 
Author: Veronica Melan

"Dreams Ltd"

From a sequel of novels "The City".

Email: ladymelan@gmail.com

«Dreams Ltd»

Chapter 1:

An evening Call.

A group of tall buildings standing on the right bank of the river Klendon had already absorbed most of the sun and now, only a scattering of orangey-red rays were beaming down the cottage roofs that spread out as far as the eye could see - from the bridge and up to the West Barton Avenue.

Cars, like restless insects were still ploughing the streets. Not as much as in the daytime now and traffic quietened down almost immediately after the Bank on the street corner had shut for the day. Most cars were parked by the "Lorian's" cafe ("Fresh pastry – Desserts – Live music") and near the three-story glass shopping mall "Somerset ". Doors of the mall's entrance were swinging open every now and then letting out the tardy shoppers with their colourful bags.

Somewhere on lower floors music played softly.

I moved away from the window and sat on the sofa. I aimlessly gazed from one object to another. There is a clock on a shelf above the fireplace, its pendulum moving silently from side to side counting seconds as they disappear into nowhere. There is a tall vase decorated with bulging grapes, silver spoon, candle holder, porcelain hare...

What's the silver spoon doing there?

I tried to remember lazily but my eyes have already stumbled upon a photograph in a frame and the spoon was instantly forgotten. My feeling of restfulness has disappeared without a trace and tenacious and bitter sadness replaced it.

Alex, Alex. ... How long has it been?

I walked over to the fireplace and picked up the photo. My fingers gently caressed his familiar face frozen on a thin plate of a black and white image. The same face, the same smile, that mischievous expression of his dark eyes. I didn't even need to count how much time had passed since that day, I just knew - one month and eighteen days. Forty-eight days in total. Or fifty-two if you count form the day when Elmer received the letter. Thoughts instantly flooded my mind as my frozen memory tried to frantically scroll through everything that happened that night in April. I abruptly put the photo back on the shelf and walked away from the fireplace.

No! Not again.

It would make no sense to go through this nightmare for the umpteenth time.

It doesn't help. The ransom was paid. He hasn't come back. End of!

Perhaps it could all change again?

My inner voice sang timidly and I then realised that in a few seconds the nightmare will start all over again. My head will get torn apart by painful thoughts, tears will roll down my face and desperation will spread a net of iron threads over my mind causing me new pain.

No! Enough! Stop!

I frantically took a deep breath and held it. I need to calm down, get distracted, take a couple of Tylenol pills and go to bed. Tomorrow is a new day and something might change. I exhaled slowly and stood in the middle of the room for a few seconds trying to listen if insane voices would come back but it seemed they were gone - at least for now. I rubbed my face with the palms of my hands and headed for the bedroom.

I only made a few steps when the phone in the lounge rang.

Silver phone on a shelf made a second piercing noise and screen lit up in blue.

"Hello." I pushed the answer key and breathed wearily as I wistfully looked at the bedroom door.

"Shereen Moore?" enquired pleasant but unfamiliar female voice.

"Yes."

"I am calling from the Dreams Ltd Corporation."

I shivered and tensed up.

A-a-and the time has come ... the words sailed through my head.

The woman's voice continued:

"Order number 1839920 was filed on your behalf at the beginning of April. Is that correct?"

For a split second I fought a fugitive desire to lie and said:

"That's correct."

"We would like to meet up with you to discuss the details of repaying the debt."

"OK.When?" I shivered trying to imagine what they would ask for in return.

"In one hour."

"Today?" I was indignant but tried to compose myself. "I'm sorry, but isn't it a bit late now?" The mantel clock showed 10pm. "Maybe I can come and see you in the morning? Say, tomorrow at nine or ten? Let me just write down the address..."

The unflappable voice interrupted me but I noticed a subtle change in her tone of voice and now it felt like I was talking to a robot-woman.

"The car will come for you in fifteen minutes. No ID is necessary, just a retina scan will be enough. Our signed Non-Disclosure Agreement will be breached if you make just one phone call after our conversation or before the car gets there. Hope to see you at the office in an hour. All the best, Miss Moore! "

I heard the short beeps down the phone. I stood there staring dumbfounded at the phone.

What a polite young woman... What a pleasure to talk to you - Dreams Ltd!

Sarcastic thoughts swirled in my mind like a whole colony of bees but there was nobody to sting except for me. I could only hope that the conversation in the office is going to be with someone else as the mere thought of the robot-woman made me to feel repulsed.

I put the phone down on the shelf and went into the bedroom. There is only enough time only to have a quick shower and get changed. My comfortable bed beckoned more than ever but I went passed it without thinking, it might still be possible to sleep today but later. First I need to find out exactly how they will expect me to repay four hundred and fifty thousand dollars.

Four hundred and fifty thousand - an incredible amount of money!

Image of Alex appeared before my eyes – the face on a black and white photograph.

The car was speeding through the night streets of the city but not a single speck of light would reach me through the tinted windows. No streetlights, no shop windows – only darkness. Car interior was lit by a few dimmed lights built into the doors and the celling.

I sneered.

Of course one shouldn't expect to be shown the way to the Corporation building. How naïve was I to ask for their address and expect an answer! I could make out a vague silhouette of the driver through the partition that separated me from the front of the car but I could not see a thing of the surroundings. Nobody spoke to me. A short greeting was the end to the conversation that never happened. The only sign of the car moving was my seat that was somewhat shaking steadily. Some moments later I felt my body move forward and then go sideways. Car stopped for a bit but a few seconds it was speeding up again.

Traffic light, I noted automatically, looking at the panel with buttons for changing the temperature in the car and positioning of the seats. Window and door locks were missing.

Not surprising.

Not losing composure (escape was never an option) I continued to stare at the black impenetrable glass.

Corporation.... Recent conversation with the lady-robot went through my mind. So it's time to find out what their rules are. I knew from the very beginning who I was dealing with but I had no choice - adverts for Dreams Ltd. were everywhere: billboards, streets were full of beautiful slogans and titles. "Problems? Need help? Talk to us ... Our number is easy to remember." Elegantly dressed people from TV screens sounded very convincing, telling us how easy and convenient their service is. However I have not heard or seen anybody who had actually benefited from this service. It wasn't just strange it was scary. Something became more or less clear after I signed the Non-Disclosure Agreement but how can it be that not even a single rumour reached me until then?

Don't people whisper between each other in bars? Don't best friends trust each other secrets? To me all this looked strange to say the least, if not suspicious.

But there was no choice.

When Elmer said that Alex was gone and then a few hours later he'd received a letter from his kidnappers – nobody could present me with the money needed. Nobody, except Dreams Ltd. After several futile attempts to get some answers from my friends. Has anyone used it before? What could this Corporation ask for in return? I had no other option but pick up the phone and try to reveal everything myself. I didn't want to think that my friends would betray me. But I still couldn't quite believe that no one else had used this service before me.

Well... It makes no difference now.

I recalled the day when I decided to make that call.

When I heard that Corporation lends money without asking to repay them in the same way – I made my final decision. I agreed. Money was transferred to my account very quickly, almost immediately and nobody mentioned the day of the repayment of that debt may come and what exactly I will be asked to do. Hopelessness of the situation did not allow me to debate. Having been a responsible person throughout my life I comprehended that it's too much of a burden having to agree to a provision of an unknown service in return. But what else could I have done? However, even now – if I was asked to betray or kill someone – I would seriously reconsider or even refuse conditions of the agreement. I was, therefore, hoping that everything will get settled without going to any extremes.

So, yes, I got the money. And I sent them to the kidnappers. But Alex never returned.

Well, that's not the Corporation's fault, I guess.

I kept on staring at the dark window gritting my teeth. They don't care if Alex came back home or not. They lent me the money and now they want to get it back. Or whatever it is they want back instead. It's their right.

I closed my eyes and sighed.

After a few minutes the car stopped. The driver's door slammed and then the door beside me opened.

"Mrs Moore? We have arrived."

"Arrived" I murmured to myself and got out of the car.

"Tea, coffee or maybe just water?" asked a tall and incredibly thin man, getting up from his desk to greet me, "Alcohol?

"No, thanks"

He nodded. His face looked yellowish and kind of dry, perhaps, the reason for it was the lighting in the room or maybe a sand-coloured jacket that was creasing every time he moved, as though it was worn by a mop or a broom and not a by a man.

"My name is Mr Brahms", He introduced himself pulling out a pack of cigarettes and lighting one up, "Scott Brahms. And you, if I remember correctly, you are Shereen Moore."

"That's correct" I said frostily trying to make myself feel comfortable in the hard chair, "You know that."

"Mr Mop" smiled.

"Hopefully your trip here has not been too much of an inconvenience to you..."

I was starting to get irritated. His false politeness was completely unnecessary. We both knew why I was here but he knew more and that was making me feel rather nervous. My tired body was begging for some rest. The office was furnished quite primitively: one table, a couple of chairs and a wardrobe in the corner - simple and tasteless.

"That's enough Mr Brahms. Let's get down to business."

"Well, alright, if you wish so. Let me remind you that you are here because you have asked the Corporation to give you a certain amount of money which you had received immediately. Is that correct?"

"Yes."

"Do you have any complaints about the service, the actual money transfer or anything else?"

"No."

Brahms nodded in satisfaction.

"Then let's get down to business. We hope that what the Corporation will ask you in return will not be regarded by you as too complicated or too time-consuming."

"I can only answer your question when I hear about the nature of the task"

"Of course, Mrs Moore. We'd like to ask you to deliver this parcel to its final destination."

From somewhere under the table appeared a cardboard box sealed in plastic. There was no text was visible on it.

"If I understand correctly I'm not supposed to know what's inside. Am I right?" I frowned staring at the box.

"You are absolutely right!" he confirmed brightly as though he just heard the most valuable and appropriate comment ever. "You cannot open the box under any circumstances and as you probably understand you also must not lose it"

"I hope it's not something explosive?"

"No, the parcel isn't dangerous for you at all."

"OK. So where do I have to deliver it to?"

Brahms stopped looking at the box and looked at me.

"The City. You need to go there, find the right person and pass the parcel. After that your mission is accomplished."

The simplicity of my future task made me want to exhale with relief. At least they are not asking me to kill someone. But this simplicity made it hard for me to believe that everything will go as easily as "Mr Mop" has described it.

"If everything is so simple, why would you not deliver it yourself?" Thin lips on Mr Brahms's face stretched into some kind of a smile.

"We wouldn't be called the Corporation if we did everything ourselves, would we?"

There is some logic to your words, you son of a bitch. You need someone like me to do the runs for you.

"Good. Tell me the name of the city, address and the name of the person this box is intended for." I decided to get into the thick of it. The sooner I start the sooner I finish. Especially since it all looked more than doable.

"You see ..." Brahms cleared his throat. "In fact, the situation is not that simple. The city is called "Area 33" and it is a closed city. We also cannot provide you with a specific address. You'll have to find this man yourself. But his name we'll give you with pleasure...

"Wait ..." I interrupted him. "What do you mean a "closed city"? If the city does not even have a normal name, just a number, and moreover, is considered to be a confined place, it is very likely to be dangerous! Am I Right?"

"I won't be arguing with that" Brahms's eyes narrowed. "But fifty thousand and four hundred is not a small amount, right?"

"I see-e-e-e..." I said, understanding perfectly well where he was going with this.

The man was silent for a few seconds, waiting for my new emotion to burst but as he realised that they won't come he continued.

"So, the person's name is Christopher Laroche. The only thing I'm certain about is that he is in that city. You'll have to find him. Since it is not possible to enter the place without the necessary documentation this will be provided for you."

"Can you give any more information about this the place? What is going on there? Are they conducting some sort of experiments there?"

"No, as far as I know, no experiments are conducted there. And this is not a military site. The rest you'll have to find out yourself."

It seemed to me like Brahms was trying to move on from the unwanted subject as quickly as possible and I was trying my hardest to keep the conversation going

"So, where is it located this "Area 33", show me on the map, please." I pointed to the map hanging on the wall.

"OK", he paused for a moment and then reluctantly got up and went to the map. "There it is. Here."

His hooked finger slipped somewhere in the neighbourhood of the south-west of Klendon City.

"Maybe two hundred miles, two hundred and fifty..." I figured in my head. "Not too far but not too close either"

"It looks like there is not a lot but mountains"

"What do you expect a closed area to look like?" Brahms grunted and returned to the table. "Maybe we should draw some castles to attract tourists?"

I did not acknowledge his sarcasm.

Now this whole task did not seem so easy but it still seemed achievable. Of course it will take some time and I'll have to ask Linda to look after the shop, but she knows what to do. No wonder - we have worked side by side for nearly three years.

I sighed and tried to stretch out my numb legs. My head was buzzing with fatigue and the lack of information made my thoughts go randomly round in circles. However as the difficulty of the task increased I felt a relief. Possibly it was irrational but the simplicity of the mission scared me a lot more than its complexity. If this area was open, like any normal city my suspicious mind would begin to search for a trick or hidden agenda. But now... Maybe they just do not want to get their hands dirty with any sort of closed areas? It is unpleasant that this has now been entrusted to me but at least there was an explanation.

"When will I be able to read the documents that you provide to enter the territory?"

"You will get them directly at the entrance of the border. Any other questions?" Brahms, oddly enough, also looked tired.

"I would like to familiarise myself with them now."

"I cannot provide you with this opportunity. Documents are being prepared by another department. They will be given to you at the entrance to the city."

Damn! I can't get a lot out of you.

"When will I need to go there?"

"At dawn."

I almost didn't feel surprised. I just stretched out my hands in front of me and rubbed my tired face. On one hand it is bad - I have no time for packing, on another hand - it's good. As I said before, the sooner I start the sooner I finish. If it's not going to take more than a few days I'd prefer to go there as soon as possible. Yes, get it over with and come back with no debts and no liabilities.

"Do you have any further questions, Mrs Moore?" Brahms asked indifferently, reaching for another cigarette.

"I have plenty of questions. It's just hard to think where to ask"

"Get some rest" He obviously noticed the signs of fatigue on my face and it was to his advantage as I had no energy to concentrate or insist or argue about anything. "Decide what to ask later. You'll be given a room on the fifth floor where you can sleep. You will be also provided with food and you will have access to the bathroom should you wish to refresh yourself."

All that sounded damn nice, especially the idea of a cushy bed. And I was forced to give in.

"Alright" I rubbed my eyes wearily. "I guess I really should get some sleep. But I still have many questions. Do not forget that."

"Of course" Said Brahms softly. "We won't forget."

He picked up an internal intercom and pressed the button:

"Lee, please escort Mrs Moore to her room. We are done for today."

As I was leaving the office and followed the woman in red skirt I was still thinking about everything that Brahms said. The City... I must not forget to pick up the box and write down the name of this Laroche.

I forgot to pick up the box from the table. I remembered suddenly and as I was going to turn around when another thought came. They won't let me leave this place without it, no worries. And after I get some sleep and have some food – I'll ask my other bunch of questions.

At least, those were my thoughts at that very moment.

Tossing and turning in bed, I tried to find a comfortable position which would allow me to fall asleep quicker. The room I was taken to was unpretentious but comfortable. The lay out of the room reminded me of a hotel: a wide double bed, bedside table, lamp, three chairs and a couple of paintings on walls. To complete the resemblance there should be a TV but it was missing. The windows were tightly draped; I tried to open the curtains to look outside but they were pinned to the walls. I backed off without putting in too much effort into pulling them off. If they don't want to show where we are – it's their choice. I washed my face, turned off the lights and went to bed. Impenetrable darkness surrounded me.

My head was spinning from all that has happened today. A new collection of accessories came to the shop in the morning - Linda and I sifted through the various items and added the new stock to the database. I sleepily thought I should give her a call in the morning and warn of my temporary absence. I opened a women's clothing boutique three years ago and during this time it began to bring a small but steady income. A business like this was not difficult to run and I only hired four employees, yet I enjoyed being there every day, looking after employees, ordering new collections, thinking of strategies to attract new customers. Overall everything was going quite well and I was thinking about opening a second shop but perhaps bit closer to my apartment. Even though Alex used to pick me up after work every night I still wanted a chance to walk there and back to enjoy the warm summer air.

I didn't notice how my thoughts returned to Alex. I remembered the smile on his face and his mischievous eyes. But lately he'd not been his usual happy self as before he'd disappeared. He completely stopped smiling and he was always frowning. Something had changed. How could I have missed that moment? Looking at him I saw this intense, even frightened look on his face. I tried not to press him with too many questions but support and take care of him, but nothing seemed to bring him back to his usual self. Alex turned from a very eloquent guy into a withdrawn and alienated man. What was it that he knew? Was he aware of the troubles that were about to start or was it just because of his misunderstanding with Elmer?

Elmer was the one who received the kidnappers' ransom demand, and the one who refused to pay it.

What a great business partner he is! Bastard...flashed through my head but I had no energy for any real anger. OK, we'll deal with you later.

I heard someone's footsteps and muffled voices in a hall. And as soon as they faded away I fell asleep.

I was woken up at 7am. I could tell the time by the digital clock that was standing on the bedside cabinet. The room, because of the dense curtains, was just like the night before, plunged into darkness. Wincing painfully from the loud sounds I reached for the lamp, turned on the light and yawned.

A trolley laden with plates was delivered into the room.

"Breakfast, Mrs Moore" alerted me the same woman who accompanied me into the room last night.

What was her name? Oh, yes – Lee.

"Thanks, Lee!"

But as soon as I threw my blanket out of bed I had to pick it up quickly and cover up my semi-naked body again – two men entered the room.

"Hey!" I said indignantly, at the same time trying to wrap myself up in sheets. "May I at least get dressed please?"

"Sorry, Mrs Moore but we must inform you that you have just twenty minutes for breakfast and dressing up. The car is already waiting, and we must go as soon as possible."

I instantly thought about Brahms.

"What about my morning meeting with Mr Scott Brahms? He promised to answer my questions!"

I didn't even have time to think about the questions I was going to ask but my hasty departure would deprive me of any possibility to ask them!

The two men exchanged cautious looks.

"Mr Brahms has not arrived at the office yet. And he probably will not appear until later this afternoon. We must make sure that you catch today's bus that's going to "Area 33". The bus only goes there once every few days so it would be quite unfortunate if you missed today's one."

That would be quite unfortunate... I thought angrily, regretting the absence of Brahms at the office.

"Leave the room, please" I said coldly. "I need to get dressed."

"You have only twenty min..."

"I remember. And I'll be ready by then."

Men disappeared. Before leaving the room Lee asked if I there was anything else I needed but there wasn't.

As my guests left me alone I sighed, unwrapped myself from the sheets and sat on the bed.

Is it worth trying to argue or try to make them find someone else who can give me more information I need? I pondered for a second. But those two men will force me into the can in twenty minutes anyway. If the bus really does go to "Area 33" once every few days, maybe it's not such a bad idea to catch it then? Who needs delays? Alright... To hell with all the questions. I'll manage..

Twenty minutes later I stepped into the corridor. The two men that came into the room earlier were now waiting right outside the door. One of them was impatiently glancing at his watch.

"I'm right on time. Do not even think to reproach me." I growled.

"Let's go."

They walked down the hallway and I followed them.

The car was waiting inside the underground garage. It was the same black colour as the one that brought me to the Corporation. I sat on a back seat and regretfully noticed that it's not possible to see a thing through the tinted windows again.

What a conspiracy!

From the entertaining point of view I only had two things to do: change the temperature and move my leather seat back and forth. I got tired quickly of such a great diversity so I leaned back and closed my eyes. Meanwhile the car was speeding up. After a while the cabin of the car filled up with a smell of last year's wet foliage.

It must be raining outside. Shame I can't see it.

I felt sad thinking that instead of going in an unknown direction I could stroll down the street, go to a small and cosy café, buy some fresh buns and continue the way to my shop.

Oh, my God! I forgot!

I leaned forward and knocked on the partition that separated me from the driver. Little window lowered immediately.

"Could I borrow your mobile, please? I must warn my staff that I won't be around for some time"

There was a silence for a few seconds, and then a hand with mobile phone appeared.

"Thank you."

"Don't say too much" the man warned me.

"As if I don't know"

The little window went up and I started dialling Linda's number.

She answered after a few long rings.

"Linda? Hi, this is Shereen. I wanted to warn you that I have an urgent trip now and won't be able to come in today. In fact, I don't even know when exactly I'm coming back. No, I didn't have time to warn the others. So, you are in control now and in charge of the new collection as well. No, I don't know when I'll be back, perhaps in a few days... Please call "Divuee" and try to get a discount for us. Also Mr Oliver should call today. Arrange a meeting with him and pass the documents from the top drawer to him, alright?"

I was certain that Linda won't forget a thing. Her punctuality and precision were borderline tedious at times, but it was much easier to put up with qualities like hers than deal with forgetfulness or even worse - negligence.

It's a huge luck to have an employee like that. I thought while answering a thousand questions Linda was asking. At least I don't have to worry about the store while I am away. A nice bonus for her won't hurt when I get back.

"Linda, thank you for helping me with this and I'm sorry I couldn't warn you earlier. I know you will take care of everything the best you can... What?" Her last question made me feel sad again. "No, there is no news about Alex. Yes, I'm sorry too."

We were silent for a moment.

"Okay, I have to go now. I don't have my phone on me now, but I'll give you my new number as soon as I have it. Thank you, sweetie. Good luck to you too. Bye!"

I've pressed the "end call" button and looked at the tinted window. The conversation made me feel sad and I felt strong desire to get back home, make a cup of coffee, flick through some new magazines, enjoy the birds singing outside my apartment and walk down familiar streets. It's been always interesting for me to see how other owners decorate their own displays.

Chin up! This trip has already started which means the end is now closer.

Comforted by this simple thought I leaned back and closed my eyes. I might even be able to get some sleep, recharge my battery before my ordeal continues? Yet again I thought that life can be exhausting sometimes. Many things have lost their meaning since Alex had disappeared. What am I fighting for? So many efforts, so many sleepless nights but so far nothing has come from that. Life has become dim and faded like an old photograph. Fragrances have lost their smells and all the sounds have got similar to a monotonous drone of an off-tuned musical band. What a miserable life. Who cares if I will miss couple of days in my shop? And what difference does it make where I am going now? The debt will be paid back. It probably won't make me happy but at least one less load off my mind. Comforted by these thoughts I calmed down.

The bus stop looked grim.

A one-story stone building was painted in white and an old paint cracked was peeling off the wall. Maybe that was because of humidity or because of time. A few unwashed dusty windows that have not been washed for a long time were located on the perimeter but the lack of light bulb made it impossible to see the interior inside.

Where the entrance should be there was no door, only a hole. The door itself – lone and rusty - was lying on the ground in the puddle next to the building.

The scenery around the bus stop wasn't pleasant for the eye as either: rare shrubs on the sides of the concreted area, muddy ditches where rainwater would flow, grey mountains half hidden in the mist were rising in the distance on the horizon.

Carrying the envelope and squelching through the puddles in water soaked shoes I approached the station. My luggage bag was dragging behind me; its two little wheels were making constant noise "sh-sh-sh-sh". All the new items that I was given by the car driver were in there. He also told me that there was some money in my luggage bag as well as the package for Laroche and the envelope to be shown to the bus driver later. That was it. All my attempts to get any additional information such as "What kind of place is this and how can I find my bus" were cut with short answer, "This is the station you need and there will only be one bus. You can't confuse it with anything else"

A group of people, most of which sat on their bags similar to mine - there was about thirty or forty of them, men and women – some older, some younger. Almost all of them kept quiet, waiting for the bus. Nobody paid any attention to me.

I stood there a bit further away from everyone else. I hid the envelope in the inside pocket of my jacket (after scrutinizing it I found out that it's completely sealed) and started staring at the only road to the mountains on which I guessed, the bus should arrive.

To my right, covering the cigarette from the rain a man was smoking. He was the only one who gave me quick and unfriendly look and then turned away.

Trying not to turn my head too much I looked at people cautiously. Casual clothing - nothing bright or fancy: trousers, jackets, simple but comfortable shoes with no heels and mostly trainers. Almost everyone had a bag or a backpack. Who are these people? Are they the staff of "Area 33"? If it wasn't for the pressing silence hanging over the place I'd think that they are employees of that closed city and now they are getting back there from a short break away. Judging by their faces they must really hate their job.

"Why is everybody so quiet?" I asked the man nearby.

He rewarded me with a strange look but didn't reply.

Confused and a little annoyed - if he doesn't want to talk I won't force him - I turned away.

"I'd rather work there than anywhere else ..." Suddenly I heard his voice "Don't you think?"

Not really knowing what is he talking about I nodded vaguely and for some stupid reason added "yep".

You'd rather discover what kind of job he is talking about before you agree to who knows what, I told myself.

"I also think that it's better there" added another man and then went completely silent.

I've lost any desire to continue our dialog as well – who knows what kind of weird stuff I'll tell him next? And what all this might turn into later? I don't need any problems just yet, I just need to pass this bloody package to Laroche and be done with it.

I started rummaging through my bag pretending to be busy.

I'll be alright without asking any question. Everything will become clear when I see the city.

At last - the bus, yellowish-brown with constantly creaking brakes pulls up at the bus stop.

People started hurrying and getting up from their seats to queue in front of the hardly opening snorting doors. But there was no rush visible in people's movements. Envelopes just like the one I had in my pocket appeared in everyone's hands. My neighbour threw his half-smoked cigarette into the puddle and reached for the bag to find the envelope; then shuffling with his old shoes, went to the bus.

I think it's time for me as well; I followed his lanky figure with my eyes.

At this moment driver's bold head showed out of the doors.

"Come here, folks – one by one, show me the bar-codes on your envelopes and get inside. And hurry up people!"

Those people who were still sitting on their bags rushed to get up. I followed their lead, found the envelope in my pocket and wheeled the bag to the end of the line. There were about five other people separating me from the guy I had a conversation with. One after another men and women were disappearing into the cabin of the bus – not very quickly, but not very slowly either. About ten seconds per person. Making small steps with my wet shoes and wheeling my bag behind me, I was approaching the doors. When the woman standing in front me went inside it was my time to show the envelope to the fat bus driver.

"With the bar codes up, I told you!" barked the bald man at me.

I quickly turned the envelope upside-down and yes, there really were interlocking black and white lines on the other side. Driver scanned the code, pressed some button on an attached to the dashboard screen and nodded.

"Get in."

"How long is the ride is going to take?" I asked trying to pull my bulky bag onto the steps.

"Are you in a rush to get there or what? Can't wait?" he laughed so loudly as if he heard some rude joke. "Get in, I said! Don't hold the line!"

Feeling griped by such a reaction of the driver and kicking myself for the stupid questions I began to nervously squeeze inside. It would have been a good idea to get into the line quicker – now almost all seats were taken. Ah, to hell with them... Passing those who already took their seats from both sides of the aisle, I went almost to the end of the cabin.

Ah, there is one free seat left! Just for me.

I angrily pulled my bag towards me trying to roll it over someone's belongings that were standing in the middle of the aisle, snuck to my seat and rolled my eyes for a second.

I'm so bloody lucky, aren't I?

My recent acquaintance found himself a space to the left of a free seat.

Least of all I needed silly conversations during this trip.

Suppressing my disappointment I manage to fit my bag between other bags next to my feet and plopped down on the seat. Maybe if I pretend to be asleep a dialog won't even start? It's a pity I won't be able to see the scenery from the window with my eyes closed but do I really need to see it?

Almost everyone from outside got on the bus. Some of them, who were behind me in the line, were now standing in the aisle trying to find a space free of luggage to put their feet. When the last passenger passed the driver the engine started. Bus, as heavy as a bloated whale, slowly turned around and with creaking springs crawled down the road up the hill.

For a while I sat there with my eyes shut. None of the neighbours tried to engage into any conversations with me, passengers travelled in silence. From time to time the strained sneezing of the engine was heard as if due to the excessive load the bus was ready to give up and stop completely.

If this happens, we'll have to push it up the hill all together-in the mud.

But to my surprise the bus was still crawling up the hill slowly and inexorably; after a few minutes I stopped listening to the engine.

To my left I heard someone's jacket's make a swishing noise. My curiosity compelled me to open my eyes. The man leaned over to his bag and took out a big red apple - glossy and ripe. He bit a juicy chunk out of it and began to savour it with great pleasure. My stomach responded straight away with a joyful rumble as though it was me who was about to get a piece of that apple. My neighbour stopped chewing and looked at me. I immediately turned away and closed my eyes.

What stopped me from having my breakfast? - "I don't want it... I don't want it". So be hungry then.

His jacket swished again and after a second I heard a cautious "Hey".

I turned my head towards the sound – the man was holding another apple in his hand – the first one was lying on his lap.

"Take it."

I hesitantly looked at the apple.

"It's washed." added the neighbour.

I took the apple, said "thank you" and then sank my teeth into its sweet skin. The man turned away and continued looking out of the window. For some time we enjoyed our meals in silence. I glanced occasionally at the back of his head adorned with sand-coloured patchy hair. My militant antagonistic attitude that became apparent after the conversation with this man while we were waiting for a bus, cooled down slightly. The apple was sweet and shamelessly tasty.

My neighbour finished with his fruit, pulled out a piece of paper out of the bag and placed his apple stub in there. He then looked at me. I added my apple stub to his.

"Tasty, eh? I grew them myself." he said proudly.

"Tasty."

"I'm Ted." the man suddenly introduced himself and his brown eyes under the bushy sandy-coloured eye brows glistened.

"I'm Shereen."

I watched him as he skilfully stuffed the paper with apple stubs back into the bag.

"What is this?"

He followed my gaze back to his bag and fixed his eyes at the bunch of small colourful paper envelopes.

"Oh, these! These are seeds. I love gardening. And I thought that maybe if I am given a small patch of land I could grow something there. I always loved to potter around in the soil... you know grow flowers, shrubs, berries, vegetables, of course."

"I see." I replied feeling surprised by his hobby. But why did I think that a man like him wouldn't like gardening? And it's always possible to find a piece of land, I think.

"I'd like to grow trees as well. But I'm not sure if they allow me..."

"Why wouldn't they?" I hardly had a clue about who "they" were though.

"How would I know? I've never been to Tally before".

"Tally?"

"Yes, the city we are going to is called Tally."

I nodded as if I knew that. Looks like he is going there for the first time too so he is not a good source of information for me then.

"I heard the conditions there are not very good - a lot of work to do, but maybe if you get some spare time..."

Our conversation made Ted more agile and lively, he obviously enjoyed talking to someone. Even his long wrinkled face transformed. But because I had nothing to say I was listening to him without interrupting. It's no harm if he speaks for a while, is it? My silence didn't seem to bother him at all - he took it for a hidden interest and I was hoping to get a few precious droplets of information about Tally while listening about the flowers and plants he grew in his life.

Our ride continued like that for another forty minutes. The mountains were surrounding us all around now. People began to shift, mumble anxiously and stretch their necks out like geese in an attempt to see more. Is it the first time for everybody here? Ted went completely silent. The reason for this liveliness became evident when the big rusty gates jammed in between the mountains appeared in front of the bus. The sign on the gates read "Authorised Staff of Area 33 and Official Vehicles Only". The driver leaned out of the window, exchanged a few words with a man in the uniform and then handed something over to him. The soldier took the item - either a paper or flat box – I couldn't see it properly from where I was sitting. He nodded to a colleague who was sitting in a glass booth and then the gate slowly slid to one side.

"So here we are." a woman standing to my right said. She looked at me with sad eyes and sighed. "And when will we get to go home?"

I couldn't find what to say.

We all sat in a spacious room which I in my mind I named "The border": worn out marble floor tiles, dull white walls, plastic chairs. People sat on them, nervously tugging on their clothes or bag handles. A white plastic table was located in the distance where the officer in a cap was admitting "visitors" - one at a time. I couldn't hear what they were talking about but I could see how deftly the officer rips each envelope with a knife, gives a visitor a package and then lets them go. After passing "The border" table people were disappearing into a narrow corridor at the far end of the hall. I was going to find out where it was leading to after another five people that were sitting in front of me in the queue. From time to time other military workers were passing the line, looking at people with interest and then disappearing into various doors. The sound of their hard-soled shoes was echoing on the marble floor.

I fidgeted on the chair impatiently – I had an urge to pee and discover if they would check what's in our luggage. Not knowing what was inside of mine made me feel very nervous. But according to my observations nobody touched the bags, at least not until the end of narrow corridor and that somewhat comforted me. Only a fortune teller, a prophet or Ted, who'd already passed that table, could tell me what was waiting for me at the end of the corridor. But neither of those was available at that moment.

I was twisting and turning in my chair until the moment when my name was shouted out by the officer and I hurried to the table.

"Good day. " I greeted him cautiously and sat on the chair – a soft chair this time.

"Good day, good day..." the officer laughed briefly into his bushy moustache and his reaction reminded me of the fat bus driver.

What is so funny about my phrases?

"Give me your envelope."

I handed the envelope over to him. I read the officer's name on his badge – Carlos Brodsky. Wow, what an interesting name! Meanwhile Carlos ripped my envelope with a knife and took out a thin sheet of paper.

I wish I could have read it before you.

Brodsky quickly scanned the text with his eyes and looked at me with, what I thought, was respect.

"Wow! Not bad, not bad! It wouldn't have been possible to predict your talent judging by your appearance."

I barely stopped myself from raising my nose up. The Corporation has obviously given me a good recommendation! Well, at least nothing to be ashamed of. Great!

"Well, so you are a hacker! Wow!" continued the officer and I nearly choked.

A hacker? You must be kidding me!

"This kind of activity is highly intelligent and it would be a shame not to appreciate that."

I couldn't understand if Brodsky was mocking me or if he really had an admiration for computer geniuses.

"But, unfortunately, there is only one way after playing games like that – straight to this place - in the best case scenario." he concluded proudly looking at me in my frozen state.

"Don't be so worried" he tried to comfort me, taking my bewilderment for something else. "Anyone could make such a mistake playing games like that, but this place is nice and the people are friendly. Yes, the rules are strict, but I have to say they are fair."

"I didn't play any games..." I said before I could think.

What am I doing?! Who cares what abilities the Corporation has awarded me with – what matters is that they will allow me to enter the God damn territory. So I have to stop denying this! Otherwise I'll ruin the whole operation trying to protect my honour"

"Of course nobody wants to admit their faults." Brodsky looked disappointed. "Nobody wants to say that they are guilty".

"Alright, alright! I'm guilty!" I changed the strategy before it was too late and tried to relax my body on the chair as if I really was the Queen of the Binary Dimension.

Whether I admit my guilt or not nobody will let me out of here anyway. So why bother with the honour? But it felt like a frank confession could change the officer's attitude which could possibly mean a better outcome in the long run. Who knows what Brodsky is responsible for?

"There. Now we are talking! Good girl!" the man in a cap cheered up. "Why would you deny such a talent? I very much respect those who can do more than just send an email."

Yeap, me too.

"Do you think if I had your talents I would be sitting here all day long?"

You'd be sitting inside the Tally... I think.

"And I would be getting much bigger money" Brodsky switched into a "dream" mode. "And unlike you, I'd be thinking ahead about how not to be caught."

Right... Don't get carried away, you, smart arse.

I made a sour face as if to show him "not everybody is as smart as you!" and sighed. He leaned towards me and tapped my hand with his.

"That's alright girl, you are still young. So don't feel too bad, I'll find good accommodation for you. There is a cute vacant room in a nice location. Not very close to the centre though but the air is much cleaner this way, don't you think? I don't meet many talented people like you are very often and your face is pretty..."

I screwed up my face - thank God Brodsky didn't seem to notice it.

"There." A few objects appeared on the table. His sausage finger pointed to the one on the left. "There is a key to an apartment in this envelope. The address is written here. Show it at the bus stop so someone can tell you which bus to take or show it to a taxi driver. Now then..." the officer pointed to the next item – a wide metal bracelet.

"Put it on your wrist before leaving the building and never try to take it off until you gain one thousand points."

"What do you mean "one thousand points"?"

"Please don't interrupt me. This bracelet is your ID, your credit card and your life. All additional information you need is in this book. Now another thing is..." he knocked on the surface of a strange square object - a box with a screen and a "zero" showing on it - with the tip of his finger. "This is a static score counter. You have to keep it at home. Whenever we need to check how many points you've got – there is a small screen on your bracelet. Just in case - the bracelet is small – God forbid you break it."

I can't say that I understood much of what he was talking about but I tried my hardest to absorb everything. The items that I was presented with were given to every person and obviously it was an important part of the local system which was starting to remind me more and more of a prison. I still had to learn what their purpose was and how to use each of these in the future. Meanwhile Brodsky was singing like a bird:

"This book might be very useful. Don't even think about throwing it to away."

I glanced briefly at the cover of the book - there was one word written proudly in big font and it read "The Constitution". In a smaller font there was another line: "The Rules and Regulations of Tally".

"That is it, I think. The officer pondered for a second. "Oh, yes - you still don't have any points credited to you, so here are your coupons. Each coupon is equal to one point. Use them to pay for a bus or taxi ride and get some food until you find a job."

Five pink paper coupons emerged in front of me on the table.

"Thank you" I said politely – because it felt like it was necessary to say something.

"You're welcome! It's not very often I see criminals like you - hackers. More often they are killers or rapists... That's the big difference with you, I think."

Even though I was not guilty of anything at all I felt some kind of gratitude towards this officer.

"Is it hard to live here?" I asked him at the moment when he was being in a nice and talkative mood.

"It depends on the person. It's easier for some and harder for others. Get your belongings and proceed to the corridor. I've already spent too much time on you and there is a long line still waiting. So, bye-bye."

"Bye."

I grabbed my things from the table, put them into the paper bag I was given and nodded politely to the officer with the moustache.

"Good luck to you!" he said as I was on my way out. "Next! Gasher Green? Come here!"

As I was walking down the narrow corridor I was thinking if Tally would become my "home" - even if it's just for a short while. But something was telling me that it won't happen. Too many strange things were in my bag and the "The Rules and Regulations book of Tally" seemed a bit too thick for my liking. If I'm lucky I'll leave this place before I read the last page. In the case that I ever need to read it at all.

After I had a chance to visit a small rundown toilet I went past two more men in uniforms and then headed towards the exit. Now the rain has stopped and the sun was beaming down from the sky. Suddenly I stopped recalling the officer's words about putting the bracelet on my wrist before leaving the building; I put my paper bag on top of the luggage and begun to rummage through it trying to find this gratuitous accessory. At first the bracelet felt too lose but when I pressed both ends together it bleeped and locked in. Now it fits.

The wonders of modern technology...

After admiring my bracelet for a while - not that it looked that good but not too bad either - I twisted and turned my hand couple of times, grabbed my bag and continued on my way to the exit. To my joy there was nobody checking the luggage. I was dying to have a look myself but I knew it wasn't a good idea to do this in the toilet so I decided to wait until I get to the apartment. When I passed the glass doors I found myself standing on a sun-drenched street of a real city. The building of "The border" was towering behind me and the road to the main part of the city unfolded before me. A few bright yellow cars with "Tazi" signs on them - the spelling of the word seemed a little strange but understandable - were chilling by the curb. I looked around trying to figure out if I should get a taxi (sorry a "Tazi") right away or I should try and find a bus stop first? I could not see it from where I was standing. A feel of summer was all around me: green bushes and grass, buzzing bees and the birds were whirling around in carefree pirouettes.

Maybe this place isn't as bad as I expected? I rejoiced squinting at the sun. Despite the fatigue and the desire to take a nap for an hour or two, I decided to take a little walk and check out at the surroundings. It would be nice to get to know this city - what it's like?

I passed some shouting taxi drivers - aren't they the same as everywhere else? They really do try to lure you in with their "hey, lady! Do you need a Tazi? It's cheap! Just tell me where you wanna go..." I made a turn on the road that lead to the city. It was hard to fail with the directions as there was only one single concrete path that could take me there.

My feet were moving fast and my eyes were marvelling at the flowers growing on the side of the road. As I reached the top of the hill I stopped blown away by the view. And that was some view: in the valley below the mountains the city resembled a cat curled in a basket.

A haze from the heat was rising above the roofs and roads; hot air was quivering over the abundantly growing greenery which there was plenty of in this lost world of mountains. The city seemed asleep under the sun. I could see some small cars moving along the roads - from the distance they seemed tiny and slow, and I could even detect a few pedestrians.

Tally. Midday.

I took my eyes away from the view and felt the sweat rolling down my forehead. I wiped it off and continued with my journey. It was a lot easier to walk down the hill and I felt more positive. The wheels of my bag were bouncing on small rocks and excitement replaced the tiredness.

Not long now. Not long.

At last after walking for another thirty minutes I found myself standing on one of the streets of the mystical Tally.

Strangely enough, from a closer look the city didn't look as bright and attractive as it did from the top of the hill: the plastering on the walls was peeling off, store signs - pale and bland - as though they'd been hanging there since the last century; some lonely people were hurrying into the shade - all of this gave me a strong sense of gloom and emptiness.

Near the traffic lights I turned right and walked along the Alpine Avenue - at least that's the name that was written on a pinned to a pole plate. This avenue was slightly wider than the street I was on before and yet had the same feeling of abandonment. A few times I saw some people walking past me - three men and one woman. They all looked at me with a surprise and even dread; furthermore - the woman made a big detour to avoid me as if she was afraid of catching a disease. Such behaviour from the others didn't make me feel optimistic and I paused to have a look around. Am I missing something? For a few seconds I was scrutinising the surroundings: two-storey houses, an old and forsaken cafe with dusty windows and creaky door but nothing seemed particularly suspicious or dangerous and so I carried on. As I passed two more streets and three more pedestrians - all of which had the same expression of their faces as if to say "Is there anybody home, you, dummy?" I came to a decision not to pay attention to the things I don't understand. But right at this very second I heard a piercing sound of a whistle.

I turned around.

A man looking like a local policeman rushed towards me. His shoulders were squeezed into the blue uniform, a shiny buckle pressed tightly into his huge belly that was wobbling as he ran. The policeman was waving a dark baton and constantly wiping away the sweat running down his blue cap.

"Aren't you familiar with the rules?" he was breathing heavily and his bushy eye brows frowning.

"My apologies. But what did I do wrong?"

"This is a one way street!" he growled at me.

I involuntarily looked down the road but it was completely empty.

"Good. But what does it have to do with me?" I was surprised and irritated about being stopped for a ludicrous reason.

"Don't you see this sign?" the policeman waved in the direction of the sign by the curb.

I glanced at a white arrow painted on a blue square background. I looked again at the empty road. There was another pedestrian within my sight who rushed to a hide as he saw the blue cap.

"Yes, I do see the sign. But I don't even have a steering wheel on me and the sign is for road users only."

"This sign is for pedestrians!" the policeman shouted. His face went an unpleasant purple colour - perhaps not too many people risked arguing with him in the past and he allowed himself to get angry. "This is a one way street for pedestrians!"

I was so amazed that I let go of the bag handle and it swayed backwards. Is it possible to have one way street for pedestrians? Isn't it ridiculous? I suddenly recalled all the people that I saw on the street earlier. Did they know? Actually I didn't find it strange that nobody passed me the same direction - I walked quite fast.

Meanwhile the policeman got out an unfamiliar to me gadget, moved it to my bracelet and watched the screen. The gadget made a short sound and flashed green.

"Ah, I see!" the policeman seemed to calm down a little. "So it's your first day in Tally."

"That's correct."

"So this time you were lucky. Should this happen tomorrow - you get half of a point."

I frowned. What are these points about? Why do they measure everything by points? Is it good or bad for me? A half of one point - is it a lot?

"Go then. Consider yourself lucky." the way he said it made me feel he was disappointed. The man wiped the sweat off his forehead again and hid the scanner back behind the belt. "Don't forget to read the 'The Rules and Regulations of Tally' ".

He walked away and left me standing alone in the middle of the street. I watched him go but this incident ruined my good mood. Which direction should I go in now? If I continue as before it's very likely the policeman will stop me again. And then another one will stop me, and another. But there was no point to go back. My hope that a sign on the opposite side of the road will point me in the right direction disappeared as I glanced on it - the arrow was pointing in the same direction.

Damn you, people! Who made this bloody system? I swore to myself.

For the next few minutes I stood on the same spot not knowing what to do. And then I saw a bright yellow "Tazi" driving up the road.

"Hey!" I ran to the curb waving a free hand. "Stop! Please!"

Won't I get fined for shouting?

