts, and it sets up solid.  Understand?"  Lourdes stepped closer, until her face filled Drake's field of vision.  "I'll make it simple.  You go in.  The gel expands and turns to a solid.  You can't move... not even twitch."  Lourdes smiled when she saw Drake's eyes grow wide and desperate.  Lourdes turned back to the case.  "There are hose attachments for air, water, and waste disposal.  Heat transfer coils keep the temperature of the contents—that's you , of course—within a constant range."

Lourdes reached up and plucked Drake's hat from atop her helmet.  She had placed it there (much to Kat's carefully masked amusement) hours earlier when the helmet had first been fitted.  Lourdes straightened the block of the Stetson and settled it on her own head.  "We'll be relocating camp in a few hours, which is when I'll pop you in the module.  It'll be a short flight so I won't activate the gel."  Lourdes removed Drake's hat and sailed it into a corner of the cargo bay.  "That comes when we depart for our final destination... after your girlfriend joins us."

Lourdes stepped closer.  Drake's eyes were wide and darting.  "That's right, m'dear," Lourdes confirmed.  "We've got her too."  Drake and Lourdes locked eyes.  "Wonder where you'll be going?" Lourdes asked.  "I'll tell you: to a place where Charlie Paretsky has lots of friends... and they're all very anxious to meet you."  Lourdes stepped back to the case and carefully closed the heavy lid.  It resealed with an audible hiss.  "I'll leave your eye flaps open while I break up the camp... so you can get a really good look at the module... think about the trip ahead... think about what's happening to your girlfriend... what's going to happen to both of you... maybe meditate upon your sins..."  Lourdes smiled coyly.  "Silly me.  You don't have a very good lock on the whole 'sin' concept, do you?"  Lourdes stepped out of Drake's field of vision.  "Don't worry, we'll help you with that."

Drake stared at the metal case, Lourdes voice ringing in her ears.  "Funny story: once, when I first started flying tilt-wings, I forgot to close the cargo ramp.  I was on final approach to my destination when a case just like that one slid out the back and fell into the Pacific.  We never did find it.  Luckily, the contents were expendable... like you, you sadistic slut."

"Lourdes," Eve's voice interrupted, ringing in Lourdes' earpiece.

"Okay, okay... I'm better now.  White noise, Eve."  The low, mind-numbing cacophony returned to Drake's earphones.

Charlie stuck her head out the window of the speeding Hex-Rover, blinking at the passing buildings of the ghost town with girlish enthusiasm.  "It'll be fun exploring that place," she said.

"And falling through rotten floorboards, breaking your legs, and impaling yourself on splintered timbers," Kat observed, "a real blast.  You'll wait 'til Eve gives every building the all clear."

"Yes, Mommy," Charlie answered, flashing a dimpled grin.

Kat smiled (to herself), watching Charlie examine the dry, dilapidated buildings with unabated curiosity, the wind blowing the inquisitive pixie's short, raven locks in all directions. She looks like a damn puppy on her first car trip, the bodyguard mused, shaking her head.  In her own way, she's smarter that Margo... but at times she acts as childish and innocent as... as she looks.  Kat smiled (openly this time), and chuckled quietly.  God help you, Elke, she thought.

Charlie turned her head to stare at the grinning bodyguard.  "What?" she demanded, suspiciously.

"Oh... nothing," Kat answered, the smile vanishing.  She then nodded towards the approaching lower gate to Copperhead Canyon.  "Here's the gate," she said.

"Oh really?" Charlie said with good-natured sarcasm.  "I thought it was the local Walmart.  Get it? Wall mart, as in canyon wall?"  She grinned coyly, snickering at her own joke.

"Next time you ride in the trunk," Kat muttered.

They continued through the gate and down the canyon, skidding to a halt near the entrance to one of the storerooms.  Kat and Charlie stared at the scene ahead, then turned to each other in astonishment.

"There's something you don't see every day," Charlie said quietly.

Several hundred spider-bots of various size, style, and design were drawn up in neat ranks, forming a staggered arc from the Hex-Rover to the open storeroom door.  Kat and Charlie climbed out of the Hex-Rover.

"Eve," Kat demanded, "what the hell—"

"Troops ready for inspection!" Eve's voice boomed.  Simultaneously, the spider-bots snapped to attention and raised their right forelegs to their multi-eyed heads in salute.  John Williams' Imperial March blared over the Canyon's excellent sound system.

Charlie giggled in delight, but Kat glared at the robot parade, her gloved hands on her hips.  "Very funny, Eve," the catsuited bodyguard muttered.

"Oh, lighten up," Charlie urged, nudging Kat in the ribs.  "Sometimes you carry the 'We are not amused' thing too far."

Kat's frown faded.  "So I guess I'm Darth Vader... and you're an Ewok, right Shrimp?"  The smug bodyguard then started forward towards the storeroom entrance.

Charlie stared at Kat's back, blinking in surprise.   "Eve, alert the media!" she shouted, finally.  "Kat made a joke!"  Charlie then scurried after the gracefully striding bodyguard, returning the robots' salute as she went.

The black-clad duo passed through the storeroom, through the open secret door, and into the hidden passageways of the Copperhead Mine (and Dungeons).  "You go find your friend and I'll see to the other two," Kat ordered, handing Charlie a PalmCom.  "Eve has this place mapped out and wired, so you won't have any trouble."

"Danger Girl Commandos to the rescue!" Charlie said lightly, saluting the frowning bodyguard.  "May the Force be with you," she said gravely, then laughed and skipped away down the dimly lit passage.

"Charlie," Kat called after her sternly, "be careful."

Charlie turned but continued down the corridor, walking backwards.  "I'm always—oook!"  The diminutive, self-styled 'Danger Girl Commando' had bumped into one of the passageway's old timber supports, nearly tripping herself.  She flashed a sheepish, dimpled smile, gathered her remaining dignity, then giggled and scampered away, around a bend in the passage.

"Little twerp," Kat mumbled, smiling, despite herself.  "Eve," she called, "please don't let Charlie fall down a mine shaft, or get lost in a bat-infested cavern, or meet some other well-deserved fate, would you?  Margo would be pissed."

"Yes, Kat," Eve answered.

Kat consulted her own PalmCom and started down another passageway.  "'Make sure Charlie gets closure,' she says," Kat muttered.  "What she needs is a damn leash."

Jessie was miserable, a feeling she was sure had to be shared by Delores.  The Mexican maid may have had more experience with this sort of thing (and, Jessie knew, was at least a little into being a helpless prisoner), but anyone would have to be miserable after hanging from the ceiling of a dungeon, tightly bound to the point of near total immobility with enough rope to rig a circus tent, for... How long has it been? the helpless teenager wondered.  She'd managed to doze for a time... a couple of times.  It must have been most of a night, a very... long... night, since Victoria had placed them in their current predicaments, possibly into the next day.

Jessie was bound with arms outstretched and lashed to a stout pole, ankles crossed, knees bent; suspending ropes around her knees, waist, through her crotch, and tied to her hair.  She was gagged with a large rubber ball secured by a thin leather thong.  She knew Delores was in a similar condition, only without the pole, arms folded behind her back and lashed from wrist to elbow, a bit harness in place of a ball-gag.  They had started out, as Victoria had so gloatingly put it, "watching each other hang out", but after her cousin had left, Jessie's feeble struggles had somehow imparted a slow, clockwise spin to her suspended body.  Delores had drifted out of Jessie's field of view some hours ago.

Currently centered in Jessie's vision was a large oak barrel mounted sideways on a stand of heavy timbers, one of the "furnishings" of "her room".  She could tell the barrel could spin freely, like a huge spool on a rod, but large wooden gears and a ratchet and pawl mechanism restricting its rotation.  There were lashing points on the barrel and Jessie could imagine herself (or Delores) bound across the barrel's hard slats, either stomach up or down, positioned (via the convenient hand crank) at Victoria's discretion, ready to be... what? ...whipped?  Probably... maybe just left there, or maybe the barrel could be set to slowly rotate, or...  No use worryin' about it, Jessie mused.  We'll find out... probably too soon.

Jessie had known her cousin was considered "eccentric" by the rest of the family, but the McQuade clan was full of eccentrics and she'd assumed Victoria's choice of isolated desert luxury was the extent of her oddity.  I wonder if a person can be more wrong, the teenager wondered.  Soon after arriving at Copperhead Lodge, Jessie had realized that Victoria, Drake (and to a lesser extent, Delores) shared a special friendship. She was cool with that, in fact, Jessie had flirted with the lovely maid a few times herself.  But then, as Jessie had begun to express her independence, her cousin had become more and more controlling.  She'd started assigning Jessie chores, and when they weren't performed to perfection, had instituted ever more restrictive punishments.  This had clashed with Jessie's free spirit in a big way, and she and Victoria had spiraled into an ever increasing tit-for-tat relationship.  Jessie would push the boundaries of the "house rules" and Victoria would escalate her punishments accordingly.  Jessie could clearly remember the first time Victoria had made her wear some of Delores' chains; the first time she had brought out the rope; the first time Victoria had hogtied her in an empty stall in the stables and had left her thrashing around in the straw for an entire night.  But this? This was too much!  It wasn't a game any more.