A quick thought flashed at the back of my mind but there wasn't time to think. The car stopped.

"Where would you like to go?" the driver's head popped out of the window.

I wasn't sure whether the sun was the reason or that nature had given him such an odd gift but the skin on the man's face was very dark while his hair was short and pale, rather than some black curls that you would expect to see on a skin tone like his.

"I need to get to... Just a moment..." I managed to fish out my envelope with a key and read out the address. "To Bell-Oak Park."

I showed the address to the driver.

"I see. It's pretty much the other end of the city. That's a very long drive. Get in." he nodded at the back seat.

"How much is going to cost?"

"One and a half points."

"Isn't that a bit too much?" I tried to complain when I heard the price. "I only have five coupons which I still need to get some food with."

"Why are you asking me?" the driver retorted. "I'm not responsible for the prices."

My irritation faded away.

"Ok. Let's make it one and a half points then."

I pushed my bag on the back seat and got into the car. Now my curiosity was tearing me apart.

"And who is responsible for the prices?"

"The City."

"So all Tazi use the same fairs?"

"Uhuh."

"Do you get some sort of percentage of the fare to yourself?"

"Nope. I'm paid two points a day and that's the whole of my salary" he muttered whilst driving away from the Alpine Avenue. "And it doesn't matter if I get no work all day. Are you new here or what?"

"Yes, it's my first day here."

The driver gave me a quick glance.

"You'll learn quickly."

A new wave of tiredness came over me again and instead of looking at the streets of the new city I leaned my head against a cool window and dozed off. Sometime later an unfriendly "Hey!" woke me up.

I flinched and opened my eyes.

"We have arrived. This is Bell-Oak Park."

Huffing and puffing at the driver, his creaky taxi, the heat and the lack of sleep, I got out of the car. I counted two coupons and accepted some change in return - this must be half of a coupon. Oh, so they do have"notes"like this as well. The car turned around and drove away. I stood there all alone, breathing in the dust the car left behind and observed the surroundings. This place could be called all sorts of things: a hostel, a suburban village or even "the last frontier" but not at a "Park". Yes, true - there was a crooked wooden plank in the middle of the flowerbed that said "The Bell-Oak Park" - but that flowerbed was the only object of interest around I could see so far.

I recalled what Brodsky said about this city. This was a good place in his opinion. So, what would be a bad place then? I thought that the answer to this question won't take me long to find out. I sighed and rolled my bag towards a three-story building with rows of dusty windows. It seemed that the sun whitened the peeled paint on the walls. Some stumpy bushes didn't appear dead despite the heat - someone must water them once or twice a day.

I didn't see anybody on my way to the building nor as I stepped inside a cool and shady staircase. Standing in a sunlight coming through the window, I found my envelope and discovered that the number of my room is 314 - must be the third floor. After a few futile attempts to find a lift I headed up the stairs.

The corridor itself and stairs looked neat. There was even a carpet on the floor the colour of which could not be defined with one word. I was hoping there would be air-conditioning and a shower in my room. The sweat that was running down my back started to bother me.

Just remember this is not a hotel. Just be grateful there is at least a bed and stove.

A bed and stove were indeed in my room. There was also a little kitchen and a fridge separated from the living room by a partition; a wardrobe, two armchairs, one chair, small bathroom with a sink, toilet and a shower; and even a TV which was quite unexpected. The TV remote control was in a holder secured straight to the wall.

I squeaked in surprised - not bad at all for a start. I concluded that this room was fine to live in; of course this was not a five star hotel but not a Spartan cell either. I discovered the air con as well which gave me a sense of a relief. It was old and noisy but it was bringing some cool air into the room. There was no heating control on its remote but something was telling me that the citizens of Tally would never have such a need in this city.

After this quick inspection I felt satisfied with my room and feeling in a good mood I decided to open my bag. As I was half way through of unzipping my luggage I suddenly paused. No, the first task is to take a shower and then I see what's inside my bag. Now I've got plenty of time - there is no need to go anywhere and therefore I can refresh myself before exploring the content of it.

After checking that the door is locked I headed for the bathroom.

The cool shower helped me to fight my tiredness. In the kitchen I found a glass, filled it up with cold tap water and stepped out on a little balcony which lurked behind some peach-coloured curtains. As soon as I opened the glass doors I went numb - the mountains. A real mountain range which consisted of red boulders, was covered in hot incandescent air and rising distantly on the horizon. I covered my eyes with the palms of my hands protecting them from the bright sun and whistled. How high should these mountains be if they look so impressive from this balcony? And the local sunsets must look incredible in this heavenly beautiful place.

Right... Don't you dare to think you found a paradise. You wanna go and find something to do.

I went back in the room, put the glass on the table and headed towards my luggage bag. It is time to find out what the Corporation has provided me with. I checked that the door is locked once again, then sat on the bed and opened the bag.

Right on top there was a pile of summer clothes: a few t-shirts, pair of shorts, two tops and one blouse.

How about a cocktail dress? I murmured moving the clothes to a side.

Underneath the t-shirts there were a pack of knickers (with days of the week written on them), a few pairs of socks and a hairbrush.

Fabulous! Which one of you measured my size and when did you do that? I continued muttering as I picked one sock from the pile and tried to put it on. The sock fitted nicely. I guess it was safe to assume that the underwear would fit me as well. I moved the socks and knickers to one side and eventually discovered the parcel for Mr Laroche and a pile of bank notes.

Wow! I was staring at five bundles of the bank notes, tightly wrapped with a paper band. How much is in there?

I quickly counted the money and determined that I am now an owner of fifty thousand dollars. Is it much for this place? Possibly the Corporation decided that this amount is enough to cover expenses while I look for Laroche and cover my return trip home. Maybe if there is anything left I can keep it for my own needs? I still needed to clarify that.

Suddenly I heard a knock on the door and rushed to throw everything back into the bag.

Where can I hide it? Where?

Since I couldn't find a better place for the bag I kicked it under the bed; straightened the bed cover and went to answer the door.

There was no peephole on the door. I plucked up all my courage and unlocked it. On the other side of the door there was a young girl - around twenty years old. She stood there intensively scratching the sides of her body. She had fair hair, and was wearing a scruffy t-shirt and a pair of grey shorts over her bandy legs.

"Hi!" she said and stopped scratching, her eyes glued to my face. "Are you new here? I saw you with your bag from my window."

"Yes." I confirmed not knowing what to expect from this visitor.

"These nasty gnats bite wherever they want." the girl said angrily as she scratched her t-shirt with dirty finger nails. Then she stretched her hand and smiled openly. "I am Jennifer. Or Jenny. I'm your neighbour from room three hundred and twelve"

I shook her warm and moist hand.

"I'm Shereen." and since I didn't know what else to say, I added. "Welcome in."

Jenny walked straight into my room slapping with her bare feet on the floor.

"Listen, you must have just moved in which means that your fridge is still full. May I borrow some jam from you? I am dying for something sweet."

I closed my jaw that dropped to the floor from such a nerve but after a second I decided that relationship with my new neighbours might be more useful than food and waved my hand towards the kitchen

"Feel free to take it."

Jenny immediately jumped to the fridge and began to rummage through the shelves.

"Mmmm... Here it is! My favourite! Thank you, err.."

"Shereen." I reminded to her politely.

"Oh, yeah, right... Shereen. You can knock on my door any time you want to talk or anything."

She waved "goodbye" with the jam jar in her hand and flew out of the door like a happy dragonfly.

Five minutes later I forgot all about Jenny and the jam and carried on sorting out the clothes in the wardrobe. I piled the knickers, socks and t-shirts neatly on the shelves. The money was hidden behind them - not the best place to keep it, but I couldn't think of a better one. The TV was muttering on a background. I stopped sorting out my stuff and started listening to it. A pleasant female's voice was informing the citizens about the latest news.

" ... the rebellion on a ranch to the south of Tally was supressed today by its owner – Hulk Conrad. The allegedly unfairly treated people rose up against the owner who, according to the rebels, was paying them very low wages. Mr Conrad claimed that nobody was injured but each rebel will be fined fifty to one hundred points"

What a stupid system with these points! I snorted taking the hairbrush to the bathroom.

As I finished sorting things and sat on the bed thinking if it's a good idea to have some rest, I noticed a paper bag in the corner.

I completely forgot about it.

There was a static point counter in the bag and now as I finished with other things I really wanted to have a closer look at it.

The counter looked like a normal black alarm clock but with no buttons. The surface was made of plastic, the dark screen had a bright blue zero in the middle of it. I carefully tapped the screen with the tip of my index finger but nothing changed.

What does this zero mean? What do I have to do to change it to a different number and my main question is: what is it for? Some answers could possibly be found in the book I got at the border, but I had no desire to read it now. More than anything I just wanted to sleep.

I put the paper bag to a side, found the TV remote and muted the sound. I then closed the curtains and got into bed. My head was buzzing from exhaustion. All the answers can wait for a couple of hours as well as Mr Laroche with his parcel. Nothing will happen to them while I am asleep.

But something definitely will happen to me if I don't get any rest.

For a while I was staring at the bright zero on the counter's screen and eventually I drifted off.

In my dream I saw Alex at the time when nothing bad had happened yet and the shadow of misery had not touched our house with its pestilential wings; when we still believed that our new family will become a hearth and home to two loving people with roast turkey and cakes for special occasions; and a woolly blanket for two during the cold winter days.

My dream was so vivid and felt almost real. I wanted to stretch out my arm into this colourful fantasy so I could touch Alex's face with my fingers and he would hold my hand and kiss it as he did many times before.

"I don't want to let you go." his voice was so close yet so far. "We'll live together and you will be mine forever. Tomorrow we'll move your things to my apartment. Do you mind?"

He is sitting in a café in front of me. After a fast drive in his favourite sports car his dark hair is dishevelled and his hazel eyes are twinkling with love and wickedness.

"Do you mind?"

"No, I don't mind." I whisper and wipe away a lonely tear in the corner of my eye.

"No, I don't mind..." I whispered again half asleep, touched my wet cheek with my finger and then I wake up in shivers.

The image was fading away so quickly that it made me want to cry with desperation.

"No, don't go please! Alex, don't go!" I said to a dark room but my beautiful fantasy has already disappeared leaving me with a bitter taste of reality and the memories of what had happened after that. I pressed my face into pillow and started to cry uncontrollably.

Why is that that my happy future turned into my miserable present? After few minutes of desperate crying I calmed down, turned on my back and since I got tired of fighting with my memories, I let them run through my mind once again.

Back then I was studying at university learning the basics of business and had a dream about running my own company. I wasn't thinking about a boutique specifically but I did have some thoughts about that in my airy head. One day I will be running my own business! I will hire employees, I will have new responsibilities, I will have money and new ideas. I will be able to create something from scratch and it will be my own. My dreams gave me the wings to fly happily to the lectures as though I was paid for each one of them three times more than I actually paid for my studies.

Alex and I met not long before my graduation. That night the rain was pouring down heavily and I stood on the bus stop covering my papers from the raindrops and cursing my friend who promised to pick me up after the last lecture as she usually did. But instead of coming to get me she ran off to meet her new boyfriend who was "so cool that she couldn't breathe and had a constant desire to get drunk". I was just sniffing at such descriptions - perhaps love makes people experience different emotions - such as "to get pissed from happiness". Either way her car was now parked at the University car park and it was completely useless to me.

I was freezing and chattering my teeth; rain was pouring over my face and I was shifting from one foot to another as I was hoping that the bus would appear soon. But instead of a bus I saw a blue convertible Chevrolet stop by the curb. Its roof was up and I remember how the rain drops were bouncing off the taught material.

As one of the doors opened, I took a step back. The risk of catching a cold was more appealing to me than a chance to suffer at the hands of some maniac.

But the "maniac" appeared to be a very attractive man. One of those people you instantly feel comfortable with.

"Hi! Please, don't be scared. I can fix my hands to the steering wheel with some handcuffs if that will make you feel safer. It is cold outside and it's warm inside, so get in."

My face stretched into a smile when I thought about the driver being handcuffed to a steering wheel.

"Do you have handcuffs?"

"Yes!" his smiled openly and a real pair handcuffs flashed in his hand. "Here they are. But please don't forget to return the key when we arrive. I don't want to live in the car."

"Deal!" I giggled, shaking from a cold and got into a warm and comfortable car.

I didn't feel the need to handcuff the guy to the steering wheel – something was telling me he was not dangerous. The conversation was flowing smoothly - the man introduced himself as Alex. He joked and laughed a lot and when he learnt that I was studying business he showed such sincere interest and even gave me some useful advice. Throughout our trip he was giving me a few curious looks and his serious eyes made me feel shy.

"Shereen, you are a very beautiful woman. Do you know that many models would die for hair like yours?" he smiled at me.

I felt my face burning from embarrassment and I quickly tried to smooth my brown curly hair.

"Thank you."

"But, it's true. With such chocolate-coloured hair and green eyes you look like you could be a model from a magazine cover."

I blushed and as soon as I imagined how awful my burgundy face must look with my green eyes and I turned away. I must look like a witch.

He laughed even louder.

"You are so cute when you blush!"

I barely stopped myself from elbowing him in the side and at that precise moment I felt like we had known each other all our lives. How was that possible if we just have met?

Alex dropped me off at my doorstep and didn't even ask for my phone number. I instantly felt a bitter taste in my mouth. Is that it? Did our first date just become the last one? To my surprise he called me the next evening. He found out my phone number, drove to my flat and took me out for our first proper date. Since then we've been almost inseparable. He'd pick me up after my lectures and bring me home where we'd spend some time sitting around and drinking coffee. I heard a lot of good advice from him about how to start a new business and how to avoid mistakes which new entrepreneurs were so prone to. As far as I could understand he had already owned his own business but for a long time but I didn't get a chance to discover what it was. I didn't want to question Alex much but to enjoy the closeness we had and I assumed that over time all the other answers will be revealed. I also found from Alex that he'd recently broken up with ex-girlfriend. After a few years of the relationship something went wrong. As he spoke about it there was a shade of sadness in his eyes and I wanted to comfort him at such moments.

I have to admit though that there were occasions - now that it's easier to judge - when Alex showed different sides to his personality: there was irritation, short temper and at times even anger. But it was very short-lived and since I was a patient person we got on with our lives avoiding arguments.

Yes, that's what our life was like at that time.

I decided to put my flow of memories on hold as I suddenly felt tired of lying on the bed and I started to feel a little peckish. The orange sunset was shining through the curtains. I got up, opened the curtains and window. The room immediately filled up with various sounds: the whispering of the grass swayed by the gentle breeze, chirping of cicadas, a monotonous voice was murmuring from somewhere underneath me. That must be someone's TV.

I went to the fridge, opened it and not paying much attention to the abundance of food on the shelves (thanks again to Carlos Brodsky) I took a bottle of sparkling water thinking that I might also fancy a cup of tea later.

After a few minutes I put the kettle on. I reached for the biscuits, opened the pack and put one biscuit in my mouth - it appeared to be crunchy and salty. While chewing the biscuit I began to drown in my memories again.

Alex did not insist on intimacy straight away and I was happy about that, thinking that if he did it would mean that his interest to me is just physical. I was quietly hoping that one day our relationship would grow into a real family - a family that has lots of cosy evenings in; a family busy with everyday worries. I dreamt that we'd travel a lot and we'd get a big fluffy dog...

Plans, plans... and more plans....

One and half months later Alex eventually confessed that he was a firearms engineer. His choice of profession surprised me but at the same time it made me respect him more. In order to invent new types of weapons the person must be very talented and clever and Alex in my opinion was a clever and talented man. Some nights I saw Alex sitting there until the early hours with his blueprints but I never asked him any questions and he never told me much about his work. The only thing I knew was that Alex was the owner of a small plant for developing and producing new weapon samples and there were about forty people working there. Most of the production system was automated. On a few occasions Alex told me that he wouldn't mind extending the business but in order to do so he would need a hefty additional investment and Alex didn't have the money.

Then Elmer came on the scene – a man with black thinning hair, a hawk nose and grasping eyes. Elmer didn't know much about the weapon industry but he was the one who provided Alex with that additional investment which allowed them to buy a new and bigger plant plus some modern equipment. Such a contribution immediately turned Elmer into a partner and a holder of fifty per cent share of the business. As soon as he turned into a partner Elmer began to direct Alex in business and sometimes even pressurise him.

Overall they got along quite well. At least that's what I thought. Alex got this new energy and creativity as well as some new ideas. He was flying to work. We moved apartments and I have memories when Alex would sit on the edge of the table passionately waving his hands around and telling me about his day.

But something changed with time - either Elmer was putting too much pressure on Alex or it was Alex who had lost his creativity (which I doubted). But Alex was coming back home in a bad mood more often now. He stopped answering my questions; he ate in silence and then he was off to the pub. One after another my attempts to fix our relationship were failing. I was certain that it wasn't me causing these problems but nevertheless somewhere deep inside the guilt was eating me up.

Then Alex disappeared.

Elmer told me that he'd received the kidnappers request but since he didn't believe it was genuine he had refused to pay anything. I came down on him like a ton of bricks, swore as badly as an experienced sailor but Elmer didn't even bat an eye. He just said that it was Alex's own fault. I was raging trying to get more information out of him but it was to no avail. Based on Elmer's words, Alex was going to go to Lemania hoping to sign a new contract and paid no attention to Elmer's warnings that a trip like that could cost him dearly. Therefore Elmer was relieved of any responsibility.

I was ready to rip his greasy hair off and break his hawk nose in three places but somehow I restrained myself. Instead I just asked Elmer if he was certain that he is not willing to pay the ransom and as soon as he confirmed that I left the office.

The kidnappers asked for half a million dollars in cash. The deadline was terrifyingly small - only three days. As of that minute rest and food didn't exist for me anymore. Everything mixed up into a ball of tensed nerves, premonitions and continues crying. The Police didn't exist - there was only the Commission - a regulating body for all the cities which nobody would voluntarily get involved with. I had no place to ask for help. I checked all my bank accounts but I was only able to scrape fifty thousand dollars. I never had access to Alex's accounts.

I knew I would put my shop on the brink of bankruptcy and that my chances of going bust or being thrown out on the streets were roughly at eighty per cent, however that didn't stop me. I was prepared to give everything away to get Alex home safely, at nights I was dreaming of the fierce revenge on Elmer for his prudence and cowardice; and after my rage calmed down I'd start to cry again.

Well... I've done everything I could. It's possible I haven't done enough though, perhaps I should have put more pressure on Elmer to try and get more information about what was going on between him and Alex lately, but my exhausted mind couldn't think straight.

And now here I am in an unknown city with a strange name Tally. I have to find this Laroche, pass him the damn parcel and get out of this place.

I shook my head pushing the memories away and as I heard the click of a kettle I poured some hot water into a cup. I found a teabag smelling of jasmine sank it in the water and sat on the edge of the table again. The book called "The Rules and Regulations of Tally" came within my sight and I thought that it's probably the right time to start reading it. I have to understand how the local system works and come up with a plan if I want to get back home one day.

In next two hours I had my head buried in the book reading about the system of Tally. Mostly it was a boring read - there was hundreds if not thousands of rules. When my legs got numb I crawled over to the bed. Then I moved back in the chair and then on the armchair. The more I read the more I was surprised.

There was no money in this city at all.

What I understood for certain was: if you work hard and don't break any rules - points will be added to your bracelet. If you break any rules - the points will be subtracted. In order to get out of Tally everybody had to collect one thousand points. Now I had no doubts that I was in a prison. The points system was quite logical if you don't take into consideration some of the puzzling rules. For example: a person was not allowed to move across the street in the same direction for longer than half an hour. In order to move further, one must cross the street and proceed on the other side. What was that for? And what does it mean? Or for instance the rule about the bus tickets...

I found the text and read it once again.

"When boarding a bus, the passenger must obtain a ticket from the driver indicating the seat number which the passenger must occupy". At first everything looked fine but the next sentence told me that every ticket has an encrypted code - some kind of a mathematic formula, which must be solved by the passenger in a limited amount of time.

"Why don't they just print a number on it? Why do they have to complicate everything?"

I scratched my cheek in bewilderment.

As I discovered from the next paragraph - if the passenger does not solve the puzzle within the given time, they will be fined five points.

I put the book aside trying to understand what it all means and I didn't like the conclusion I came to. It seemed to me that all these hundreds of rules were created on purpose to punish people for every fault. I picked up the book again and carried on reading. The more I learnt about the rules the more I was convinced that I was right. How else could you interpret the following text?

"The City Committee reserves the right to amend all or some of the laws at any time without prior notice. Citizens wishing to learn about the changes can do so by watching a TV program "The Laws" on channel twelve. The program does not follow a specific schedule; however the show time can be found in the daily newspaper "Tally Today" which is sold at newsstands across the city..."

I stopped reading and looked at the wall dumbfounded. What kind of rubbish is that? The program is on TV every day but nobody knows when it starts. In order to learn when exactly it starts you have to buy a newspaper. What if people are at work? Or what if this program starts at night when most people are asleep? And how long does it last? It's almost mandatory to watch this "show" so let's say I'm at work and I have to take a break to watch this program, subsequently I'll be punished by an employer, won't I?

Eventually I put the book away and looked at the TV screen in anger. Now it seemed like the epitome of the evil "Big Brother is Watching You" nightmare. I walked across the room in circles, feeling perturbed and nervous as I was trying process all the information in my head. The realisation of what was going on in spite of all my efforts was sticking out of my head like a bunch of straws and needles. I persistently kept on thinking about everything I read. I have to make sure I understand all this because I have to live in Tally for a while yet and for this reason I must put up with all the idiotic rules whether I want to or not. Does this mean I have to learn my equations before getting on the bus like a schoolgirl? What the hell?!

Eventually I've calmed down. It's just temporary. I'm not in this city because I'm guilty of anything so all this crap does not apply to me. I'm not trapped. I just have to find Christopher Laroche and then I'm free to leave Tally forever and my nightmare will be a thing of the past. But is it really possible to get away if this city is a prison? For a second this thought made me feel utterly terrified but then I thought that the Corporation would take care of me (they must do!) - I am here because of them. My inner voice shouted that not everything is so simple but I had no other option than to trust Dreams Ltd. Constant contradictions could drive even the sanest person mad and my nervousness was already adding to the situation.

Eventually I got tired of going round the room and looked at the clock -10pm. I wondered if Jenny was already asleep. It's not too late, is it? If she works early shifts then she is probably already in bed. I decided not to waste any more time thinking and see for myself. Before leaving my apartment I took another jar of jam out of the fridge in order to try and "strengthen" our friendship. What was her room number? Was it three hundred and twelve? Or was it three hundred and thirteen? No, "thirteen" wouldn't slip out of my mind, so it was twelve then.

As I was about to knock on her door I stood there trying to hear if there was any noise inside. All I could hear was a quiet rattling sound as if someone was washing dishes but no voices, so I knocked.

The door opened almost immediately. At first Jenny looked at me with a surprise - she was holding a damp cloth and her hair was sweaty; she waved towards the kitchen inviting me in.

"Oh, I didn't expect to see you. Come in. I decided to clean the kitchen a bit; it really needed it. I finally forced myself to do it today..."

I stepped inside my neighbour's apartment. A quick glance at the mess revealed that the kitchen needed some tiding up a couple of centuries ago but its owner probably had more important things to do: piles of dirty dishes were soaking in the sink covered in bubbles; the foam was everywhere - on the floor, all over the cupboard doors, on the stove and on the kitchen table. A holey doormat was keeping dirty puddles of water together on the floor; a dust pan and broom were lying next to it. The broom looked like it had survived a war with only a few straws left.

"Do you want to borrow mine?" I asked pointing at the short ugly brush.

"No, thanks. I am done sweeping for now."

"OK. If you are busy I can pop in tomorrow?"

"It's alright, the chores can wait. It's good that you came - I was so bored."

She threw the cloth in the corner where it landed with a disgusting slurping sound.

I smirked and thought to myself that the cleaning will probably have to wait for another couple of centuries.

"I brought you some more jam. I didn't really like it myself, you know..." of course that was a lie as my mouth was watering looking at the jar. "And you like sweets." I added.

"Oh! Thank you very much for that! I've already finished the other one... it was so yummy..."

Suddenly Jenny went all red and looked at her plump legs as though she was ashamed of their appearance.

"Take it!" I handed her the jar. "You can always start your diet when you do some more cleaning tomorrow"

"That's right!" A smile instantly appeared on her face and I reluctantly thought that when Jenny smiles she looks quite cute despite her podginess and dirty clothes. Little dimples appeared on her chubby cheeks and happy eyes transformed her face. Not the most beautiful woman on the planet but still...

"You can sit in the armchair or wherever you want. I'll wash my face and put the kettle on. There are some biscuits somewhere in the cupboard."

"Ok."

While Jenny was in the bathroom I looked around. The furnishing of this room was very similar to mine: the same chairs, black TV on the wall, the same wardrobe. Only the curtains and sofa colour was slightly different and the kitchen layout wasn't like mine: at my apartment it was located at the end of the room and here it was right by the front door. Overall this room could be identical to mine, if it wasn't for the stains on the walls, dust in the corners and mess in the kitchen. Another thing that distinguished our rooms was the view from the balcony; or rather the lack of it, as instead of the mountains Jenny had the view of the back yard. I much preferred what I saw from my balcony; it would be lovely to enjoy the sunsets sitting on the balcony with a cup of tea.

At last Jenny came back in to the living room - her hair was washed and her t-shirt was fresh. She clattered in the kitchen and then brought two cups full of hot water and some tea bags. Next minute she got out a pack of biscuits and some jam.

"What's mine is you yours, as they say.."

She sat in front of me and for some time I couldn't decide how to start the conversation.

"Could you not sleep?" Jenny made the first step, opening the pack of biscuits and putting them out on the plate.

"Kind of... I was reading the book about the laws of Tally. Is it true?"

"What's true?"

"Everything, you know, for instance the stuff about the bus tickets. Do you really need to solve some sort of mathematical formula to find your seat?"

"Yeap. Sometimes it's so complicated so it's easier to bribe the driver."

"Bribe?" I was surprised.

"Yes, bribe. It's much cheaper than paying five points. Of course there is a risk he'll grass on you."

"Grass on me?"

For a few seconds Jenny was silent, chewing her cookies and watching me as if she was trying to understand the real reason why I came here. She then shook the crumbles off her fat fingers and gave me an answer.

"You just don't know anything yet and before you do you'll make so many mistakes. But it happens to everyone. You cannot trust anyone in this city, not a single person, do you understand me? This is a prison and everybody's prepared to do whatever they have to do to bring their freedom closer."

"What's going on here? Can you explain? I know nothing... where to go or what to do."

Jenny sighed heavily and leaned back in the armchair.

"Ok, listen then... but I'm not an expert on this system. Robert understands it much better than me. Anyway... Do you understand that in order to leave this place you must collect a thousand points?"

I nodded. Her words confirmed that my conclusion was correct as well - this city is a prison.

Jenny continued.

"So you can spend years collecting the points but it does not guarantee that you will ever collect a thousand. All the rules here are against you. If you don't break any of them you might get about a hundred a year but if you put your foot wrong just once you can lose them all in one day. Look, people betray each other here all the time because if you grass on your friend or neighbour - they will be punished and you'll earn some points. The more you grass on people the more points you get and the victim can lose everything or even go into a negative score..."

"A negative score? Is it possible?

"Huh, I've heard that some people had minus two or three thousands on their bracelets. Or even worse! And then you hear about the suicides, not everybody has the strength to keep going round in circle."

All this was making the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

"This is just absurd!"

Jenny nodded.

"I can't say that I am used to living here but after few months you start getting your head around it"

"How long have you been here?"

"Two years and three months." she bit another piece of her biscuit. "But I'm not giving up because I still want to get out of here. So I'm making contacts, you know..."

I went silent for a moment.

It would be interesting to know why she is here but at the same time I didn't want to be too direct and force her to open up to me if she didn't want to.

"So who can I trust then? Do you have any friends here? Is there anybody you hang out with?"

"There are a few people... It's not an easy task to make friends when people are like wolves. Each and every one stands for themselves. When you first go to the shop you'll learn quickly."

This warning sent shivers down my spine. I don't need a shop, I just need to find a phone box and make one call to Laroche; after I pass the parcel I'm out of his place as soon as possible. I can starve for a couple of days if I have to. On a positive side my fridge is still full.

"How did you end up in here? What for?" Jenny obviously wasn't as tactile as me. Or maybe it was just a common question here.

Since I couldn't tell her the truth about the Corporation or my mission, I decided to use the same story as I fed to Brodsky.

"I'm a hacker." I said without going into too much detail.

"Are you kidding me?" Jenny's reaction reminded me Brodsky's - she looked at me with more respect. "You definitely must meet Robert then. He is all about the electronics when he is not drunk..."

The last unfinished sentence hung in the air.

"Who is he and where does he live?"

"He lives on the same floor as us, at the end of the corridor. He is a very clever guy but he's weak. He starts drinking too much when he sees no result with cheating on the bracelet's score..."

Jenny quickly shut her mouth staring at me with her blue round eyes.

"But you won't tell anyone, right? We are friends, aren't we?"

"Of course, I won't!" I confirmed instantly in order to calm my chatty new "friend" down, although I felt very nervous myself. I didn't need anyone's secrets! I had too many of my own. I moved on swiftly.

"And why are you here, Jenny? What for?"

As Jenny was reassured I was not going to reveal her secrets she relaxed.

"It's a long story but we are not in a hurry so I'll tell you." She tossed on the couch and began the story. "A few years ago I got a house – a big, spacious and beautiful house. I had a boyfriend who I thought I was in love with. We had it all: the dates, chocolates, romantic walks and everything else that goes with it. At the beginning things were going well but then we started fighting more and more for no particular reason. In his opinion I couldn't do anything right so we suffered like that for three years and eventually we decided to call it a day. I begged him for that house like mad and eventually he agreed to leave it to me as well as some money."

Jenny laughed smugly as if she was very proud of herself.

"I wasn't really upset about the break-up. I thought I'd find a better man and a better job but things didn't go according to my plan. I couldn't find a proper job for ages and it was getting harder and harder to pay for the house. I was getting into a lot of debt and the food starting to run out. I was working from dusk till dawn but still couldn't manage to pay the debt on time. After some time I made a decision to sell the house and buy something smaller or even rent an apartment. But in order to sell the house I had to restore it and redecorate it first. A lot of things had to be done: repair the pipes in the cellar, fix the garage, re-plaster the walls and it would have been good to replace some patches of the roof as well. But I needed thousands of dollars for such a big job and I didn't have it. Despite the fact that the location was really good, buyers' offers were ridiculously low - all because of the previous expert's evaluation. I couldn't force myself to sell it for peanuts and at the same time I couldn't keep it or repair it. I was also a bit selfish at that time, I was used to the luxury lifestyle and numbers with less than five zeroes didn't even count as money."

Jenny sighed as if regretting her own stupidity and then she shook her head.

"Now I understand that I should have accepted what I was offered but I wasn't smart enough. Day by day I was gradually falling into despair knowing that it's never going to be possible to get as much as I needed. Then, instead of trying to think sensibly I made a decision which I'm still paying for now. Since it was the only way I could get enough money I decided to burn the house down and get the insurance pay-out. I found some dodgy guy from the street, paid him to do the job and paid for his silence. After we agreed on the date when the arson should take place I went to play cards with my friends so I would have the perfect alibi. The house burnt down to ashes spreading them all across the street. During the meeting with the manager of the insurance company I was crying as loud as I could, pretending to be beside myself with grief. But inside I was already celebrating and expecting to get the compensation soon. But unfortunately I miscalculated everything. The insurance company sent their sharks - the arson experts who quickly discovered the real reason of the fire and the insurance company got a tight grip of my arse. It only took a few days for them to question all my neighbours and find out that the house had been on sale for a very long time and because of the evaluation I couldn't sell it. Finally they found that guy I hired who confessed everything trying to save his rotten skin. So now I have not only lost everything I had but I also was brought before the Commissions' court where I was given a choice – I either had to pay an unbelievably huge fine and get four years in a normal prison or I go to Tally. I chose Tally. I don't regret my choice, you know... First of all I wouldn't be able to find money for the fine anyway, and second I prefer to have at least some illusion of a freedom. Here I can go at work and I can come back home in the evening; I can go to the shops, I can go in any direction I want and I talk to whoever I want. What would I have in a normal prison? A cell with a bed and bog? I'd eat some lousy porridge and drink tea which is not even a tea but piss? In Tally I can eat tasty food - of course it costs money but here it's possible to earn it and make contacts. Here I can try and do something! Not everybody has a good life here but it's up to them whether they agree to come here or not. Everybody could choose the normal prison but instead they decide to come to Tally. You know that as well I as do."

Entranced by Jenny's story I didn't reply right away and only after few seconds I realised that she was still expecting an answer from me. I nodded quickly.

"That's for sure. Everybody has a choice."

"Exactly! As for the rules and regulation, yes, we have to obey by them and it's not very nice but it's OK. If you agree to live here for the rest of your life you can break any of them and many people do. But if you want to get back, you will have to find a job and try to earn the points."

"What about you?" I asked suddenly.

"What about me?"

"How many points have you earned so far?"

Jenny stretched over to the coffee table and turned the static counter on. The screen was showing a number "271".

"Not very much, as you can see but I don't despair. Walk and you shall reach..."

"That's true." I answered vaguely and in order to avoid depression which I felt as soon as I thought about myself being in Tally, I began to think about Christopher Laroche and Dreams Ltd instead. I won't have to learn how to survive in this place, I won't have to obey by the local rules for too long, I won't get stressed out about the idea of an unachievable freedom and about my static counter which doesn't show as many points as I'd like it to. I won't let myself drown in this prison, in this swamp which kills every living species by its system. It's all about them but not about me and soon enough I won't be a part of this anymore.

As I glanced at the clock I realised that it was quite late.

"I think I'm going to go, it's late..."

"Yeah, I'm going to bed too." Jenny stretched and got up from her chair.

We stopped at the door.

"Don't worry too much, it just looks like it is hard to live here but you'll get used to it."

I shivered inconspicuously; I didn't want to get used to being here, I didn't want even to think about it.

"And thank you for the jam." She smiled and her face transformed into quite a pretty one again. "It doesn't look like I'm going to get slimmer anyway so at least I can make myself happy by eating sweets."

"You are welcome. And you know where I am, so come whenever you want to."

"Ok.

I said "goodbye" and left her apartment.

I woke up late, probably affected by the fatigue I've had for the past two days. After I washed my face and brushed my teeth I sat on the bed and started thinking about my plans for the day ahead. The most important thing was to find Laroche as soon as possible and if I want to find him I have to travel somewhere within the city. If I have to travel I will need some points or coupons to pay for the taxi or bus and if I need coupons I have to pay for them with the money I got from The Corporation. Everything seemed so practical and simple but there were a few more questions in my mind: where can I find an exchange point and where do I start my search for Laroche?

After pondering about the first question I came to a conclusion that it'll be easier to pay for the taxi with coupons I still have and then, after I get more "credits" I'll think about Laroche again.

I had a quick breakfast of some toast and jam (there was a third jar in the fridge), brushed my hair, put the trainers on and left the house. I decided not to carry the parcel around with me all day long - nobody can guarantee I'll find Laroche today. A bundle of bank notes was sitting at the bottom of my bag. Should I exchange all the money straight away or keep some back for later? The answer to this question could only be found at the exchange point.

The day was hot and unbearably humid. As I left the Bell-Oak Park territory I headed up another street where there was more cars were driving by. It didn't take me long to catch a taxi - not too many people were so keen on paying a lot for the pleasure and most of them preferred to wait for the bus that just stopped at the bus stop not very far from where I was standing. "Bell-Oak Boulevard" was the name of the bus stop. I memorised the name of the street and approached the yellow "Tazi" at the curb.

A puffy-faced fellow was already impatiently tapping his fingers on the dusty steering wheel.

"Where would you like to go?"

"I need you to find an exchange point where I could buy some coupons for money."

The driver nodded towards the passenger seat as though saying "get it".

I sat on the back seat.

"How much will it cost to go to the nearest one?" I clarified about the "nearest" point deliberately because I didn't want to be taken to the other end of the city.

The guy got the hint.

"One and a half coupons. It's not that far from here."

I gritted my teeth - that was expensive, I'll only have two coupons left after this ride, but then this was exactly why I was going to go to the exchange - to get some more of them.

"Let's go."

The driver scratched his unshaved cheek, glanced at the side mirror, honked at a slow pedestrian and merged with the traffic.

The building where the exchange point was located looked fairly decent: a four-storey glass construction was shimmering in the sun displaying many shades of blue, only the name was a bit of a let-down - "TallyBank". This word caused an unpleasant association in my head but overall the place looked more than credible: flowerbeds, parking space for a couple of dozen cars, a few benches along the sides of the driveway. I was thrilled to see all this after having some truly dark thoughts on the way here - I was afraid to see a narrow shabby hut with a barred window and a miserable woman inside, and even less pleasant characters hunting for their next victim outside.

I exhaled with a sense of relief, paid the driver and got out of the cab.

The hot air was filled with a smell of grass and a huge variety of flowers growing in the flowerbeds around the bank. I couldn't see many customers though and only met one man in a suit by the entrance. I pushed the glass door and entered the main hall. Booths selling coupons were situated along the right wall; I selected the nearest door and slipped inside.

The woman behind the glass welcomed me. I replied and asked:

"What is the buying rate for one point now?"

The question was a bit silly as I've never dealt with "point" currency before but the woman replied without any hesitation or even the slightest hint of embarrassment.

"The rate is always the same; it's remained stable over the past fifty years."

I silently thought to myself "How long has this shithole been around then?"

"And how much money is it for one point?"

"We sell one point for one thousand dollars."

Holy cow! I nearly started a coughing fit from the shock. One thousand dollars for one point? One bloody point!? This isn't just a robbery it's.... it's...

The woman watched how the mask of politeness came off my face with an admirable composure.

"How many points you would like to purchase?"

I inhaled loudly.

Did I really think that it would be possible to keep any "leftover" money for myself? How bloody wrong I was! It's only possible to buy fifty points with all the money I've got. And fifty points is nothing here! A couple of weeks' worth of bus rides and a few trips to the supermarket, and that's if I am lucky because I still have no clue about the cost of food here...

"Erm... I'd like to buy fifty points." I handed the cashier the whole pack of my precious bank notes. Ultimately, I can earn more money later but I will never be able to get out of Tally without finding Laroche first, hence it is necessary to use all the means possible.

The cashier quickly counted the notes using the counting machine - they zoomed through it with a swishing sound, and then stared at me.

"Is there anything else I can help you with?"

I stood there motionless.

"Are you going to give me any coupons?" I knew I sounded sarcastic but I couldn't help it.

The woman blinked at me with her black eye-lashes layered with mascara.

"The points are already on your counter. Please take a look at your bracelet."

I raised my hand and looked at the small screen - and so they are: instead of a zero there was now a fifty. I looked at the woman again and asked in a total bewilderment:

"But what about the paper coupons? I used them to pay for the taxi and I'll need them in a shop later..."

The cashier explained to me in a friendly tone:

"You do not need them. The paper coupons are inconvenient and short-lived. All taxi drivers and vendors can simply scan your bracelet, subtracting the amount required."

A silence hung in the booth. Her heavily made-up eyes were piercing me patiently waiting for new questions. Still confused and amazed, I could not think of anything to say and I had nothing left to do but to simply thank the cashier and leave the booth.

As I stepped out onto the hot street I looked around, wondering where to go now. How big is this city and how hard will it be to find one particular person amongst all the others? Surely there must be an information desk somewhere, but where is it?

Once I reached the road I stopped on the sidewalk, looking at the bypassing cars. Many of them were about twenty or thirty years old; they sped past me squeaking their brake pads and uttering loud claps of the rusty exhaust mufflers. There were also completely new vehicles - sparkling, smooth, polished and shiny. These were certainly owned by the wealthy people – owners of the shops and restaurants, large ranches or employees of the banks - those who had the right to change these blue numbers on the counters. I glanced at the bracelet - number fifty was glowing dimly in the rays of the midday sun. Looking at the passers-by I noticed a policeman standing in the distance on the corner. Maybe I should ask him? If I don't break any rules, why wouldn't he answer some of my questions? I searched for a sign pointing to the one-way traffic - there wasn't any and headed towards the crossing. As I approached the policeman he made a suspicious grimace.

"What do you want?" he muttered, wiping off the sweat flowing out of his cap with one hand and holding the baton with the other.

"Hello. I just wanted to ask.... Could you please tell me how to find the directory enquiries? I'm looking for someone but I don't know their address."

"And who is this person to you?" the policeman became even more suspicious.

"Urm..." I couldn't think of an answer on the spot. "Well... You know... My friend and I saw him once in a bar and I really liked him. I even overheard his name but as I was ready go up to him it was too late and he was gone. And now I'd like to try..."

"Have you fallen in love, stupid girl?" an idiotic smile appeared on the man's face. The way he was treating me made me blush with indignation and he mistook my red cheeks for an embarrassment. Good for me!

"Go away! I am not wasting any time on fools like you!"

I realised that my last chance to get some information is slipping away and started wailing loudly.

"Please mister what should I do now? Where should I go? Where do I look for him? I'll die from the grief and it will be your fault..." I have never said anything more stupid in my entire life but it was too late to stop now and I had to play this role till the end. "How could you leave me in such..."

"Damn you, girl!" the policeman swore but the anger in his voice was fake. "You are like a little leech! If only someone loved me like this! Can you see the telephone box across the street?" I looked in the direction he was pointing at and saw a small dusty phone box. "There is an address book. If you know the name of your man you can find his address."

"Thank you so much!" I thanked him again but this time it was sincere.

"Just don't jump in his bed straight away." his voice caught up with me as I walked towards to the phone box and I heard his muffled laugh.

"Of course not!" I waved at him and smiled. "What a bastard you are." I said to myself as soon as I turned my back to him.

As I was flipping through the dusty pages of the address book I prayed for the name Laroche to be there. Please let it listed! God, let me accomplish this task easily and painlessly. My finger was slipping down the page and my lips were whispering Labaro... Lacey... Laderman... Laguerre... Lakovski... Lambeck... Larkins... Laroche... Laroche!!! I almost jumped up. I found him! And I found not just any Laroche - I found THE Laroche - the one I needed - Christopher!

I shook with the heavy book in the air ready to kiss its dusty pages, then I found pen and paper and wrote down the address, fortunately the column with the letter "L" only had one Laroche. I double checked the address again, put the sheet back in the bag and darted out in the street.

The summer air tasted very differently to me this time as if someone added an elusive scent of the forthcoming freedom to it.

The grass was rustling gently, golden sunrays were shimmering through the foliage and the daisies were rocking their pink heads on the roadside. For half a minute I stood motionless and then I shook my head in joy and walked to a nearby Tazi car park.

After a couple of steps I froze - I must call Laroche and arrange to meet him. There was no phone in my apartment so I have to call him from a phone box. As I got back to the phone, I took out a piece of paper with his contact details and began to study the manual which was explaining how to use a public telephone. Hardly moving my lips I read out: "Bring the front side of the bracelet to the scanner. After a beep your balance will be debited one point which will allow you to speak for ten minutes continuously or to make ten calls lasting one minute each. "

These terms suited me just fine and without any hesitation I put my bracelet to the scanner. There was a momentary beeping sound and the number of points on the screen shifted from fifty to forty-nine. Alright it worked. I began to dial Laroche's number and soon I hear long ringing signals down the receiver. I was impatiently shifting from one foot to another waiting for an answer and when I heard a click, I almost bounced up on the spot. However the voice on the other end of the line was not Laroche - it was an answer machine. "Unfortunately I am not able to take your call right now but I will listen to your message as soon as I can. Thank you."

A short melody played before I could start recording my message and I sighed brokenly trying to put together a short speech.

"Hi Christopher. We must meet up as a matter of urgency. I have a package for you ..." at this point I stumbled, frantically trying to figure out whether it is dangerous to mention the Corporation being in Tally or not? But if Laroche doesn't understand the importance of this message he will most likely refuse to see me and I really didn't want that to happen. So I continued as bluntly as possible. "This parcel is from the Corporation we both know. Since I have no phone in my flat I will call you again using a public phone later on today. I will ring you in two hours and after that I will continue trying to get hold of you every hour until you pick up. I hope to see you soon and please remember - this is very important!"

I hung up.

A steel cord swayed from side to side several times and then came to a standstill. That was it and now all I have left to do is just wait. I have to wait. I remained in the booth for a while as my mind was going through the message I'd just left for Laroche. Did I miss something important? No I didn't, everything I said was correct; and after I came to this conclusion I left the phone box.

Where do I go now? An empty street was drowning in the sizzling air. Even the traffic seemed to have disappeared at this very minute -Tally was melting down in the summer heat. I had nothing else to do other than to call Laroche later on. Any sort of walk was out of the question as firstly, I had no idea where to go, and as I've discovered it was not safe to walk around not knowing the rules well enough - that could make my points disappear very quickly; secondly I wouldn't be able to walk too far in the blazing sun anyway. I haven't got any sun protection or headgear and having sunstroke wasn't part of my plan, therefore I couldn't think of anything else but getting home.

On the way to the Tazi car park I noticed an empty bus stop and stopped for a moment to read the time schedule. To my surprise there were two buses going to Bell-Oak Park from this stop - number fifty one and number eighteen. The bus number fifty one, according to the schedule was due to arrive any minute and instead of spending the remaining two points on the ride in yellow taxi I decided to use local public transport. I leaned my back on the iron pillar which was supporting the roof of the bus stop and prepared to wait, psyching myself up for the mathematical formula on a ticket - will it be hard to solve?

For some time there was hardly any noise on the empty street - just the sound of leaves whispering from a weak warm breeze and echoes of engines roaring in the distance, obviously the traffic was more lively on the next street down. A leisurely pedestrian was walking on the opposite side of the road – a middle-aged man, dressed in shorts and a T-shirt, holding a folded newspaper. At this point, I suddenly felt like I'd never left Clendon City, everything seemed so normal, casual and serene - an ordinary city with the ordinary people. There was a smoky-coloured cat sitting against the wall of the brick house, enjoying the sun, a sound of TV murmuring on the background and a female's voice inviting someone to have a cuppa.

All this felt like "Area 33" with its strange rules for prisoners never existed and Brahms (skinny as a mop) and Ted chewing his apple on the bus were never in my life; as if Carlos Brodsky at the border, the bracelet and the "The Rules and Regulations of Tally" book were just a product of my imagination.

But this strange crossover of the illusionary realities disappeared as soon as I looked at the bracelet. Here I was in Tally at the bus stop waiting for the bus, tickets for which had some mathematical formulas on them; and I was going to Bell-Oak Park because I haven't found Laroche yet and haven't passed the parcel that the Corporation gave me over to him. I'm still paying back the debt.

As soon as his name popped up in my mind I felt that familiar emptiness in my chest but it didn't have time to spread out and fill me up as I saw the white dusty bus appear.

The front door swung open and I stepped into the cabin. The driver exhausted from the heat lazily pressed a button and the device built into the dashboard quickly printed out a small paper ticket. The driver handed it to me idly looking at the road through the windscreen and shut the door. I looked around and saw a turnstile that separates the passenger cabin from the driver and put the ticket into the scanner. The stamped ticket came straight out and the laser beam appeared to be waiting for the bracelet. I put my bracelet up to the scanner the same way I did in the phone box and passed the turnstile.

There were a few other people on the bus but I couldn't waste any time looking at them - finding the number of my seat was more of an important task right now but contrary to my expectations there was no mathematical formula on my ticket. There was however a pattern of overlapping black and white lines going in different directions. I stopped in my tracks since I was already prepared to multiply and divide and now I was staring at the jammed piece of paper in my fingers. What are these lines about and where does it say my seat number? At the bottom of the ticket, as if mocking me, there was a message that I have two and a half minutes to solve the puzzle and if I don't do it on time I'll be fined five points. I swore to myself and looked helplessly at the people in the cabin but nobody seemed to care. I could feel how my whole body was filling up with panic and I could hear seconds ticking in my head. I looked at the chaotic interlocking lines again. What does this mean? A forest made of lines! The time was running out scarily quickly. What's two and a half minutes? It is only hundred and fifty short seconds - very short seconds! I have to concentrate, I have to get focused! Now!

Using all my strength I pushed the fear away and concentrated on the picture. At first, my eyes went over the black sticks, clinging onto each and one of them, looking into every stopping at the smallest detail. How could I find the seat number amongst them? Gradually my eyes got tired from the scrutinizing and I looked at the entire picture once again; and at this very moment I thought I was beginning to understand something. Not allowing myself to think about the fading seconds I relaxed my eyes even more and tried to focus somewhere behind the piece of paper and almost jumped up with joy. Of course! Damn it! It's a stereoscopic image! Once I managed to catch the right angle and not allow my eyes to focus anywhere else I immediately saw the number "17" made out of black and white lines - thanks to a friend of mine who took me to an exhibition of stereoscopic paintings several years ago! At the time I couldn't understand how people could see things in the abstract colour paintings but eventually I learned to relax the eye muscles and started to enjoy seeing familiar outlines where you would never had thought they could be.

Jumping with happiness I ran to the seat number 17 and my bottom was immediately pressed against its rigid surface.

A woman behind me said quietly:

"You managed. You only had five seconds left..."

Happy and calm I sat there in silence, listening to the buzzing and creaking of the bus, looking at the scenery out of the window. This time the route was different to the one the taxi driver took earlier - now we were driving on the outskirts of Tally. I made this conclusion because of the farms, ranches and fields that we were passing. The mansions were seen in the distance - beautiful looking, mostly two-and three-storey houses. There were people working on the plantations - their bare, bronze, sweaty backs were glowing in the sun.

How hard it must be - to work at noon when the heat is at its worst!

The heads of some workers were covered up with hats but most people did not have anything on their heads. I felt sorry for these workers – do their employers care about their health at all? And if so, why don't they buy or make some paper hats - they would only cost pennies. As soon as another corn farm disappeared around the corner there was an unploughed, baron land stretching out as far as the eye could see. But as soon as I thought there will be no more farms another one appeared in the distance – a white three-story stone house surrounded by the greenery and flowerbeds looked not just impressive but grand and somewhat terrifyingly beautiful: as if the architect of this building wanted to create an impregnable fortress at first but then changed his mind and added several columns, a few balconies and elegant roof to the construction. Right behind the garden which shaded the windows from merciless sun with green oaks there was an endless field with some tall plants growing on it. The bus was driving too far away from the field and I couldn't see the kinds of plants that were growing there but the apparent difference from all the other farms was very noticeable: the high voltage electric fence was surrounding the whole area. The fence had interlacing razor wire, its spikes looked like sharp teeth twisted together and not leaving a single hole between them. A second later I saw some security guards walking along the perimeter with whips in their hands and this whole image made me feel sick. Oh, my God! Whatever will I see next? What have these poor people done to be placed in such conditions? However, some crimes carry the death penalty as the punishment and perhaps the option to work on the fields was not the worst they had. Yet the thought of me being amongst them was unbearable. I took my eyes off this awful view - are the guards' whips real? - swallowed the lump in my throat and fixed my eyes on the back of the seat in front of me.

The air on the bus was so stuffy it was making me feel very thirsty, some water wouldn't go amiss. Following this thought came another one - I desperately wanted a yogurt and some orange juice for breakfast this morning but I didn't have any in my fridge.

This morning I rummaged through all the food in the fridge and decided that it wouldn't be a bad idea to buy some vegetables for lunch and indulge myself in something sweet. It's time to get familiar with the local shops, not that I was too fussy about what I eat but I was conscious of the fact that I'm limited in points. I was desperately missing food shopping itself as I really liked walking down the aisles full of different and bright packages. Sometimes I would just aimlessly push the trolley for my own enjoyment reading the labels, admiring neatly placed piles of fruits and vegetables, breathing the smell of the food from the deli. Although I haven't got the means to treat myself to everything I wish - at least while I'm in Tally, I could afford to buy a few things. All the more so as Christopher Laroche has now been found and I just needed to get the parcel over to him and then I can go home. Home! This word felt as sweet and appealing as a scoop of an ice cream on a dry swollen tongue of some homeless person. Even the thought about Alex didn't seem as depressing as before I immediately kicked myself for allowing this to enter my mind.

As soon as the surroundings became more familiar I picked up my bag and headed to the doors. The bus stop was located exactly opposite the one I saw this morning on the way to the bank and on the corner of the intersection I noticed a glass building with a sign "Supermarket № 2".

That is exactly what I've been looking for! And waving my light bag I went towards the building.

It was a lot chillier inside the shop. By the entrance doors I took a creaky trolley, put my bag in it and went further down the shop anticipating a pleasant time food shopping. My suspicions about the possible lack of selection did not reflect the reality – the choice of food here was amazing. On my way towards the diary section I was lazily glancing at the fat cans of corn and peas, pickles and a huge variety of olives. The abundance of goods and a nice melody coming from the speakers made me feel very optimistic. I looked in the fridges at the diary department and began choosing yoghurt. I really fancied something low-fat with a strawberry flavour but since the labels weren't really descriptive I took the first yoghurt pot and read the text on it: "Dairy product with milk thistle".

What's milk thistle? What does it taste of? I couldn't recall if I've ever heard it so I placed the pot back and decided to check out the other products.

Here they are! I found some strawberry yoghurt and chucked it in the trolley; the price for a pack of four was only half a point. Singing under my nose to an unpretentious song I continued with the shopping. What was next in my list? Oh, right! Juice!

A row of multi-coloured bottles stretched all the way from a wall to cashier. First thing my eyes caught was bottles of spirits which meant that alcohol was allowed in Tally; there were eighteen different kind of beers - one particular label caught my eye and I stopped to make sure I was seeing it right - yes, it really was "Erminger"!

It's genuine Balais Island's beer!

"Erminger" was very hard to find even in Klendon-City, it costs a fortune to import from the island and sometimes the price for a bottle would reach ten dollars. I turned the bottle, checked the bar code to ensure it really was the Balais Island's one and placed the beer back on a shelf. I then looked at the price and laughed - it was two and a half points for a bottle, considering that one local point is one thousand dollars, this bottle was two and a half thousand dollars - it was probably the most expensive beer in the world! Yet some people could afford it here, perhaps the ones who drive brand new cars with tinted windows. If beer was this dear I decided to check how much the cognac was and as I saw the price my jaw dropped to the floor - fourteen, nineteen, twenty two points...

Mama Mia! I'd rather drink some plonk and collect the rest of the points for my freedom or even cut the drinking out completely.

I suddenly remembered that I must call Laroche soon; I stopped looking at the crazy price tags and hurried towards the bright coloured bottles of juice. I chose quite a cheap one (only 0.1 point a bottle), put it together with the yoghurts and pushed my trolley forward. On the way to cashier I noticed some biscuit packs with the corner of my eye and without even looking at them properly I threw a pack with a picture of a chocolate bar in the trolley but because of my careless movement another pack fell on the floor; I quickly hoisted it back and finally took a place at the end of the queue.

The cashier was a clumsy skinny guy about eighteen years old. Looking at the fresh and clean skin on his face I thought that he must be using a bunch of facial creams in the mornings. A badge with his name was attached to an ironed crispy blue shirt; his hands were hovering back and forth, scanning the products.

"Your total is twelve and two-tenths of points." I thought his voice sounded immature and a little camp.

The man scanned his bracelet, then pushed his stuff to the end of the conveyer belt and started packing.

There was another young guy and a woman in front of me but they only had a loaf of bread each so soon it was my time to pay.

"Good afternoon." The cashier greeted me with the same monotonous voice dragging out his words in an odd manner.

"Hello." I put the yoghurts, bottle of juice and pack of biscuits in front of him.

"Four strawberry yoghurts - half a point..." the cashier mumbled, scanning the items. Kenneth - his name was written on the badge. "One bottle of orange juice – one tenth of a point, two packs of chocolate biscuits - four-tenths of a point..."

I tried to interrupt him and explain that I've only got one pack of biscuits but Kenneth didn't even look at me and kept on scanning.

" ...one yoghurt with milk thistle - two-tenths of a point and one Erminger beer - two and half points."

I opened my mouth in astonishment and looked at the belt once again - there were four strawberry yoghurts, one bottle of juice and one pack of biscuits; I looked at Kenneth.

"I'm sorry, but I didn't take the yoghurt with milk thistle or beer and I've only got one pack of biscuits. You can see for yourself, all my items are here."

The cashier glanced at the belt and then at the cashier till screen.

"Plus three points fine for an additional time spent in the supermarket."

"Wha... What are you talking about?!"

"Your total is six and seven-tenths of points."

"Are you mad?!" I was outraged, but I quickly tried to cool down. It must be a mistake! Yes, just an annoying mistake and everything will be settled soon.

"Please take a look at the belt again." I asked him as calmly as I could. "Can't you see that I haven't got a second pack of biscuits, beer or yoghurt with milk thistle? I've only got..."

Kenneth interrupted me before I could finish my sentence.

"Any items the customer picks up from the shelves must be paid for. It is the supermarket's policy."

I was taken aback.

"But I only looked at them and put them straight back!"

The guy shook his head.

"It doesn't matter."

I stared at him trying to digest what I'd just heard.

"If I'm paying for a beer, another pack of biscuits and yoghurt I should take them, right? So I'll go and get the..."

"As you've already placed those items back on the shelves and if you take them again, I'll have to scan them once more."

"What do you mean "scan them once more"?! You have just scanned everything and I still don't have them, therefore I am entitled to those items!"

"No, miss."

After this answer I was ready to rip up Kenneth's fresh face to pieces.

"What does this all mean? I've paid for the goods which I'm not allowed to take now?"

"You placed those products back on the shelves, which means you'll be charged twice if you take them again now."

For a few seconds I seriously considered the idea of beating the cashier up but after a few deep breaths I just said slowly:

"Ok. I understand the policy. Does this also mean it's pointless to call the supervisor?"

Kenneth shrugged his shoulders as if saying "It's totally up to you".

"Then what are the additional three points for?" The situation seemed like a disgusting farce to me now. The tone of my voice was full of poison and I felt if I say one more word there will be a toxic green cloud in front of me.

"Each customer is allowed ten minutes in the supermarket area and every additional minute costs one point. You've spent thirteen minutes in here."

"Ten minutes a day?! Are you crazy???" I shouted paying no attention to the growing queue of shoppers behind me. "Do you think it's enough to get everything I need? Do I have run like a sprinter and throw everything in the trolley without looking at what it actually is?"

Kenneth barely winced and answered, looking away:

"You either you pay for what you've got or..."

"Precisely! I'd like to pay exactly for what I've got and nothing else!"

\- ...or I'm calling the security and you'll be speaking to the supervisor."

I knew that any conversation with the supervisor won't be much different to this one I shut my mouth and let my bracelet to be scanned. After the scanner made a short sound Kenneth gave me a plastic bag.

Gritting my teeth and holding back the comments about such ridiculous rules and camp cashiers I threw my shopping in the plastic bag and ran out of the supermarket.

Once I was outside I kicked the nearest bin as hard as I could and the second I did that my bracelet beeped. Well, I have just been fined again!

Feeling incredibly angry I didn't even look at the screen to find out how big the fine was and just hurried back home.

The trip to the shop became somewhat of a lesson to me. I sat on the balcony, looking at the mountains drowning in the summer heat; a cup of cold tea gleaming in the sun was next to me. Jenny was right - carelessness in the city could lead to disastrous results in a matter of just few days. At the beginning I didn't think I should take the local rules or my neighbour's advice seriously, and I was so wrong. Now my bracelet was showing only forty-two and a half points instead of fifty. In just one day I lost seven and half points! I paid 6.7 points in the shop, 0.3 points for the bus tickets (I put in some serious effort in finding out the bus ticket prices) and I was fined 0.5 points for kicking the bin. Welcome to Tally!

Damn it!

My mood was in tatters.

Laroche didn't answer two more of my calls. Soon there will be a sunset. What if Laroche doesn't answer my calls at all? What if he is dead? What should I do then? I decided not to think about the worst case scenario and began to compile a list of principles I was going to follow from this very minute: rule number one - I don't buy anything unnecessary and only get the essentials. If my score will go into a minus I can be thrown out of my "hotel" room and relocated to "hell", and Tally is the "hell" for many people. As long as there is some food in my fridge I must not go shopping or take trips anywhere. Now I was quite certain that another journey to the city will cost me an additional couple of dozens points.

I sighed heavily, got up and went back into the room. An hour later it was time to give Laroche another call. As I was putting my trainers on I was begging - please answer me this time. Please, just answer!

"Christopher? Christopher, is it you?" I was almost shouting down the phone because instead of the answering machine there was a real voice.

"Yes, Christopher speaking. Who is this?"

"This is Shereen! I'm sorry I forgot to introduce myself when I left you a message."

"Was it you who left the message?" Now Laroche seemed excited.

"Yes, it was me! I have a package for you, where and when can we meet up? We must do that as soon as possible."

"Yes, you are right, we must meet up as soon as possible. How do we do that?.." I could feel the intensity in Christopher's voice and I could hear his frantic breathing. "Shereen, I'll send a taxi for you and I'll pay for your ride, is it OK with you?

"Yes."

"Please tell me where do you live?"

I told him my address.

"OK, I'll call the taxi then. Please don't forget to bring the parcel."

"Are you kidding me?"

"God, no! I'm just... It's just very important for me as well. And Shereen..." Laroche paused for a second. "Thank you so much!"

The sincerity in his voice made me smile.

"That's alright. You are welcome."

"See you in a while then."

"Yes, see you soon. Bye!"

I left the phone box and ran to my apartment.

A taxi slowed down in a suburb, opposite a long three-story building with some emaciated bushes around it. A man was already waiting on the doorstep. He had a lean body, not particularly tall, about thirty-five to forty years of age, and with brushed back straw-coloured curly hair. When Christopher approached the car and opened the passenger door I thought to myself, Aliviar - only aborigines of Alivia have got such beautiful golden curly hair, sophisticated nose and piercingly blue bright eyes.

"Hello, Shereen. I'm Christopher." He shook my hand. "Let's go in."

As we went inside the Tazi disappeared around the corner. I followed Laroche stepping onto the old and chipped concrete steps. We climbed on the second floor where he unlocked the door with the number sixteen on it.

"Welcome in."

Holding the parcel tightly, I walked into the little dark room. Christopher turned on the light and indistinctly waved his hand.

"Please, sit down wherever you find comfortable."

I sat on the edge of a dark green sofa-bed and fleeted a glance around the room; to my surprise I noted that my "suite" was much better equipped: I had a kitchen and a fridge which were missing here. The TV screen covered in dust was not as modern as the one that I had in my apartment. The furniture consisted of an old canvas wardrobe, two shabby chairs, table and sofa which I sat on now. In the corner there was a nightstand with two drawers (the top drawer looked fairly well used) and on top of the nightstand there was an obsolete telephone.

Where did Laroche cook his meals if there wasn't a fridge or a kitchen? Did he always eat out? His appearance and the shithole he lived in didn't make me think that Christopher was a rich man.

Laroche hastily grabbed a pile of clothes from the chair, threw it on the floor and then sat down opposite me. His eyes were sparkling with excitement.

"So, where is it? Shereen, don't torment me, I've been waiting for this for so long..."

"Before I give it to you, I'd like to know that you'll answer some of my questions."

Christopher tensed up and went quiet. Then he replied:

"Alright, I will answer your questions if I know the answers."

I put the parcel on the sofa and rubbed my temples. So here is the end of my mission, in a minute Laroche will get his precious parcel and I will be free to leave Tally. I just need to find out how.

"This package was given to me by Dreams Ltd Corporation."

"Yes, I know."

He rubbed his palms impatiently.

They said I must deliver it to you and then I'm free to leave this place. My mission now is accomplished and I'd like to get back home as soon as possible, so could you please give me the number I can call to ask them to pick me up?"

Laroche was silent. Now his face looked like a mask and I decided to clarify what I meant:

"I've done what I've been asked to do and now I have to tell them that I am finished with the task. That's why I'm asking for their telepho..."

His words that followed next stuck in my memory forever.

"It's not possible to contact Dreams Ltd from here."

I swallowed the lump that immediately came up in my throat and shook my head.

"Please, you have to understand, I haven't committed any crime nor I am guilty of anything. They forged the documents so I could enter the territory, I had to get the parcel to you and I did. Now they have to take me back."

Christopher's eyes were staring at my face.

"Did they say anything about bringing you back?"

"What do you mean?"

"Did the Corporation promise they'd help you to get out of here after your mission is accomplished?"

"No."

"Then forget it."

"What are you talking about?! This can't be true! I just signed an agreement which confirmed that I was going to deliver you the parcel and that was it! I didn't commit any crime!"

Christopher was listening to my shouting in silence and waiting for me to sit back on the sofa.

"Shereen, have you ever discussed with them anything about your return?"

"No." I felt close to hysterics now. What is he talking about? Why wouldn't they care about my return? Why? "They didn't even tell me where I was going. They just told me the name of the city and that I must have certain documents to enter the area."

Laroche sighed heavily.

"It's all a fix."

"No..." His words were bouncing off the protecting shield my mind had created. Subconsciously I didn't want to let words penetrate through my mind; I didn't want to accept them. "No, no, this cannot be true!"

"Shereen, did you ask the Corporation to do something for you - maybe for some money of something?"

"Yes." I replied quietly." I asked for money."

"How much money? Not that it matters now, but just out of curiosity..."

"I asked for four hundred and fifty thousand dollars."

Christopher gave me a sad smile.

"That's why they've sent you here claiming it was a way of "repaying the debt". But you have to understand if they didn't mention that they would help with your return – it was never part of their plan."

"No!" I repeated again feeling my eyes welling up. "I'll get in touch with them and..."

"But you can't!" Laroche was starting to lose his temper. "Do you think I haven't been trying? You can call no one outside of Tally. Don't you get it? NO ONE"

"But there must be a way!" I shouted, feeling angry at myself for acting hysterically. "There must be a way, because you managed to contact them!"

Christopher crossed his arms on his chest and leaned backwards.

"I didn't contact them myself. I asked another person who'd got out of Tally to do that for me."

"But you contacted the person on the outside. How did you do that?"

"I got friendly with a girl who was getting out of here and asked her to do it."

I was silent for a few moments searching Christopher's face but my sixth sense was telling me he was not lying. And if this was not a lie – did this mean I'll be stuck in Tally forever?

At this moment my nerves gave up and the tears came flooding. These were not just the tears pouring down my cheeks it was unrestrained sobbing. I couldn't see or hear anything around me I was just crying and repeating "I'm not guilty, I'm not guilty...I just want to get out of here, I'm not guilty..."

The realisation that Laroche could be right was like a poisonous cloud, slowly but surely seeping through into my mind. Nobody promised me anything, everything happened so fast without much of an explanation. Mr Brahms didn't come into the office that morning, not willing to answer any of my discomforting questions. They secured themselves well by not giving out too much information about Tally, even though they knew everything. I could bet my arm that they knew...

Sobbing, I took my hand away from my red, tear-stained face because someone was gently shaking my shoulder.

"Please drink this." Laroche handed me a glass of water. "God knows, I didn't want that to happen. I'm sorry."

I swallowed the cold water with big greedy gulps almost choking on it. It helped me to calm down a bit and start thinking again. Even though the tears were still running down my face I pulled myself together.

The Corporation might still get in touch with me later... Laroche is certain there is no way to contact them but maybe there is? Stop crying and think!

I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and stared at Christopher who stood next to me.

"I want to know everything you know about them. Everything! How you got here, what for and what you've learnt about this place as well. I also want to know how exactly you contacted the Corporation".

I was ready for him to refuse to answer my questions but to my surprise he didn't. Laroche just nodded softly and put my empty glass on the table.

"I'll tell you if you think that might be helpful for you. And believe me, Shereen, I'm really sorry."

I nodded, shaking from nerves.

Christopher sat back on his chair and looked at me. His face looked tired and there was a shade of sadness in his bright blue eyes, however there still was hope as well.

"I was a private detective in South Drinville. For almost fifteen years of my life I've worked as a detective and everything was fine until I got involved in one investigation. A man asked me to follow his wife who he thought was cheating on him. I received an advance on the job and got on with it. Not long after that I discovered that his wife wasn't actually cheating on her husband but she was running off to avoid him beating her up. At first I was imbued with sympathy for this woman and learned as much as I could about her lifestyle and habits. She appeared to be very decent, warm-hearted.... and very beautiful.

At this point Laroche stumbled and looked at me sheepishly.

"Please don't think it is normal for me to get personally involved with my clients. This is not one of my habits. At least it wasn't then..." He added and went silent for a second. Then he continued.

"As opposed to this lady her husband appeared to be a real bastard. And so it happened that I got the information that I wasn't supposed to get: the documents about some illegal sales of banned chemicals at the factory where he worked. Subsequently, these chemicals were used to manufacture a strong drug - neospopheromen. The drug dealers were then spreading it across the cities... But, it's not what I was going to say. In order to remove his wife from the suspects list I met her in person. A few times we went to a cafe where we chatted. During our last meeting I told her what I'd found out about her husband. She was terrified. That evening she went home and had an explosive row with him. Her husband got furious, he jumped to the conclusion that she was cheating on him with me as well as many other men and on top of this she now knew his secrets."

Christopher rubbed his hands, perplexed and took a sip of water.

"All this time I was hiding behind their apartment door 'cos I had a feeling that the situation might turn nasty. When I heard the shouting from the stairwell I broke the door down; I just wanted to protect his wife and take him to the police but when he lashed out at me...I killed him. Not intentionally. He was trying to strangle me and all I could find in the vicinity was an iron fireplace rake."

Laroche stopped talking, looking depressed. I wasn't saying anything either because I didn't want to interrupt him. He looked at me with his blue eyes and shrugged.

"God knows I did not intend to kill him but that means that I am in Tally for a reason. I would have got fifteen years in a prison but I chose Tally instead. I didn't know much about this city then."

I felt pity for Christopher looking at his sad face and trembling lips. I believed every word he said - things like this happen. I cleared my throat and asked:

"Did you ever see this woman - his wife - after that?"

"Yes, briefly. Despite the humiliation, rude words and batteries she loved him. Love is a strange thing, you know. She didn't want to see me after that and she cried constantly."

He sighed.

"The Commission's representatives could have regarded my actions as self-defence if the incident hadn't taken place at his apartment. I shouldn't have broken the door and interfered. The law was on his side."

"How long have you been here, in Tally?"

"Almost four years now. Shereen, I've tried to work hard but a murderer cannot expect to find a decent job after what he's done."

"What do you mean?"

"This system is well developed - the more serious the crime the harder it is to collect points. Not everybody has equal rights. Some people are just hooligans, some are robbers, some are drug dealers, and some are rapists or murderers. The local authorities take that into a consideration and somehow register this info on the bracelets. If your offense is very serious then you can only work as a loader, street sweeper or sewerage cleaner and as you understand, you'll never earn enough points. You'll always work just for food. The initial housing also depends on the severity of your crime - the area where I live is one of the worst in the city."

"But you've got a phone in your apartment whereas I can't brag about such a luxury."

Laroche just waved his hand.

"It belonged to the person who lived here before me, so it's not down to me."

"I see."

I rocked from side to side to stretch my numb body as my hand felt the parcel. I took it out of the plastic bag and put the box wrapped in some paper on the table.

"So, what's in there? What did you ask for the Corporation?"

"I'll show you." Replied Laroche shortly.

He got up, went to the nightstand and took a small knife out of the top drawer. He then returned to the table and began methodically cutting the wrapping. When the last piece of paper fell on the floor he opened the box and I saw a small black familiar device.

"The static counter!" I gasped in shock. "This is the static counter!"

When Christopher turned the screen to show me I stopped breathing. The counter had one thousand points on it. The digits - one and three zeros were shining brightly in the dark room. I eagerly absorbed this magnificent sight not daring to believe that I had a counter with one thousand points on it all this time! An instant access to freedom!!! Why did I have to be so bloody honest and decent and didn't attempt to open someone else's package? My values really let me down this time! I could have been gone yesterday!

Laroche watched my reaction with a guilty smile on his face seeing right through me.

"It wouldn't have helped you, Shereen. All the bracelets and static counters have the owners names registered on them – there is some sort of code system inside. If you've tried to show this particular counter at the border you would have been thrown into a jail immediately and imposed a huge fine. It's a bad idea to mess with them.

The air left me like a deflated balloon. I see...And Laroche was right - I would have definitely tried to do that if I'd known what was inside the parcel. I silently thanked God for saving me from such a mistake and looked at Christopher's happy face with envy.

"I've been waiting for this for so long!" he said gently stroking the black plastic surface of the counter. "It's been three months since Helen left Tally and I've been waiting for this to arrive every single day since then"

Laroche glanced at his bracelet and laughed happily.

"This one is now showing one thousand points as well! They must connect to each other. I can't believe I can go to the border whenever I want - even right now – and take a bus into the outside world!"

He was almost dancing around the room holding the little device while I was being eaten alive by the bile and frustration. When can I celebrate my freedom like Christopher? Nobody knew that. If only the Corporation would come and help me...

"Still, how did you get it?" I asked, fearing that Laroche will start packing his belongings on the spot and flee, while I'll still be here with a bunch of unanswered questions and a heavy weight that was now on my heart after the words "they won't come after you, do not wait for it" came out of his mouth.

"I had one million and sixty three thousand dollars in my bank account – all my life savings, and the Corporation was the only chance for me to get out of here since I'd never earn enough points for the freedom myself. Helen - the woman I met three years ago, she agreed to help me and contacted them after she'd left Tally. I don't really know all the details but obviously one million was enough for them to accept my offer and provide me with the counter. I can't believe they actually sent it to me!" he repeated, admiring the shimmering screen.

"So, they took your million and then gave me four hundred and fifty thousand dollars and the parcel to deliver to you. Thus, they've received five hundred and fifty thousand dollars in profit for doing absolutely nothing! What a fucking brilliant way of life!"

I couldn't help being angry at myself, at Laroche and at the Corporation altogether at this moment. Their system appeared to be flawless. With its powerful connections and opportunities the Corporation was taking from some and giving to others. I assumed that faking a counter was not an easy task but if they knew which strings to pull they might have got it for peanuts and ended up with a huge profit for themselves. Yes, flawless."

"Are there any points on your old counter?" I asked as I could feel some unformed plan being born in my head.

"No, I was in minus. Pretty much from the beginning I had a negative score and never been able to collect even a hundred."

"Why is that?"

"Shereen, you must understand - nobody would benefit if the prisoners were leaving the area. There are hundreds of productions established here and goods are being exported to the "outer" world. The city government doesn't pay any real money for the labour. Many people, especially those who committed serious crimes work from dusk till dawn just to get some food and without any hope of ever being released. And believe me, for the Commission it's a very profitable business - they get cheap goods and clean the cities from the criminals. So Tally - it's just an illusion of a more prosperous prison life, which in fact is a never-ending servitude. In a normal prison you'd spent a few years and get out whereas here you'll live and work for the rest of your life"

I sat in silence, frozen like an iceberg, all my thoughts have vanished. There was only emptiness and chilliness left in my head as if in an abandoned freezer in some warehouse. That was probably my reaction to a shock. Then I heard Christopher's voice as though it was coming from miles away.

"Shereen, is there anything I can do for you when I get out of here?"

Feeling as if I've just woken up I looked into the face leaning over me.

"Yes, I have one favour to ask you. Please, find one person for me if you can. His name is Alex... Alex Viver."

The fourth day passed the same as previous three days - in a haze. I either wandered aimlessly around the room or sat on the balcony for hours, looking at the mountain which suddenly seemed unattractive to me. I was too afraid to leave the apartment - what if I lose my last points? The food in the fridge was disappearing and a pile of biscuit wraps, used tea bags and meat scraps were building up in the bin. Soon I'll run out things to eat and I will have to go to the shop. Then I must search for a job and start a new life in the predatory unfriendly Tally.

Laroche had left Tally and was celebrating his freedom. The Corporation never contacted me again. I was aware that it might never happen in the future but was still holding hope and continued nibbling on biscuits which sugary taste was now firmly stuck in my throat. Hundreds of different scenarios were flashing in my head but all of them had one idea in common: a man in a black suit knocks on my door and says "Shereen Moore? Your mission is completed; the car is waiting for you. Please, follow me..."

I pictured myself going to the black car with tinted windows. How exciting would it be to get a breath of fresh air in Klendon-city (despite the fact that Tally's air was actually much cleaner); the air filled with the smell of flowers and grass. How wonderful would it be to see the familiar streets, to see Linda throw her arms around me (not that she would ever allow herself anything like that, but it was so nice to imagine), to dive into the familiar everyday routine. It will be a new me - a brand new person with no debts or obligations who has, strangely enough, almost forgotten about Alex.

Usually I reproached myself but this time I did it half-heartedly and without really any anger for myself. I almost didn't think about Alex in the last few days. My constant anxiety pushed petty obsolete problems out of my mind and left me with the current worries, emptiness and bitterness. What's the point in thinking about Alex while I am here? I wasn't able to find him "there" so why should I worry about him while I am in Tally? My powerless tears will corrode my mind like acid but they won't help me cope with the new situation, find a job or collect enough points to get out of Tally.

The sun got tired of gilding the orange mountains peaks and was now rushing to take refuge somewhere behind them.

"It's been a long day at work even for you, sun. Tell me how many points you earn every day for rising up and shining in the sky?"

I sighed and dropped my head, looking at my interlocked fingers. It's time to face the truth - I'm completely alone and there is nothing to hope for, I have to accept my new life, I have to give it the best I can and to hope that it won't bite me in the arse.

I glanced at the last rays of sun, shining through the orange rock and got up from the chair. Getting drunk was what I wanted to do. At first this idea seemed weird to me but after some time it felt more and more appealing. I can allow myself to do that once in a while - tomorrow my life will change for good, I'll have to leave this safe cavern and see what I am made of. Will I fail straight away or will I be able to fight on? But all this will happen tomorrow and today I wanted to celebrate the bitter crash of all of my hopes and dreams as well as the last evening of being unemployed.

An unemployed hacker, my inner voice immediately mocked me.

Yep, a hacker. I chuckled and tried to remember where I put my purse with money when I suddenly recalled that my "purse" was now hanging on my wrist. Damn it! I swore out loud, slammed the door and headed to the "Supermarket №2" thinking of all the tortures I'd send on the young Kenneth if he dares to open his covered in lip-balm mouth.

I got back home with not with the usual bottle of wine or martini, but a bottle of whiskey. The reason for it was quite prosaic - I wasn't about to start celebrations and enjoy the taste of alcohol, I just wanted to get pissed and forget about everything for a couple of hours. I took out what was left in the fridge: a few slices of ham, pickles, piece of cheese and put it on the table. I then found a whiskey tumbler in the cupboard and thanked the previous owner for taking care of it .

I opened the bottle, cringing from the smell, poured some whiskey in the glass and drank it in one big gulp. Then I bit off a piece of cheese and hiccupped, reminding myself of an experienced alcoholic. Another shot went down straight after.

"This way I'll get drunk very quickly. I'll go down faster than a rollercoaster wagon"

But being a very determined person who certainly wanted to forget their own name I had another shot and trying not to look at the bottle, filled my glass up once again.

Alcohol was slowly spreading out inside my body, turning a tight bundle of nerves into a burning ball as I was pensively looking at the cracked white paint on the ceiling. What will my heart ask for next? Singing?? A conversation? Or crying on someone's shoulder trying to prove that I was never a bloody hacker? Wow! That would definitely make an interesting plot for a cheap book that every decent citizen should keep in their loo.

In order to keep up with the buoyant tempo of getting drunk I prepared to down the poured whiskey but at this very moment I heard a knock on my door. I put the glass on the table and frowned - has the shoulder to cry on come to my rescue?

I crawled off the sofa and opened the door.

As I opened the door I saw Jenny staring at me; she looked at my face and then at the bottle of whiskey which for some strange reason I had in my hand. Jenny's mouth opened in astonishment and she chuckled.

"Wow!"

I also glanced at the bottle and feeling under the influence of the alcohol buzz, answered without any hesitation.

"What do you want?"

"Are you celebrating something?" She stretched her neck out trying to see what was on the table and who else was in the room

"I am not celebrating anything; there are no men here and no jam."

Normally I would've been shocked by the cheek but tonight I didn't give a damn about politeness.

Jenny, however, didn't seem too offended.

"I am not after any jam."

"Really? What are you after then?"

"Nothing really, just a chat..."

She was jibbing at the door, obviously surprised by a severe change of my attitude and mood.

"Come in." I nodded. "Let's have a drink."

As Jenny headed towards the armchair I found a second glass in the cupboard and filled our glasses with whiskey. I didn't hang around waiting for her, drank mine and ate a piece of cheese.

Before drinking hers Jenny stared at me for a while then downed her shot and also took a bit of cheese.

"Hey, what's wrong with you? What's happened since the last time we saw each other?"

I was silent not knowing what to say.

"We've not seen each other for a few days and you are already getting drunk by yourself. Did you have a barney with somebody?"

"I don't have anybody to have a barney with, since I don't know anyone here."

"That's what I thought as well. So why would you do this then? You look like it's your own funeral."

I turned away feeling hollow and depressed and still not knowing what to say.

"Tell me! You'll feel better if you share..."

I looked at her wondering what her reaction would be if she discovered the true story. Can I trust her? Is there anyone I can trust? I sighed not being able to come to any decision.

"Something went wrong... you know, I thought I'd get some help but I didn't."

"Help with what?"

"Help with getting out of here."

Strangely enough Jenny didn't start bombarding me with any questions; she just took the bottle and filled up the glasses.

"We all hope that someone will help us out and even though some people have good contacts on the outside and some have a load of money, the truth is \- when you are in Tally - you are completely alone."

It was hard to argue with that and I just nodded. I was even a little struck by how smart Jenny sounded.

"So here I am... now... also completely alone here."

"Is there any hope for you?"

"No."

Jenny drank her whiskey, took a pickled cucumber and crunched on it deep in thought.

"Listen, have you got a job already?"

"Not yet."

"Are you going to get one?"

"Do I have a choice?"

"What would you like to do?"

"I don't know yet." I couldn't quite grasp where the conversation going. "I can't even imagine what I could do here; I don't have any particular skills or talents."

"Nobody wants your talents here. There are either factories or farms in Tally. Any sort of admin work you won't get here, unless you know the right people, but if I remember correctly you are a hacker so it shouldn't be a problem for you to find something decent."

"Jenny, in truth I'm not a hacker and I have never been one." I waved my hand, drank another shot and decided to stop with the alcohol for tonight \- one more glass and I won't be able to find my own bed.

"So you're not a hacker?" Jenny didn't seem that surprised.

"No."

"Well..." she paused. "You know, I came to see you for a reason. I actually wanted to offer you a job."

"What?" I asked without any interest.

"A job! It's really good that you haven't found anything yet since if you decide to change jobs you get fined."

"Is that also a possibility?"

"Believe me, yes. So are you interested or not?"

"Ok, I'm listening."

"I work in a men-only private club for the rich members. Two days ago a vacancy came up because one girl had left and you are a very good looking woman - slim with long hair..."

"No, no! Don't even think..." I shook my head in denial. "I'm not going to be a hooker; I am telling you this now"

"I'm not offering you to become a hooker!" Jenny was outraged.

"I'm not gonna be a stripper or please men in any other way!"

"Don't be silly! Just let me finish first!"

I went quiet and stared in her round eyes in suspicion.

"OK, tell me more."

"The club where I work - is a club for the richest and most influential owners of this city, they even call themselves the "owners". And they really do own ranches, shops, restaurants and all that."

"So what?"

"This club is the place where they gather every evening to chat, play poker, smoke cigars and drink. The club does not provide girls for them, at least I've never seen such a thing and it would be great if you got a job there instead of some half-asleep creature"

"Why is that?"

Jenny almost unnoticeably shifted in her chair.

"I'll explain more a bit later but someone you know is always better than a stranger, you see."

I nodded slowly wondering if she was leaving something untold.

"So what exactly do I have to do there?"

"You would have to bring them drinks, take the empty glasses away, ask if they need anything else and smile."

"Like a waitress then?"

"Yes, exactly!" she confirmed happily. "We are there mostly for decoration, like flower pots."

"But what if someone likes the girl? How do you get out of going to bed with them?"

"Trust me, it never happens there."

"How can you be so sure? Maybe you just haven't seen it happen?"

"I would know, believe me."

Something in the way she was talking made me give her words some credit but frown at the same time.

"What is your role in the club?"

She hesitated for a few seconds.

"I'm... I'm a friend of the owner of this place."

"What do you mean?"

"At first, I was a waitress like the others but then I saw he was interested and decided not to miss out on such an opportunity. My earnings increased and the amount of work decreased, so why not?"

"Wow! I see..."

Judging by her face, Jenny couldn't quite decide whether she should be ashamed or proud of her situation.

"It appeared that he always liked plump girls." she added and her face turned red.

I smiled, true – there is always someone who appreciates plump ladies.

"So you're lucky then."

"I kind of think so too. So are you going to give it a try?"

Suddenly I felt lost.

"Erm... What if I don't like it? Or what if something goes wrong?"

"If you don't like it I'll ask my friend not to fine you, so you'll just leave."

That sounded good and somewhat tempting.

"What if my appearance doesn't fit?"

"You have nothing to lose, if they don't like the way you look then you'll just have to find another job -it's that simple. But also bear in mind that the wages in the club are much higher than in many other places in the city, plus these guys can add the "tip" points to your bracelet if they like how you do your job."

"That sounds good. When do I start and what do I need to bring with me?"

"Nothing really, the club owner will be waiting for you tomorrow morning. You'll have a chat and then he'll decide whether he wants you or not. I've already told him I'd speak to you."

I sneered - I couldn't ignore the entrepreneurial spirit of my neighbour.

"They'll supply the uniform but the make-up is up to you."

"I got it."

"Great!" she concluded cheerfully. "I'll wake you up tomorrow morning and we'll set off together, deal?"

I was still somewhat stunned by this unexpected twist and just nodded uncertainly.

"Deal."

"I'm off to bed now and you wanna stop drinking now and go to bed - your puffy face won't be appreciated tomorrow."

One glance at the whiskey was enough to make me feel sick.

Jenny briskly got up from her seat and stopped by the door.

"It would be so cool if you got this job. Then we'll be together..."

She smiled and shut the door behind her leavening me on my own with weird thoughts.

"What are we going to do together? Have breaks and lunches together or indulge her "friend" together?"

I put the unfinished bottle and pickled cucumbers back in the fridge shaking my head. Tomorrow we will have all the answers.

" **Polo-grand" Club**.

If I was to say "I didn't like them" that wouldn't be quite as accurate as if I was to say I felt a strong and persistent antipathy towards these sleek "owners" in their chic clothes, gold watches and their hair combed and gelled back, reminding me of peacocks. Polishing off the glasses I was carefully watching the dining room and a part of the game room from where some male's voices and sometimes subdued laughter were heard. As soon as I am done with the glasses, the premium quality drinks will be poured in them, and the "big guys" will sip them slowly, enjoying their luxurious life while their employees bust their guts trying to earn another pathetic point.

The emotions I was experiencing at the moment didn't come straight away but after many hours of working in the men-only private club "Polo-Grand". It was my second week here since that day when Jenny offered me this job. They took me on with no problems but only after that friend of Jenny's scrutinized my appearance for some time, he pronounced his compelling "yes". Ever since then I'd been spending all hours in the elegantly furnished room decorated with leather and velvet, constantly filled with cigar smoke and only coming back to my apartment at Bell-Oak very late at night.

"Hurry up with the glasses - the customers are waiting for their drinks." the bartender said making a passing remark and walked away to take the new orders from the waitress.

"I'm almost done." I polished the last glass and put it on the counter. Waiting for the some drinks to be made I straightened my short skirt and fixed the flower pinned to my silk blouse which was the usual part of the waitress's uniform at "Polo-Grand".

Every morning on my way to work I would take in the level of poverty and dilapidation in Tally; I saw starving people and worn out hands of the mere mortals, wandering to their hated jobs in order to provide themselves with a piece of bread; whereas at the club I experienced the complete opposite of well-fed wealthy owners enjoying their luxury life style here. Seeing such a contrast on daily basis made me go through hundreds of conflicting feelings - on one hand my nerves were getting more and more shattered, on the other hand, seeing this was strengthening my self-discipline. I had to smile with a sincere friendly smile at the each randomly casted word and each meaningless phrase, saying, "yes, Sir", "of course, Sir", "is there anything else can I help you with, Sir?"