In retrospect, Jessie could see that it had been a mistake allowing the contest to develop along the lines it had, a big mistake.  Victoria had been manipulating her the whole time, had goaded Jessie into proving she could "be brave, like Delores," could play the slave girl... and now the playing was over.  For all practical purposes, Jessie was a slave.

This was Victoria.  This was her eccentric cousin: Victoria McQuade, keeper of slave girls.  Jessie shuddered to think of the predicaments the more sadistic Drake might invent for Jessie-the-slave, and for Delores (and Teri and Charlie).  We are so screwed! Jessie mused.

Jessie heard the door to "her room" being unlocked and opened... then the squeal of the inner gate of iron bars opening... then the click of boots on the stone floor.  She heard Delores mewl through her gag and the maid's bells tinkle (as she struggled in her inescapable bonds, no doubt), but Jessie could see neither Delores, nor the door, nor whoever had entered (causing Delores such distress).

More footsteps.  Jessie's best guess was the boots belonged to Drake.  Somehow the rhythm was... graceful, not as direct as it would have been had it been Victoria.  Rope creaked, Delores' bells tinkled... and the bells (and therefore Delores) seemed to be... dropping.  Jessie twisted in her bonds, trying to turn herself... but it was useless... and Drake was totally silent!  This made it even worse.  A bitch like Drake should be gloating and mocking the helpless pair.   A silent Drake meant a sadist with a purpose.  Jessie shuddered in her suspending ropes.

Minutes passed, in which Jessie heard the occasional sound of rope slapping the floor, the dry, slithering sound of rope being pulled through itself.  Then she heard a long, rambling, whispered conversation, too quiet and distant for her to make out any of the words, or identify the voices... but then she heard a giggling whisper that was unmistakably Delores: "Sí Señorita—mmpfh!"  Jessie struggled in frustration.  Drake whispering made even less sense.

What the hell is going on? Jessie wondered, and mewled through her gag... and then the boots started again... and she could tell they were approaching... and then a leather gloved hand touched her left knee.  Jessie flinched (as much as she could), then relaxed in her bonds.  The hand slid from her knee, along her left calf, to her crossed ankles, paused to examine the ropes... then slid down her right leg to her waist... examined her waist ropes... lightly caressed her right butt cheek... a gloved finger slid along the crotch ropes bisecting her buttocks... then the hand traveled up her spine to her neck.  The thong of her ball-gag was untied, but the ends held tightly together by the mysterious hand... while a second gloved hand clutched her right breast, and gently squeezed. Drake, you bitch! Jessie fumed inwardly.  I swear I'm gonna...

The gag thong was released, as was Jessie's breast, and Drake ducked under Jessie's outstretched, pole-bound arms and into the teenager's field of view, squatting on her heels, and—it wasn't Drake!  It was a complete stranger!   She looked a little like Drake: long straight dark hair and a dark tan.  Her eyes were cold like Drake's, but the stranger's eyes were green.  The stranger was dressed in a black body-hugging catsuit, black boots, and Jessie could see a holstered weapon of some sort, and a series of pouches on what could only be described as a 'utility belt'.  The stranger was strong, athletic, graceful (cat-like), and very beautiful... but she didn't seem particularly... friendly.

Jessie mewed though the ball in her mouth.  The gag's thong was dangling, but her jaws were too weak and sore to open enough for her tongue to expel the rubber sphere.  The stranger stared into Jessie's eyes for several long seconds, then reached up and jerked the ball from the distressed teenager's mouth.  Jessie worked her jaw for a few seconds, trying to wet her lips with her almost dry tongue.  She finally felt able to talk.  "Who?" she croaked.

"I'm a friend of Charlie's," the black-clad brunette purred (in a quiet, alto voice, also something like Drake's.)  "You remember Charlie, don't you?  One of the people you kidnapped?"

"Charlie?" Jessie gasped.  "She's okay?  She made it?"  Jessie licked her lips again.  "I... I didn't kidnap her.  Well, I did, but she forgave me and we escaped together, and—"

The stranger wasn't buying any of it.  "She forgave you, did she?" the brunette sneered.  "Well, I don't forgive you.  I don't like people who kidnap my friends."

Jessie felt tears welling.  "Please," she sobbed, "is... is Charlie okay?"

Compassion flashed across the stranger's face, and was quickly gone.  "For God's sake, don't cry," she mumbled.  "Of course she's okay.  I'm here to rescue the innocent parties, aren't I?"

"Rescue?" Jessie gasped.  "It's over?"

"I said innocent parties," the stranger snapped, then stood and stepped out of Jessie's field of vision.

"No... no really," Jessie objected.  "I kidnapped her, but she forgave me, and I'm a prisoner too, and so's Delores and—"  The ropes suspending Jessie shuddered and she felt herself being slowly lowered to the floor.  "What about Victoria, and Drake, and the other one, uh, Teri?  Are they—ah!"   Jessie gasped when she settled onto the stone floor.  It was cold, and the change in position sent a sharp pang up her spine.  "Did you...?  Are they...?"