"There you go, brandy "Cherokee", cognac "Vieille J'oublié", two beers, one tequila, brandy and Sambuca. Make sure you give them to the right person."

"Uh-huh. " I nodded and trotted to the game room, wondering about the ingredients this Sambuca is made of. During my time at "Polo-Grand" I've learned how to distinguish alcohol by the colour. Getting customers' drinks mixed up was considered to be outrages ignorance in the club. My everyday wage wasn't massive but not too tiny either - five points, plus sometimes the customers would be very generous and tip me with some additional points. According to my calculations I discovered that considering the cost of food and other necessary things, I would need about a year or so to get out of Tally, not so bad if you think about the possibility to be stuck here for a lifetime, like many other prisoners here.

"Here are your drinks, gentlemen". I smiled and began to carefully place the glasses next to each of eight men playing poker. They didn't pay any attention to me since it was the time for "river" where the last and the most important card of the hand appears on the table.

"Damn you, Brennen!" said a middle-aged balding man in a dark jacket to his neighbour. "You already won all my money yesterday!"

Brennen - a fat man with a big belly and black moustache - just smiled smugly.

"What can I do if Lady Luck is on my side today?"

"I bet you bluffed! There were no two pairs in your hand!" The man in a black jacket wasn't prepared to give up that easily.

"I'm allowed to bluff. If you'd called, you would've won this hand. Hey, girl, where is my cognac?"

The last phrase was thrown at me so I quickly placed a tumbler filled with amber liquid on top of a snow-white napkin next to him.

"Here is your cognac, Sir."

"To the victory!" heralded the lucky moustached man and sipped his brandy. The others were not too keen to support his toast, perhaps because the victory was not that kind to them this evening.

As I've placed two beers, tequila and a Sambuca on the table I hesitated for a moment, looking for the person the last brandy was meant to be for, there were eight men at the table but only seven drinks on my tray, so which one of the last two men should I give this brandy to? I halted in confusion.

"Are you contemplating drinking my brandy?" I heard a calm deep voice coming from my left.

At once I turned around and met the eyes of the voice owner. He had short, but nicely cut and heavily sun-burnt hair, tanned skin and cold grey eyes under the dark eyebrows.

"No, Sir. Here's your brandy." I mumbled, quickly placing the last glass next to him." I'm ever so sorry for being so slow."

In fact I didn't feel any remorse but I got quite skilled at imitating the guilty babbling in order to avoid any sort of upset from the customers. I didn't really care if they had to wait until the next spring for their drinks but if I ever wanted to leave Tally I had to oblige. So with mock politeness I simply asked if there was "anything else mister wanted" but "mister", as if he could feel the affectation in my tone, just stared at me for a while and then replied that he was "alright for the moment".

I nodded and walked away from the table, somehow relieved. I had to admit he had rather grisly eyes - that man - very cold eyes and I wouldn't like him to complain about me later, my hospitality has to come across more genuine next time, if I ever approach him again.

In the next minute I pushed the unpleasant thoughts away and went to another table to take new orders.

"Hey, how are you today?" Jenny came to me, wearing the same uniform as me with the emblem of the club on a short skirt.

"I'm okay." I tried to stretch my tired of high heels feet, "tired, but alright."

"Yes, I know, but I finish in an hour, I will go up to see Roger and then I'll wait for you in the locker room."

"Okay." I said wistfully looking at the clock, feeling a bit envious of Jenny who won't have to bring orders to clients and replace ashtrays full of dog ends. She'll spend the next hour on a leather sofa upstairs enjoying herself with the club owner. However as soon as I remembered Roger's appearance I stopped being so jealous. I was never attracted to skinny men with receding hair, especially someone who was as big-headed and arrogant as Roger. Although, I must admit, Jenny's probably made the right choice, the choice that will get her a one-way ticket for "Tally - Freedom Express."

I spent another forty minutes running around the tables waiting for the night shift staff to take over.

"Twenty more minutes, just another twenty minutes and I'll be on the bus home soaking in the hot bath. Soon. "

Meanwhile more and more men were arriving at the club. Most of them have finished their daily affairs and hastened to share a drink or two in the company of their kind. The number of points on my bracelet, as well as my mood were rising slowly due to the tipsy customers - the ones who were lucky at Blackjack or other card games were especially generous. It seemed that today, for the first time, I could take home eight or even ten points!

I smiled to myself and decided to thank Jenny once again for the opportunity to work here.

"Girl, I want more vodka with ice and a Coke."

"Yes, of course." I quickly pencilled down the new order in my notebook, trying to catch clients' requests buried in general hubbub.

"Top up my brandy, please."

"Done."

"Don't forget to sugar coat the rim of my glass."

"Of course, I'll sugar coat the rim of your glass."

"And a slice of lemon!"

"Slice of lemon, got it."

It felt like the plastic smile on my face will remain there overnight and no bath could help to get rid of it. I quickly passed the new orders to the bartender and attached my notepad to the bar counter. In order not to get told off by the manager for standing by the bar twiddling my thumbs (he didn't care that I was waiting for the drinks to be poured), I decided to walk to the far end of the gaming room even though that was a serving area of another waitress \- we appreciated any extra help whenever possible especially at busy times and try not to leave customers unattended. As soon as I approached the tables in the centre I saw with the corner of my eye how someone raised their hand and clicked their fingers. I turned my head in amazement (was this now the gesture to call a waitress?) and saw a familiar looking man. Of course, table number four - white shirt, gold chain, and grey eyes - who else would dare to call the waiting staff this way? Meanwhile, the man, seeing my baffled look, slowly raised his hand and snapped his fingers again.

"Arsehole" I hissed to myself, smiled widely and hurried towards him.

"What can I get you, Sir? I sang, wanting to kick the man where it hurts.

"Bring me a cigar."

"Which one would you like?"

"Carrabana Number Four." I quickly opened my notebook and noted down his request.

"Would you like your tip cut off?"

Voices of men playing poker immediately quieted down and for a few seconds the silence hung over the table, then a loud roar of laughter descended around me. A moment later I realised that this reaction was caused by the words "your tip" that came out of mouth.

"Ooops!" I could feel my face burning up and covered my mouth with my hand. The man, who asked for the cigar, looked at me disapprovingly.

"Hulk, the girl wants to cut something off you!" laughed the man with a moustache.

"Morris, did you just hear what she's just offered him?"

"It won't fit into a cutter... it's too thick!" screeching from laughter replied Morris.

With all my heart I was wishing they'd stop laughing at my expense but it wasn't just me who was incredibly embarrassed but also Hulk who was being mocked by others because of my silly mistake. And judging by his cold eyes, he was not going to forgive me easily.

"I didn't mean to say that, Sir..." I tried to justify myself. "Honestly. I didn't mean it like that."

"Give me your hand."

I reluctantly stretched my trembling wrist.

"I didn't mean it like that ...." I squeaked, still hoping for salvation but at this moment my bracelet made a short sound.

The laughter at the table faded almost immediately.

"How much did you take off her? One point? One and half?" hectic questions were shooting from all over the table.

"I bet a hundred bucks he took two points!" the man with a moustache put a hundred dollars note on the table.

"I don't think so..." objected Morris. "Two points... I doubt it... Maybe just one..."

"I am telling you, two points and no less. Don't you know Hulk?"

The bet increased up to three hundred dollars and new notes were thrown on the table.

"Hulk, tell us for how many points did you fine her?"

"Five." Said Hulk slowly tapping his cigarette lighter on the table, his eyes were fixed on my face.

Five! I screamed inside, shaking with fury, five points?!

Even the men at the table fell silent, gazing with astonishment at his and mine reaction. I just about managed to hold myself back from lashing out at him. What have I spent the whole day in this smoky boozer for? To lose all my daily earnings for one wrongly said word to this peacock? Yes, I made a mistake, it can happen to anyone, but five points?? Who the hell does he think he is?

Looking at my tensed up jaws, Hulk asked.

"Do you want to tell me something?"

Trying to stop my voice from trembling and hardly moving my lips I said:

"No, sir."

"So what are you still doing here?"

I stared at him in silence feeling totally lost.

"I asked for a cigar. If I don't see it in a minute I'll take another five points off of you."

Trying not to look at him I slowly turned around and went back to the bar.

"You're the man!" I heard someone exclaimed in admiration behind me.

"Can you believe it!? He took five points off my bracelet for just one bloody word!"

"It happens." Jenny shook her head sympathetically. "You have to be careful."

We sat in a half-empty bus on the way to Bell-Oak Park; our bus stop was two streets away.

"Who does he think he is?! Why did he think he's got the right to fine me like that?" I couldn't get what just happened out of my head, feeling completely decomposed.

"Yes, they've got the right to fine us, these owners." Jenny spat her last words with blatant hostility. "There is nothing we can do about it, that's how the system works. Just be happy that things like that don't happen every day."

"Well... My whole day has gone down the drain."

"You'll earn more points don't worry; though I know it's not a nice experience. Crap like that happened to me a few times as well."

"Really?"

"Huh... of course!"

Meanwhile the bus turned into another quiet street and passed a supermarket. We got up from our seats and headed towards the exit.

"I wish I could punch Hulk in the face..."

"Whose face?" Jenny startled as she was getting off the bus.

We were outside; the air was much cooler now after the dusk has fallen upon the city, midday heat subsided and only a light breeze was wafting over the sounds of music from somewhere down the street.

"That man's name was Hulk..."

Jenny suddenly broke into a nervous laughter.

"Oh, God, you were lucky then!" she shivered and wrapped her thin cardie tighter around herself, "he is one of the worst scumbags in the city, at least one of the cruellest."

"Is he really?"

"Yeah, he owns a ranch on the outskirts of Tally. He is so bad with his people that one or two of them die every month."

"Are you joking?"

"I wish I was! Other owners take much better care of their people than he does. I heard the conditions on his ranch are extremely poor, employees are starving - they get just enough food to survive but not a single spoon extra."

"Can't he be sued for neglect or abuse?"

We were approaching the entrance and I just about managed to notice a steel bar sticking out of the ground, invisible in the darkness, and stepped over it.

"Who would sue him? I bet the judge has been bought and there will always be more workers coming to his ranch, so why would he bother? New employees are never a problem in Tally."

"What a freak he is!" I swore out loud and followed Jenny inside the building.

As we reached the second floor, Jenny inserted her key into a keyhole and turned around to me.

"Shall we go and see Robert tonight? It's boring in the room anyway; I want to take some sausages over to him."

"Yeah, why not?" I agreed. "Let me just have a quick shower and then I'll take something for him as well."

"Ok, knock on my door when you ready."

"Deal."

Jenny introduced Robert to me about a week ago - he was a lanky, weedy guy living at the end of the corridor on the second floor. When we first came to see him together, I was completely taken aback by the chaos in his room - the table and chairs were covered with circuit boards, wires, computer chips and other electronic rubbish. As soon as he realised that Jenny wasn't alone he started sweeping all this stuff away from chairs and stuffing it all in the wardrobe whilst trying to cover a blowtorch and microscope on a table with a bedcover, stripped off the bed.

"Bob! Calm down! She is alright, you can trust her!" Jenny yelled, looking at Robert who was blinking in confusion behind thick glasses; he was still holding a bunch of computer chips in his arms prepared to shove them in the wardrobe.

Five minutes later we finally managed to calm him down and now he sat on the sofa, greedily eating bread, cheese and ham we brought for him.

It turned out that Robert had once spent four years studying radio-electronics at the university. He was considered one of the best and most promising students in the faculty until one day when he set up a circuit board that read the PIN codes from credit cards at cashpoints, after that he was caught and sent to Tally. By that time he was living on his own and had some ambitious plans, such as to get a job at the "Electric Digest", buy a new sports car and get married to the beautiful girl Ann from another faculty so they could live happily ever after; Ann, as I understood, didn't have a clue who Bob was. However, Bob's quirky and inquisitive mind desired to explore new areas which eventually led him to commit a crime.

Robert confessed, munching the last sandwich - the reason why he wanted a sports car as soon as possible was because Ann was partial to beautiful and expensive toys but just the looks alone wasn't enough to attract the Beauty Queen's attention, and that was when he decided to go ahead with the scam. This decision cost him uni, a future promising career and, of course, Ann.

Being trapped in Tally, at first Robert attempted to find a job according to his skills but suffered a fiasco, consequently lost heart and began to drink heavily - this fact I learnt not from Robert but from Jenny as we were having tea in her kitchen after we'd left his apartment.

"He's a nice chap and seems to be very talented but he's a bit of a nutter and has no inner strength."

"What about the electronics? How did he get all this stuff in Tally? He's even got a computer on his desk." I asked her, remembering Bob's room.

"He goes to a radio market every time he gets a single point and buys these things 'cos he is obsessed with the idea to create a chip which will allow him to add points to the bracelets. He is so into it that he often forgets to eat or drink and he doesn't seem to be able to get himself a permanent job."

I did not know whether Jenny and Bob were having a close relationship and I didn't dare to ask. But even if they are - who am I to judge? Bob seemed nice enough but a total misfit, kind of a big kid. His clear blue eyes, wild curls and computer jargon flooding out of his mouth continuously possibly induced the maternal instinct in Jenny.

"Do you think this is possible?" I asked her that time, "to create such a chip?"

"Who knows? It's been a long time since he did any research, perhaps one day he will succeed."

"It's dangerous. What if he gets caught? No wonder he tried to hide everything when he saw me."

"It is dangerous." Jenny nodded, "but what if he does create it? We'd then add a thousand to our bracelets and break free! Can you imagine, in one day! So I'd rather he keeps on trying since you never know..."

"Yeah ...." I uttered profoundly, trying to picture the impossible but passionately desired image. Free in one day, that would be great!

"You won't grass on him, will you?" Jenny's voice sounded anxious. Did she really believe that this creation of a chip was possible or was she just keen on the blue-eyed weedy computer genius?

"Why would I grass on him? Don't be ridiculous."

Fifteen minutes later I knocked on Jenny's door.

"Are you ready?"

"I am."

She grabbed a plastic bag with food and we walked to the end of the corridor.

"Hi, cutie pie!" Jenny cooed when Robert opened the door. "We brought you some food!"

"Thanks and come in. I'm just a little busy." Hardly even glancing at what was inside the bag Bob immediately went back to the table with electronic devices piled on top of it, "can you believe it, I am almost finished!"

"Finished what?" both of us asked him simultaneously.

To my surprise I saw that Bob's bracelet wasn't on his wrist as usual but it was resting on the table attached to some kind of a thin plate. One part of the bracelet was carefully removed and placed aside and in the opening I could see a tiny electronic chip.

"How did you do that?" I gasped.

"What?" Bob blinked in confusion but then he understood the question. "A-ah, that? I learned how to open it a long time ago but I couldn't understand how the signal receiver works."

"Wow, you're a genius!" Jenny patted Robert's shaggy hair. "Come on! You have to eat first and then you can tell us what you've discovered."

We sliced up some cheese and ham and I opened the pack of biscuits. A half-empty bottle of vodka appeared in Bob's hands.

"Perfect time to celebrate, girls!"

"Celebrate what?" we laughed, "tell us first?!"

Robert filled up nearly half a glass and drank it in two gulps; then stuffed his mouth with ham and began to wave his hands in glee.

"I've cracked how it works!" he said, chewing eagerly.

"Swallow first!" Jenny laughed, "Or you'll drop your ham on the floor."

"How what works?" I asked him.

"The signal receiver." The crumbs were falling from his mouth. "I realised that in order to add a point, the owner's bracelet sends an encrypted code to the bracelet they want to add the points to. This code tells how many points should be added and who the request comes from."

"Wow!"

"Cool!"

"Exactly!" Bob ran his fingers nervously through his dishevelled hair and took off his glasses, which made his face with blue eyes look childish and vulnerable. "If I can get a few codes and decode them, I can accrue points on my bracelet. As many as I want!"

"So what's the hold up?" Jenny wailed. "Do that!"

"Yes, Jenny, but I still don't have the codes. And here is what I thought - if one of you can get the transmitter into the club, it will scan the owners' bracelets while they tip yours, which will then allow me to get access to the codes and decode them later. Isn't that genius?! And I've already assembled a transmitter!"

But instead of the standing ovation, silence hung in the room.

"Bob..." I said cautiously. "This is too risky. What if we get caught with this transmitter? That will be the end for us."

"No, no!" Robert shook his head. "The sensor itself is not at all dangerous. It doesn't perform any operations on bracelets, it just reads the codes and it is impossible to spot."

I wasn't in a rush to break up the silence. Risk was not part of my plan even though the idea of cheating with all the bracelets in Tally was very appealing. Jenny, as I noticed, also wasn't in too much of a hurry to be the first beta-tester.

"Why won't you just go out and punch a policeman? He will fine you for couple of dozen points, of course and you'll get the code?" Jenny suggested a simple but good plan, in my opinion.

"No, that won't work. There are two problems: the first one - the codes that are used for adding points differ to those which are used for taking them off. And the second thing is that I need as many different codes as possible, not just one or two, because when I start adding the points, the system which is responsible for the statistics of all operations is bound to notice the trick right away if too many points are added from the same owner."

"So how are you going to work around that?"

"One of you must take the transmitter with you to the club and carry it around for a few days, while I'll be collecting the codes and decoding them."

"I don't want to risk. " I refused immediately, shaking my head." It's up to you, Jenny. Carry it with you if you want."

"I do want, but I am almost never downstairs if you remember. It'll take a year for me to collect as many as Robert needs whereas you get tipped every day."

Robert turned his head to me full of hope.

"No, no. I can't get involved in this sort of crap. What if they find out about I have the transmitter? They will skin my alive!" I refused again, feeling a growing anxiety.

"I promise they won't find the sensor." Robert said seriously. "It's microscopic. Its emission output is so low that none of the existing detectors can track it, I've tested it many times."

"I'd rather you do it." I looked at Jenny. "I'm scared."

"I would carry it but I'm always with Roger upstairs and he only lets me go to the gaming room when he wants a drink from the bar, and he only adds points to my bracelet once a week - on Saturdays, so my best catch would be one code at the end of the week."

I got a nasty feeling just thinking about bringing some electronic chip into the club. Even if they don't find it, just the thought about having the transmitter on me made me feel out of my depth.

"I'll think about it guys." I said, finally, "but no promises."

"Shereen," Bob was still trying to convince me as we were standing at the door about to leave, "you must understand one important thing - if you feel you are in danger, just throw the transmitter in a bin, it doesn't record any data, so even if they do find it, there'll be nothing on it because the transmitter just passes the signal to me but doesn't keep any information, so you'll be in the clear."

"That would be good."

Surprised and somewhat bothered by Bob's discovery we left his room. I felt that Jenny was relying on me to take on the risk but she didn't dare to insist openly. Well, that was quite wise of her because I couldn't come to any particular conclusion so far and if she began to pressurise me I would not become involved in this plan.

"See you tomorrow, Shereen." was her only words, before she slipped into her room.

"See you."

I got back to my apartment and turned on the light. As I put the kettle on, I started thinking about Bob's proposition, looking at the dark mountains' silhouettes in the distance. What if he really does succeed with his plan? Would it be possible to leave Tally without being punished? After all, as Robert says, if we take a small amount of points from each owner there is a chance that everything will look plausible enough. I sighed, wishing I could share my concerns with somebody.

It felt like I had an angel sitting on one shoulder, telling me to live honestly and with clear conscience, and on another one I had a devil showing me the opened gate of "Area 33". Still tormented by trying to find the right solution I drank my tea, rinsed the cup and climbed under a thin blanket. As the light went off, the room, like an ancient vase filled with the viscous infinite silence; the moon was shining through the thin curtain and I shivered and hugged myself - it wasn't cold outside, it was cold inside of me. I thought with deep sadness how I was really missing a reliable shoulder of a man; someone I can cuddle, someone I can share my joy or my sorrow with, someone I can ask for advice or just get warm with when it's cold. There are no words needed when someone is beside you.

I wiped off a lonely tear with the corner of my pillow and fell asleep.

The next day at work passed relatively peacefully and without any incidents. Whenever someone was raising their hand to add points to my bracelet, I thought about Robert and his transmitter. All of these codes could have already been transferred to Roberts and decoded. And who knows what Robert could have done by the evening? How long would it take him? Maybe, it is possible for three persons to slip out of Tally without being noticed? All day I was being chased by these thoughts and as soon as I left the club and stepped off the bus, I made my decision - I have to see Bob and get the transmitter.

I am not gonna be able to wait any longer and watch the owners putting points on my bracelet, knowing that I'm missing my chance by being so indecisive.

Robert responded to my knock immediately. As always, his childish blue eyes looked baffled.

"Give me your transmitter."

He dragged me inside and shut the door. After a few seconds he placed a thin plate on my palm, no more than a centimetre in length and as much in width.

"Is that it?" I asked, looking at the strange device.

"Yes."

For a while I was analysing the chip.

"Where does the battery go?"

"It's inside. It's tiny but it should last for a while."

"OK."

The next several minutes we spent on discussing the best possible place to attach the transmitter to. Eventually, we both were satisfied by an idea of gluing it directly under the bracelet, which will hopefully help to avoid any chances of the sensor being noticed. The only possible way to detach it is by scraping it off with a fingernail and there was no chance it could slip off on its own. Once everything was set up, I went back to my room.

The sun was slowly rolling down behind the mountains and their contours were becoming darker and darker with every second. I sat on my balcony and sipped tea - the passive uncertainty that haunted me all day was gone and it was now replaced with alertness and composure. I made my choice. Now it was time to act according to our plan and remain unnoticed until the moment when those groomed owners will share their first points with us. Particularly I had a strong wish to get the code from this bastard Hulk - I would happily gloat behind his back, taking what belonged to me, and I don't mean just five miserable points he robbed me of but many, many more.

I smiled at my unkind thoughts, finished the cup of tea and went to bed. The restless malicious thoughts made me toss and turn on the crumpled sheets for some time but thirty minutes later, tiredness took its toll and I fell into a restless sleep.

The next morning I went to "Polo-Grand" as usual. Trying not to show a nervous tremor that was shaking my body now and then, I put the uniform on and went into the gaming room. Minutes and hours were passing by and gradually my nerves calmed down; nobody seemed to notice anything odd going on. The sensor stuck underneath my bracelet was holding on tightly and after a while I even managed to forget about it. However, every time someone expressed a desire to tip me, the treacherous droplets of swear would appear on my temples; but thanks to the dimmed lights of the hall they weren't visible to anyone.

The day was coming to an end and there were only a few customers left. I was strolling around the tables, taking orders from the clients. After completing another circle, I stopped at one of the tables, wiping off the dust and some cigarette ash from the upholstery when I noticed a dark spot on it. I went to get a cloth and a bottle of detergent. At the table nearby there were a few people playing poker but Hulk, to my relief, wasn't amongst them.

"I heard you've raised the requirement standards for the employees at your laundrette?" said the fat man with a puffy face, "they are as stubborn as mules."

"Yes," answered his neighbour, "I had to hire two more guys who smack their hands if someone stays in the dining room for too long. They eat as much as pigs, I think it's time to cut down on their lunch break."

I made a grimace - whoever worked for this guy - poor people, they've got nothing good to expect from him, risking to be left with no food in the near future.

Rubbing the mark on the sofa I thought that I'd happily rob such owners without feeling any guilt - too many similar phrases I've heard working in "Polo-Grand". It seemed the owners didn't come here to drink or play but to brag about who treated their staff worst, and the cruller the methods were, the more admiration they received from the others.

Scavengers! Your favourite pastime is to beat people up, humiliate and rip them apart! I felt angry; you've never heard of the real values but just a desire to fill your bellies and to get rich.

And no wonder that Hulk was the topic of discussion more than others. Jenny was right - he always held the first place in competition "Who mistreats their people in a more appalling way" and nothing but awe and respect was written on the faces of these gossipers; adoration and envy, because not everybody had the guts to mistreat their people as badly as he did.

Assholes! I swore quietly, pathetic and weak assholes of the mankind.

Suddenly my thoughts were interrupted by the hail from the table next to me. The owner of the laundrette ordered a beer and needless to say how great my satisfaction was when my bracelet got topped up with one-tenth of a point from this man. I smiled widely, said "Thank you, Sir," with a spiteful satisfaction as the code had already been sent to Bob. Now we just had to wait for the moment when we could benefit from the gathered information to come, and strangely enough I had no doubts that it will happen one day.

Time. Time was the only thing we needed now.

The evening after work was boring - Jenny had disappeared as soon as the clock showed six o'clock, Robert who I visited before returning to my apartment, said that he's got all the codes and is now working on them. After that he went back to his PC where he spent all day, judging by the untouched sandwiches from the supermarket, so I left him to it and went back to mine. Before going to bed, I read a few pages of a cheap love novel I borrowed from Jenny and ate the leftovers of my morning yoghurt.

The eighth day passed by since we attached the transmitter to my bracelet and I slowly began thinking that nothing out of the ordinary ever happened. Yes, I still had the sensor and it was constantly sending some data to Bob but nobody noticed that anything really changed in our lives. The same faces, the same dirty ash-trays, the same cocky conversations of the drunken owners. That's how things were going until one evening when Bob burst into my room.

The door, which I forgot to lock properly suddenly flung open and nearly hit the wall, as Bob whose hair looked even messier than usual shouted to me.

"Shereen, I've done it! I figured out how they work!"

I told our genius off for being so reckless, quickly grabbed his hand and picking Jenny up on the way to his apartment one minute later three of us sat in Roger's room which was unanimously called The Headquarters.

Bob, breathless from excitement, promptly began to tell us that he eventually found the connection between the codes and the bracelets, understood how to interpret its uniqueness and more importantly, on this basis, how to recreate new codes that can serve our purposes.

"So what's our next step?" I asked, feeling that we are very close to solving the puzzle.

All three of us were sat very close to each other, excited almost up to the state of hysteria, resembling a group of children who found a treasure map convinced it was the real thing. Bob was constantly fiddling with the collar of his checked shirt and Jenny was either rubbing her puffy hands or unconsciously bending her fingers as if they were disturbing her.

"Probably, it's time for a trial now." said Bob, flipping his long fringe.

"Hey, I also want more points!" Jenny nagged, "can you pop at least a hundred to mine as well?"

"Jenny, stop it!" Robert protested. "What if something goes wrong? I have to test it first."

"So, we don't need the sensor anymore?" I asked, "Maybe I could take it off then?"

"Yes, you can take it off... however if it doesn't bother you too much - keep it, what if we need more codes?"

"Alright, I'll keep it. Nobody seemed to notice it anyway."

That evening we spent a lot of time chatting in his room - we had more questions than answers but even so we couldn't come off the topic. It felt like we'd crossed some invisible line, learned something forbidden and now all three of us were linked to each other with this secret forever. This very secret, Bob was obsessed with ever since he entered Tally, promised to reveal itself soon and show us its hidden and tangled up mysteries. Only when the orange sunset light had faded away and the darkness fell, we agreed to call it a night. I didn't know if Bob could fall asleep tonight, perhaps he'll sit in front of the monitor through the night but I just kept tossing in bed, finding it impossible to sleep.

Will things really work out in our favour? What consequences should we all expect if something goes wrong? Or what if from all the excitement Bob forgets about us and escapes from Tally by the morning? No, that shouldn't happen. Bob isn't like that and he'd never forget our help.

One thing I was certain about - something will change tomorrow and as it happened many times before, my life that already was full of ups and downs, will make another turn. I could almost feel the wind whistling in my ears and my hair fluttering on my back; will I grow wings before I jump off from the top of the hill into the unknown?

I closed my eyes, tired of thoughts and worries. Too many things were about to change and too many of them did change later on but at that time none of us could predict what the future had in store for us.

My working shift almost ended and it was only one hour to go when I saw Hulk walking into the gaming room. Trying my best to steer clear of him and troubles that accompanied him, I either stood by the bar or hung by the tables at the far end and asked another waitress to serve the dangerous area. A couple of times I saw Hulk's eyes following me and at those moments I wanted nothing but to press an invisible button that would make me disappear. His gaze was steady, unblinking, without a hint of emotion, and his whole stance resembled a poised python sitting on a branch of a tree waiting for a prey to get a bit closer.

However, I tried to stay away, and my working day ended without any issues. The clock was now showing six o'clock.

In the locker room I threw off my high-heel shoes, changed my uniform for a pair of old jeans, t-shirt and trainers and grabbed a plastic bag, which replaced my handbag I forgot to bring with me to Tally. Jenny said she'd be home late tonight since Roger wanted her to spend some more time with him upstairs, so I left the club alone. I ran to the bus stop, jumped on the bus, got a ticket, quickly solved the math formula (I'd never thought I could be so quick now) and took a window seat.

As the bus was slowly passing through the quiet streets of Tally, the sun was still beaming down from a cloudless sky, although not as fiercely as in the daytime. We drove past a few shops and an ice-cream van; a simple melody was attracting pedestrian's attention but not too many of them were in a hurry to indulge in a cold treat despite the evening heat.

As soon as I thought about the ice-cream in waffle cones, I began to drool like a dog.

As the bus pulled up at the "Bell-Oak" street I got out and stood on the street, thinking if I should pop to the supermarket and buy some fruit for Bob. His genius brain was in need of constant feeding but since I didn't know his favourites - and buying all of them I couldn't afford - I sensibly decided to ask him first and then go back to the shop if I need to.

So I waited for a few cars to drive by, then crossed the road and headed home.

My comfy old shoes were springing on the shabby carpet as I was climbing upstairs - I wondered how long they will last before falling apart and how much it will cost me for a pair of new ones. What if they cost me a hundred points? I'd rather ask Jenny first if she knew someone who sold shoes, maybe even second hand. I glanced with sadness at my old ones - grey, made of breathing material, good brand. Who knew that me - who owns her own boutique - will ever have to think about a pair of second hand shoes? But life sure is very unpredictable at times.

I climbed on the second floor and walked down the corridor. At first I didn't pay any attention to the unusual silence surrounding me but as I was approaching Robert's door I began to feel more and more anxious. Why none of the TVs or radios are on and no voices are heard? I could smell some strange barely perceptible smell - somewhat sweet and dense.

"Bob?" for some reason I said that out loud in the empty hallway. My steps involuntarily slowed down and my palms suddenly got wet, I nervously wiped them on my jeans and looked around but there was no one behind me. The same kind of emptiness and quietness as in a crypt, damn it! I forced myself to move forward (do I have any reasons to be scared?), I made a few more steps but a second later my legs began wobbling like jelly. Bob's door was only a few meters away.

"Come on! Go on, you stupid woman!" I cheered myself on. "He is alright! Who cares why it's so unusually quiet around here, everything is fine and you'll see it in a minute."

Not letting the panic to take over (even though my inner voice was screaming about the unknown danger ahead), I deliberately hastened my steps and stopped right in front of Robert's door. The nasty smell got stronger.

"Bob?" I knocked with my knuckles underneath number 208 and to my horror I felt the door open slowly. A nauseating creak like a surgeon' knife cut through the silence.

"Bob, are you there?"

At first I saw his arm and his leg. The leg was bent in the knee and his hand dangled along his body. Robert was sitting on the chair; his head dropped on a table, his cheek pressed against some bits of wires. The back of his neck was red – blood, streaming down his back and table, drew a path on his arm and chair. The smell became sickening sweet.

Obeying my instincts and not thinking about what I was doing, I sharply turned around, slammed the door behind me and fell on my knees, trying to catch my breath and cope with retching.

Bob, please, no!...

My imagination instantly showed me a picture of the body sitting on the chair and I just about managed to survive another sickening spasm. Then, feeling the trembling in my limbs I got up and ran to the stairs.

God, no! What have we done? Please, no...

It felt like instead of running, I was waddling like an ugly insect - my limbs didn't want to coordinate, hands flapped from side to side, my feet were hardly moving as if I had weights attached to my shoes.

Jenny .... Where is Jenny? flashed an incoherent thought in my head, where should I go?!...

I didn't know where I was running to, where I should go or what to think, perhaps my senses were way ahead of me, and it wasn't possible for me to catch up with them. It was like I was trying to get away from Robert's corpse - Robert who will never get up from his seat at the computer ever again.

"Oh, my God!" suddenly, I burst into tears; my body was shaking as I kept on running. There were only a few steps left to my door when I stumbled and fell on the carpet. My knotted hair covered my face like a thick lace and pain shot up my twisted ankle. Holding my aching wrist on which I landed badly, I stood on my knees choking in hysterics, unable to figure out what to do next. When I saw someone's feet next to me it was too late; I barely managed to raise my head when something heavy went down on it. The world around me swayed turning into a web of red and black lines, rolled up into one black dot and disappeared.

"Yes, that was her! She plotted everything, her and my neighbour Bob!" Jenny's high-pitched voice scratched my mind like a steel rod. My head was pulsating with painful spasms.

I was sitting on a chair with my hands tied behind my back in Roger's office; unable to raise my head I felt that it was still oozing with blood.

Bitch ... spun a single thought through my mind. What a bitch you are!

Two men with sullen faces were standing by my chair - probably the same guys who killed Robert; several times I saw them going in and out this office but never paid much attention to it. Apart from Roger and these men there were other people in the room - the owner of "Polo Grand" and other owners whose bracelets' codes were used to steal points from. In the corner of the room I saw Hulk, sitting with his arms folded on his chest - his face was inscrutable and his stare made me wince.

"She's got the transmitter attached underneath her bracelet! Check it for yourself! She told me how they were going to steal the codes and use them to get more points from you."

I gave Jenny a long and heavy stare - the skin on her face was unnaturally pale, almost white, with randomly scattered bright red spots on her cheeks. She was now more like a snowman, whose face was hastily smeared with beetroot. Not being able to endure my gaze, she turned away and like a filthy little puppy began whining again while trying to grab Roger's hand. He shoved her hands away with an obvious resentment and dropped to the guys:

"Find the transmitter."

As the sensor was discovered, the oppressive silence hung in the office and only Robert's purple face was blazing like fire in the dim light of the office.

I tried not to look at anyone. Frightened, I drove my mind in a state of apathetic shock.

So this is how it all happened ... Who would've known we had a traitor among us. Nasty bitch, now you're trying to save your own skin, pretending to be innocent, while Robert's glassy blue eyes looking at the table surface without seeing anything and nobody will ever help him...

"How did you find out, Roger?"

That was a deep voice of Hulk.

"The Central Alert System raised an alarm when that dimwit took the first point, using the received codes. He didn't get more than ten points from each owner; however what he didn't realise was that if you perform an operation with a bracelet remotely, the system turns on an alarm. I got a call from the security department and now because of him and her, this filth" Roger pointed my direction, "my club could be shut down."

"Are you serious?" asked the man with a moustache who I've seen in the gaming room many times before.

Roger nervously rubbed his clean-shaven cheek.

"I hope everything will turn out ok. I know the man who first told me about this very well. He won't spread this issue any further; I've paid dearly for it. The information about the incident has already been removed from the central database and the hacker's been taken care of. We got rid of all the electronic bits, of course, as well. There are now only these two left...

Robert once again pointed in my direction, throwing a digger at Jenny at the same time.

"I still don't know what she has to do with the whole thing..."

"I have nothing to do with it, you know me, Roger!

Jenny started sniffling, smearing her snot on the chin.

"Shut up!" Robert cut her whining. "I'm not wasting my time on this."

"Do you think it might happen again?" one of the men asked cautiously.

"No, I can guarantee that and that's why I gathered you all here - people I trust the most and so we can clear everything up. There is no need to worry about coming to the club; we are back in business as usual.

"That would be good" I heard a few people were jabbering on, "as you know, the authorities won't let us off the hook if something comes out."

"Everything is in order, gentlemen. I just have to decide what to do with these two. There is a possibility I could make a deal with the judge in regards to one murder... But if I had to get rid of the other two, it would cost me too much. And even then, it's not definite."

"But you can't let them live!" said a little nervous looking spiny man, shifting his gaze from me to Jenny.

Roger frowned, deep in thought. Everyone stood still in anticipation, wanting to hear that certain measures will be put into force to ensure their safety.

At this moment I felt like I separated from myself and what was going on around me. This is just absurd, this Tally is just a load of nonsense. I am just an average normal person, a boutique owner, I've never really upset anybody, and I didn't really have any enemies. And now I am God knows where, surrounded by some tough guys who are pretending to be all timid and at the same time working out how to get rid of me. And then there is Jenny - damn her! I recalled that day when she turned up at my flat to ask for some jam...

Roger's voice broke the flow of my thoughts.

"Gentlemen, I cannot pass these hussies to the authorities, even though they'd most probably be sentenced to death. First of all, it is not in my interest that information leaks outside the club. I have too many valued customers to take this kind of a risk. But you have nothing to worry about. I will take care of everything; they will be dead by the time the morning comes."

That was it. He'd made his decision.

For a brief moment I stopped breathing - I knew I wasn't going to go away from here with a basket of flowers, yet I hoped to stay alive.

"Ro-o-oger ...." Jenny began whining with rattling and hiccupping breaking up her words, "don't do it to me, I haven't done anything..."

"Shut your face you, bitch!"

Roger looked at the two guys that were standing by my chair and ordered:

"Get them out of here! I can't look at them anymore!"

As the hands of murderers stretched to my shoulder, I heard Hulk's voice.

"Roger, let me deal with the girls, I'll take care of them."

The faces of all men who were already prepared to leave the room turned to him.

"Why do you need'em?" asked Roger in surprise. The hand holding my shoulder froze as well.

"Well, first of all, I want to find out who else was involved in this." Hulk's fingers slowly twisted and stroked an unlit cigar, "and second, I could do with some more workers, my ranch's big, you know."

Roger, oddly enough, seemed to be relieved to hear his request.

"You probably just want to have fun with this one!" the man with moustache, who also stood close to me, gave Hulk a sultry smile, flicking a lock of my hair to a side. I jerked my head to get rid of this vile man's touch. "Look! She is a stroppy mare!"

"Take them, if you want to." said Roger pretending to be indifferent but his eyes shone with joy. He definitely didn't want to get his hands dirty with two more murders - maybe because he had a conscience or maybe he just didn't want to pay too much for covering up his sordid affairs. I guessed that my first assumption could never be true.

It felt like the threat of death had retreated for a while but instead of having a sense of respite, I gazed glumly at Hulk - what kind of life is awaiting us on his ranch? Will it be any better than death? I dropped my head which was still throbbing with pain and sighed - whatever happens - happens, I had no energy to be afraid, worry or desire anything. Tomorrow morning I'll still be alive and that's what matters.

However, the change of plan did not entirely satisfy the nervous man, who was longing for our death more than anyone else.

"What if they try to escape? What will happen then?"

"I'll find and kill them." replied Hulk.

I shuddered when my eyes met his absolutely soulless - as they appeared to me, grey eyes.

I don't remember how long the journey lasted and the direction we travelled in. All I remember was the dark silhouettes of buildings behind the window which were soon replaced by a rural landscape and I also remember Jenny's heavy breathing. She didn't talk to me, feeling an utter contempt and disgust towards her - I wasn't in a hurry to break the silence either.

After some time, the car drove through an open gate and stopped. We were chucked out of the car somewhere in the backyard of a huge mansion, towering its white walls against the black sky and then we were separated. One of Hulk's servants led Jenny up the dark alleyway hiding around the corner, while I was taken in another direction. Hulk gave some instructions to the guide before disappearing into the night and I followed him through the corridor in one of the side wings of the house and then stopped in front of a door. The man unlocked it, pushed me inside and locked it again on his way out. Once I was left alone I looked around, trying to examine the surroundings as far as the dusk light pouring from the windows allowed me. The room appeared to be very small, with only a bed, old nightstand and table. On the opposite side of the room I noticed another door that, in all probability, led into the backyard. I took a few steps towards it - wooden floorboards creaked underneath my feet and pulled the handle. The door was locked.

I sighed and for a few seconds I stood by the window, looking at the modest moonlit lawn and the dark tree contours. I then went up to the bed, took off my shoes and climbed on to its hard mattress, covered with a dark bedcover. Hoping for at least a bed sheet to be found underneath it, I touched a flat pillow and looked around again – there wasn't a lamp anywhere or a switch on the wall, I looked up to the ceiling and discovered that there wasn't even a light bulb. I decided, in this case I wasn't even going to waste my time trying to find a switch – there is no light in here, as there is no bathroom either.

As it often happens in such situations, I immediately started wanting a pee; I tried to distract myself, hoping to hold the need until morning. My head was empty and my thoughts were snippy and apathetic; this endless day full of unimaginable events popped up in my mind and faded again, replaced with quietness but a while later I would subconsciously resume the vicious speculations. I was trying my hardest to fight them off but they kept coming back at me like a shoal of piranhas. Too many questions remained unanswered: where am I? What am I going to do here? Where is Jenny now? Is Hulk going to talk to me at all? Will I ever be able to gain any points at this ranch? Feeling tired, I pushed the bedcover aside and without taking my clothes off laid on the bed. This is my new cell - no mountain view and no simple but cosy kitchen I got used to. And for the first time in many years, I started praying for my future to change for the better. I didn't know if God could hear me but as falling asleep but I was still praying and praying.

Hulk came into his office located on the second floor, put the papers he brought from Tally into a drawer, then went up to the dresser on top of which there was a pack of cigars and took one of them. Then he opened the French doors, walked onto the terrace, took out his favourite chair and lit up a cigar. When the cigar was lit, he exhaled the flavoured smoke into the cool night air.

A few minutes later another man came out to the terrace and without asking for permission, sat down on the chair, standing on the other side of a small coffee table. He had a long jagged scar crossing his face from temple to chin – quite possibly, a long time ago this scar was very deep but over the years it turned into a line looking like a dried up snake - white, curved and shrivelled.

"How you doing, Greg?" asked Hulk without turning his head.

The senior warden clumsily stretched his broad weary shoulders and leaned back on the chair, pleased with the opportunity to relax after a long day.

"I'm OK. Not much happened today, just some minor issues at the stone-pit, the corn area was fine. Nothing unusual."

Hulk nodded. He knew that if something extraordinary happens Greg would have found a way to inform him. Inhaling the scent of the wet grass and blooming fields he slowly twirled the cigar in his fingers. His companion was somewhat concerned, Hulk felt it in his breath and barely perceptible rustle of clothing but he said nothing - if there is something important he'll find out about it sooner or later.

"You brought two more girls." it was rather a statement than a question. "Why? We have enough workers."

Hulk waited with the answer.

"It's none of your business. Tomorrow morning I'll go to Tally and you'll be in control of everything. I have not had the introductory talk with them yet because it's too late now. So keep them busy with something tomorrow and I'll be back at evening."

Greg chewed his lips.

"Should I give them an easy or hard task?"

"Decide for yourself, just don't let them relax."

"Got it. What if they start kicking off?"

"Beat them."

"Uh-huh. They are not really that important to you, are they?

Hulk sat in silence for some time. Night breeze was stirring his blonde hair and twisting the white smoke from the cigar into some intricate spirals.

"Time will tell." he looked at the man sitting next to him. "Go to bed."

I woke up at dawn. Dim pinkish light was slowly filling up the room colouring the walls in a shade poorly resembling a beige colour. I turned on my back and spent some time lying with my open eyes, unwillingly scrolling everything that happened yesterday in my mind. What a shame about how everything has turned out...

So I'm at Hulk's. What will the new day bring and what other surprises should I expect from my life?

I got up, made the bed and sat on top of it still feeling a desperate desire to use the toilet. Some voices were coming from the corridor but nobody has come in after me as yet - on one hand it was good since I didn't know what will happen when they do come, on another hand my need to pee was growing with every passing minute, and soon I was walking in circles almost squeaking from impatience. When will they come? When? If they let me go to the bathroom I'll put up with any conversations afterwards.

Finally, I heard the lock open and I saw a huge man with a face like a shovel waiting for me behind it. One of his cheeks was crippled by a long scar; his small deeply-set eyes looked sombre but without an animosity. His clothes were quite simple - a black shirt made of some coarse material and a pair of sun-bleached washed out blue jeans. Only his shoes were far from simple - high, with dense tight lacing and a thick sole similar to the military ones. On his wide belt I noticed a few different length sheaths and a black holster made of shuffled leather.

I swallowed nervously. The only reason I didn't retreat was because I was trying to keep my legs together tightly for an obvious reason.

"Come out." he said, "and follow me."

"Toilet!" I squeaked pitifully, knowing that my cheeks are turning red. I must have looked pathetic.

"Toilet is straight down the corridor." Answered the man, turned around and left the room.

Leaping through the corridor, I flew into a small room and sighed loudly with relief when the accumulated liquid finally came out of my body. Now I can bear any tortures. I almost laughed at the irony of the situation - there is not much one needs to feel utterly happy when they're in a prison. In fact, in two prisons - Tally is the first one, and this ranch is the second.

I quickly straighten my crinkled up clothes and looked at my own pale reflection in the mirror - what a horrible sight! I ran my fingers through the tangled curls and left the toilet.

We stood in a spacious lobby on the first floor; a little trolley full of cleaning products was already next to me. The man with a scar was gone as soon as he handed me over to one of the maids who appeared to be a short woman with a straight face and narrow black eyes. Maria. Her tarred hair was covered up with a scarf and her extensive waist was tied up in a white clean apron over a dark dress.

"First, you wipe the floor with a cloth, squeeze it well as you can't get parquet flooring too wet." she instructed me, at the same time gesturing towards the trolley, "then you take this..."

She picked a bottle with a picture of floorboards on the label.

"Then sprinkle with this covering every single spot. Then you wax it." Maria showed me another bottle at the bottom of the trolley, "when you finish with this call me and I'll check your work, do you understand?"

I nodded. When she left, I tied my T-shirt around my belly, my hair with a rubber band and got on with the job.

It took me almost half a day to polish the parquet floor and all this time I carefully, meter by meter, wipe every single board. Sometimes unfamiliar people would walk by but nobody paid any attention to me; I didn't seen Hulk either. Shuffling the mop back and forth steadily across the floor I glanced at the luxurious interior of the house: there was leather furniture, gold-plated door handles, carpets on stairs and paintings in heavy frames on the walls. The sunlight glowing through the high windows was pleasantly emphasising the golden textured wallpaper. I started off with my work at nine o'clock and now when I'd finished and finally stood up, it was half past three. I polished off the last corner and went to find Maria.

After the maid scrutinised my efforts she told me take the trolley into the pantry \- I considered my work had passed the quality control, got rid of the trolley and returned to the lobby to follow her.

The woman led me into a wide courtyard paved with flat cobblestones, and told me to wait at the door as she walked away. While she was gone I closed my eyes for a moment enjoying the fresh air and sun on my skin. In the distance I could see a field with some kind of a tall plants growing and the numerous bare backs of the workers together with the guards, dressed in dark clothes, holding something in their hands which I hoped were not the whips. However, judging by their movements they actually were whips. I swallowed nervously - it seemed that it was the same ranch I once saw from the bus. And yes, further down there was a barbed wire fence which was gleaming from the rays of the sun. Damn it... That's exactly the same ranch and exactly the same house.

There were different people constantly scurrying through the yard: some of them were pushing carts around, some of them were carrying building planks, others were returning to the house from the utility rooms. The guards were here as well. It was easy to recognise them by their tough-looking faces, well-made clothes and by the whips and batons attached to their belts. The guards, as I learned soon enough, were not watching every single person as such but moving across the territory in different directions, controlling the whole area. I had no doubts if something was to happen they would all gather together in a minute. My quick examination indicated that the ranch was enormous - its territory was hardly limited by the field that I could see from here, most likely on the endless acres of land there were other numerous constructions, not to mention other fields with crops. The evenness of the low planted trees in the distance resembled nothing else but a vineyard which meant that Hulk has even got his own winery. My head was spinning when I thought about the vastness of his estate. I slowly inhaled the hot air and let it out - there must be hundreds and hundreds of workers here! And in order to keep track of them there must be an enormous amount of guards as well, since all the workers are criminals. Wow...

Meanwhile, Maria came back holding different brooms.

"Pick the one you like and start sweeping the yard. When you're done you have to find a hose over there..." she waved her hand towards a hollow space in the wall, where I noticed a tap and twisted rubber hose, "...and water the ground."

"And when I'm finished?"

"It's not as easy and quick as you think. The yard is large and it should be cleaned well, otherwise the owner will make you do it all over again. When you're done find me and I'll show the rubbish you'll need to take out... After the rubbish you'll have to collect the cut bush branches behind the house and burn them. Then you'll have to sort the bags with food in the pantries, and then....

She went on with the list of endless duties I had to take care of. I was half listening to her watching the landscape and hoping that all this work doesn't have to be done by the evening. When Maria had finally left, I thought that it would be nice to have something to eat but since nobody offered me any lunch I decided not to try my luck by trying to find a meal myself and got on with the sweeping the yard.

For the next three hours, I was thoroughly cleaning and washing the cobbles. I was working slowly and from time to time I would catch the vigilant glances of the guards but none of them rushed me. Sometimes they would stop close by, for a cigarette break or a chat and then they would walk away leaving me to sweep further. Some workers would pass me by and I would glance at them trying to understand what they were busy with and how they were feeling here on the ranch. Strangely enough, only a few of those seemed miserable or daunted, while others seemed quite content with their existence here. Maybe they were paid well or the owner was providing them with some other advantages I didn't know about? For better or for worse, I slowly began getting used to my new habitat. So what if I have to do some work, even if it's dirty work? Physical labour was never a big deal for me and as long as I was fed and slept under a roof, I was ready to accept my fate.

I knew that if I escaped, Hulk's people would catch me in a flash and I still wasn't sure if myself or Jenny were in Hulk's good books yet, but the idea of making him angry from the start didn't appeal to me just now. Perhaps if I'm obedient and hard-working, I'll be rewarded by his leniency and even payment? Or what if I attempt to flee? I could possibly find a hideout somewhere for a short while but what would happen next? My next thought was not so uplifting at all - most likely he will simply inform the authorities about my escape, contact Roger, and then they will both "frame" me so badly that I'll definitely be sentenced to the death penalty. I had no doubt what the words "death penalty" really meant in Tally. Roger's reputation would, of course be affected but would it stop him? I didn't think so. Besides, where can I hide? I didn't know anyone here except for Robert and Jenny and what was the point of hiding, if every single person would grass me up at the first opportunity? So, considering a breakaway was not a sensible idea, nobody would feed or hide me, using their own points and I couldn't pass mine to anyone anyway.

Yesterday I was very surprised when I'd discovered that everything I earned working in "Polo-Grand" remained on my bracelet intact - one hundred twenty-three and two-tenths of a point in total. Nobody took them off me. It wasn't much but still - one hundred points was a tenth of a thousand and a tenth was a part was a big hope that I will leave this prison one day.

Eventually I drew to the only conclusion - the best thing right now is to stay alive and collect more points if possible, especially since the Hulk's ranch didn't seem to be the worst place after all. The important question now was whether Hulk was going to pay me anything at all...

Now and again my thoughts were interrupted by the passing workers but after a while I'd start dwelling on the same topic. I nearly forgot about Jenny, maybe she was doing similar kind of work to me at some other place, I didn't fancy seeing her angry haunted face. It was up to her now to think of the bed she's made for herself and how she is going to get out of it.

It was an early sunset when I finished washing the yard. Feeling tired from the constant heat, I wiped the sweat off my forehead and looked up at the sky - if my guess was right it was around six o'clock in the evening. By now I felt absolutely ravenous and looked longingly at the corner of the mansion - a delicious smell was coming from there. That must be the kitchen there.

Trying to destruct myself from the hunger I poised for a while, observing the neighbourhood and holding the hose which still had water pouring from it.

In the light of the sunset this ranch looked like a blooming oasis in the middle of a desert. When the mountains turned the familiar orange colour, the green fields and vineyards turned a beautiful shade of green and maroon. I assumed that the hot climate of Tally certainly allowed the cultivation and collection of several harvests per year. The abundance of heat would provide a variety of fruit and crops with hassle-free growing, and if there was enough water, the prosperity of the owner could only depend on the number of workers which, as far as I could see, was a great deal there.

I stopped looking at the surroundings, enjoying the light cool breeze that's just appeared and began winding up the hose. It was time to start with the next task Maria gave me.

After another couple of hours, when the sky was coloured deep blue and the last beams sank in behind the distant mountain peaks, I finally finished with burning the branches. Despite the fact that my hunger became unbearable no one was in a hurry to feed me. I sat on the grass at the back yard of the white stone mansion, looking sadly at the lit up windows and the open door, smelling something fried and sweet. I stretched my legs out letting my tired feet to rest, wondering if I should seek Maria who could possibly explain the meal time rules to me. My trainers were next to me, under the bush; my eyes were glued to the opened door which obviously led into the house - could this be a shortcut if I wanted to find Maria?

I got up from the grass, threw a quick glance at the early stars in the sky, cleaned up my jeans and headed towards the door.

I was right - as I'd gone through a short corridor, I came straight into one of the kitchen facilities that at the moment was empty, no voices were heard from the corridor either. Even though I knew I shouldn't be there, I stepped inside, checking out the interior. There were huge grey sinks attached to a wall, a long butchering table, a large stove with some huge pots and pans standing on top of it (a close examination revealed they all were empty) and a lot of kitchen utensils hanging across the walls.

I tiptoed around the table, sink and shelves with the rows of different sized pans.

What a spread! It was possible to feed an army of people with pans of this size. But who said there wasn't an army working here? But why is everything empty? Does this mean that dinner time was over? And if so, why wasn't I invited to have some food?

I swallowed and licked my lips feeling completely left out. The smell clearly pointed out that the meals were prepared in here and in the adjacent rooms but whatever the food was cooked here, it had gone by now. Pots were carefully washed-up; the sinks and the floor were cleaned. I was about to leave when I glanced at the table and noticed a green bowl standing on it. I came closer and jumped up with delight. Apples! At the bottom of the bowl there were three green apples. I never felt as happy as I did now seeing these fruits. I grabbed one of them (I would've grabbed more if I wasn't worried that apples were accounted for) and headed to the exit. As soon as I left the kitchen, I saw some guards walking towards me. For a split second my heart dropped into my stomach and then it began palpitating frantically.

"Hey! Look at that! She is stealing food from the kitchen!"

They said exactly what I was scared of the most and I rushed headfirst towards the door but after a few seconds someone's hand got hold of me - I gasped and darted to the side trying to escape. My t-shirt ripped immediately but my hand was freed for a second, just to be caught by another guard.

"Hey, you, stop!" I heard an angry voice. At this point two guards were holding me tight between them.

Somehow, as if materialising from the air, the man with a scar who came after me this morning, appeared in front of me.

"What's in your hand?!!" he yelled, "Give me what you have in your hand!"

I was still desperately trying to escape. The Sniffling of the two goons and my own mixed up in a cacophony of strained romping and struggling.

"Show me what's in your hand, I said!" another guard puffed. His sticky fingers began to wrestle my precious apple, and I being so frightened and trying to defend my fruit, kicked him in the shin. There was a howl from his side and he immediately slammed me in the ribs. I coughed.

"You rotten rat! Bloody thief! I'll show you ..."

"Hey, hey! Stop it!" The man with the scar interfered. "And you give me back what you've stolen!"

"I'm not a thief!" I gasped. "I've not been fed at all today!"

"Don't you dare to talk to me like that! Who gave you permission to hang around the house? Show me what's in your hand!"

"No."

"Don't you think I could break you, you stubborn smartass?"

He painfully gripped my chin and shook it; his disfigured face neared mine as he growled.

"I'll teach you how to talk with me properly! You'll be crawling and cleaning my shoes with your tongue, bitch!"

If before I contemplated giving the apple back and apologising then after these words I was really furious. How dare they treat a woman like that? They were three thugs against me - a tired littlt girl. Yes, I stepped into a forbidden area and took the apple, so what? If I was asked politely, I'd return it with no problems.

"You can lick your shoes yourself!" I hissed angrily in response for which I was hit directly in the ribs again and coughed, but rather than moan and apologise, I got even angrier.

"Is that all you are capable of - beating up women?"

He swung and this time his fist met my face.

From the pain and shock I stopped breathing for a moment. There weren't any rational thoughts left in my head anymore, there was only rage, throbbing pain in my cheek and exorbitant hurt. No way! I shook my heavy head trying not to move my jaw, which was already swollen, as if it was packed with wet cotton wool.

"Well, are you learning quickly?" The man with the scar squeezed my chin with his fingers again.

I gathered up all my strength and spat in his face - if I was going to get killed, I'd prefer to get it over with now without any further torture lasting for years.

"Fucking bitch..." For a moment then he was speechless, the words were coming out of his mouth with quiet whistling. He slowly wiped off the saliva running down his nose and then his hand shot up into the air so fast that the fabric of his shirt ripped.

That's it. This is the end of my life. Lord, let my death be quick rather than survive every day's lessons like this. I closed my eyes in anticipation of a new pain, praying not to become a cripple.

"Stop!" a familiar voice shouted sharply and abruptly.

I was standing with my eyes closed and not believing my ears, still expecting the last strike to come. But it didn't. When I finally dared to look, I saw Hulk standing on the stairs. The guard's hand stopped in the mid-air and his eyes had a stupid confused expression as if he had already imagined a film where my nose was smashed to pieces and then someone suddenly pressed "rewind" followed by the "pause" button. With his hand lifted up, he looked like a sculpture prepared to throw a disc or a ball.

"What's going on here?" Hulk approached rapidly. Poorly repressed anger was visible in his gesture and his pace, his glance skimmed from me to the guard who's already managed to lower his arm.

"This hussy is stealing food on the first day!"

"Is this true?" grey eyes, as cold as the winter blizzard, turned to me.

"True." I said quietly, "I took an apple, because I haven't been fed."

I did not know what his reaction was going to be but I didn't really care; I felt exhausted. Hunger and tiredness stretched my nerves to the limit, the explosion of anger that occurred a moment ago had now vanished and left me empty and broken inside. Another wave of pain surged with new strength and was throbbing mercilessly in my ribs and head. I licked my lips and felt the taste of blood. The apple slipped out of my weak fingers and fell off on the floor bouncing away.

For a while there was a complete silence around. I didn't know if Hulk was looking at me because I dropped my head.

"Greg, you come with me." at least the owner of the house broke the silence, "you two, take her to the doctor, then I want to see her in my office."

After he gave the orders, Hulk abruptly turned and walked away.

*****

"Greg, please answer my question. Why do you think she stole an apple?" Hulk sat in a chair, lazy and relaxed; looking at the man standing in front of him, however there was a dangerous spark in his eyes. Years of work at this ranch taught Greg how to identify this spark before it turns into fire - this ability many times has saved if not his skin, but at least his ass.

"She stole it, because people like her are always stealing!" Greg spat out angrily.

"Let's try again. Greg, why did she steal an apple?"

"I've just answered..."

"OK, my third attempt...." the spark grew stronger.

Looking at Hulk sitting in the chair, Greg grimaced. Damn his boss, whose attention nothing could slip from.

"She stole it because she was hanging around and taking whatever she saw."

"Why do you think she was hanging around?" Hulk lazily locked his fingers and looked at him.

Greg pulled the collar of his shirt, as if it was squeezing his neck too tightly.

"How would I know why? Maybe because she is far too curious..."

"Greg, don't make me angry."

"What do you want to hear from me, Hulk? That she was probably searching for some food in there?"

"And why is that?"

"Because she was hungry!" he exploded. "This girl dared to spit at me! She spoke to me as if I was a piece of shit and then she spat at me in front of the others! I should've killed her for it..."

Looking at Greg's angry face, Hulk did not show any emotions, only the lump on his jaw twitched and stiffened.

"Shut up." he snapped coldly, "and answer my questions."

The guard's verbal flow was instantly cut off.

"Yes, Sir."

"And now is the main question - why was she hungry? Who is responsible for that?"

Greg swallowed nervously, knowing where this conversation is going.

"You." the man in the chair answered himself, then separated his fingers and stretched his arms along the armrests. To the guard's hidden envy and admiration, his boss looked like royalty sitting in a shitty armchair, exuding power and strength, the source of which Greg could never quite grasp but which made him obey unconditionally. Maybe it was because of his rolled-up sleeves? Or maybe because of the golden chain sitting on his neck like a curvy snake? Greg decided to practice Hulk's narrowing of the eyes which forced him to shiver.

"You are also aware of the circumstances in which you are allowed to get heavy-handed. You are also aware that your final strike, if it was to happen, would've probably crippled the girl, if not led to her death. When I gave permission for educational measures, I did not say to act like an animal, especially against someone whose offence was a direct result of your own negligence."

Greg kept quiet not being able to remember the last time when he was told off like that. He wiped off the beads of sweat from his forehead and shifted his numb feet, squeezed into tight boots. It would be nice to learn how to build such long and fine sentences like Hulk just did but in order to do so, he'd need to read all the books in the master's library. Not feeling ready for such heroic deed, Greg shook his head impatiently and glanced at the painting, which depicted flying brigantine on the stormy waves. He didn't want to meet Hulk's eyes because he knew it was his fault what just happened.

However, Greg thought it was totally the girl's fault. After all it wasn't him who went into the kitchen and stole an apple, right? And if she stole once, she'll steal again - that was an obvious example of her future behaviour. Greg did not have a single doubt that tomorrow he would catch her somewhere else - in the pantry or in the owner's office, because people like her never change. The only place where he wouldn't mind catching her - was his own bed where she'd be taught some obedience quickly. Greg forced himself to switch to the main topic of the conversation from the seditious thoughts - like it or not, Hulk was right about one thing, if he hadn't come on time, Greg would have smashed her face in completely. He wouldn't have been able to control himself. Yes, he'd smash it in and he'd pay dearly for it, serving time on an isolation ward in or even losing his job.

"Greg? ..." a subtle voice interrupted his pondering.

"Yes?"

"If I see once more that you are not able to concentrate on the conversation, I deem you unfit for service. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir!" Greg replied immediately. Did he really submerge in his thoughts so deeply?

For a few seconds, Hulk was carefully studying the face mutilated by the scar.

"Next time if she does not follow the instructions and by knowledge or ignorance violates the rules, I want you to bring her to my office. I do not want to see the implementation of your own initiative until you've learnt how to control yourself. Your behaviour today was despicable. Is everything clear?"

Greg reluctantly nodded.

"Of course, sir."

"Also, check the growing rumours about workers' dissatisfaction in the stone-pit and find out their roots. Tomorrow morning I expect your report. You are free to go now."

Feeling relieved from the ability to finally stretch his legs, Greg rumbled with his shoes towards the door thinking of what had just happened. It was rather good that Hulk had stopped him from smashing this girl today - he could survive without the instant revenge but he couldn't survive without a decent job which was very hard to find in Tally. And Greg, as nobody else, knew it very well.

Whilst Smoking a cigar, Hulk was watching through the glass balcony doors; one of the guards accompanied the girl into the office, pointed to the armchair and disappeared behind the door. From where he sat he could see her standing hesitantly, carefully examining the unfamiliar room and then she walked towards the chair. Dressed in a blue stained T-shirt and stretched on the knees, she looked like a dirty child lost in a crowd. The jeans probably fitted her fine when she entered Tally but it changed over time since this wasn't the city that nourished its inhabitants well; except those who owned their own businesses or those would could benefit from it.

Like a great congealed predator, Hulk remained invisible, watching every detail of the girl's outfit and behaviour, trying to mark everything that could help him choose the right tactic. Here she came in and sat on a chair, ran her fingers through her knotted hair but not to improve the hairstyle, but to move the curls falling on her face. Her sight froze somewhere on the far wall but it wasn't possible to determine what she was thinking about and her face looked a mask.

Was she a thief or not? Was she a criminal or a victim? What brought her in here, to the "Zone 33", what forced her to cross the hazardous line? Why is that being so young and beautiful she couldn't stay out of the dangerous circle? Hulk knew that all the answers will be discovered sooner or later, as he knew that beauty never guaranteed the presence of the rational moral principles. Most likely it was the opposite - the more a girl was beautiful, the more she was vile – a frustrating mistake of Mother Nature.

As he finished smoking his cigar and put it in a porcelain ashtray, he stood up and pulled the thin curtains away. The girl raised her head quickly and Hulk met the intense look of her big green eyes.

It was time to begin the conversation. He went to another armchair and sat down.

"Well,. Hello again, Shereen."

The girl greeted him quietly. Hulk noted that he still couldn't pinpoint her emotional condition - she looked terrified but resistant at the same time; nervous, but focused as if she was ready to face up to the new problems with her chin up. Fatigue definitely affected her but it didn't deprive her of the self-esteem which was apparent in her every movement. Why would a criminal have so much dignity in their gestures?

Hulk was really curious, enjoying the game of "determine as much as you can before you talk".

"Well, let's talk about who you are and the terms you're here on. First, I hope you realise that after what you've done in the club, you would've been killed?

After she nodded, Hulk continued:

"I own this house and this ranch and I brought you here not because I like you but because I am in need of some working hands. Hopefully, that's also clear."

Hulk was definitely impressed by how well Shereen was controlling her facial expressions, because they weren't there - not a single one. There was only the same plain mask with a polite and attentive expression on it that didn't allow him to see through her at all.

"If you do your work well nobody will touch you here. You will be provided with food and water as well as earning half a point a day. If I see that you take your duties seriously, this amount will be increased over time. If you try to escape, I'll find you and kill you. Is that also clear?"

Hulk saw another nod feeling quite intrigued by her self-control. There was no joy, no anger, no pleas and not even a shade of any other emotions on her face.

"What are you here for?" he suddenly asked something he wasn't planning to ask.

A mental struggle flashed across her face for the first time.

Didn't she want to talk about it? Or maybe first she wanted to be sarcastic and say "find out for yourself", but then changed her mind in order not to annoy the owner of the house? Expecting to hear a long story, Hulk was disappointed because the only word slipped out of her mouth was "Hacking".

"Hacking?" Hulk was amazed. The last thing he could imagine her doing is sitting in front of a computer for hours, staring at the code lines, breaking and getting into some systems. And if he tried picturing the usual attributes of a common hacker like a mountain of cigarette butts, a grubby and grimy apartment, and a shaggy unfed cat, Shereen didn't fit into this picture at all. Something in her version of the story didn't quite match with the person he saw in front of him.

Hulk looked at her hands - she obviously took great care of her nails, at least before Tally; her fingers were thin and feminine more suitable for piano keys than a computer keyboard.

If Hulk had difficulty recognising her emotions earlier, now her face has turned completely impenetrable as if this subject was causing a huge amount of distress for her. Suddenly it dawned on him that the answer Shereen gave him was a lie. But why?

"Why are you lying to me from the very start?"

This time a surprise flashed through her green eyes. She even opened her mouth as though she was going to say something but then got frightened and stopped; and a second later her face restored to its previous straight look again. Hulk involuntarily began to feel a hunter's excitement. Who is this girl? The words have to be pulled out of her mouth, she is not mumbling, not begging for mercy, not being sarcastic and her lying is fairly restrained.

"So what's the matter?" He repeated his question, "Why are you lying to me?"

"I'm not lying." she answered calmly, "the information in my documents coincides with my words."

After her reply, Hulk was seized by a strange feeling that Shereen was mentally celebrating the fact that she was not letting him learn the truth. Somehow he was certain that her papers will confirm her statement but what about his intuition? He would be a complete fool if he ever neglected the sixth sense and his intuition was telling him - her answer is a lie. Suddenly he got a brilliant idea.

He looked at her with narrowed eyes.

"Shereen, I'm going to give you one in a million chance and your destiny will depend on it."

For a brief moment fear shot in the girl's eyes. Hulk went to his desk and turned on the computer. While the operating system was loading, Shereen's face reflected dozens if not hundreds of emotions and they all looked like panic.

"Sit on this chair." he said, once his computer finished booting up.

"No." that was barely audible whisper.

"This is not a request." she seemed frozen to the chair, so he repeated coolly, "sit on this chair, I said."

When Shereen approached the table on stiff legs and sat down in front of the monitor, Hulk opened some program. At first a wide window with multiple text lines appeared on the screen, then on top of the first one, another small window with a single field and a flashing cursor popped up.

"This program is encrypted. Crack the password and I'll pay you fifty points right here, right now."

Shereen eyes rounded and filled up with fear, in their depth there was an incomprehensible expression of a rabbit caught in the headlights.

"No. I won't be doing that." Her voice was breaking up and her hair swayed in protest.

"Am I not offering enough? Seventy-five then."

"No, please..."

"What's the matter? You are a hacker! One hundred points then."

"I won't do this! It's a crime!" Shereen tried to get out of it; red spots appeared on her pale cheeks.

"One hundred and fifty and it's not a crime but a favour which I'm going to pay for."

"No..."

"Two hundred..." Hulk knew the game he was playing at was far too dangerous but something was pushing him to continue. This girl was lying and his intuition had never let him down in the past. If she is a good actress and just trying to increase her pay-out, well, he'll pay for her talent."

"It is illegal..." Shereen was still trying to evade.

"Oh, illegal?" He almost laughed out loud at her ridiculous excuses, "I give you my word that no one will ever know about this. You will receive two hundred points and leave this room, as if nothing had ever happened. So what do you say?"

"No." Her lower lip trembled.

"OK, let's play on, three hundred!"

"You don't understand..."

"Four hundred!"

"I can't do it."

Shereen's cheeks weren't just pink, they were blazing red, and despair was screaming in her eyes but Hulk wanted to carry on with this game to the end, despite the cost, and once and for all discover what the truth is and what the lie is. He was desperate to pull the confession out of her mouth at any price.

"Five hundred points, Shereen."

"I don't know how!"

"One thousand fucking points!"

As soon as he said that she opened her mouth flabbergasted by what she'd just heard. For a short moment there Hulk thought he'd made a mistake and that her face will light up with joy, she will turn to the monitor, break the password in a few seconds and will smile at him happily, expecting to get the promised prize. If this happens, he will have lost this game quickly, foolishly and recklessly.

But instead she suddenly covered her face with her hands ... and burst into tears.

She began crying, instead of laughing at the idea of how easily she'd managed to get a thousand points for one hacked password and happily leave Tally after that.

Cringing in a chair, she was silently shivering and sobbing through her fingers.

For a while it was quiet in the room. Hulk turned to the window, took another cigar and lit it right there in the office.

"Shereen ..." he called softly, "look at me."

She was struggling to pull herself together. Eventually she managed, wiped off her tears and looked at him with her bright green teary eyes.

"You lied to me."

Shereen startled weakly from words but continued to stare at him.

"You are not a hacker and you came here because of something else."

Now she nodded and that was a good sign.

"Okay. We'll move on from this for now." Hulk decided not to rush things; there will be more time for everything as there were more important questions to discuss now.

"You'll be living in the same room when you spent your last night. You'll have some dinner later on tonight and tomorrow you'll be shown the dining area and meal schedule. Nobody will make you starve here."

He paused, feeling she had some questions.

"What?"

"Can I move around the territory?"

"Only up to the border of the nearest field. If you don't make any attempts to escape or show any other inappropriate behaviour you'll be allowed to walk further. Is there anything else?"

Shereen hesitated before asking the next question, it was clearly uncomfortable for her.

"I'm listening."

"Please, don't lock my room for the night. I don't have access to the toilet otherwise."

"Anything else?"

"No. That's it."

"Okay. I'll instruct the guards not to lock your door. But any attempt to flee will change your position radically. Do you get my drift?"

She looked at him and nodded.

Yes, she understood, he knew it - whether she was a hacker or not, she comprehended her situation clearly.

My legs were completely stiff as I walked down the corridor trying to find my room and the only words I could repeat were "Oh my God, oh my God..." So much has happened in one day!

"Oh my God, oh my God..."

I recognised the familiar wing of the house, automatically turned into the dark corridor and almost tumbled into the room. I slammed the door, climbed onto the bed, leaned against the wall and closed my eyes. After a short while I buried my face into a thin pillow, showering myself with buckets of questions and curses. All that happened in Hulk's office seemed unthinkable! Totally surreal! I could have earned a thousand points today, TODAY! A whole bloody thousand! Why aren't I a hacker – I didn't know anything about the profession The Corporation mentioned in my documents? Why haven't I studied computer science? Who could've known that one day it would help me to dodge many years of imprisonment? What was it that Hulk said - he'll pay half a point a day? It's only three and half points a week. It didn't take me long to calculate that at this rate I'll have to spend five or six years in Tally. Six years of my precious life will have to be spent being slave. A deep anguish crushed down on me after such a thought and I began punching my skinny pillow.

One thousand! One tho-o-o-ousand! My voice sounded like an animal's howl. Why am I not a hacker?!

But I wasn't a hacker and there was nothing I could do about that. If I'd tried to pretend to be knowledgeable I'd have to get rid of this password within the given time. Hulk would never have believed a person who could barely type; and I only knew how to send emails and use a couple of accounting applications. I never even mastered the art of touch-typing. So there was no hope to even mess Hulk around for longer than a few minutes and another lie wouldn't have given us a better understanding.

But why did he even offer me this deal? He was obviously convinced that I wasn't a computer genius and he sure knew it. He wasn't guessing and wasn't building any assumptions that could cost him a thousand points, Hulk was not that type of person who would rush to lose this much. Was it that easy to see through me? How come he recognised I was lying whereas the others would have never believed the truth?

Groaning louder than ever, I covered my head with the pillow, trying to escape the feeling of despair. How am I going to survive here? How I am to stay safe when I have to see Greg and his toads every day? How can I prevent a mental break down from the realisation that for the next five years (in the best case scenario) I have to live, work and walk on the same roads of this ranch? The same roads. The same ranch. Every day. For five fucking years.

I almost missed it when someone knocked on my door. Only when the door swung opened, I emerged from the dark abyss of my thoughts, hastily took the pillow off my head, smoothed my hair and stared at the unfamiliar visitor who appeared to be a rather large lady wearing a dark dress and white apron. She was holding a kitchen towel in her hands. Together with this woman, an amazing smell of baking and vanilla swam into the room.

"Hey, you, whatever your name is, how long do I have to wait for you in the kitchen for?" She muttered and left my room. I didn't need to be asked twice (I'd happily follow this smell even if it would bring me to my own gallows) I slipped out of bed and ran after her.

Tabitha. That was the name of the Queen of Kitchen. She wasn't very tall, but fairly plump; she had dark skin, black coarse hair and full lips. Her forehead and cheeks were covered in sweat - an intense heat was rising up from the stove on top of which there was a boiling kettle half filled with water.

I saw a bowl of soup, bread and cheese in front of me on the table. As I opened my mouth trying to swallow a spoon of broth, I cringed from the pain that shoot through my jaw.

"Who did this to you?" asked Tabitha.

"Greg."

Now it was her turn to grimace.

"I wish someone would pull his dirty arms off. Why did he hit you?"

"I took an apple from the kitchen. He said I stole it."

Tabitha didn't say anything, just shook her head, then she slowly and heavily got up from the chair and removed the kettle from the stove.

As I noticed, the Kitchen Queen wasn't that talkative, keeping a serious and slightly reproachful facial expression, however, I noticed a glimpse of curiosity and sympathy in her black eyes.

The kitchen was not like that huge room I saw earlier but a small room with yellow wallpaper; perhaps this facility was used as a canteen for workers. Someone has even made an attempt to make it look cosy - the table was covered up with a colourful tablecloth; there was a quietly humming fridge in the corner and a clock ticking away on the wall.

Suddenly I felt a strong desire to talk to Tabitha and I didn't really care what about. I felt emotionally attracted to the woman like a lost puppy who imagined that a piece of fur could replace it's mother. My loneliness has put a heavy stamp on me. From day one of being in Tally I had no one to share any of my thoughts, my worries, plans or just my mood. Jenny was never the person I trusted completely and Robert was always busy with his software and electronics and hence I desperately longed for a companionship, real communication \- warm and human, with jokes, advice, support and a bit of love.

I sighed and scooped up another spoonful of soup.

"Tasty". I said indifferently not being able to squeeze out a smile or compliment her.

Tabitha briefly glanced at me, busy making tea.

"Drink this."

She gave me a porcelain cup with swollen up tea leaves floating on its surface. I blew on the hot water. Tabitha sat in front of me, stirring the tea leaves with a spoon. Her head was lowered and her large dark hands were folded on the table. I suddenly thought that she looked like a mother who had survived long nights in the trenches caring for soldiers and not being lucky enough to see her own children come back from the war. There was something in her face that forced me to crave for her every seldom word and treat her every gesture or look with great attention. To me Tabitha seemed to be carved from a stone, in the middle of which there was a big, warm and loving heart beating.

"It's not easy to live here." suddenly she looked up at me with her black eyes, "but don't give up. Sometimes they'll treat you fairly, sometimes not, but you must always stay away from Greg."

I nodded, surprised by her sincerity.

"Okay, I am off to bed." she moved her cup of tea away. "When you're done, put the dishes in the sink, I'll wash them in the morning. Don't forget to turn off the light - the switch is behind the fridge and when you leave, take this with you."

She produced a small crumpled plastic bag and got up from her chair.

"My back is aching, every evening I massage it but it still aches." she was rumbling on her way to the door, "OK, I'm gone."

"Good night!" I replied a little delayed, looking at the plastic bag. As soon as Tabitha's steps faded away, I opened it carefully and felt a small beam of light appearing in the middle of the dark clouds that hung over my heart; she left me a little chocolate bar.

"Thank you." - I whispered to the empty kitchen. But only the ticking clock was a response.

An old wooden door attached to the rusty hinges worn out from the rain and wind was slowly creaking. The greyish borders of the bunk-beds were standing out from the darkness – a wide room contained no less than fifteen of them. Each bed was prepared for sleep but their owners didn't seem to be in a hurry to meet Morpheus; they crowded together in a tight circle instead, surrounding the new girl who at this very moment kept tragic silence.

The oil-lamps were put out about an hour ago and the smell of tar had already disappeared through thin slits in the windows that were saving the women from the humidity.

"So what happened next?" a curious woman's voice broke the silence in the room.

"And next..." Jenny held an impressive pause first, and then she replied with fake sadness in her voice. "Then she betrayed us all - me and Robert. I managed to stay alive but he..."

An outraged sigh flew over the room. Jenny's shoulders were convulsing as she was sobbing; in order to hide her dry eyes, she covered her hardly visible in the darkness face with her fingers, feeling how someone was tugging her shoulder gently and stroking her back, urging to calm down.

"Don't cry, girl." said an elderly woman with dark hair tightened with a scarf, sitting next to Jenny, "People are all different, don't waste your tears on them."

"You cannot imagine..." Jenny was enjoying her role of being the "victim" gleefully as well as the effect made on the others. "I helped her with a job! I brought her into that club! And that's how she repaid me after everything!"

Bursting into crocodile tears, Jenny began sobbing again.

Here, in a faraway barracks on the outskirts of Tally, there were never any rumours amongst the berry pickers. Those who revelled in intrigues and forged the poisonous bogus rumours and repeating them behind people's backs were not accepted in the team, and were quickly finding themselves outside the friendly circle, abandoned, and spat on. Therefore none of the women doubted the story of the new girl; they were just shaking their heads pitifully, feeling sorry for the tenderfoot. And how could you not feel sorry for her? Her fate didn't exactly work out in her favour, and that new friendship - so fragile and precious, turned into one big betrayal.

"You go and get some fresh air." Jenny was gently pushed by a neighbour in a headscarf. "You'll feel better and we are all off to bed now, we have to get up early. And don't worry, what goes around comes around and this Shereen will get what she deserves."

The women nodded in agreement and began getting up from their seats.

Cuddling up in a thin t-shirt, Jenny ran outside onto the moonlit backyard and leaned against a rough wall of the barracks. Low bushes stood still waiting for a light gust of wind; the crickets that were so noisy just before, quieted down.

Jenny looked up at the moon and smiled.

Let those mugs believe everything! Who knows, maybe she could benefit from it later? And how come that that damned wretch has got a nice room in Hulk's mansion while Jenny herself must bend backwards on berry fields? I bet she's nice and warm in her own room. And she's probably got a bathroom and air con if not a fireplace! Well, everything will change one day and there'll come the time when Jenny will be sleeping in her own room and be busy trying to seduce the handsome owner of this ranch. Jenny even stopped shivering, imagining how Hulk would feed her some delicate pate from a spoon. Then she imagined her own kitchen, curtains with frills, crystal glassware, silver cutlery on the wooden tables, evenings on a leather couch in his office and trips to town to buy new clothes... That's right! Her life is going to be a lot cushier than it ever was with greedy Roger! After one night spent together with Hulk, the way of increasing her salary will be easy to find. Of course, she will find it, since there were no men who'd be able to stand up to woman's legs being spread out even if these legs are fat.

That last thought made Jenny feel uncomfortable.

Suddenly she heard a sound of the footsteps coming from the road and started staring into darkness. Who on earth could this be?

In a split second she was blinded by a flashlight pointing directly at her eyes.

"Who are you? Why aren't you inside?" she heard a harsh male's voice.

Jenny realised that it must be the three security guys guarding the area and relaxed. Guards weren't one of those workers from the plantation who would sometimes try their luck with one of the local beauties.

"I came out for a wee."

"U-huh, that's why you are just in a t-shirt."

Jenny couldn't see, but she could feel the lustful sticky glances on her bare legs as though these glances were groping and licking her flesh and wishing to pull her t-short up higher.

"Don't you come outside for no reason anymore, we'll be tempted by your nakedness."

"I... I didn't do this on purpose. Who knew you were going to come?"

"We come here every day at the same time, so if you are out here tomorrow, it will be regarded as an invitation."

The men roared with laughter.

Jenny awkwardly shifted from foot to foot. Flashlight slipped to a side, highlighting the profile of one of the guards - a tall, broad-shouldered man with a club at his belt. The other two were standing in the shade. When the man took a cigarette and lit it up, Jenny had a moment to see his thin lips, frowning eyebrows, wide palms and short hair as well as a long scar across one of his cheeks. His behaviour was too confident, even arrogant for an ordinary guard.

Shaking from the cold, Jenny continued staring into his stern face and then it dawned on her - it must be that Greg – the senior guard who was often mentioned by the women in barracks. Of course! Who else would act with such superiority towards the others? And not many faces were mutilated by a scar like that...

Jenny felt it was her chance and she didn't have the right to miss it - if she would get his attention, the way to Hulk's mansion will paved in front of her. But how should she about it?

"So, you come here every day?" Jenny murmured with a smile. "Then I'll be waiting for you with a cake and tea tomorrow."

Someone snorted in the dark.

"You're brave, aren't ya?"

Yet again she felt their curious glances at her semi-naked body.

"Go to the barrack, you shouldn't be outside."

Jenny realised that the first dialog has come to an end and decided not to push her luck any longer; she turned around and, swaying her hips, and disappeared through the doorway. When the voices and footsteps outside faded away, she leaned against the rough wall, staring at the ceiling. The darkness was shielding her cold eyes, that were a reflection of her fast-working calculating mind, and an unpleasant smile stuck on her lips.

The next three days I remember very vaguely. The work was taking up all of my spare time; people at the ranch were getting up at dawn and going to bed after the sunset. The list of my duties included variety of things: spending time in the kitchen, in the yard, in the house or in utility rooms. I couldn't occupy my mind with anything and most of the time it was filled with emptiness and apathy, the awareness of my slavery position was killing any desire to bother. By this point I finally realised that I won't be able to see Linda or Alex or any of my other friends any time soon, and that I will remain on this ranch for a long time, quite possibly forever. There wasn't any point in trying to create any meaningless hopes that someone will understand or support me; as Jenny has said once "you are always alone here" and she was right.

When Tabitha had a few minutes to spare, we chatted in the kitchen. I also acquired two towels, a soap bar, a clean but worn-out beige t-shirt and two pairs of knickers from her. I tried not to think of whom these belonged to before me - in any case I had no choice what to wear, everything that the Corporation provided me with was left in my apartment on Bell-Oak Park and nobody assisted me in getting it back.

Tabitha also showed me the way to the shower which was located at the back of the corridor, and now, every night before going to bed I could at least wash off a salty crust that would surface on my skin as soon as the merciless sun of Tally rose over the horizon. I still had a problem with my jeans - because of the thick layer of sweat and dirt I was barely able to bend my knees and since I didn't have another pair I just had to suffer. My shoes were also deteriorating rapidly. Anyhow, I didn't care about anything anymore – not about how I looked on the outside nor what there was left inside of me.

I didn't look at the faces of other people and I didn't listen to their conversations - my hands were doing the work automatically while I was putting every effort into keeping any thoughts away from my mind. It felt like I was on the edge of despair or if I began feeling pity for myself, I'd slip off the edge for good. The only safe place for me was in this unemotional bubble.

Everything that felt so natural to me in the past, like going to "Lorian's" café opposite my house in Klendon City, having afternoon tea with my shop assistants in the store (Linda would never forget to get some chocolate chip biscuits), watching the evening news, listening to a familiar ticking of the clock on the mantelpiece - all of that now dissolved in memory or lost its colour and was coated with dust like a soft toy long forgotten up in a loft. I couldn't even remember Alex's laughter or his smile as if someone cold-heartedly brushed it off with a wet sponge, mistaking it for a handful of dust.

There was no more shopping trips, no dreams about my own car or a second branch of my shop, no ice-cream before bedtime. Instead, there was yellowish-red landscape, hot sizzling air, shouting of the guards and sometimes woeful groans of the workers.

I would come back to my room when a tiny star appeared on the dark sky, hang the washed clothes on the only table in the corner, plait my wet hair and go to bed. After that I'd turn to the wall, pressing my forehead against the cold wall and listen to the rare footsteps in the corridor. When I wasn't able to get rid of these pesky thoughts and stop my eyes from welling up, I would pull on my bristly, after using soap, hair or plucking feathers out of the skinny pillow. Sometimes I would wake up holding a whole bundle of feathers, squeezed in the palm of my hand. If this habit was to remain - I'd risk sleeping without any pillow at all.

Worst of all was that I couldn't find any positive or even slightly comforting moments in my current situation. Walking across the ranch only intensified my depression; my mood was particularly affected by watching the faces of the field workers, marked by a stamp of submissiveness. Yes, I did understand that all of them were criminals and there were murderers and robbers, and rapists amongst them; however this city has got a strange ability to equate the severity of committed crimes and link people's hearts with a chain of shared grief. The illusion of free life and the ability to travel outside my tiny prison cell was not helping to keep up with a good mood, but was rather corroding my mind. Everyone who came here, sooner or later would get the moment of realisation that the promised "Big City" with the opportunity to atone for their mistakes by the means of heavy labour, in fact turned out to be a rusty trap that would catch and swallow any foot that would step into it. Sitting in the dock, anyone would think that "Area 33" resembled a luscious birthday cake but in reality it was fly-spotted, dried up and cracked dusty old cake that even a stray cat wouldn't dare to try. And after such a rude awakening not many of those who came to Tally would have the strength to carry on hoping for a good outcome. Many got so frustrated so they'd began harming themselves or the others, try to commit suicide or would get so deep in a negative points score that they would soon disappear into the oblivion. Some had the will to hold on for years, while others would prefer the death to this king of life after just a couple of hours spent on the streets of Tally.

That is why I no longer looked at the faces - not being able to help myself I couldn't see how I could help them. Such situation was completely depriving me a life spark which could give me a hope or at least a good mood. I was coming back to my empty room in the evenings and leaving it in the morning with the only thought - to survive another day.

Strangely I was lucky enough not to meet Greg or any other guards that were with him by the kitchen that evening. Greg was the only person I intentionally and carefully avoided - my intuition told me that another meeting with him could end up badly. I also saw Hulk only once since our last conversation in his office and frankly I didn't miss meeting him again at all. In my opinion it wasn't "normal" to want to own a place like this, to torment others (criminals but still human beings) and then go to a private club to chat and drink with other mobs like him. Even though Hulk appeared to be a little more astute and fair than I would like him to be, he still was a slave holder and even being called by a nice name "the owner" didn't make any difference. A person who enjoyed being surrounded by slaves - was a callous person with no heart.

My last encounter with Jenny which took place in a public dining room the day before also deserved to be mentioned separately. It left a really bad residue in my memory, making me feel a taste of sludge brought from the bottom of the swamp each time I thought about it. A stubby one-story dining room was located further away from the white mansion, hidden by some tall plants - the broad path trodden on by many soles, led to it. When I stepped inside for the first time I was struck by the number of dirty sweaty bodies, standing in a queue to a small window, where everyone was handed a plastic tray with a bowl of soup or porridge and couple of slices of bread. On the drinks front there was either tea or pale yellow barely sweet compote, smelling of dried fruits. Standing in the queue behind someone's back dressed in a wrinkled red t-shirt I was leisurely looking around the room, when I suddenly felt somebody's heavy stare on me. I turned around and saw a strange woman, whose eyes screaming with contempt. I was surprised but as I couldn't see what I'd done wrong, I turned away and continued looking at the red t-shirt. But as soon as I got my tray and walked over to one of the dirty tables, I caught a few more heavy looks from the strangers, mostly women. Some of them were looking at me with disgust, some with aggression and others were just shaking their heads. I began to feel uncomfortable and nauseous as if they were the nuns who accepted me - a homeless beggar - to stay over for a night in the shrine and instead of being grateful, I scribbled on the walls on their monastery some raunchy words, or shat on top of the priest's altar. I tried to remember if I'd crossed someone's road or was involved in any tiffs but my conscience was calm as a surface of a lake in the most tranquil conditions - nothing came to mind.