"Your aunt and her girlfriend are in custody, and Charlie's on her way to rescue her friend," the stranger said, then busied herself untying Jessie's many bonds.

"So it is over," Jessie sighed.  She felt the ropes lashing her arms to the pole melt away; but they were instantly replaced by tight rope quickly and efficiently tied around her wrists, thumbs, and elbows.  "Hey," she objected, "do you have to—?"

"You're staying a prisoner 'til Charlie confirms your story," the stranger growled.

Jessie was hauled up to a sitting position, and for the first time she could see Delores.  The maid was sitting on the floor and still bound with rope: wrists behind her back, numerous tight bands binding her arms to her side, framing her breasts, criss-crossed and looped over her shoulders, a tight crotch rope, and her ankles hobbled about a foot apart.  She was gagged with flesh colored tape, and from the bulge in her cheeks, something was stuffed in her mouth.  However, she seemed strangely unconcerned (even amused) by this strange, unexpected "rescue".  The stranger was pulling loops of rope around Jessie's upper body, binding the redheaded teen's arms to her body in the same manner as Delores.

Jessie nodded towards her friend.  "Delores really is innocent," she said.  "She had nothing to do with the kidnapping."

Jessie's new captor continued working, hitching the rope yoking the teenager's freckled shoulders to her elbow bonds, then tying a double knot.  "'Innocent' is a word with more than one meaning," the stranger observed.

Jessie glanced at Delores, and frowned in confusion.  The amusement in the Latina's eyes was unmistakable.  There was obviously some big damn joke about all this, and Jessie wasn't in on it.  The stranger hobbled Jessie's ankles, then reached into a pouch on her belt and produced a small sphere of what appeared to be soft, pliant, blue rubber.  She gave the sphere a tight squeeze, and Jessie heard a hollow snap.  "Say ah," the stranger ordered.

"What?" Jessie asked, then gasped when the stranger popped the sphere into her mouth and held it there with a tight hand gag.  The teenager mewed and complained as the sphere began to expand... and expand... and expand... until it filled her entire mouth, molding itself to precisely fit her oral cavity.  The hand gag was replaced with three head-encircling bands of the same kind of flesh colored tape gagging Delores.  Jessie could smell a subtle, not unpleasant, fruity smell wafting from the tape, and felt it shrinking slightly, tightening around her head and further compressing her lips.  Jessie glanced at Delores, and the helpless maid had the audacity to wink at her.  I'd kick you in your smug kisser, Jessie fumed, glaring at her naked and bound friend... if I wasn't hobbled like a damn pony.

The stranger tied a rope around Jessie's waist, pulled it through her crotch, and tied it off to the mewing teen's thumbs.  She then hauled both captives to their hobbled feet.  The prisoners watched anxiously as the stranger rummaged through the cabinets furnishing the outer chamber of "Jessie's Room" until she opened a door to find several neatly coiled and hung whips, crops, and paddles.  She selected a coiled bullwhip, shook it out, and gave it an expert crack.  The captives jumped at the loud report.  "You two won't make me use this thing, will you?" the stranger asked pleasantly as she coiled the braided leather whip.  Jessie and Delores stared at one another in horrified dread, then turned back to the stranger and nodded with appropriate enthusiasm.  "Does that mean 'yes you will,' or 'yes you won't?'" the stranger asked with an amused smirk.  Jessie nodded her head, and Delores shook hers... then their eyes grew even wider, Jessie shook her head, and Delores nodded.  "Ladies, ladies," the stranger said with an evil grin, "'yes' means 'no whip,' okay?"  The prisoners nodded with doubled enthusiasm.  "Gooood," the stranger purred, gesturing towards the open door.  "Get along little doggies."

Jessie and Delores started shuffling towards the door, and the stranger snapped the whip again.  The prisoners froze.  "One last thing, kidnapper," the stranger hissed.  Jessie turned and stared at the stranger, her eyes wide, her heart hammering.  "You graduated from High School a few months ago, right?"  Jessie nodded.  "Were you a... cheerleader by any chance?  You're certainly pretty enough."  Confused, Jessie glanced at Delores, then shook her head.  "Oh," the stranger said, slightly disappointed.  "Lucky for you, I guess," she remarked, sauntering through the door.  "I hate sweater monkeys."

More confused than ever, Jessie glanced at Delores (who was smiling above her gag... again) then at their captor.  What the hell is all this? she wondered.

"Come on.  Follow me," the stranger urged, turned on her heel, and started down the passage.  "My name's Kat, by the way," she called back over her shoulder.