As I just about finished up my piece of stale bread, I carried the tray with the leftovers to a large table by the wall which already had a pile of trays like mine on it and that's when I ran straight into Jenny. She was dressed in a white long shirt, and wide, even for her curvaceous figure, trousers. When our eyes met, I caught a wave of genuine anger and almost staggered. Another woman promptly touched Jenny's arm and whispered loudly "Is that her?" and as soon as my ex-friend nodded, the same expression appeared in the eyes of her companion – an expression of disgust as if I wasn't a human but a rubbish bin with loads of green flies hovering over it. Seconds later, I broke up my stupor and ran past this couple onto the street.

The shock I'd just experienced in the dining room was still hanging over me even when I was already in bed, pressing my head against the wall and pulling the feathers out of the pillow.

I couldn't work out what caused such an attitude in the dining room and because of that I wasn't able to fall asleep for a long while that night.

A few days later a new duty was added to the existing list. Tabitha had just finished filling up a large aluminium barrel, standing by the stove, with some fresh soup from a huge bubbling pot. When she added the last ladleful into the barrel, she waved her hand and two men plunged it onto a wooden cart with a long handle. The cart was taken out from the kitchen to the driveway and left there standing on warm cobbles.

"It's certainly not light, so don't rush. Guys with the stone-pit never come into the public dining room, it's way too far for them."

We stood at the kitchen's entrance; Tabitha was wiping her hands on the apron, the sun filtering through the crown of oaks was adding a glare on her dark sweaty skin.

"I also put a loaf of bread in the sack; they have plates and spoons over there. Do you remember where to go?"

I nodded.

"Good." she looked at me affectionately, "when you come back, come into the kitchen. I baked a berry cake today and left a piece for you."

I gave her a grateful smile and I could see how it reflected in Tabitha's black eyes, as though somewhere in that darkness a few golden sparks flashed for a split second.

"Go."

"Sure. And thank you."

I picked up the wooden handle from the ground, pulled it and started walking along the stone path - the cart, creaked heavily and reluctantly followed behind me.

It was a long way to the stone-pit. My trainers were raising lots of dust from the ground, my shoulders were aching from straining but I was faithfully pulling the cart, throwing the rough wooden handle from one hand over to another. The sun had already crossed the highest point in the sky and thankfully the day hasn't been too hot. A gentle breeze was tugging the stems of the plants growing along the road and spreading a spicy and slightly tart flavour of inflorescences.

The barrel's lid was not closed tight enough and it would rattle every time the wooden wheels hit another bump; the sack with bread was trying to slide sideways and get lost somewhere by the roadside. After another attempt to catch the slipping linen sack, I tied it up around one of the wooden planks.

When the stone-pit finally appeared in the distance, my arms were aching from exhaustion and my legs were stumbling even on the straight and narrow surface; the only comforting thought was that on the way back my cart will be much lighter. As soon as I saw an old wooden house with a saggy roof, stretched along the perimeter, I headed towards it. The fence around the house didn't look much better - the wood it was made of was heavily affected by time and weather; the long boards were no longer attached to the poles and lying on the ground, looking like pencils nibbled on by some lazy students.

When men noticed me and the cart, they started gathering up. Some threw their picks and walked from a rocky spur; some left the pushcarts filled with boulders and almost ran down the path to the house, some came out of the building.

Suddenly I felt nervous - it's one thing when you look at tiny figures from the distance and another when you approach them closer and closer until they become a crowd of hefty strange and very real men, who I'd never met before. Who knows what to expect from the convicts, especially in such an isolated place?

No guards could be seen nearby. Well, I hoped that the men will treat me as a cart "driver" and not as a woman who needs special attention.

But my fears turned out to be unfounded - despite the fact that the faces around looked sullen and unfriendly, even the "owners" from "Polo-Grand" could learn some good manners from the quarry workers because as soon as the cart was in the driveway, it was straight away taken off me by two men. Gesticulating and talking, they pulled it closer to a wooden table in the middle of the yard, lifted the barrel and placed it on top of it. Then they carefully stepped to a side.

I rubbed my aching hands and looked around - judging by the empty plains, everyone was here. All the men were now standing around the table, looking at me cautiously with metal bowls in their hands.

I took a deep breath, opened an aluminium lid, picked up a ladle from the table (it was scratched so badly as if it's been scrubbed with some sand) and stretch out my hand to take the first bowl.

Then I started handing out the food.

Sitting in the far corner on the bench, I watched these dirty malnourished people in rags eating. Although it was not forbidden to speak, all of them were quiet, rarely exchanging a word or two. They ate greedily and quickly, resembling vultures, gulping down the soup straight from their bowls; bread was being torn apart and pushed into their mouths so it could be swallowed in second without chewing.

The wind got stronger and it was now ruffling the hair stuck to their dusty foreheads and howling somewhere in the canyons. There was not a sound to be heard over the plain, except scraping of the spoons in metal bowls, a rare sniff or the sound of the dull distressed cough. Here, at the foot of the mountains, where the soil wasn't at all fertile, everything seemed bleak and inhospitable. The grass was stunted and was barely making its way through the rocky crust; the grass that managed to surface through looked brown dry and burnt out. Only the sound of melancholically howling wind and sometimes rolling down the hill stones were breaking up the silence. Human faces blended into a muted landscape as if two images - the stones and the people have merged, becoming a sole faded dreary canvas.

The soup and bread was gone and it was time for me to leave, yet I couldn't force myself to get up watching the men licking off last droplets of soup, picking up the fallen crumbs from the table, looking greedily at those who were still was slurping, chewing and cleaning their plates with tongues.

A big lump came up in my throat as I was absorbing what I've just seen as if it was acid which was eroding me inside.

Tabitha, why didn't you fill this barrel with soup up to the lid and why didn't you put a couple more loafs of bread in the sack? How are these men who wave their picks and pushing the trolleys full of rocks from dusk till dawn, supposed to be full up with a single bowl of a lean broth and a piece of bread? Has anyone seen how hard they work and how little they eat? Does anyone think of these people here?

Quietly sobbing, I got up and wandered to the cart, picked up the wooden handle and pulled it back. This time it was empty and the cart moved easily, chirring and creaking from all the sand stuffed inside the wheels. Somewhere behind me I heard the men cleaning the table - rare voices and tinkling of the glassware intertwined with the wind's howling. I shook my head trying to erase the memory of bleeding palms holding rusty spoons and walked on faster. Now the cart was light but my heart was heavy.

After I washed my clothes I sat by the window, gazing at the stars, hoping that one day I'll get the key from the door leading to the porch and will be able to spend an evening outside enjoying the fresh air.

That night I was thinking about what I saw during the day and the more I was thinking about it the clearer was the plan that was forming in my head. The main thing was - I have to stay responsible for the food delivery to the quarry and back. Even though it was a long distance to walk, I'd give everything up to have it on the list of my everyday duties. Again and again I mentally kept going through the details and options of my idea, and my palms were itching in anticipation.

One part of my plan was easy enough to implement, but another...

I needed to get some medicine as well as plasters. If I can't get plasters, then I need to think of something else to help with healing of their palms. I knew where the infirmary was but the hardest part was to get in there and grab everything I need without being caught by the doctor. Slowly chewing a piece of sweet pie that Tabitha saved for me, I couldn't get rid of the bitter taste remembering the resentful faces in the stone-pit. However, now finally I had something in my life that I've been missing all these days - the idea, the spark, the meaning. Instead of feeling sorry for myself and seeing nothing ahead but a gloomy horizon, I could think about someone else, I could make someone's life a little easier. And it's OK if I had to take a risk - firstly it was worth it and secondly it would add some diversity into my dull daily life.

I finished my cake, rolled up an oily wrap full of crumbs into a tight ball and threw into a small plastic bin by the table - judging by sound I hit the target precisely. After that, for the first time in a long time, I went to bed in a peaceful state of mind without worrying for the safety of my flat pillows.

The next day I was standing at the stove, jumping with impatience, waiting for Tabitha to finish pouring the soup into a barrel. As soon as she added the last portion and disappeared into the pantry to fetch the bread, I quickly looked around making sure that nobody was here to see my and immediately grabbed the ladle. Gritting my teeth from the effort, I pulled the barrel up to another pot with simmering soup (the same soup but intended for somebody else), opened the lid and began filling up my barrel. It turned out that my barrel could fit around ten more ladles of soup which according to my calculations was about half a bowl more for each quarry worker. Feeling happy and quite fortunate (because the kitchen was almost never empty), I quickly threw the scoop into the empty pot, where it was resting before, closed the lid of the tank and pushed it back to its previous position. Tabitha was back thirty seconds later, holding the sack with bread. I put an expression of a scattered serenity on my face and pretended to admire the lawn from the window, at the same time desperately hoping that Tabitha won't notice any changes in the pot on the stove. Knowing that my actions could cost me not only the precious points but also my relationship with Tabitha, which I valued even more, I couldn't forget the hungry men in the stone-pit.

Keeping the casual look on my face, I pulled the cart outside and as soon as the kitchen was left behind, I pushed it into the bushes and hid it there, while ran I back to the house through the closest to the pantry door.

The corridor was empty. Trying not to breathe loudly, I carefully crept along the wall to the stairs that were going down. Fortunately for me the pantry wasn't locked and one of my worst nightmares didn't materialise. As soon as I got in, I closed the door behind me and found the switch on the wall - a dim light flooded the wide squat room filled with rows of shelves and a whole flock of bags sitting on the floor.

It took me a minute to find some bread - I wrapped two loaves into a coarse cloth and was ready to leave when I suddenly noticed some cheese heads piled on top of one another. I could ignore such a godsend and I bundled one of them together with the bread and then rushed to the exit.

This time there were someone's footsteps in the corridor. A few people, perhaps sous-chiefs passed me by, discussing a prank on some poor guy Charlie, who a day earlier mixed up the spices, replacing oregano with black pepper and then was chased by the guards who suffered from indigestion. Listening to my heart beating, I was waiting for them to go away - if any of the working personnel saw me in here I'd be guaranteed a meeting with Greg if not with the Lord.

But today it was my day.

No one noticed the cart hidden in the bushes and as soon as I got back to it, I untied the sack, put my findings in there and tied it up again. When everything was done, I rolled the cart back to the main road surrounding the mansion and carried on walking towards the fields.

Fifteen minutes later when the cobbles path was replaced with a dusty lane, my heart was still beating franticly and my legs were still shaking. Perhaps I should have asked myself - why am I doing this and what for? But strangely enough, I was certain of my actions. Today quarry workers won't starve and that's what matters. Maybe they won't get full-up from this amount of food but at least they won't be hungry as they were on other days.

The mere anticipation of the surprised faces when they see the cheese, made me push the cart faster.

Sweat? Yes, it was pouring down my face like rain. My palms? Yes, they were hurting.

But I was going step by step and for the first time in a long time I had a smile on my face.

Things continued the same way for four more days.

Four more fortunate days I was able to feed stony-pit workers with more soup, bread, cheese and whatever else I managed to steal from the pantry. The memory of those men's happy faces when they saw the cheese head for the first time will always be the reward for the risk I was taking. Perhaps my actions were not noble but in my opinion they were justified. I can't express how happy I felt when instead of the starving beggars, fighting for every crumb, I saw almost normal men who could occasionally crack a joke and even smile. Making them happy made me happier too, and I was ready to take any risk for that.

However, one's luck must come to an end one day and it happened very unexpectedly.

That day, as usual, I made sure that the kitchen was empty and then began topping up the barrel with soup, when suddenly I felt someone staring on the back of my head. I turned around slowly and saw Tabitha standing in the doorway.

She was saying nothing, holding an empty bag which she was going to put the bread in. She was looking straight at me. I stalled with the ladle full of soup looking back at her. The heavy ladle was pulling my hand down and at this point I needed to make a decision to either pour the soup back into the pot or into the barrel but I did not dare to move. My legs immediately and rather unpleasantly filled up with lead and sweat ran down my back. It felt like even my face got numb.

Not knowing what to say in such an awkward situation and not being sure if there was anything I could say condone my actions, I continued standing like a statue shivering from just the thought about the consequences that would follow this incident.

Oh, God - please help her understand me, I don't want to lose the only friend and I don't have anyone else I like here. Please make her understand...I was shaking inside from the fear and my lips started trembling.

Finally, Tabitha managed to regain her senses and slowly folded her arms across her chest. At the same time I poured the soup back to the pot on the stove.

"Do you know who this food is for?" she asked me in an unpleasant voice.

"Tabitha, but they eat so little..."

"Do you know..."

"They will rot there. They're so skinny, barely alive..."

"...whose food is that?"

"All day long they carry their picks and drag the rocks. They can't possibly go on for much longer!"

Tabitha's eyes flashed menacingly. Not letting her say a single word I began gibbering on as fast as my numb lips and tripping from the nerves tongue would allow me.

"They are treated worse than cattle, they don't have enough food or water, their clothes is completely worn out and their hands are bleeding. How are they going to heal if they are starving?"

"Honey, have you forgotten they all are criminals?"

"Yes, they are, I remember! But I can't see them falling over from exhaustion by noon! Who will benefit from it if they kick the bucket and can't work anymore?"

"And have you ever thought about who you are stealing from?"

I went quiet, feeling low and not knowing how to object to Tabitha's statement. Frankly, I have thought about it many times before - if I steal for them, somebody else might starve, but every time I thought about it, my inner voice was telling me that I actually witness the stone-pit workers not eating properly but I don't see those who starve. Feeling extremely desperate, I just begged Tabitha for understanding and forgiveness silently by just looking at her.

For a while she was staring at me and the pot. Her look was still expressing an utmost dissatisfaction but now something else was mixing into it. Finally she looked at the pot again, from which I was sneaking the soup and put her hands on her hips.

"Actually, my dear, this food was for the guards."

As I comprehended the meaning of what she'd just said and who was hungry because of me, I went completely speechless and Tabitha burst into laughter. Now she was laughing so loudly that her plump shoulders were jumping up and down, and her white apron was bouncing over her belly. I couldn't work out what had struck me more - the weight that just slipped off my shoulders after her words, or the fact that she was laughing instead of telling me off. But in the end it didn't really matter, I almost gasped with a sense of relief when I finally realised that she wasn't angry at me and were still friends. It meant I still had a friend and I'm not alone, and that meant everything to me at that moment.

Tabitha rubbed her watering eyes with the linen bag and looked at my glowing with hope face.

"Don't just stand there like a lemon" she said to me in her usual abrupt manner, "go and get the bread, while I'll search for the second barrel. The second one will come in handy."

As I was leaping into the pantry my whole soul was singing from the overflowing feelings. Tabitha got me! She understood! Not only she did not condemn me but she even promised to find another barrel! She wanted to take part in this! When two maids passed me by in the corridor, suspiciously frowning at my happy face, I forced myself to calm down. It wasn't normal to even smile around here... what if they complain about my behaviour? So I disguised my contentment, switched to a slower pace and began to breathe normally. Calm down... calm down... They don't have to know what it is going on here or see happiness on my face.

As soon as I reached the stairs leading to the basement, I laughed again. She got it! Tabitha got me!

Now I had another task on my list "to do" - and this task was to get the meds. All the wandering around the hospital building I did, didn't bring any results. Although the door was not locked, the guards were poking around all the time and the old grouchy doctor was constantly there. I peered through the windows, sniffed and watched around, like a fox near a chicken coop, looking at the cabinets with medicine, and yet I could not find a way to get inside.

Carrying on with my daily routine, I was constantly thinking about all the possible options, building plans and then changing my mind since none of the ideas seemed to be good enough. As soon as I finished doing something, I'd begin wandering around the infirmary again and again, trying to find a way to get the medications. But as the time was ticking on, and my findings were still non-existent. I could not break the lock at night because that wasn't one of my skills, and during the day the building was never left unattended.

A few days later, after putting all the effort into thinking about how to get in and at the same time discarding hundreds of possibilities, I came to the conclusion - I had to get ill in order to get into the infirmary. But what kind of illness could get me there?

Not that I was upset about being healthy (it would be kind of silly to complain about it), but I just got an urgent need to be injured. What should I do? Should I go to the kitchen, take a knife and cut my finger? Yuck. Think about that was disgusting, and most likely Tabitha will get told off for not looking after her utensils properly. Should I ask somebody from the stone-pit to hit me with a pick?

Why won't you just ask them to break your skull with the boulder? My inner voice suggested immediately.

But if this happens, I'll be deprived of the opportunity to deliver the food there.

So what should I do?

I suddenly halted in a courtyard with the broom in my hands, looking pensively at the passing guard, trying not to let the elusive idea slip away... Then it dawned on me, of course, Greg! If I find Greg he'll be very happy to do this "favour" for me! I hastily finished sweeping and ran to search the senior warden.

Who would have thought that I'd ever wish for this meeting to happen? I thought, turning around the corner of the mansion and heading towards the plantations. But a daredevil will always find an adventure if they want to, right?

He stood by the side of the field with his back turned to me, watching the prisoners collect corncobs into large baskets. Here and there I saw the flashing whips, dropping on the naked backs of the workers if they stopped for a second or hesitated with their work for longer than a few moments.

"Come on! Move!" The roars of the guards were heard constantly, and the hissing sound would cut the air again and again.

I hated this sound. The sound of a whip falling down on someone's back and then the cry of the unlucky prisoner that would always follow it.

"I hate you, bastards!" I whispered, getting closer to Greg.

Feeling the movement behind his back, he quickly turned around and his face darkened as he saw me.

Good reaction! Exactly what I need.

"What the hell are you doing here?" He snarled, "get out of here!"

Frightened, I almost bottled it, but somehow remained standing, even though everything inside of me was now trembling. Well, no... I didn't come here to shamefully flee as soon as going get a bit rough. First, I need to get a reason to get into the infirmary, so I put a carefree look on my face, stuck my hands in the pockets and looked at him insolently.

"If you can stand here, why can't I?"

He seemed taken aback with my response.

"You are completely dumb, aren't you?" That was the only words he could squeeze out of his mouth once he recovered from the initial shock, "I said, make yourself scare now and get back to your duties!"

"I am on my lunch break." Even though my heart had almost stopped beating from horror, I said it cheerfully and kept an innocent expression on my face.

Greg's skin became dark red.

"Oh and where did you get that ugly scar?" I blurted out, staring at his cheek.

Senior warden's eyes nearly popped out from my arrogance, his thin lips were opening and closing silently. I knew I was crossing the dangerous line, and my bridges were burning behind like pine needles in a forest fire, and although Greg was now looking like a bull that's been wounded in its balls, yet he continued to stand still, which wasn't quite was I wanted.

"It does not look aesthetically pleasing." I shook my head, expecting him to lash out at me at any second and praying for a bruise instead of the broken bones.

Greg's fingers were clenching and unclenching his club, as if he really wanted to grab it but it was too hot. He would touch it and then draw his hand away quickly. Touch it again and draw back quickly...

Come on! What the heck is holding you back?

"Bi-i-i-tch" he whispered, staring at me wildly; his body leaned forward as if it was ready to crush and bury me under the ground but his feet seemed to be rooted to the soil, "I'll fucking bury you..."

Well, move it then! Why are you standing? – I howled silently, knowing that I was playing with fire, and that by now it was late too change anything.

He will kill me! What I was thinking?!"

But it was too late to give up either. How did he manage to hold on for so long? I was trying to stand still and not run away at the same time forcing myself to think about the bleeding palms and all those people I can help if I get the medications. If I survive that is.

It was a stupid idea ...- As always, a clever thought comes too late.

"So what's the story with your scar? Was it a woman? Or a stray bullet? Or did you cut yourself shaving?"

Suddenly Greg grabbed the whip that was attached to his belt and pulled it trying to release it but once again he froze half way his movement and only growled angrily as his knuckles whitened around the hilt.

"I'll get you..."

Exhausted from the fear and sweating like hell, I was completely puzzled by Greg's behaviour. Why wasn't he lashing out at me? Something was definitely wrong... If it was the same Greg I saw in the corridor by the kitchen, I would have been lying on the ground by now, begging for mercy, wishing for a fast and painless death but instead, the red-faced warden stood in front of me motionless!

It was too late when I noticed that Greg who was now foaming at the mouth from the rage, was constantly throwing odd looks over my shoulder - I turned around rapidly and froze on the spot.

Behind me, with tightly pressed lips, stood Hulk.

Holy crap!

"Get out of here!" he spat shortly and a second later I disappeared from the plantation.

"What the hell was this hussy about?" Greg roared, spitting saliva with each syllable. His face was covered with red spots; his fists were clenching angrily, "she was purposely teasing me! Did you see that? No, did you see it?"

"Yes, I did." Hulk thoughtfully chewed on his lip, remembering the face of the reckless foolish girl, when she turned around and saw him. And yes, he agreed that this whole show was done on purpose but what was the purpose? She obviously didn't expect him to intervene, hoping that Greg would throw himself at her (which he would have definitely done if Hulk wasn't there).

"Keep calm if she tries to provoke you again. Do you understand?"

Greg slurred and mumbled something and then spat on the ground.

"I asked if you understood."

"I got it, got it." he forced himself to say reluctantly and turned away.

"I will talk to her tonight after I get back from the city. I need to pick something up from the post office. And before I get back there shouldn't be any incidents."

After he got sure that silent Greg understood his order, Hulk turned and walked towards the house.

I was angry about everything. I was angry at Greg (because he just happened to be born), angry at Hulk for interfering and ruining my plans (or perhaps, saving my life?) and I was angry at myself. Even if my idea to get beaten up was totally stupid, I still failed. I teased Greg badly and now he'll certainly find a way to get back at me for that. Secretly or openly - it will only dependent on his temper and imagination.

I hid myself on the edge of a cornfield and now was sitting there, watching the twinkling stars in the sky. Corn stalks stood silently waiting for the slightest gust of wind to start a midnight conversation but it wasn't there, and there was only a blissful and stuffy silence surrounding me.

I didn't want to go back to my room. It wouldn't be possible to fall asleep anyway, not when I felt so angry and overwhelmed after today's meeting with Greg and Hulk. In order to get some fresh air, I sneaked outside inconspicuously and using the trees shadows and bushes crawled to the field which was now quiet and empty.

The windows of the small wooden house, where some of the guards lived, shone in the distance; chewing on a piece straw, I was looking at the yellowish light pouring out from them, and like a cat I was subconsciously listening to the sounds around me.

No voices, no footsteps, nothing.

Why didn't Hulk ask me to come to his office after what he'd seen today? Didn't he understand that it was all a show? Of course, he did. No doubt. But, then why didn't he call me? I was puzzled. I remembered his frowning face and tightly pressed lips, which firmly etched in my memory that was still in a state of a shock, as soon as I understand who exactly stood behind my back.

Because of the tanned skin, his eyes seemed brighter, almost silvery colour. For some reason, another memory popped up in my mind – that time in the club, when I was staring in his eyes for a very long time and then there was a short bleep which meant that my bracelet just had five points taken off it.

Sod it.

I sneered, still feeling hurt after what he'd done to me and spat the grass stem out of my mouth. Yes, he was handsome, yet he was still a bastard. A ranch owner, a slave owner... Sod him.

Feeling irritated again, I got up and walked along the edge of the field, keeping in the shade, in case I had to dart into the safety quickly. Although, if the guards do notice me, I won't be able to hide from their torches and no high corn stems will save me. If I get caught, I'll get bruises, broken bones as well as whip prints on my back. The latter sent shivers down my spine. The hissing sound cutting through the air and painful groans that followed - it all became real again in my imagination.

The night remained warm, but suddenly I felt chilly, as though it was my back which was just hurt by the stinging whip... Keeping my eyes fixed on the house in front, I suddenly found myself creeping towards it. It wouldn't be unreasonable to ask myself "what am I doing?" but to my utter shame, I knew perfectly well what I was doing.

Not feeling surprised by my own decision, I was listening to the sound of my shoes, almost noiselessly stepping on the ground, and the voices became apparent as soon as I got closer to the building. Judging by the tone everything was OK and the guards were not worried or expecting any trouble to happen.

I rubbed my sweaty palms in glee. Perfect! Sit right where you are...

Perhaps at this moment I looked like a naughty cat that was up to some mischief - eyes narrowed, ears aimed at the enemy target, and feet turned into soft fluffy paws. I mustn't make a peep.

As I got close to the wall my nerves kicked in but even that didn't ruin my determination. No, it's enough of the tormenting people... (When did I become such an idiot?) Perhaps, the life on the ranch made me realise that I had no hope. If so, why not take the risk?

The spot where the whips here hanging I noticed a few days earlier. Returning back to mansion after another completed task I happened to witness how the guards were hanging them on some metal hooks, nailed to the wooden poles on the lateral wall of the courtyard. And now, I could see their silhouettes in the moonlight again, as if they were dozing black adders.

Trying not to breathe, walking as quietly as possible, I carefully moved around a heap of sloppily dumped logs by the wall, and crept up to the hooks. Now the voices were heard more clearly - I understood that the men inside were discussing results of some game that's just finished on TV. One voice asked for another beer, other two were arguing about which team had played better this time. But as soon as I stretched my hand out to the ropes, the door creaked loudly.

Trying to melt myself into the wall, I froze in the shade waiting for someone to come out, but instead of the footsteps I heard the rustling of the clothes and heard the unzipping "fly". Right after that a sound of urine stream followed, hitting the dusty ground. Sweating my head off, I was waiting for the guard to get back to the house, hoping that he won't decide to take a stroll before his bedtime and peacefully retreat back into his room.

"Hey, Tom, do you fancy another beer?" one of the guards shouted to him.

"Yeah!" answered the guy who was still standing on the porch, then he fiddled a bit and zipped up his trousers. I was ready to feel the relief but the door didn't seem to be in a hurry to open up again to let him back in. Wasn't he going to get back in? Did he notice something suspicious? For a while there was not a sound around, but I knew that the guard was still out here on the porch.

What the hell? Was he enjoying the fresh air?

And all of a sudden Tom did what he'd been waiting for all this time - he farted loudly! And then again! This time even louder, resembling a thunder.

I winced and rolled my eyes. That's what we've been waiting for so long in silence! We were not waiting for his keen eyes to seek out the enemies lurking in the dark, or his subtle ear to listen out for the unusual sounds but we were waiting for my sense of smell to be irreversibly damaged by the farting guard who had a dodgy stomach after one too many beers.

Finally the front door creaked, slammed and Tom disappeared inside. I exhaled slowly. Men were now talking about the match again. What a bunch of idiots!

I peeled off my sweaty back away from the wall and, as far as the darkness allowed me looked around - there wasn't anything suspicious and I quickly began grabbing the whips from the poles. When the last one slipped off the hook, I held them tightly close my chest and raced off.

Now I had to beat it. Not thinking what I'm going to do with this pile I just frowned in repulsion, feeling the ropes scratching my skin. They were really harsh and I couldn't imagine how brutal one would have to be to have the ability to smack someone with these. Heartless bastards!

Waddling like a duck I was half-running, half-jumping until I got to the back yard. It was close to the corn field from here. My own arrogance was making my head spin and puff from the heavy load I was ready to dive into the corn stems, when I saw a heavy axe left on the deck for chopping the firewood. Someone drove it into a tree stump with such a force but a few shaky attempts with my trembling hands were enough to get the axe out. Trying not to drop anything, I finally jumped into the corn stems and thirty meters away I found myself on a foot path hidden away by the bushy plants. Perfect! This is where I could destroy your torture tools!

If I could drown the whips, I would have drowned them but there wasn't any lake in the middle of this desert and I couldn't burn them either since I didn't have any matches or fuel. So when I saw the axe I did not even consider about any other options - I just hoped I was strong enough to hack them.

And, like anyone else, I knew that the new whips will appear in guard's hands very quickly, maybe even quicker than a few days. However, the only hope that I continued to cherish inside was that the workers' wounded backs will have a bit of time to recover until then.

Several hours later the loss of whips was discovered. It probably happened when another guard went to pee on the wall and noticed their absence. Right after that I was immediately told to get out of the bed, whereby that time I'd already seen if not the tenth but at least the second or third dream. Barely managing to get my thoughts together from the tiredness, I threw on a crinkled blue shirt and a pair of jeans, and followed the guard into the yard, wondering how they managed to find me so fast.

But in the yard my sleepiness was gone in a second. There was a whole crowd out there!... People were standing in lines flooded with the bright light coming from two huge projectors attached to the walls and all the guards I saw on the ranch were there as well. Erratically shifting from foot to foot and whispering, there were all kinds of workers - from the fields, laundry, carpentry and berry plantation. In some of them I recognised junior chefs from the kitchen! Wow... This meant that the thief was yet to be found. Well, well, well... Not that my last thought brought me much of a relief, still it allowed me to breathe a little easier.

Greg was walking along the sleepy and grimly frowning people. His small eyes were peering suspiciously at different faces, listening to the guards whispering something in his ear, scowling and chewing his thin lips.

I was pushed out in the front line, and squeezed myself between a man dressed only in some old linen pants and a woman with a long ugly face who seemed completely motionless in an anticipation of the troubles ahead.

"What's happened? Why? Why we were dragged out in the middle of the night?" almost imperceptible phrases were coming from one person or another.

And I was the one who knew why.

Only just managing to keep my trembling knees together, I turned around facing the floodlight and like the others stood still in apprehension. By this moment I wasn't just guessing about the cause of the midnight gathering - I knew it for certain. The missing whips. What else could make the security blow their fuse? I had some idea that my actions will have consequences but I wasn't expecting it to become so over dramatic and well-publicised. More so, I didn't suspect that it would end up with the meeting in the middle of the night. Oh, dear God...

Murmuring within the crowd faded down when Greg stopped in front of everyone and ordered them to shut up. Complete silence fell upon the crowd so you could hear the rustling of the corn from the field, and the monotonous grinding of the crickets coming from the house cellar. A little further away I noticed Hulk standing and watching over the scene. His hands were crossed on his chest and his eyebrows frowning. Even though his face and his posture were expressing an utmost calmness, something was telling me that Hulk was furious inside. And if Greg did not make much of an impression on me even being on the verge of an angry frenzy, the intangible wave of rage emanating from Hulk, instantly made me feel that no one will go unpunished tonight. I swallowed nervously and forced myself to look away.

A second later I heard the first word coming from the hated senior ward's mouth.

"Well, ladies and gentlemen... Let me explain to you why we have gathered you here at this odd hour."

All as one listened to him in suspense, being impatient, sleepy and angry.

"One of you, yes, of YOU..." Greg's eyes narrowed ominously and he paused, glancing with contempt at the crowd as if they were smeared in shit kittens, "... has stolen and damaged twenty whips."

A gasp swept through the crowd but Greg cautiously raised his hand.

"Quiet! I'm not gonna hang around here all night long. So.... Instead of interrogating every single one of you and spending hours on this nonsense we've decided to keep it simple."

He turned and looked at Hulk who nodded back at him almost imperceptibly; Greg continued.

"If by the morning nobody comes forward with a confession, twenty points will be taken off of every bracelet."

My hands got very cold rapidly and the blood drained from my face. At this time, an explosion of angry voices almost swallowed the guard's voice. People were grumbling and rebelling openly, resenting and even swearing and cursing. I swallowed the lump in my throat and stopped breathing for a moment.

For fuck's sake!
Greg, not paying any attention to the discontent brewing said, "I don't give a monkey if one of you was hoping that something like this would go unpunished. One of you decided that they could do such a filthy thing, go to bed laughing at us and lying under the blanket think well, let those donkeys in uniforms search for the thief all night long. Well, now it will be a lesson for everyone."

While I stood there trying to digest what I'd just heard and swaying back and forth from the fear and guilt that filled my body from top to bottom, Greg went up to a skinny guy and poked him with a club in his bare chest.

"Maybe it was you?"

The man shook his head, mumbling something but Greg interrupted him.

"Then you'd better confess if you know who did it." he walked away from the guy and tucked his hands behind his belt, "any of you had better admit what you know and do it before eight o'clock, because precisely at eight o'clock each one of you will see twenty points disappear from your bracelets. Got it? And you know what? I like the idea when everyone pays for someone else's wrongdoing. You'll be working here for lifetime then and we will carry on beating you with new whips happily!"

Greg began laughing loudly, nervously and with an undisguised gee and the rest of the guards followed him. Only Hulk wasn't smiling, intently looking at the faces. His own face was drowned in a shadow but even so, the glare of his narrowed eyes was visible from where I was standing.

Trying to pretend to be sleepy and keeping up with an uncomprehending facial expression, I desperately hoped that the bright spots on my pale cheeks will be considered as a lack of sleep.

When the crowd was dismissed I got back to my room.

What should I do? What should I do?

I kept on asking myself again and again, sitting in a stuffy dark room, looking at the pale moon sailing through the dark night sky. Yes, I wanted to help, I wanted workers' backs to heal a little bit and I thought that a short break with from the whips will contribute to the process, but who knew that it will turn out to be this serious? If I don't come clean and confess what I'd done by the morning, each worker on the ranch will lose twenty precious points! How many people were in the yard? Fifty? One hundred? More?

Maybe someone else will confess? This treacherously sweet thought, like a rustling snake, crept up into my mind. Maybe someone else will sacrifice themselves to save the others and then nobody will know it was me?

It was very unlikely and my hope for someone else's false confession was illusionary, if not so frail that it was rapidly dissolving due to the lack of any optimism that could nourish such a daft idea. Nobody wants to go to Greg to get punished and then remain in anathema, cursed be those who would've nearly paid for the so-called "joke" or an "act of heroism" - call it what you like.

I sighed, turned away from the window and stared at the wall; I ran my fingers through my shaggy hair and turned back to the window - the only source of light in this little cave with no access to the fresh air. Once again I regretted that the door to the yard was locked.

Damn it... what do I do?

Actually, the answer had already matured in my head but my rational mind was refusing to accept it.

Yes, I have to go and confess. But where do I find the strength to appear before the nasty senior ward's face with such a statement? Especially after I nearly brought him to a boiling point earlier on at the cornfield? He will not just punish me; he will enjoy tormenting me around the clock with Hulk's approval. After observing Mr Conrad today I had no doubts he'll sign the permission if they ever have the need for anything to be signed.

I sighed again. My thoughts were reluctantly coming back to the confession I have to make; my body was shaking from fear, causing some nasty stomach jitters and a desire to pee. I twisted on the rigid bed, dreaming for a miracle to happen that could knock me on the head with and I'd fall asleep immediately forgetting all the troubles.

I don't want to go there, I just don't want to! Let them do whatever they want including taking off these bloody twenty points off everybody."

But as soon as I imagined covering myself with the blanket to try and doze off - the indisputable knowledge came to me - I will not be able to fall asleep tonight. I just can't do it. How can I fall asleep knowing that because of my actions many people who are already tired from mere survival on the ranch will suffer even more? How many days had they spent earning those twenty points? Rather than deal with mathematics I made the final decision – I have to go and own up to what I'd done. Just give myself couple of more minutes and then I'll go. But as I imagined the malicious predatory grin of Greg's face, I almost groaned. No, I can't go and confess everything to him - I'd rather be burnt alive. But what should I do then?

An intangible thought momentary slid to another face – a sullen but handsome face with narrowed eyes gleaming in the shade.

Hulk. Damn him. I'd rather go to him instead and let him decide. If he passes me over to Greg then be it.

"But what if he doesn't?"

A weak glimmer of hope emerged in my mind and I found myself standing by the door leading to the hallway turning the handle. Yes, now. Otherwise the courage will abandon me for good.

I remembered where Hulk's office was located since my last visit there. After creeping along a few silent corridors, past the hushed room and dark windows, I was right in front of the door on the third floor. Yes, that was the door. This is his office with the French doors and the balcony where he usually smokes his evening cigar. Is he already asleep? And what if he is asleep, should I wake him or should I retreat? But then I have to look for Greg and I still haven't got enough of courage to do that.

Passing through the lounge, immersed in moonlight and decorated with gold I glanced at the big old clock filling the quiet room with monotonous (even cosy in some way) ticking – it was showing quarter to three or ten to three... I couldn't be certain what time it was since I didn't want to come too close and risk tripping over something making noise.

Is he asleep or not? I saw a dim strip of light penetrating from underneath the door but it could just be the night lamp which was kept on all night long. I couldn't wait until eight o'clock because it will be too late; many bracelets (including my own) will make a short beeping noise and lose twenty points.

I almost laughed thinking about it but then moaned from the fear. No, I haven't got the nerve to wait until eight.

So I gathered up all my courage, slowly raised my hand and knocked on the door.

After a few seconds I heard the steps and the door opened. Hulk was dressed the same way as during the meeting in the yard - white shirt with rolled up sleeves and black jeans. So, he wasn't asleep, flashed in my mind.

Lost for words with a wildly beating heart, I stupidly fixed my eyes on the thin sparkling gold chain around his neck, not daring to raise my head.

"Come in." he said quietly, looking tired and stepped back inside the room.

I took a few steps and paused in the middle of the room. Again, as once before I felt the wave of hideous sense of inconsistency, because my dirty jeans and faded from a numerous of washes T-shirt didn't fit into the noble luxurious interior of this apartment. The night lamp was turned on as I thought. Not even a night lamp, but a floor lamp that stood next to the chair; there was an open book on the armrest, which its owner most likely was reading, before the knock on the door.

The electronic clock on the table was glowing with green digits "3:58" and instead of feeling embarrassed and ashamed ahead of my confession, I suddenly felt embarrassed that because of me now Hulk won't be able to sleep for a while.

Why would I be feeling this? – I asked myself surprised. – He probably sleeps until noon, eats hearty food and does what he wants wherever he wants...However, the awkwardness hadn't disappeared and instead it intensified when Hulk wearily rubbed his temples and frowned.

"I'm sorry for such a late visit..."

He just waved his hand towards the wide leather sofa.

"Sit down."

I sat down, clasped my hands on my knees, leaned back and took a deep breath. This is it. It will all kick off now. Showtime, ladies and gentlemen! Atonement for the sins....

Hulk sat in a chair in front of me, placed his arms on the armrests, looked at me expectantly and slowly touched the lower lip with the index finger.

I forced myself to exhale, I said.

"It was me who demolished the whips."

Froze in anticipation of his reaction, I was stunned with the silence that hung after my words, but even more so that the person in front of me didn't even move. He didn't look surprised, his eyebrows didn't raise and there were no shouts "Oh, you..." (in my mind I had dozens of options starting with "bitch" and ending with something even less pleasing for the ear) and I wasn't ready to his calmness. Yes, it was calmness, since I was very perceptive to the mood changes even if they were wordless. And the longer he kept calm, the more dismay I felt. What's going on? Is he mocking me pretending to be all sweet in order to bring down an unexpected flurry of curses on me later?

"Carry on." he said after a few seconds.

I got numb and slowly separated my sweaty palms.

When is the blaming going to start?

"What should I carry on with?"

"Carry on talking."

I sighed, completely confused. Well, I came here to talk, so I will talk then.

"I stole the whips today and cut them up with an axe. I acted on my own and no one helped me."

"Why?"

"Because ..." I frowned, not knowing whether I should tell him the real reasons.

"Because?" Hulk asked without changing the posture, remaining calm and a little tired.

"OK, because those poor workers don't even have any hats on and they get heat stroke working under the sun. Is it hard to provide them with some paper hats which would cost peanuts?"

Feeling that I am getting away with my emotions I returned myself back on track, "And they get beaten up for no reason. Their backs are permanently wounded and if there were no whips for a few days, they wounds would get a chance to heal."

After I threw my thoughts in his face, I cringed on the sofa so tense that my muscles hurt.

Hulk continued to be quiet but now his face looked slightly surprised, perhaps more due to me being so direct than my words. He leaned back in the chair and clasped his hands.

"And now you've come to confess?"

I didn't reply; it didn't make sense to confirm the obvious.

"So what made you admit everything?"

He did not seem to wait for an answer to the previous question but he did for this one because his eyes narrowed.

I remembered myself sitting in my room, plagued by doubts.

"I wouldn't..." the words weren't easy to come, "I wouldn't be able to sleep knowing that other people suffer because of me. Twenty points is a lot; it means more working days for each person."

I hesitated a little and then I added:

"I was too scared to go to Greg, that's why I came here thinking it'll be better this way."

I felt that I was borderline complaining and stopped myself. I didn't want to look pathetic and didn't want him to think that I was weak begging for forgiveness.

I looked straight in Hulk's face and said boldly:

"Take twenty points, but only from me."

This time, his dark eyebrows sarcastically lifted.

"What a hero!"

I said nothing, just turned and looked away. The invisible clock was ticking somewhere, cutting the silence into the equal time intervals which were immediately drowning in the past.

"Answer another question, please." Hulk broke the silence, "why were you winding Greg up by the cornfield today?"

Here we go!

As I recalled myself turning around and seeing Hulk standing behind me, catching my every word, I felt embarrassed again.

"No. No, no."

Hulk frowned unkindly.

"No what?"

"I don't want to answer to this question."

"It's not a request. If I ask you, you answer."

"No, I won't answer!"

Hulk just chuckled as his bright eyes shone against his tanned face.

"Then exactly in one minute I will call Greg and you will tell him everything."

I shuddered, quickly forgot about my own pride and pleaded.

"Please, don't call Greg! He'll kill me, especially after the incident by the field..."

"Then be a good girl. You have one minute to decide which one of us you want to confess everything to - me or him."

Hulk smiled, knowing perfectly well that he'd won this round on these conditions; however, instead of being angry about his cunning trick, I unexpectedly began admiring his face.... that triumphant expression that was shining on it. Moreover, I even caught myself thinking that I would confess anything to him, just for the opportunity to sit like this for longer - in a cosy room, on a comfortable couch, enjoying our conversation...

For a brief moment I felt a déjà vu and returned to the old days when I was outside the "Area 33" where there were normal human relationships - warmth, smiles, talks in the evening, tea or morning coffee, shopping trips together, touching hands and many heartfelt looks between the two people who did not need any words to understand each other.

He was looking at me, and I could not take my eyes off of him, fascinated by this moment when the false warmth like a comfort blanket covered me and I had no desire to throw it away.

I felt like something had changed inside of me - the nervousness of the last few hours dissolved and I stopped being so scared - completely. Perhaps, such a lack of fear was only appropriate for some mad or drug addicted people but I didn't care. Instead of counting down the seconds of the minute that was given to me, I looked around slowly, almost gently, noticing the things I hadn't noticed earlier such as a coffee cup near the laptop on the table, the box of cigars on the windowsill and Hulk's sloppily thrown on the back of the chair beige shirt, as though it wasn't HIS office but it was our house where we shared good and bad days together.

What's wrong with me? Am I going mad? Have I lost the plot from the loneliness...?

My logic was hissing at me like a cat but I was sitting there and smiling, for some reason feeling rather serene and tranquil. Who knows why, but I didn't feel lonesome anymore as I did all those days in Tally... and before Tally.

No, I was well aware that all this was just a temporary obsession - sitting in front of Hulk (Hulk! The one who took five points off my bracelet at the club!), and enjoying the fact that he had no idea about my feelings and couldn't have guessed what a priceless gift he'd rewarded me with, even if it was for a few short seconds.

After I woke up from the sweet slumber, which I so unexpectedly descended into, I looked up and smiled.

"I will talk to you. There is no need for Greg."

He looked at my smile (probably totally inappropriate right now, and I noticed a spark of curiosity in his eyes.

"I am glad you've made the right decision."

"Could I get a cup of tea since this night is turning into a confession night?" I surprised myself with this but judging by the look on Hulk's face not as surprised as he was by my request. But his answer was short and imperturbable.

"Yes, you can."

He got up from his chair, walked over to the alcove located in between the book shelves and opened the door of the bar built into the wall. In addition to the various alcohol bottles of different shapes and contents, there was a kettle as well.

That's where he gets his coffee from! It wouldn't be as easy to run in the kitchen every time you need some hot water...

He unwrapped the tea pack and a couple of minutes later a fine china cup appeared in front of me, painted with gold flowers on a dark green background and a saucer from the same set. The aroma of lemon balm and some exotic fruit floated in the air.

How lovely!

Once again, I plunged into a pleasant atmosphere of pseudo comfort, brought the cup up to my lips and almost groaned with pleasure, taking the first sip. This tea was fabulous! Pure delicious taste, which only the best quality tea can have, was supplemented by an exquisite collection of spices and sweetness of the tropical island delicacies.

I wish I had a tea like that at home.

I was ready to tell him any stories all night long in return for just one sip of this drink......

"Well, you've got your tea now and I want to know why you were winding Greg up today?"

"I needed him to beat me up."

Now Hulk was looking at me as if I was completely nuts.

"I either misheard it or I didn't understand something... Did you say "beat you up"?"

"Yes." I was openly enjoying his confusion. Confused Hulk - that was a show not everyone had the opportunity to see. "Yes, so he'd beat me up."

"Why?"

"I was trying to find a way to get into the infirmary."

"Weren't there any other ways to do that?"

"If there were, I would've used them. But this crafty doctor is always there during the day and at night time there are guards hanging around."

Hulk almost imperceptibly shook his head, as though he still didn't dare to believe to what he'd just heard.

No wonder. Only a complete moron like me could come up with such ludicrous ideas... Normal people would regard them a total madness...

Despite the late hour and exhaustion, I smiled again. This whole situation would be quite funny if it wasn't so sad but at least I had the opportunity to enjoy some great tea and Greg still hasn't made an appearance which was a fantastic achievement in my opinion.

Without saying a word Hulk got up, went to the bar and took out a bottle with a long neck - scotch. He poured some in a glass, added a few ice cubes and returned to his chair.

"OK, let's start all over again. You were spurring Greg on, expecting him to beat you up so you could get into the infirmary. Is that correct?"

"Yes."

"And do you realise that he could have killed you with one strike?"

"Yes."

"Yet, you took some risk. So, is there a good reason behind that?"

"Yes." saying this word for the third time, I recalled a story from a book where one guy would get rid of a vicious curse casted on him by a witch, saying "yes" three times in a row. I wish I was that lucky although there was no hope to get rid my own troubles that easily.

"So what would have happened once you'd got into the infirmary?"

"I would've taken plasters, bandages, peroxide or perhaps other appropriate medications."

"Appropriate for what?"

"For the quarry workers' palms."

"What?" blurted out Hulk quicker than he intended.

"Uh-huh." I confirmed unflappably, slowly sipping tea, "every day I deliver the food to them and every day I see how hungry, ragged and barely alive they are. Their hands are all bruised from the picks and carts, they have terrible coughs and the barracks where they sleep is really drafty. They are so skinny that a slight breeze will make them snap. Is it that hard to provide them with some gloves? Those horrible scars on their hands will probably never heal!"

Hulk seemed as taken aback by my monologue as I was. Whether I was too nervous before coming here or I really was becoming crazy but I didn't care about being punished anymore. Somebody eventually had to tell to this well-fed owner that not everybody is like him having an easy life in this five-star paradise hotel called "Desert Ranch", goddamn it...

Hulk was slowly drinking his scotch, staring into my eyes, and I instead of being embarrassed was returning his look with a complete lack of emotion on my face.

"Maybe you'll teach me how to run my business then?" his voice sounded threatening and he made clear emphasis on the word "my", obviously not used to being lectured, especially being lectured by a "slave".

"No." there wasn't any aggression or accusation in my tone, "I'm just trying to do what I can. I want to help them but I don't always know how. That's why I came up with this stupid idea about Greg and the infirmary.

I turned away, feeling Hulk's scrutinizing look on my face. For a while there was silence in the office and only his mumbling, "I can't believe this..." hung helplessly in the air.

I uncertainly shrugged my shoulders as if trying to justify my own stupidity.

My eyes suddenly caught a book lying on the bedside table. An unusually thick hardcover and an old-looking book, but... Oh! Is that really?... I suddenly forgot where I was and what we were talking about, I jumped briskly rom my chair and ran to the table, picked up a thick tome and not being able to believe my own eyes, reverently ran the tips of my fingers over the letters repressed on the spine of the book - the ornate letters with an ancient gold serif and tricky interweaving.

"Is that really..." I gasped in shock, "its Tueric!"

Hulk, who didn't expect to see my leap from the sofa and therefore was a bit in awe, also got up from the chair and was now standing behind my back.

"Yes, how do you know that?"

"Fa-a-ar ... Fa-a-arrming and culti-vation" I slowly read out the name of the book title, syllable by syllable, "God, I haven't seen this language for ages! But there was a time when I could speak it fluently, if there was anyone to speak with..."

I laughed happily and enthusiastically looked at the book without noticing the amazement in Hulk's eyes. Only when I heard his voice I left the captivity of memories that flooded my mind and put the book back on the table.

"Well, that's interesting.... How do you even know about this language? It was extinct thousands of years ago?"

We went back to our seats. I was carefully holding an old book not being able to shake off the delight that penetrated right through me as soon as I saw the familiar interlocking characters and Hulk, still tired but now also pretty intrigued. I knew that the book wasn't mine and that my behaviour could be deemed as inadequate and almost schizophrenic like but at some point I completely forgot why I was in this office and that I am yet to hear about the punishment for the damaged whips. But at this very moment this folio in my hands was the only thing that mattered to me.

"I studied it. A long time ago..."

I put the book on my knees remembering the day when I first came to the chair at a business school to decide which language I was going to study...

Almost all of my fellow students did not hesitate with their choice in favour of the Vallie language - spoken by the entire northern coast and islands population. And no wonder why. After all, ninety per cent of the trade went to these countries and it would be silly not to business with these highly industrial.

Some students chose Lintian, intending to engage in the automotive industry, and those who seriously considered casting their efforts into the high technology, went with Kyo.

Unlike others I couldn't make my choice so easily.

My common sense, of course, was telling me to follow the majority and apply for the Vallie course, especially because in addition to the agro-industrial areas there were hundreds of other profitable fields for the development. However, my feet were in no hurry to go where hundreds of other soles had been.

There were a few tables placed around the perimeter of the room, and behind each of them there was a professor surrounded by groups of students but I wasn't in hurry to join them, since I couldn't take my eyes off the ancient folios laid out on one of the desks.

Pushed almost into the farthest corner, this desk did not attract any students and the metal spike for pinning the application forms on was completely empty. Behind the desk, busy with reading and paying absolutely no attention to what was happening around him, sat a grey-haired elderly man. As he was reading his white eyebrows were either raising or dropping down and frowning; his moving lips were hidden in flimsy partially dark moustache and a wild and long bushy beard.

Enchanted by the gusto which was written all over his face as he was reading one of the books, I came closer and sat in front of him. I had cleared my throat a few times otherwise he would've never had noticed me. As soon as the professor realised that someone was sitting in front of him, he immediately put the book aside, adjusted his rimless glasses on the rather neat nose and politely introduced himself.

"I'm Ralph Wortinghem, a teacher of Tueric. How can I help you?"

His voice matched his appearance - neat, not very loud and somehow heartfelt-sounding.

"Hello, Mr Wortinghem. My name is Shereen and I'm studying at the business and finance faculty. Could you please tell me about what you are reading so passionately?"

"Of course, miss! With pleasure!" the old man gently coughed into his fist, "these books were written by a race which, to my greatest regret, passed away more than a thousand years ago. There is not a single living Tuer left which would now be capable of passing on the knowledge, culture and traditions of its people to the younger generation. And it is undoubtedly an incomparable loss of the heritage of one of the most educated and knowledgeable races ever lived on this planet. Leaving behind only architectural monuments those people were..."

Ralph continued talking enthusiastically for several more minutes and I was drowning more and more in the images my mind was presenting - images of peasants and farmers, great warriors, rulers, and fallen ingloriously in the many battles heroes. I was carried away in a whirlwind of fantasies by the professor's voice, talking about the past events so vividly and emotionally.

In just a few minutes, I was totally captivated by the books lying on the table, by Mr Wortinghem and by everything that surrounded the mysterious myths he was talking about. From this moment on, I eagerly wanted to learn how to read and to understand each letter, each character that was left by the Tueric people to those who wanted to become the successor and the carrier of the great knowledge and the language.

"But miss..." Professor rushed to warn me, watching my eyes lit with excitement and anticipation, "think carefully and make your choice consciously because what you see now may never be useful and may never bring you any benefit in the future. And business is the area where you have to think about the profit first."

"Mr Wortinghem" I said, lovingly touching the unknown ligature with my finger, "I dream of opening a women's clothing shop, so I do not need a huge profit to be happy, whereas spending hours studying this language will be a real pleasure for me."

And without waiting for his answer, I pinned an application paper with my name on the spike.

The professor just blinked, and then he smiled warmly and shook my hand.

"Welcome, Shereen. You are my only student..." he said, looking around the empty room, "and I have to say, am glad about that, we'll have distractions! And I will finally have the opportunity to pass on my knowledge to someone else, which is great, since I was starting to doubt that this will ever happen."

After that we said our warm "goodbyes" and I left the room knowing I'd be back in a few days to start the first lesson.

And never, not even once during my study, despite the mocking and the tasteless jokes from my friends, I had ever regretted my choice.

After all, I had not only followed my heart, thus providing myself with a marvellous and exciting reading during the long evenings, but I also had made a real friend who was a well-educated and remarkably pleasant professor Wortinghem.

When I stopped the memory flow, I suddenly got all flustered as I'd found Hulk had been looking at me expectantly all this time. Damn it, I once again surprised myself - instead of providing the "slave owner" of this wonderful ranch with an explanation, I slipped into nostalgic memories. Perhaps it happened because it was very late at night now and I was worn out.

My tea got completely cold and a sense of comfort that I'd got previously, quietly, but quickly evaporated. Instead of it I got a longing feeling for my old apartment in Klendon City and my life before Tally. I gently ran my finger along the dusty cover of the "Agriculture", put the book aside and sighed. It wasn't mine anyway and I didn't for a moment think that Hulk would loan it to read. Not that I was that interested in farming but from my personal experience I knew that all books written by Tueric people were fascinating and it wouldn't hurt to practise a little bit as well.

"Do you want to tell me something?" asked Hulk, looking at me intently.

"No."

He nodded slightly; thoughtful expression didn't leave his face.

"You tell me." he stated shortly, "you tell me where you learned this language and what brought you to Tally as well..."

I tensed up, prepared to defend myself, but he just grinned.

"But not today, I am tired now. You will come here tomorrow afternoon, and we'll talk again then."

How could I argue with that? If he told me to come, then I will come. On the one hand that meant that the interrogation, which I wanted to avoid by all means, will go on, but on the other hand there was a subtle sense of delight.

Why would I feel such a delight?

I tried to grasp the cause of this inappropriate emotion but quickly discovered that it was absolutely impossible in my current condition, it was like if a marathon runner after jogging for forty kilometres would decide to go to a disco - no, it's just impossible. So I gave up on trying to figure my feeling out and decided to give it some thought later.

"I'll think about your points and the punishment later." Hulk predetermined my question, "Now go to bed."

I did not ask anything else or argued, just got up and walked towards the door. If he wants to continue our conversation tomorrow, then that's fine by me. The scariest task was already accomplished - I confessed about the damaged whips and nobody will be fined twenty points tomorrow morning because of what I did, so at least I can sleep peacefully for the rest of the night. And I haven't been thrown to Greg to be torn apart - what a happy day!

On the way out I glanced at the beige shirt again and a slight pain stung my heart \- Alex also had a habit of throwing his things around the house, messy dude.

Oh, no. Not this, please, I told myself off quietly and closed the door.

After I got back to my dingy room, I was laying on the bed, staring at the dark ceiling and thinking everything over. My body was tired, but the mind was too excited, popping up with different images from the distant and close past. Here's Hulk sitting in front of me in his chair and scanning every word that comes out of my mouth. Why does he not make me feel scared like Greg, for example? By all means Hulk should have generated more fear in me, but no matter how hard I tried, I could not make myself feel any dislike or disgust towards him but rather an obscure bunch of mixed emotions. Sometimes he was as cold as ice, sometimes fair and sometimes completely neutral. And today... How come I experienced this weird desire to spend more time in his office? Wasn't that silly?

On the other hand, everything that I once had, my smoothly running life, before and after Alex – all this seemed to have lost its value and the only thing I had now was what was happening here and now. All these people around me such as Tabitha, quarry workers, Greg, Hulk -– they now became my new reality. Something was gradually changing inside of me, new things were firmly taking a place in my mind and my heart, and old things were fading away and slowly disappearing. How would I envisage all those people I knew before Tally now? They still go shopping, drink coffee in cafes, sit in bars in the evenings, fight, laugh, forgive, eat breakfasts, and go to their jobs... They are free and they don't understand and don't appreciate it. They don't even think that a city like Tally could ever exist in a reality and for me this was the real life. This desert, this ranch, these rules of survival... Cruel and stupid, but I have to put up with them.

Finally, I fell asleep and my tired mind switched off, halted in expectation of a new day.

The next morning I had some breakfast in the kitchen with Tabitha. For some time now, I had my morning meals here and not in the dining room with the others. The radio on a windowsill was playing some melody and Tabitha was busy with the dishes in the sink.

"Wow, I really prepared to say good-bye to the twenty points!" she muttered, soaping a spoon, "since the early morning I've checking my bracelet, waiting for the signal. Oh, my... I couldn't sleep since six in the morning!"

I sat silently, burying my nose in the bowl.

"But, no, it's not happened! So, someone must have confessed, the scoundrel who damaged the whips. I am not judging them. I'd do the same if I could... Ugh!" she spat, rattling with the soapy cups, "but, twenty points are not peanuts! It takes enough time to collect them."

I mumbled something inaudible as if agreeing with her. As soon as Tabitha quieted down, we heard the voice of the announcer coming from the radio speakers.

"...after losing two thousand points at the casino, Mr Tompkins has committed suicide by jumping off a bridge on the road, from where his body was delivered to the..."

Stopped listening to the radio, I have pushed the empty bowl away and looked at Tabitha.

"Is there a casino in Tally?"

"Yes," she said, "anyone can play there, but nobody has won anything as far as I know. Do you know how many idiots believe in miracles? They think that Lady Luck will smile at them and save them from Tally in minutes; therefore they spin and spin these wheels digging a deeper and deeper hole. And when they eventually realise that they are in a massive in minus, it's too late..."

Today Tabitha was unusually talkative.

"Is there a limit to a negative score?" I asked her.

"No, there isn't. But never you go there, do you hear me?" she warned me, shaking her head, "Do not even think about it no matter what anyone says."

"I wasn't going to."

"Believe me, you don't need that. They will let you in, of course, because anyone can go in, but then they come out feet first, or like that guy - jump down the bridge."

She shook her head again and I, despite the heat this morning, shivered.

What a well-thought-out system! Someone must have had a great murky imagination creating it. People always believed in luck and therefore millions and millions were spent in casinos and lost, but yet people keep on believing in it. Their hope for a miracle stays alive when everything inside is dead. I felt petrified imagining what it would be like to come out from the casino in the morning, when there are about minus three thousand on your bracelet... I shuddered from this picture of the terrible Tally, got up, put my bowl in the sink, and then cleared up the crumbs from the table.

"OK, I'm off."

Tabitha, listening to the radio, just nodded.

"OK. If you are late for lunch, I'll leave the food in the fridge."

I went into the quiet courtyard that boarded with a garden, pleasantly stretched my body and looked around. The day, oddly enough, was calm and quiet and watching how the morning sun gilding the green leaves with a golden shimmer, my spirits improved. I tried to recall what kind of duties I had today and it seemed there wasn't many. I had to scrape the front yard, bring some bundles stacked in the cart to the barn by the far field and deliver the food to the quarry. That was, sort of, it. But was it really? I felt like something important was slipping away from my mind and tried to rummage through my memory again. Oh, right! I have to visit Hulk's office this afternoon, so we could continue our heart-to-heart conversation.

Weirdly enough, this idea made me worry but also feel something odd... something sweet and viscous... For a while I was anxiously wondering what the exact feeling it was, but I couldn't quite put my finger on it. Even though it was something incompatible with the logic, almost alien, I didn't hurry to get rid of it - it was as if a drop of water dew fell on the parched by worries surface of my soul and made me hope that something miraculous could happen.

I shook my head. What is going on with me? Rummaging in the depths of my consciousness on the subject "is this a panic from the fear of meeting Hulk?" and, strangely enough, not being able to determine any of it, I let myself smile. I walked to the corner of the house to visit the pantry first and get a couple of scrubbing brushes which were suitable for cleaning the yard.

Before I knew it was time for lunch the heat increased. After I returned from the quarry with the cart and empty barrel, I glanced at the clock hanging on the kitchen wall and discovered that it was almost three o'clock and went to take a shower feeling the need to wash off the dust from my skin and clean my clothes before going to Hulk's office. Since I wasn't sure when exactly he was expecting me, I decided to turn up right now. I'd rather be early, than late. A strange feeling of some upcoming changes would not leave me even for a second, though I couldn't find any real reasons for it. In my heart I had already accepted the future loss of my hard-earned twenty points and now it would be just silly to worry about it. I didn't manage to collect a large amount of point anyway and therefore I couldn't hope to leave Tally anytime soon. Somewhere in the back of mind I came to terms with my situation and realised that it was time for me to start learning how to make my life more or less bearable here.

At half past three I knocked on the door on the second floor.

"Come in." I heard the voice of the owner of this heavenly oasis.

I went in and paused at the door, not knowing whether I should go and sit on the sofa like yesterday or it will be regarded as a gross violation of subordination today. Not being able to come to any conclusion, I made a couple of steps forward and halted.

Hulk was dressed in a pale yellow shirt, unbuttoned down to the middle of his chest; the sleeves were rolled up to the elbows. His blonde hair was neatly combed back, and his whole appearance was a proof that spending time on his own villa was a pleasant and not burdensome pastime for him.

"I wouldn't like to sit in a room, how about a little walk and some fresh air?"

He asked me in such a caring way as if he wasn't a slave owner, but an average man who'd just innocently invited a lady to go for an ice-cream and seriously thinks that she might decline his offer.

"Of course." I said politely, wistfully thinking that the sun at this time of the day was still roasting like hell and it will be quite hard to get any "fresh" air. I seriously doubted that there was any place in this ever sizzling desert that I could find pleasant enough for a walk, but I didn't dare to say it aloud.

We went outside and headed towards the fields where I could see the workers' naked backs. To my relief the groans or any other sounds could not be heard from here, and that made me feel a bit better.

Hulk was walking slowly, as if deeply in thought and I was walking by his side brushing against the leaves of some high similar to corn plants with my trousers. There was a hot breeze now touching our faces, ruffling my unruly, still damp from the shower hair and swaying the collar of my companion's shirt. In fact, the walk was nicer than I was expecting and the heat wasn't too much.

"So, you can read Tueric." finally broke the long silence Hulk.

I nodded absently, looking at my feet.

"Yes, I can. But only very slowly and I would need to use a dictionary, because I lost a lot of my knowledge without the practice."

"Uh-huh." he said, agreeing, "I have a dictionary, so it is not a problem."

For a while he was quite again. We continued with our stroll getting further away from the house, walked round the edge of the field and carried along a narrow road leading somewhere to the mountains. My thoughts were flowing sluggishly and fragmentally, as if from too much heat they stuck in kind of a jelly and now were warming up and resting in there. The haze was quivering on the horizon making the red mountain look unreal.

"I would like to change your occupation here for a while." said Hulk looking at me. His eyes were pale, almost whitish and not grey or golden, as they sometimes seemed in the light of an evening sunset.

When had I noticed that?

I forced myself to stop thinking about stupid but captivating things and asked.

"Change to what?"

"I want you to start translating two books you saw in my office. You see, I find them very interesting and I'm pretty certain that they contain some valuable information about how to improve many working areas on the ranch, but I don't have time to do it myself. Therefore I thought that you might prefer it to the hard work in the yard."

I was taken aback by his words. On one hand the idea of living here doing something enjoyable was very tempting but on the other ... who would take the food to the stone-pit? If it was someone else then the workers would starve again. And if I stop wandering around the infirmary doing different tasks, I won't find a way to steal those bloody patches and medications because my presence there will be too noticeable. And then Greg will certainly find a reason to ask me a couple of questions.

Lost in my thoughts over this dilemma, I didn't notice that Hulk was watching me all this time.

Not understanding the reasons for my heavy silence or perhaps understanding them very well, he continued.

"I'll pay you and I'll pay you well. For each translated sheet you will receive one point."

I gawped at him.

"No, no..." he corrected himself right away," we'll split this... I'll pay you one point per sheet, but it won't be your usual points. I'll give you another bracelet, which they will be credited on to..."

My joy darkened and I shivered, imagining that instead of one bracelet, I will now have two. What a happy life! Why would I need points which are not counted as "freedom" points?

"Hear me out first." gently smiled Hulk, watching my face reflect a whirlpool of various emotions, "You can spend these points in Tally totally at your discretion. For food, clothes or whatever else you want. I just can't allow them to be your "freedom" points, I hope you understand."

I nodded feeling puzzled and trying to understand how I could benefit from such a deal. Then my heart jumped from the understanding and sudden burst of hope, and my head began creating an amazing idea.

"For each page."

"What?"

"One point per page?" I explained, "If I can't use them to get my freedom, then you are not really bothered how many you give me, right?"

I know how to get a good bargain, if I want to, I thought pondering about how many pages there were in those two books. I hoped at least three hundred- four hundred in each.

Hulk's eyes narrowed. For a split second it seemed that he'd refuse. But then he relaxed and just said,

"OK. But you'll have to do me a favour."

Not having time to get excited properly, I tensed up again.

"What kind of a favour?"

"You'll have to tell me why you were brought to Tally. For what? The truth."

I nearly swore out loud. And then suddenly realised - why am I so worried about that? If he wants to know, I'll tell him; anyway, he knows now I'm not a hacker and I didn't swear to the Commission to keep this a secret. I even felt relieved after my conclusion. How many times did I want to share the true story with someone? But there weren't any true friends around or anyone who'd listen to me. If he doesn't believe me - he wouldn't be the first or the last, so I stopped worrying.

"OK. I'll tell you."

It was now Hulk's turn to display his surprise, but this quickly changed to an expression of satisfaction, and then to his usual inscrutable look. So far, our negotiation was going well. I was afraid to take another breath, in order not to scare the luck away.

"And what about..." I paused, not willing to touch the nasty subject, but it was necessary, "what about... those whips?"

To my relief, Hulk just shrugged.

"What about them? The old ones were thrown away and new ones ordered."

I was staring at his face, waiting for the words about the twenty points I could lose, to come, but Hulk, oddly enough, just smiled again.

"We have now come to a mutual beneficial cooperation. Isn't that right? Why would I want to spoil it?"

He looked right through me and I got a sense of comfort because everything's just suddenly became clear - he won't be punishing me and everyone on the ranch will keep their points, including me. If someone had told me that such an outcome could even be possible last night when I was standing in the yard, listening to Greg's threats, I would have just laughed or I'd get upset because such a beautiful fantasy had no chances of coming true. And now I was almost flying! What a change!

I still could not believe my luck - who knew that my knowledge of the Tueric language would become handy one day! In the "Area 33"! Such absurdities made me giggle; just as well Hulk didn't seem to pay any attention to that.

Once again we turned left and walked along the field; on the opposite side of the road there was some kind of a woodland belt. The crowns of the rare trees were faintly rustling; I'd never walked that far on my own before. The mansion as well as the fields with the workers' naked backs was now out of sight and only the wind was playing with withered leaves and bowing the stalks of the cobs down to the ground along with the chirring crickets. At some point our whole trip began to seem like an abstract dream which I didn't mind. Ever since I arrived at Tally there hasn't been that many pleasant experiences in my life and each positive emotion that accidentally visited me here was appreciated as much as gold. And this walk felt good, even if it was passing by in silence.

"Where will I be doing the translating?"

"In your room" Hulk was surprised by my question.

"But there is no electricity."

He looked at me and his eyes stared heavily at me. Somehow I knew that I wasn't the reason for such intensity and it was about someone else, who seemingly forgot to mention to Hulk about such a small detail as the lack of electricity in my room.

"It will get sorted." He said in a plain voice.

I happily inhaled the hot air saturated with a scent of different plants. Wow, this really is the day of the miracles!

"Hulk ..." unexpectedly even for myself I said, trying to recall if I'd ever called him by his name.

"Yes?"

I wasn't sure how to proceed, but for some reason this exact little favour I was about to ask him was particularly important for me.

"In my room there is a door which leads to the same place as the kitchen - to the backyard with a fence."

Hulk was looking at me blankly.

"This door is always shut. Can I please get a key? This is not because I want to escape or anything, I just... I'd just like to sit on my own sometimes on a little porch and get some fresh air since the windows in my room cannot be opened."

It seemed that Hulk was surprised by something yet again, although it was not easy to read your everyday human emotions on his face.

"You'll get the key tonight when you come to pick up the book and the dictionary." these were the only words he said.

Now I was taking my every step very carefully, so that he wouldn't notice that instead of walking I was flying above the ground with happiness.

The same evening I went to Hulk's office to pick up two heavy books, dictionary, new thick notebook, some pens, some other stationary and received the second bracelet which was now attached to my wrist right next to the first one - the one that's not only given me blisters on my skin, but on my heart as well. However I was quite happy about having the second bracelet knowing that all the future points - though I won't be able to use them for my freedom, will bring some joy into my life.

As it turned out, while I was busy outside doing my tasks, electricity had already came on in my room, and not just the electricity but also unpretentious round chandelier on the ceiling as well as a desk lamp with a beige shade on the table. I clicked the switch several times, turning the light on and off, watching how this uncomplicated movement completely changes the look of my pathetic room. Then I checked that the chandelier was functioning properly and stood in the doorway for a little bit, savouring the change and gently stroking the books. I'd never ever expected that my student whim would bring so much into my life, but it did and much more than I ever dared to receive. Eventually I shut the door and went to the kitchen to get my supper.

I can say that from that very moment my life in Tally began to feel if not enjoyable, but at least acceptable. For days I was carefully copying the translated text in the notebook; Hulk had decided that my handwriting was readable, and the dictionary I was provided with was a considerable help. It turned out that by then I'd managed to forget about a half of what I had once known. But the endless turning of pages was not burdening, the routine was not frightening and perseverance has always been one of my best qualities. The first thing I did when I got the book was to check how many pages in total there was and then I became very happy. The first volume consisted of five hundred and ninety pages and the second one as much as seven hundred and thirty pages! After that it became obvious why Hulk refused to put anything on my ordinary bracelet, because if he did – I'd fly out of Tally at the speed of light.

Though to say so would be an exaggeration, especially considering the fact that each page was not particularly easy to translate and I had to make tremendous efforts so that the words extracted from my memory or from the dictionary would build into meaningful sentences. And in some section there was a talk about buildings, machines or units, of which I'd never heard of before then it would become very tricky. But Hulk was reading everything with great interest even if I was bringing him only half a page a day. He also never hurried me and I was grateful for that.

So I was taking my time in the tiny room, drawing the words with the blue ink in my thick notebook, sometimes I would sit there and pondering, lost in my thoughts about something irrelevant and then I return back to work. Considering the fact that I didn't even need to go in the dining room - a warm spot in the Tabitha's kitchen was always at my disposal, it soon began to feel that I lived in a almost normal world and there is no ranch, no workers around and nothing at all. If it wasn't for my clothes shop that I'd usually check up on once a day in my life before Tally and for the shabby interior which was very different to my apartment I left on West Barton Avenue, I could think that I'm living an ordinary life. Of course, it was a rough comparison, but still...

I also received a key to the front door, as promised and was now able to enjoy the evening breeze, which would become cooler by night time, providing a nice break after a hot day which I kind of got used to. Sometimes I would sit on the porch for an hour in the silence of the night, looking at the dark empty backyard and the moon rising above the trees – its huge white disk would illuminate the hushed mansion, lost somewhere in the red desert. The shadows in this hour would become long and distinct as if from the floodlight, and I could clearly see every swaying blade of the grass growing by the porch. I'd usually spend some time observing all this until I'd feel the sleepiness creeping up on me and then I'd start to nod off, right there, sitting on the warm porch boards.

There were only two rumours about someone dying on the ranch during this time that reached my ears and the news made me feel sad and uneasy. I tried as hard as I could not to dwell on it, trying to keep a fragile and serene atmosphere in my tiny room insulated from the external shocks, realizing that I would have hardly been able to do something about those workers. Just a brief thought about it, even though they were hastily pushed out of my mind, would still leave a big hole somewhere in the depths of my heart, no matter how hard I tried to remain indifferent.

Another meeting with Hulk that happened two days after I'd started translating deserved a special mention. He actually had not forgotten about my promise to share the true story of me entering Tally, so I spent about an hour telling him everything from the beginning right until the moment I'd arrived at his ranch. Hulk listened in silence, frowning and seemed intense at times; whilst I felt a cold lack of feeling reciting the story. I guess I really started to adapt to the idea that life sometimes makes unexpected turns that even a fortune-teller would have troubles to predict and perhaps destiny has its own reasons to throw these ordeals at us. As for me - I just had to deal with the consequences of where I was living now and learn how to make my life tolerable, instead of feeling constant sorrow or wasting time on thinking about the eternal injustice.

In fact I was surprised that Hulk noted down names of Alex, Elmer and a few other people that I mentioned in connection with my tale of kidnapping, also, he marked the date of the happening, the amount issued to me by the Corporation, all the addresses which I could recall and a few more meaningless, in my opinion, details.

I didn't hide, nor cover anything up; I was just sipping the fragrant tea from the porcelain cup and answering his questions, thinking about how and where I could spend the first share of the points accumulated on the second bracelet.

As it turned out, I didn't know much about life in Tally - was there any shopping areas and if there was any, how could I get there - under the condition that I will be allowed from the ranch for a "walk"; was there a bus stop somewhere around and other rubbish like that. Anyway, the screen of the second bracelet was glowing with a pleasant number forty-three, so I decided rightly, that it's the right time to start building plans.

After hearing out my story, Hulk walked me to the door without saying a word, looking as if I was disturbing him from doing something important. I didn't get offended; instead I pinched a piece of cake from the fridge in the kitchen which Tabitha left for me and returned to my room to carry on with the translation. Therefore, for me there was no difference between "before" and "after" Hulk acquired knowledge about my past. I felt pretty happy to secure a manageable relationship with the owner, no longer have the need to do the hard work in the yard and be able to pamper myself with something sweet because of Tabitha's kindness. All the rest of it wasn't really important anymore.

One evening, when I brought the new pages to Hulk as usual, I dared to ask where and how I can spend the earned points.

"You must tell me first what you want to buy." the ruthless tyrant grinned.

I hesitated. Actually, it would be good to get some new underwear and a couple of new shirts, but I felt a bit shy to talk about it out loud. I just glanced piteously at his grin when I realised that all my thoughts were written in capital letters, right there on my face.

"There are few clothing shops in Tally as well as some places where you can buy household items, furnishings, bath accessories and all that."

Seeing how I started salivating and my eyes immediately lit up with excitement he openly laughed out loud for the first time. His laughter illuminated the cosy room and filled it with warmth.

"Women...", he said "I'll tell you when and where you can go shopping. Now scram, I have to work."

I shot out of his office like a bullet, still drooling like a homeless dog that saw a piece of smoked ham lying nowhere near its own bowl. Trying to break away from the appealing thoughts about the future purchases, I spent almost a quarter of an hour standing under a cool shower and even then my work flow was interrupted by the thoughts about all those marvellous things I'd get hold of soon. Of course, ultimately, it would all come down to the range available in stores, but it would've been an absolute blasphemy to crush the dream, and therefore by bedtime there were only three new lines of text translated.

My "happy" day came on Monday, when right after the breakfast one of the maids knocked on my door and said that I was summoned by Hulk to appear before him. I quickly did my shaggy hair in a ponytail, flew out into the hallway and rushed up the stairs.

"So, we shall assume that today is your day off." said Hulk, "now you can get out of the ranch. There is a bus stop on the road behind the electric fence, a hundred meters away. If you hurry, you should catch the bus that goes to the city in about thirty minutes."

He looked at his watch, and then at my shining like polished copper basin face.

"It would not be advisable for you not to come back too late, I hope you understand that. I wouldn't like to start a search and worry about you."

I quickly nodded. Hulk seemed to be satisfied with such an uncomplicated answer.

"That's it. You are free to go."

Standing under the blazing sun on a deserted road by the tiny rusty shack, generously called a "but stop", I was enjoying my life to the full. And not even the worn out sweaty blue shirt, saggy jeans, dusty falling to pieces shoes or poking out hair could not ruin my cheery mood. My first day off! And shopping! I couldn't believe my own luck. A well-deserved whole day of rest when I didn't have to do nothing but lazily wander the streets, eating an ice cream and carry the bags full of new clothes - what on earth could be better? I'd already decided that the ice cream will be the highlight of my agenda today (after an hour I still couldn't remember the last time I pampered myself like this). Perhaps, I could even find a café and enjoy a cup of coffee with a croissant. Of course, Tally is not Clendon City, but I just waved my hand carelessly - any old stale piece of bread would do it for me. This day gave me a feeling of a life as a normal person, and took my mind off the endless cycle of slavery and pain, which I could never get used to. Mumbling the words of gratefulness to the heaven, Hulk or both of them together, I was impatiently twiddling the plastic bag, which I brought with me in order not to spend any extra points on trifles. Finally, a slowly creeping and creaking yellow bus appeared in the distance.

The adventure begins!

I guess I could hardly find the words to describe all those delightful emotions overwhelming me on that day. I was almost lovingly admiring the cracked buildings, passing by people, faded signs, shrubs, benches, dishevelled windows and so on. Even the puzzles on bus tickets I was now solving with a smile on my face. People were looking at me without anger, rather than envy, not understanding why any person in Tally would be in such a good mood. A few days ago, I wouldn't have understood it either, except for today. Today was my day.

Who would have thought that those miserable points which I could now spend on some quite ordinary household items or dry bread could bring me so much gratitude? Or that dilapidated exterior of Tally city centre could seem almost like an exotic holiday in a crowded metropolis on another continent. Perhaps the expression that "everything is relative in this world" happened to be extremely true to life. At least I experience it first-hand. Live and learn... Live and learn...

After browsing a few different stores (to my surprise, the shopping area in Tally appeared to be fairly big) my plastic bag contained a whole bunch of different things: a new shower sponge, a deliciously scented shower gel, soap bar, shampoo, hairbrush, hair bands, face cream, two deodorants, q few shirts, socks and one thing I didn't even attempt to dream of - a new pair of jeans! I even bought a small book so I could truly feel like a human being, sitting on the porch at the sunset, relaxing with a little novel in my hands. It wasn't that much fun to keep pounding the Tueric's "Agriculture and farming" all the time.

I didn't forget about the pharmacy either. After a chat with the pharmacist, a rather nice guy in a white coat, I bought several sachets of strong cough medicine, some bandages, plasters, antiseptic and even a box for storing the medications, which I intended to pass to the quarry workers.

Later on I got even luckier - in a garden centre (was it really that common here to have a vegetable patch in Tally under this merciless sun? Perhaps, only the owners could afford such a luxury on the rooftops of their penthouses). Anyway, in this store I pretty much surprised the shop assistance by buying an assortment of gloves made of some durable material, which, in my opinion, could withstand a certain number of days for workers working with the picks. Now I was as happy as a tomcat in May dating a dozen pretty chicks at the same time. I added my new "treasure" to my already heavily overloaded bag whilst humming some melody to myself; I went to look for a cafe.

And only in the evening, a sniffy bus brought me back to the same bus stop on the outskirts of the city, where I - well-fed and content, almost hiccupping from the amount of ice cream in my stomach - slowly walked to my shelter.

After I unpacked my simple but valuable purchases, I felt like a millionaire. Of course, to feel completely happy I still needed a few more items such as a new pair of shoes but for now this was enough. There were still a lot more pages to translate, which meant that I could hope for a repetition of today's experience again. My feet will be alright. But I was thrilled from what I'd already got for just fifty points! Thinking logically, it was about right since fifty points was one twentieth of the total amount required to be released from Tally, and nobody would scatter such an amount for nothing, whereas my situation was just perfect for doing that. Meanwhile my first bracelet was slowly collecting the priceless "freedom" points.

Fortunately for me, Hulk did not come to inspect what kind of junk I'd got from the shops and as a true sybarite I asked Tabitha for my favourite tea (she kept it aside for special occasions) and then went out on the porch to enjoy my new book.

As soon as following morning came, I was on my way leaping to the quarry. As it was someone else's responsibility now to deliver the food and I wasn't too concerned about that since Tabitha promised to personally check that workers won't starve any longer, I was running there with only a box with meds in my hands, not having to lug a heavy cart.

The men noticed me approaching them from afar and began to gradually gather by the barracks; their dusty, as always gloomy faces were now expressing some curiosity and even a resemblance of cordiality - the workers somehow found out that the increased amount of food they were getting was my doing. It felt good to know they were grateful, though I didn't carry out my "great" deeds because I wanted to massage my ego and I would rather stay in a shadow than hear their muffled, interrupted by a cough, "thank you".

Nevertheless, those were the words I heard the most over the next two hours, during which I was giving out gloves, cleaning and covering their palms with medicine; putting bandages on their wounded hands. Then, I read out the instructions for the cough remedy and handed them out to the men, explaining how and when they should take it. They were looking at me in a more and more friendlier way, and after I got out the last gift - dust protective masks, they started to look like almost sane people who were able to enjoy their life. Masks were immediately tried on and the mumbling perked up.

At the end, I was approached by one of the workers - his face was speckled with thin lines, battered by the wind, hard life and illnesses, but he still had the spark of the man with an indomitable spirit. In one hand he held the mask and pills he'd just got and his other hand was clenched into a fist.

"Here." he said he opened up his palm, "Take it. Let it be yours - for good luck."

He handed me a small shiny blue stone similar to an uncut sapphire but it still looked amazing and was shimmering in the shades of ultramarine. Before I could thank him for his generosity I was surrounded by other men and almost each one of them brought me a stone - and not just the blue ones, but also red, pink, clear and even green.

"No, no thank you! Why would you give them to me? Please keep them for yourselves!" I began refusing, feeling desperately embarrassed but the gaze of the old man who gave me his first gem made me stop.

"Take them, girl. They are no good to us anyway but you may find them useful one day. We don't say anything to the owner about the rich lode we found here and you don't tell him please, it's not worth it. Take the rocks - one day you'll be free..."

"One day you'll be free as well!" I protested.

"Maybe, but that's not the point." he interrupted me and looked at the dust masks, "you've just added years to our lives and it's worth more than any diamonds and we want to thank you. Don't refuse."

I helplessly looked at the pile of coloured gems laying on my palm and then at all the people around me - they were still holding their small gifts in their hands. Another young guy from the barrack hurried up towards me with a black sock in his hand. He gave it to me and the all gems were placed in there.

"Thank you. Yes, thank you! For the masks and gloves and for the pills..." I heard the men's voices.

"Please, don't thank me..." I kept saying to them over and over again, feeling completely confused, trying to get break away from the crowd and holding back the tears, "Please, don't forget to take the pills on time; I'll bring you some more medication soon."

As I walked up the hill I could still see them waving "goodbye" to me.

And then there was more translating, evenings on the porch, brief meetings with Hulk and other people in the house, and more shopping trips. Little by little I got plenty of useful things for the ranch workers: simple but comfortable hats for people working in the fields, gloves for the berry pickers, new kitchen towels and aprons for Tabitha and many more necessary items that I handed out here and there. I didn't even try to remember or count what's already been done but simply wrote down my new ideas at the back of the notebook, so I could implement the created plan during my next trip to the city.

Hulk - many thanks to him - did not interfere with my charity, although I was sure he knew about it. He usually pretended to be busy or he actually was busy. Nowadays I thought about him more often than ever before, but I wasn't in a hurry to search my soul for the explanation of my own behaviour - perhaps the reason for it was the gossiping that suddenly popped up a couple of weeks after I'd started doing the translation for him.

Of course, my new clothes and the second bracelet on my wrist hadn't gone unnoticed. The evil tongues of local whisperers immediately began speculating about my newly found relationship with the ranch owner and my fresh, after an aromatic shower and a comb look, only reassured them in the accuracy of their assumptions. People didn't openly whisper behind my back and often it was done even without a sense of anger but in a more discreet and quiet way, in order not to provoke Hulk's wrath. I got the impression that a lot of the people felt some sort of respect towards me as I'd provided them with some useful things, which had also played a major role in their attitude and a reduction of envy and aggression. In addition to this, none of them could boast of any precise knowledge about me spending at least one night in the owner's chambers or not. However, it has long been known that people don't need any particularly accurate information to start spreading rumours.

Sometimes I felt surprised thinking about their assumption that I was Hulk's lover; sometimes I felt entertained, sometimes indifferent - it all depended on the mood I was in. People always think what they want. After all, no one knows what I would have thought, seeing some girl going on his private territory and transforming not by leaps and bounds, becoming fresh, good-looking and doing almost whatever and whenever she wanted to. Of course, what other conclusion would I make about her in their shoes?

Even Tabitha was laughing and thoughtfully noting from time to time that people will always make up stories but not all of them have the brains to know what to believe, even if they like to think so. I would agree with her but sinful thoughts about Hulk kept on entering my mind. Not that I was seriously contemplating - "what would Hulk be like if we were to ...", because I still couldn't quite work out his personality or his actions, and nevertheless, I often caught myself thinking about the gossips while sitting on the porch, sipping my tea before the bedtime, or admiring the glistening gems given to me in light of the sunset.

Hulk in my opinion was a dark horse - a man with many contradictions and mysteries. Some people saw him as a ruthless tyrant without an ounce of compassion; others were just scared of him for no apparent reason, and I could sympathise with them, because I saw Hulk stressed, although I'd never seen him being angry.

Anyway, Hulk always kept himself composed and only an invisible aura around him would change following his mood. I was not sure if anyone else could feel this completely invisible presence. But never, as far as I could remember, Hulk shouted or yelled and spluttered but acted quite the opposite - his restraint was too powerful even in critical moments. Sometimes I had the illogical desire to crawl deeper under his protective shell and see what he was really like? But I wasn't particularly pushy at my attempts, not because it didn't make any sense, but simply because the wall around him was too solid to break.

Yet, some moments were scratching my mind, like stones with sharp edges. Hulk was shrewd, calm, balanced, intelligent, and in general had all the qualities that a normal person and businessman should have. Yes, normal. But he hadn't got the qualities of a tyrant who owns the ranch in a desert. And yet, Hulk stubbornly kept the reputation of one of the toughest people in Tally - the "glory" of his merciless attitude towards the humans managed to circle around the city from top to bottom and there was some truth in it – now and again the local guards would ruin someone's life, not thinking about the consequences because they were never punished for it. But Hulk himself was never a direct part of their actions, although he had the ability to influence any situation both in good and bad ways - he could, but he never did, and that was strange.

Several times I tried to instigate a conversation with Tabitha about Hulk's personality, which she'd always cleverly avoid, keeping any comments to herself. This was making me think even more about the whole situation. For a while now I've been feeling like something important was being left unsaid, as if an invisible hand was holding the curtains tightly drawn, and as much as I wanted that – I still couldn't get any closer to solving this puzzle so I gave up trying to understand, though I continued to listen and observe everything around me.

Jenny tossed on the dirty sheets draped over a hard mattress on a narrow bed, and finally woke up. The small room was flooded with almost impenetrable greyish-pink light - the sun was about to rise. Greg, who drank too much yesterday was snoring intermittently next to her; it seemed that every inch of the wretched room soaked up his bad breath.

Jenny frowned. Her mood, which was already pretty low, was on its way to plunging even deeper, to a "shitty" mark, where it was at most of the time now and after the latest events it got even worse. She scratched her head that's not been washed for over a week, trying to run her fingers through the sticky and greasy hair. Her pale blue eyes stared at the crumpled curtain covering the grubby window, although her mind was completely focused on different matter - waves of anger, one after another, like a poisonous ocean was washing over her mind.

Shereen.

The mere thought of her made Jenny clench her teeth so hard that the jaw began to ache miserably. What a con artist, what a suck-up, what an inventive bitch! Her imagination immediately filled with images - there she goes across the yard, all glowing, fresh and smelling of perfume, wearing a new T-shirt, clean jeans. Here she is handing out the hats to the corn workers to protect their heads; here she is giving out some gloves to the women in the barracks so that the bushes don't scratch their hands... Fucking Mother Theresa she is! Right from the start she managed to get a room in the house and she didn't waste her time. First she got into a habit of drinking tea with Hulk, and then she receives a second bracelet, gets spruced up. Just incredible!

Thinking about it, Jenny radiated poorly suppressed anger again and again. And what about her? No matter how hard she tried to get a better position on the ranch, she'd only managed to reach to a role of this dork's lover. She glanced with hatred at sleeping Greg.

Jenny's been sleeping with the senior warden for a month now and there was no use from it whatsoever. But it's alright. One day she'll celebrate the victory, and she'll celebrate in style, with a party, champagne, lobsters and caviar. As soon as a duplicate is ready, Jenny will get everything she ever dreamt of. And it's OK that for the time being she has to be patient, listen to the dirty words from this old drillmaster, greet her teeth, feeling the pain between her legs and pretend to be as loving as she possibly can. That's OK. This gal has seen much worse things than this and knew how to handle it, since there was enough confidence that it was all worth it.

Jenny hastily climbed out of bed and began gathering up her clothes scattered around on the floor, cringing from the mess - empty beer cans, cigarette butts and the smell that permeated the room with alcohol vapours. What a disgusting apartment!

After she put a white T-shirt, spattered with numerous stains and torn by the sharp bush thorns, and a skirt over her naked body, Jenny ruthlessly shoved Greg in his side. He just smacked his dry cracked lips, moved his tongue, went quiet for a while and then continued snoring again.

"Wake up!" Jenny hissed and furiously shook his shoulder, "Close the door behind me, I have to go to the barracks - the others will start getting up soon!"

Greg produced a particularly loud snoring noise, which stopped half way through, as if the man choked on a piece of steak, and after a short pause, reluctantly opened his eyes.

"What?" he whizzed, not understanding where he was, and why he was being shaken.

"Wake up! And close the door!"

"A-a-ah..."

Standing by the door, Jenny threw a brief glance at Greg's bare chest wrapped by scars, which was hanging over her so often lately, shuddered with repulsion and said:

"When will it be ready?"

"What?" Greg sleepily shook his head and frowned.

"The key!"

"Tomorrow night."

For the first time this morning, Jenny allowed herself to relax. Even bad breath of the man standing in front of her wasn't as irritating as much now.

"Good." she smiled sweetly and patted the hairless chest of her lover, "You were wonderful as always, my dear!"

Greg grinned and muttered proudly "Oh, yeah! ...." slapped Jenny's bottom and slammed the door behind her.

"I'd cut your bloody dick..." she hissed, trying to get away from the men's barracks as quickly as possible. Her anger quickly gave way to a feeling of euphoria that now quickly and pleasantly filled her whole body. The key! The key from Shereen's room will soon be in Jenny's hands and that was the only important thing, all the rest is rubbish.

Quietly and quickly, like a limping, but happy ghost, Jenny disappeared into the fog.

A few days passed by unassumingly with no incidents, but one of the following evenings imprinted in my memory deeply and probably for good. This only happens when you are not expecting any surprises from life but it just pours like a bucket of ice cold water over your head, turns everything upside down and you can never forget about it, no matter how hard you try. It's not possible to delete such moments from ones memory - there is no magic switch that can be put in an "I don't remember" position, although many would have paid a lot of money for it.

The day started off pretty ordinarily, as well as the noon and nothing spelled any changes - the same heat outside, same quiet voices in the depth of house, same rough pages of the ancient books before my eyes. But at six o'clock I was distracted from my daily grind by a delicate knock on the door - it was one of the maids who I often saw cleaning the floors.

"Mr Conrad wants you to come to his office." she said as I opened the door.

"Should I bring the translated pages with me?"

She uncertainly ruffled the dusting cloth in the hands.

"I don't know. I've not been told anything else."

I thanked the girl and shut the door. That was weird. I didn't usually appear in Hulk's office before eight or nine - that was the only time when he could read the new pages and treat me with some tea. I shrugged, picked up my notebook, turned off the lamp and went to the hallway to find out why our usual schedule had been changed.

"Come in." said Hulk as soon as he saw me, "Sit down."

Something in his face and his voice seemed worrying to me. I stared at him for a while and then decided that I was wrong because I didn't notice any obvious signs of anxiety. Anything can happen. I already had the book opened up, ready to explain the new translation and my notes that I made on the page margins, when he stopped me and repeated:

"Sit down. You don't need your notebook for now."

I sat in a chair that I occupied every night, alarmingly looking at Hulk.

Something had subtly changed, the atmosphere in the room was tense, my anxiety increased. The premonition of something bad grew stronger.

"Why don't I need the notebook for now?" I asked unusually quietly, as if my raised voice could crack and shatter the worlds in pieces like a poorly glued together glass. Hulk didn't say a word, staring through the window facing the front yard. He stood with his back turned to me, and this silence in the room began to feel uncomfortable.

"Have I done something wrong?" I asked hesitantly, trying to remember, if I'd got into any kind of trouble recently or caused any problems for somebody else but fortunately or unfortunately my conscience remained as still as a pond's surface and absolutely nothing came to my mind. The last days were the same old routine, quiet and calm.

"No. You haven't done anything wrong." Hulk finally turned to me; his eyes were still very serious and I got the urge to come closer and give him a good shake. I didn't like what was going on at all and I couldn't find any reason for it, yet it was obvious that something bad had happened.

"What is it? Why aren't you saying anything?" I felt nervous and knew that I'd crossed the appropriate line of our communication but I couldn't stay calm any longer, "Has something happened?"

"I have news for you." Hulk went to the table and picked up a white envelope. It had nothing written on it.

My heart skipped a beat in anticipation of something awful. Hulk sat on the sofa opposite me and began to take out some papers and photos from the envelope.

"Shereen, I found Alex."

His words took my breath away, and my hands tried to reach the photos but Hulk put them face down and said harshly:

"Wait."

"He is alive? He's not been killed?" I asked, suddenly realising that those could be photos of a dead body and a whirlpool of terror weaved into an already tangled up ball of emotions. I could barely breathe from the tension.

"Yes, he is alive. Calm down. Calm down, I said!"

His unusually tough voice cooled me down; I stopped twitching in the chair and tried to regain my composure. After Hulk made sure that I was listening carefully, he continued.

"Yes, he is alive and yes, he's got your money."

I listened with bated breath, trying not to interrupt him in case he stopped talking again, but he stopped for some reason, and now was chewing his lower lip, as if thinking how to move on. I started to feel even more edgy - more than anything else I wanted Hulk to carry on talking.

"So, he'll be back home soon, right? Will he return to Clendon City?"

"I don't think so. Take a look at this."

Hulk finally turned the pictures face up, and I eagerly grabbed them. They were black and white images but quite large, in "A4" format. Many of them were too blurry or had some strange fuzzy objects in the foreground as if someone was shooting in a hurry from around the corner or from other hiding place. My eyes were frantically running from one photo to another, I wasn't able to focus on just one them. But gradually, I overcame the excitement and forced myself to concentrate. Yes, Alex was pictured in all of them, his slightly curly hair was longer than I remembered and he looked mostly happy, tanned and smiling. On some pictures he was driving a beautiful collector's car, on others he sat on a sandy shore of some unfamiliar beach or holding some woman in his arms. At first I didn't even pay any attention to who she was, overwhelmed by happiness that he wasn't dead, he was alive and obviously set free by the kidnappers. At last! What a joy it was to learn something about him – my dear, beloved Alex! How many days I'd spent crying, how many days were lost in desperation and constant anxiety and now it was like a ray of sun that made its way through the dark clouds \- alive! He's alive! What fantastic news! So, everything I'd gone through was not in vain!

Only when my first emotions subsided a bit, I looked closely at the pictures again and noticed something I skipped at first.

"Who is that girl? And where is this? I don't recognise this place... Hasn't Alex returned to Clendon City?"

Feeling confused I looked at Hulk, who was silently observing me all the time while I was busy with the photos.

"No, this is not Clendon City. And this girl is his lover."

I nervously swallowed. A feeling of strange coolness in my stomach gradually formed inside, as if someone had injected it with Novocaine.

"Now, Shereen, listen carefully to everything I am about to tell you from the beginning to the end" Hulk stretched his hand, took a cigarette pack from the table and lit one up. I've never seen him smoke normal cigarettes before but right now I couldn't care less. I was struggling to deal with the coldness spreading down my spine after the word "lover" and feeling scared of facing up to what Hulk was going to say next.

"When you told me your story, it interested me and I sent my men to search for Alex. Not that I seriously expected to succeed with anything but there was a chance. And today I got this..."

He touched the envelope, exhaled the smoke in the air and looked at me. His eyes, unusually stern, only aggravated my ability to perceive what was happening. No, it couldn't be like that... I began to feel as if everything was happening to somebody else, but not me.

My mind knew that something terrible had taken place, but it could stay there - outside the window, if I don't pull the curtain and peer into the darkness that smelled of grief. This illusion would have swallowed me up completely, if it wasn't for Hulk's voice that cruelly and directly pushed words into my running from reality consciousness. My brain didn't want to know anything, certain that ignorance would be much safer than the truth. But I couldn't stop Hulk from talking and more importantly I had to find out what happened on that day in April.

"This whole scam was made up by Alex. Nobody ever kidnapped him. It all started when Elmer came to the factory and Alex's authority as the owner cracked and started to slip away from him to another person. Initially, it wasn't noticeable, but slowly but surely the situation began to change. By the time he picked up on what was going on, it was too late to change anything - his partner was charge of all the funds and revenues. And all the documents that Alex didn't bother to read properly before signing, where his new position was stipulated in an indirect text, had already been signed. I must admit that Elmer's lawyer managed to describe all the pseudo benefits of the new contract in an intricate but simplistic fashion. When your friend's own stupidity dawned on him and the fact that he had now been moved from the owner to the position of a common developing engineer or even lower, and all the money went to someone else's pocket, he tried to haggle with Elmer and even threaten him. But Elmer wasn't prepared to give up that easily. Why would he? He firmly took on his new position, which he had won legitimately. Alex couldn't cope with the new situation, constantly searching for other opportunities to press on Elmer and since none of them succeeded, he eventually fell into despair."

Hulk paused and flicked the ash into an ashtray. I was silent, feeling stiff; everything inside of me froze. I remembered one evening when Alex was so angry and irritated, and nothing in the world seemed to have been able to cheer him up. Now it became clear why.

"Trying to get at least some of the money back, it all ended with a desperate attempt to fake his own abduction. He was hoping that Elmer would bite the bait and pay out in order to get back the valuable partner. Apparently, Alex was really bothered by the financial issues at the time... Was he that fond of money?"

I was probably expected to say something, but I barely had the capability to speak. My mind was trying to assemble all the pieces of the puzzle that I never wanted to put together and Hulk, not waiting for my answer, continued.

"Elmer, of course, didn't believe the "kidnapping" for one second. He knew Alex might go to extremes, and therefore didn't even acknowledge the "note" with the ransom demand. From the very beginning he was sure that after such a trick Alex wouldn't dare to come back as the truth about this whole story would've been revealed, and so Elmer just started to prepare the documents to ensure that he was now the sole owner of the factory."

"If he was so certain that the kidnapping was Alex's idea, why didn't he tell me when I came to him in tears, begging to do something."

Hulk didn't answer straight away and his stare was heavy.

"Perhaps, he didn't give a damn about you."

"And Alex? After all, he must have realised that it was me who paid the... ransom?" I just about managed to say the last word. I'd never felt such an idiot in my entire life. Complete idiot. Hopeless fool.

"Oh, he figured that out alright."

A chilling emptiness began to spread out inside my stomach after those words but I just grinded my teeth, knowing that Hulk was not done with the news just yet.

"I guess when Alex saw where the money came from, he perhaps felt guilty for a while, thinking if he should come back to you and confess what a bastard he'd been. He didn't think about it for too long though, judging by the fact that a few days later he opened a new bank account, bought a new house and a car on the Gau islands, where he'd been sunbathing and enjoying his life while waiting for the money to come through. Evidently his greed overtook his human qualities and his only wish was to get at least some of that money back after the loss of the factory."

Hulk finished his cigarette and leaned back in the armchair.

I didn't know how to behave and what to say. Only the emptiness like a big black hole flooded me inside. No, I didn't have any numbness or shock - my mind was sober and clear, but emotions were no longer there as if they stuck somewhere at the door and then just turned around and went away. I felt calm, cold and empty - not even lonely, just indifferent.

"And the girl?" I asked.

"This girl had been with him on the island from the start."

Hulk didn't have anything to add; everything became obvious.

"Shereen?" he called me.

I looked up at him. My eyes were dry - it probably would have been much easier if I burst into tears, but I didn't even want to; I didn't want anything at all, except for a new wave emptiness that was saving and scarring me at the same time. Maybe that's how we are forced to grow up - we have no choice. Whether you want to or not, you have to give up an illusion of the happy world half way through and start putting up with the shit that life throws at you. There was nothing I could do about that - I just felt that something had broken inside of me and disappeared forever. Yes, broke or burnt out - who cares about the precise word? - but the old Shereen has just got up and left the room for good and in her place was another Shereen sitting on the sofa - quiet and maybe empty, but no longer naive.

"Shereen," Hulk said, "I didn't want to tell you this at first, but then I decided that you deserved to know the truth."

I didn't say a word.

"Would you like some brandy?"

"No, thank you." my voice sounded flat, exactly as I wanted, "I will go now."

Now, Hulk's eyes turned into X-ray scanners, which made me shake to the core, but I didn't care.

"I appreciate that you've shared this with me."

After these words, I walked out of the door, leaving my notebook with the translation on the table and feeling that I would never come back to this room or any other room as the person that I used to be. From now on, someone else will be living inside of me, because the old Shereen has gone.

As much as I wanted to brag about the lack of emotion on the next day, unfortunately I couldn't do that. I managed to spend the night in an emotional vacuum, but in the morning I was struck by a full barrage of all sorts of thoughts and feelings. The dam had crushed.

I felt hurt and sad... and hell, yes, I felt disgusting. How could I be such a naive fool who borrowed nearly half a million, and not from friends, but from some dumb Corporation, which subsequently put me in a prison? Well, of course, where else could they have sent me if not in here - such a primitive idiot who believed in pure love and was ready to do anything in order to return her "beloved" one home safe - yes, right, in prison! This was the right place for me.

I felt like I was going to extremes - my mood was frighteningly placid, like a hushed sky before a tornado. I couldn't get rid of the image of Alex's face on those photos and I couldn't pull myself together. Bits of the information I learned last night were now sticking out of my head like an exploded grenade, causing excruciating pain, ready to tear my brain that was now unable to accept the changed image of my world. I couldn't blame it. I wanted to howl, curled on the ground or fret and fume like I'd never allowed myself before. Everything was falling out of my hands - all the tasks I was given in the morning, remained on the list marked as "not done".

I tried to sweep, wash, scrub, carry something or even speak, but I just couldn't remember anything. There was no way I could do any translating. The letters were floating away and escaping from my attention, faces were blurring, any words sounded inaudible.

I remember asking Tabitha to give me some task to do, and then I went outside holding a cloth ready to scrub something only to find myself very confused why the grey stains on the wall were still there no matter how hard I was rubbing them. At least an hour later I realised that they were shadows and until they started to gradually shift in the day sun, I was desperately trying to make the wall completely white. And now yellow...

Feeling exhausted I sat down on the ground and put the cloth next to me. That's it. It cannot go on like this anymore. I knew that even if it was agonising now and the dangerous edge seemed too close, I still had to carry on. Never in my life have I ever allowed myself to go to the limit, and I had no idea what it felt like, but something inside of me was now begging to let my emotions out and blow off the steam. But how could I do that?

I couldn't look at this ranch through my old eyes. Everything seemed the same but at the same time something had changed. Everything became mismatched, alien and incomprehensible, even hostile and... hollow.

No, people kept on walking back and forth, the guards were shouting in the fields, dishes were rattling in sinks, someone was rushing to put their brooms and shovels in the pantry and dinner time was coming soon. Before bedtime they'll have some spare time to play dominoes in front of the barracks... People somehow got used to being here. To living here. We always adapt, don't we? No matter how bad things are...

I leaned against the wall and for a while I was watching them and it was becoming clearer by the minute that I cannot go on like that for much longer. I just can't. My old "happy" world didn't exist anymore. And there was neither purpose nor meaning, no more great and bright ideas that would keep me alive. There was no more inspiration. Nothing, just one big void. Even Alex was no longer on my mind, his image fell off like a piece of dried up mud - yes, he's gone so quickly and easily, as if he never existed in my life. But the humiliation still had a hold of me as well as the self-loathing for being such a naive fool. There was a taste of bile in my throat after his betrayal, bitterness and a feeling of being used. But who could I blame for it? Alex? No, that wouldn't be wise and I could only blame myself. Four hundred and fifty thousand dollars, several months in prison, a broken heart and no hope that the situation will ever change for the better. How could anything change for the better now? How many years will I have to spend in Tally before I could get back to the normal world? What kind of other humiliation will I have to go through? Is there any chance that one day the cold loneliness inside of me will be replaced by the happiness from the fact that you are no longer alone or even loved?

I laughed hoarsely.

Apparently, there was no limitation to how stupid and gullible one could be. If someone would mention the word "hope" to me now, I'd strangle them with my bare hands - less of all I never wanted to create worthless hopes ever again.

This was Tally \- the prison-city and I was the prisoner with a bracelet on my wrist. Most likely, I'll never collect enough points to be released. I didn't have any rights or any property, I didn't have anything. And I couldn't even get drunk like a normal human being...

But hold on, why not? This thought appealingly purred in my mind like a cat stretching its back after a good sleep and looked at me with its hungry eyes. When was the last time I consumed any alcohol? At my Bell-Oak apartment... with Jenny. We drunk some cognac, having a heart-to-heart conversation and I was silly enough to be optimistic about my future as soon as I'd passed the parcel to Laroche. How wonderful it was to be so ignorant; blessed are those who don't believe... I cynically laughed.

Indeed, why not? Why can't I let myself forget about everything and get drunk? I knew it was a lousy idea, but I was scared of simply not being able to sleep tonight, not being able to get away from the bitter thoughts and not being able to see any meaning in anything - and if my fears come true, then... I didn't know what would happen "then", but there was an ominous darkness in my heart and I had no desire to stare in its eyes; because if I did, the leftovers of that miserable person who I turned into will lose any significance of their existence. I knew it for certain. It was the point I must never approach. I can be foolish, make mistakes, stumble and get up again – yes, but I cannot allow myself to get to THAT point.

Despite the heat of the evening and the shining sun, I felt palpable coldness crawling down my spine. I had to stop the flow of these unstable thoughts; they won't do me any good.

I peeled myself off the floor, grabbed the cloth lying on the ground and went in the house. I had to hurry up and check the schedule - the last bus will depart in an hour and I must not miss it.

The sun hid behind the horizon, rich bluish shadows thickened in the front yard, and finally the air started to cool down.

Hulk was slowly circling around the office. Most of his tasks were completed for today and it was time to rest and relax. But it wasn't happening. The feeling of anxiety that arose after yesterday's conversation with Shereen was refusing to go away. Was it right to tell her everything? Was it really necessary to crush her heart and soul, knowing that life in Tally does that perfectly well anyway? Yes, Shereen was not a weak person, she didn't even show a lot of emotions after he'd told her, but Hulk saw how pain flooded her eyes and he felt a nagging guilt. What was she doing today? Translating? But she's not even been back for her notebook. Has she spent all day in her room? Did she go anywhere?

Hulk was pushing his thoughts about Shereen away for most of the day, and he was coping quite well. However, as soon as the evening came they started to strike him again vigorously. What's all this? He is just tired and needs to put his feet up.

Hulk filled up a glass with brandy, chose a cigar and sank into his chair. The lighter's cap opened with a click, and the yellow flame, strong enough to light the tobacco in a matter of seconds, emerged. A flavoured smoke lazily hovered in the air. His thoughts began whirling around the story with the ransom again. Unbelievable. Some fella decided to make some cash by faking his own kidnap, tried to intimidate his partner, and eventually got the money from his own girlfriend!

For a fleeting moment Hulk felt a pinch of envy. Why do idiots get so lucky sometimes? Did this Alex realise how much he was loved? He probably did and but took it for granted. Hulk suddenly thought that he would appreciate it should he ever have the chance. Another cloud of smoke floated up to the ceiling; the eyes of the man sitting in a chair were fixed to the balcony curtains that were fluttering from the wind. She was scared, yes, and yet she approached to the Corporation and found the way to get that money and she didn't even try to dodge the responsibilities - just took the parcel and agreed to go to the damn place God knows where...

Hulk's thoughts were slowly and lazily intertwining with one another, like the spirals of smoke that the tip of his smouldering cigar was creating. Why didn't she make any attempts to run away? Why did she agree to participate in this affair? The way they brought her to the Corporation building must have worried her. How naive... and yet how courageous. She obviously really wanted him back home; she waited, hoping that a miracle could happen, but miracles never materialise - and he, Hulk, knew it better than anybody else.

The truth – that's the best way to get rid of any illusions. Reality is always tough and sometimes you just have to accept it as is. No, of course, Hulk himself, has not always been truthful and Tally was not the place where this word was ever appreciated, quite the opposite - it was mostly causing problems, but in the case of Shereen, a part of him didn't want such love to be owned by a liar any longer.

It wasn't about the loyalty. Yes, Hulk presented everything to give the impression that it was his intention to expose Alex, as noble as this was, there was a hidden agenda behind it as well. But what exactly was it about? Hulk couldn't be sure if he had it all figured it out yet. But ever since he found out that this girl came here with false documents, his hands were itching to discover the truth and that's exactly what he had done. Now everything became clear and resolved.

Why did he need to know that? Perhaps, his interest awakened because Shereen had an outstanding personality, great logic, persistence, open heart and she never quite fitted in with this place, neither then nor now. Hulk has never seen any anger or any resentment in her, whether it was about the people or her unfortunate destiny. Shereen always faced up to her fears, always stand up for others even if she was scared of being punished and would never betray or use anybody for her own benefit.

Still, what was she doing today? He shook up her little world yesterday and that was difficult to bear. Should he invite her for a cup of tea and take her mind off things a little bit by talking about something trivial? As Hulk made his decision, he put out his burning cigar in the ashtray and reached for the internal phone.

"Bring Shereen here. I want to talk with her."

"Sir, she was not in her room. Its locked." muttered the maid, and hurried to get out Hulk's sight after he nodded, letting her go.

Not in her room? Well, that's strange. Before he had a chance to get deeper in his thoughts, Greg knocked on the door.

"Mr Conrad?"

"Come in."

Rattling his chain and scabbard, attached to his belt, Greg walked into the room and sat on the sofa, he then placed the documents he was holding in his hands on the table.

"The accountant asked me to pass you the monthly report. Here it is. Ufff ... Great... The heat's finally gone." he pulled out the collar of his shirt, trying to ventilate his sweaty chest, "Today was quiet in the fields..."

As usual he began reporting about all the incidents that occurred during the day at the ranch but Hulk almost ignored his monotonous speech and when the major news were out of the way, he interrupted the senior ward.

"Have you seen Shereen this evening?"

Greg stopped talking and blinked in bewilderment. Hulk knew that Greg would always notice the girl, even if she was passing somewhere on the horizon. The grudge that Greg has been holding for Shereen was still hurting his pride, and today observational skills of the senior ward came in very handy.

"No, I haven't seen her today neither by the fields nor on the road to the quarry. Perhaps, she's spent all day wasting the food in Tabitha's kitchen."

Hulk nodded vaguely. The situation looked more and more intricate - where could she have disappeared if she wasn't in the room? Did she decide to go for a walk by the fields? Was she sitting somewhere gazing upon the stars? What was she thinking about at this very moment? He has to give the girl a break and let her be on her own. It wasn't really any of Hulk's business what she was thinking about, was it?

But his heart was restless, as it's always been when his intuition kicked in. And this time, his intuition was aggressively pestering logic, trying to say something. Hulk knew that he didn't have the right to ignore it.

Greg, seeing the confusion and drawn out pause, responded immediately.

"Do you think she is plotting something? I can raise the guards to find her..."

"No. I think I know where she is." without batting an eye, Hulk lied. He didn't want the guard to suspect anything, "Get on with your report, I just wanted to tell her the amendments I needed in the translation."

"Ah, alright..." Greg mumbled vaguely and switched back to the report on the incidents.

To Hulk's relief - it took only a few minutes before Greg finally vanished, leaving him alone, and now it was time to thoroughly think about what exactly was going on. Not wasting another minute, Hulk scrolled through all the possible options, all the people who might have any information on Shereen's whereabouts and stopped on one person - Tabitha. She was the only one who Shereen would trust her feelings to - it was time to visit the kitchen.

Despite the late hour (it was close to eleven) the light in the little room with a buzzing fridge was still on.

Tabitha sat there with her bulky elbows on the table, drinking tea, slowly chewing on a biscuit and reading "Tally News", intending to go to bed soon after that. She didn't look surprised when Hulk came in - he did that now and then after the previous owner of this ranch went to "a better place" two years ago. Tabitha hoped that wherever he rested now he wasn't in "peace" anyway.

"How are ya, mister?"

"Alright, not too bad..."

"Are you eating enough? You've been working very hard lately... I heard about two more that need to..."

Hulk didn't let her finish the sentence.

"I know. It'll be fine. What about you? When are you gonna decide?"

"No, mister. I am used to being here and I'm attached to you, you know that. Besides, where would I go?"

"You know, as soon as you make that decision..."

"I know, I know. That's why I love you."

Hulk smiled. Tabitha knew a lot of stuff, but any secrets were safe with her. He could trust her implicitly and not a single wrong word would slip off her tongue either accidentally or deliberately. She might have an unsophisticated if not rustic appearance and manners and pretend to be a rough and uncouth person, but there was a perspicacious lucid mind behind her midnight-black eyes.

"You better tell me what happened to the girl?" asked Hulk, not wasting time on any sentiments.

"You mean Shereen, I suppose?" a cheeky spark flashed through Tabitha's eyes, but it was quickly replaced by a flicker of apprehension, "Something was wrong with her today, yeah, definitely wrong. She was just moping about, trying to help me, but I could've got more help from damn Greg than Shereen today..."

"What do you mean?"

"She didn't tell me anything. But two hours ago she popped in to check the bus schedule. I said to her, where are you going so late? And she just waved her hand at me, looking lost..."

"To the city? She went to the city?" Hulk tensed. The irritation came for two reasons: first - Shereen has just violated his order not to leave the ranch without permission and second - there were plenty of dodgy things that could happen to her in a city where prisoners were constantly creating chaos desperately trying to earn additional points and where the brutal police were fining anyone they could get their hands on. It wouldn't be so bad if this trip ended up in her losing just a few points... But being the "owner" he knew how much worse things could turn out for a girl walking around town on her own.

Seeing Hulk's clenched jaws, Tabitha began to worry.

"Please don't punish her too harshly. It's not been an easy life for her here and she's never done anything bad to anyone...We can all start pining here sometimes, you know..."

Hulk just nodded and a second later he was gone.

Tabitha sighed and shook her head - these two will be idiots if they don't notice each other. Shereen needs a reliable, fair and caring partner, but will she recognise these qualities in Hulk through the constant pretence, which was vital for survival in Tally? And Tabitha could tell her the truth, no, she couldn't... Shereen must find out what he is like for herself.

And Hulk? How great would it be if someone softened his toughness? It's like watering dry soil - you never know what could come up there afterwards; but life is life and it's not meant to be easy. At times it can be sweet or scary, sometimes gentle or rough, but never easy.

Tabitha shook her head again, put away the biscuits, rinsed her cup and turned off the kitchen light. That's it. Bedtime. The young ones will sort things out themselves and she has to get some rest – the age is taking its toll.

The ranch was quiet; only a few windows were lit up in the mansion, most of the guards went back to their barracks and only the patrol was making a round by the perimeter of the fields.

Hulk quietly and quickly lurked into the garage - a bright light lit up his shiny black 4x4 - spacious and fast. Before starting the engine, Hulk turned the satnav on, but instead of choosing a destination he entered an eight digit password, which brought up another page. He couldn't risk raising the alarm because of Shereen's disappearance since that would only open up a can of worms, and the only person he could rely on in catching the girl was himself.

Hulk started the engine and fastened his seatbelt. Then he found a piece of paper with the code of Shereen's bracelet and put the number into the waiting for further instructions GPS. The device made a subdued sound confirming the entry - it was now up to a satellite to search for the required object. Waiting for the result, Hulk, turned on the headlights, drove out of the garage and left the ranch. In the mirror he saw the gate shutting down silently and then took a turn on the motorway leading to the city.

The deserted road was illuminated up by the moon - a silent cold spotlight was always in its place ready to work another night free of charge. There were never any moonless nights in Tally as the climate there was too hot and dry to form any clouds in the sky. Maybe some people were not too happy about that, but he certainly wasn't one of them since there were good yields several times a year. As long as there was enough water (which there was plenty of here) and as soon as Hulk understands how the ancients built their irrigation systems described by the Turics in the book, everything will work even better. But to ensure that the translation is done, he must find that naughty girl who buggered off to the city under the cover of the night. Hulk wasn't so much angry with Shereen, as, oddly enough, he was worried about her - Tally was a really unfriendly place, especially for a single girl at night.

These cloudless nights were quite helpful for another reason - nothing would block the satellite signal and to Hulk's relief a minute later the GPS popped up a message that the requested object is found and now it was calculating the shortest route to it. Shereen was located somewhere in the city centre, which was about fifteen minutes drive if he puts his foot down. Judging by the map she was in the city park - plus or minus fifteen meters away from the main gate. What the hell is she doing there? Hulk threw another glance at the flashing dot and pressed harder on the accelerator. Soon he'll find out.

The SUV couldn't be parked on the park's grounds - entry of any vehicles was forbidden, so Hulk had to leave the car by the gate and walk to the park. The GPS had to be left behind in the car seeing that it did not have its own battery and if unplugged from the dashboard it would instantly become totally useless. Shereen's bracelet was still seen by the satellite at roughly the same location and Hulk decided that he had no other choice but to try to find her himself. Trusting his intuition, he walked along one of the paths, carefully watching out for any moving objects or anything that resembled a human body, lying on the ground. On the one hand, it was a positive thing that she didn't go to any bar where men could mistakenly take her for a prostitute, but on the other hand, the park wasn't the safest place either - from time to time someone was raped and robbed here, despite constant police patrols.

Hulk couldn't be sure if Shereen was not injured, but he was absolutely sure that she was alive, because prisoner's bracelets would immediately warn the system, if the pulse of the owner suddenly stopped.

Hulk thought that ironically enough it was good and bad at the same time. He began to worry.

The park lanes were empty. The tops of trees, standing like a dark wall, were lit by the moon, the shadows from their trunks were stretching on the ground like long black stripes, and the crowns were moving slowly. The park benches scattered here and there were dozing peacefully - at this hour, there wasn't anybody to sit around for minute or two, reading a newspaper or sipping lemonade. There were no police, no traffic noise, and no voices - all tranquillity. But Shereen was definitely somewhere here - Hulk trusted the satellite data, and, so he kept on looking. By this time he had walked through approximately half of the park and now began wondering what would happen if she decided to hide in the bushes when she heard the steps of a stranger? But before this idea evolved into a definite conclusion, Hulk emerged from the alley on a luminous square and stopped. In the centre of it there was a marble fountain with a statue in the middle, which looked like either a large curved fish or someone holding a pitcher. Perhaps, according to the architect's plan the water should be running down from the statue into the basin, but now the fountain didn't make a sound as it was completely dried out. Shereen was sitting right on the edge, with her legs thrown over the side of the water feature - her body with drooped shoulders could be a continuation of this marble assembly, if it wasn't for her long curly hair moving from the night breeze. She sat motionless and quiet, staring at the night sky. Hulk looked around, making sure there was nobody around, and then walked towards the fountain - the first thing to do was to make sure that she was alright.

"Shereen?" he called quietly, approaching her from behind.

She turned after a short pause, as if she didn't recognise his voice.

"Hulk?"

"What are you doing here? Why on earth did you leave the ranch without my permission, and on the last bus?"

"I knew you were going to be angry, but I had to..."

Her voice sounded shaky and a little vague. Hulk suddenly realised that she was drunk. And yes, when he came closer he saw a large dark bottle in her hands.

"What are you drinking?"

"Bourbon, I bought it at the supermarket."

"Bourbon?" repeated Hulk in surprise, "You sit here at night in the park, drinking bourbon?"

"What do you think I should be drinking and where?" Shereen asked sarcastically, "A glass of red wine while sitting in front of the fireplace and reading a love story?"

Hulk couldn't find what to say. He paused, on one hand he felt a relief that he'd finally found her and on the other feeling very confused - how should he behave with a drunk Shereen? But since he wasn't certain he knew how to deal with sober Shereen he just shifted his car keys from hand to hand and said.

"It's not safe to be here at night. Let's go."

"Go where?"

"Back home."

"I don't have a home."

Hulk swore silently.

"Back at the ranch."

"I don't want to go back at the ranch!" she shook her head like a spoilt brat, "I'm tired. I'm tired of everything here. The ranch is your home, not mine."

She took the bottle to her mouth and had a hefty sip straight from its neck.

"Leave the booze alone!"

Hulk came closer, but Shereen quickly pressed the bottle to her chest.

"No! It's mine! I paid eight points for it!"

Almost laughing at her ingenuousness, Hulk suddenly realised that he was utterly bewildered. Here he is God knows where, in the park, in the middle of the night, trying to take a drunk girl home, who's really playing up and does not want to be budged. Should he throw her over his shoulder and carry back home? What a load of nonsense!

"Let's go, Shereen. I have every right to tell you what to do and you know it."

"Yes, of course. You can order me around and you can take all my points, I know that." This phrase sounded not as much provoking but more sad.

Hulk was very quickly learning that pressure won't help the situation and immediately changed his tactics.

"Let's go back. We'll pretend that nothing happened and I will not punish you." he said softly.

Shereen slowly put the bottle on the edge of the fountain and looked openly at him for the first time. Her eyes - surprised and confused, made him feel as if there was a lump his throat.

"You know, you're not that bad at all..." she said, and the lump got bigger. Hulk shook his head trying to get rid of the unusual sensations, while Shereen continued, "Yes, we will go, but please, let's sit down for a minute."

"Sit down?"

"Yes, right here. I am exhausted of the ranch and I don't want to get back... not yet."

This night - quiet alleys, light wind, shining moon, fountain and Shereen with a bottle in her hands - made the entire scene seem so surreal, as if the reality became fuzzy.

Hulk sat down and also threw his legs over the edge of the fountain. The bottom of the basin was all cracked and the weeds were going through them, trying to find some moisture under the weight of the stone bowl. The silence has wrapped up two strangers, sitting in the depths of the park.

Oddly enough, Hulk suddenly realised that he wasn't in a hurry to get back to the ranch as well. There was something comforting, long forgotten and almost romantic in what was happening now. The tenderness of a summer night has mixed with a slight feeling of guilt from the fact that it was him who got Shereen so unsettled and therefore there would be nothing wrong if he allowed her to take a break from the usual hassle and bustle. It wouldn't hurt to spend another ten minutes in the park, especially when it's so calm and even enjoyable around.

Hulk felt some obscure bits of sensations from the past – when he wasn't lonesome, there was someone loving and caring around, when he wanted to reach to the sky, simply because some strings of his heart were singing from just a touch, just like they were now from the night breeze.

These feelings \- wonderful and unexpected, were accepted by Hulk in silence and awe. He was afraid to startle them - so fragile and intangible; they could disappear any moment, if he let a single thought squeeze into his mind. Instead Hulk forced himself to relax and immerse into "here and now" - the chirring of cicadas in the grass, barely audible rustling crowns of the trees and the crunchy sound of pebbles at the bottom of the pool under the soles of his shoes. Quietly halted and imbued with the beauty of the night, Hulk suddenly discerned how grateful he was for this moment, so unexpectedly and beautifully presented to him by life. He wasn't trying to understand where these fragments of long forgotten feelings came from or to analyse what they meant, he was just glad that they suddenly came to him, reminding that there were still some soft and sensual layers in his soul left, lying somewhere deep beneath the everyday boredom.

Realising that Shereen has been looking at him all this time, Hulk asked.

"What?"

"You are here. You are here with me."

"Yes, I'm here. You've asked me to stay here."

"Yeah..." she mumbled vaguely as if she was still surprised, and they sat in silence again.

The time has stretched, became somehow flexible or just frozen completely. The park was hiding minutes, and the silence didn't seem heavy.

"And where is your home?" Hulk asked, "In Klendon-city?"

Shereen shook her head.

"I used to think it was there, but now I now it's just an apartment to me. Could I it call it "home"?"

"And what could you call "home"?"

"Home is not a set of concrete joists, walls, windows and carpets. If you take it all apart, break it down and put it back together again but in a different way, it won't be your home anymore. Home is a certain order of things in life, familiar and understandable. It's when you know every little detail in your bathroom, when you have your favourite coffee cup in the kitchen, when you know you can go to the corner shop in the morning and Chuck who'd known you for ages will greet you with a smile... Yes, home - is an order of things; and maybe a special state within you."

Hulk agreed with her. Home is not a building that you've got used to. There must be something else.

"And now I think that "home" is when someone you like, someone close to you is around and it doesn't really matter where you are as long as they are there for you. Otherwise, your apartment becomes just another concrete cell, where there is just sadness and emptiness."

For a second Hulk felt a strange tension inside. He knew he shouldn't ask but yet he did:

"Was that how you felt with Alex? Was it good with him no matter where you were?"

Shereen chuckled in the darkness; he rather felt her do it than saw it.

"No, I wanted it to be that way. But the two of us never became a "home".

"I'm sorry I told you about him."

"No, no, it's good that I'm no longer delusional about him. It's always painful when your illusions crash, but it's even more painful to live in a non- existing world that your mind created."

They fell silent again. Shereen took a sip and handed the bottle to Hulk, but he only shook his head.

"But I have to admit that the truth has emptied me. After all, any idea, even a bogus idea is good, because it takes you forward and brings some meaning into your life. And when this idea comes to an end, your inspiration comes to an end as well. It's especially painful when some other familiar things are missing in your life..."

"Things like what?"

Shereen smiled, and Hulk suddenly wanted to smile too.

"Like what? Like, shopping for example. I'm the owner of a shop and I love beautiful clothes. I miss fresh baking, I miss walking along the streets where it smells with waffles. I miss going to my favourite spa salons and I miss ice cream, a cup of coffee in the morning or watching the evening news. I miss my job." she laughed, "You wouldn't really think that I'm like that, would you? Now I only have a single pair of jeans and a couple of t-shirts, how can I think about beauty? And my shoes are falling apart. But most of all I miss the communication with people and having my friends around. I miss someone I could talk to and share my thoughts with; I am in a permanent state of loneliness. It's probably how everyone feels in Tally, but you always think about the "number one"

Hulk was looking up at the moon and listening to Shereen's voice. For a moment it seemed that they sat in the ordinary world, in the ordinary town - he and Shereen - and that everything is just getting started between them so tenderly, so beautifully and temptingly. She is laughing and he is listening. She is telling him something and he is just smiling back. Hulk even had to shake his head, to get rid of this infatuation, but it didn't particularly help. What's going on tonight? He suddenly wondered what would Shereen looked like in stylish, elegant clothes and smelling of an expensive perfume?

Lost in thoughts, he almost missed her question.

"What?"

"I'm asking why you didn't send Greg after me. Why did you come yourself?"

"Are you missing Greg?"

"Get out!" she almost shoved her elbow in his ribs but straight away felt embarrassed, "Look at that fish they've created!" Shereen pointed at the marble statue standing in the centre.

"Is that a fish?"

"Of course, it is! Look, it looks like this..." Shereen turned to him and pouted her lips, trying to make her face look like a statue, but instead Hulk was admiring her beautiful face lit with the moonlight," Do I look like the statue?"

"No."
"Why?"

"Because you're not as mossy and cracked."

"Well, thanks!"

Suddenly, Hulk heard footsteps behind him and turned around - a policeman was approaching them.

"Hide the bottle." Hulk ordered.

The plastic bag rustled as Shereen hid the bourbon in there.

A police officer rapidly approached the fountain.

"Hey, what's going on here? Why are you sitting on the fountain - you are breaking the rules!"

By the time he came closer, Hulk and Shereen got out of the basin and stood next to it. The bottle was safely hidden away.

"Show me your bracelets!" growled the man in the uniform, "You will get huge fines for being in the wrong place at night, and I personally will make sure that..."

Before he could finish the sentence, Hulk showed him a badge with a holographic seal. The policeman directed his torch at it and then the tone of his voice changed dramatically from rough to almost obsequious.

"Oh! Mr Conrad! I'm sorry; I could not recognise you in the dark."

"It's okay." Hulks said it calmly but frostily.

"I didn't mean to violate your privacy, you are free to do whatever you want, but I have to check this miss."

His torch shone in Shereen's face.

"No, you don't have to, Mr Grisyak." Hulk cut him off. He read the man's name on his badge, "I think we understand each other."

Shereen was amazed at the dramatic change of Hulk's demeanour and behaviour in just a few short seconds. A minute earlier he was just sitting on the edge of the fountain and smiling, and now he was looking arrogantly with a face like a cold and nasty mask. The policeman clearly knew that he shouldn't argue, but his work required being persistent and he hesitantly stammered:

"Please, understand me, I have to verify... your lady's identity and report to the office..."

"I think we are going resolve everything right now." Hulk interrupted him again, "Give me your bracelet."

The officer obediently stretched out his hand. As the bracelet made a beeping sound, his face bloomed.

"No problem, Mr Conrad. I wish you a pleasant evening and I haven't seen anyone with you."

Almost as quickly as he appeared, the officer plunged into one of the park's dark alleys. Hulk frowned. The romantic mood was lost; they had to get out of here.

"We have to go." he said and picked up the bag with the bourbon.

Shereen sighed and trudged behind him. She was sorry to lose that Hulk she saw earlier - almost a friend, but she had to face up to the truth - he was the owner of the ranch and she escaped from it without his permission. She mustn't test his patience any longer especially since he's already been so kind to her, agreeing to let the actual escape go. But yet...

A few minutes later the SUV's engine was already roaring, the speedometer was clocking up the miles, and Shereen almost immediately fell asleep in the passenger seat.

Hulk looked at her and the jammed bottle in her hand.

Yes, the police did spoil the romance of the evening, but the feelings that Hulk experienced in the park hid inside trying to avoid getting noticed or pushed away and now, sly and funny, they were watching Hulk from within.

He shook his head. Something around has subtly changed, but he could not quite grasp what it was. Everything seemed the same - the same scenery, same grass, and the same mountains on the horizon, but the air tasted more delicious, the feelings were more vivid, night calmer and the tiredness has gone completely.

This new perception didn't feel bad, quite the opposite - it felt calming and... right. Hulk shook his head once again. The world presents us with some weird things at times.

Three more days have passed since the night when we came back to the ranch together. The wagon of my life was back on track, and was now firmly in its place held by the four wheels. Most of the time I was busy doing the translation, sitting on the porch or helping Tabitha out and I've not had any meetings with Hulk in his office. Nowadays, he was often spending the evenings in the city - whether at the club, or some other place, and now, I could honestly admit that I was missing him. During the day if I was outside, I would carefully look out for his figure or throw glances at his office windows or the balcony, hoping to see him there, smoking a cigar, or enjoying some fresh air.

These days I felt like there was an invisible thread, connecting us. I began to feel Hulk through the distance and became particularly susceptible to his voice if I heard it somewhere close by. My heart was galloping every time he'd come within my sight. I wasn't sure what we've became to each other – friends? Good acquaintances? Something else? But one thing I knew for sure - I was attracted to him as a piece of metal to a magnet, like a boat tired of wallowing on the waves to a paradise island, where a shelter, warmth and peace could be found. Day by day this attraction was growing stronger and stronger, and I didn't really know what to do with it. Should I hide it? Should I show it? Trying not to get too deep into analysing, I decided to just let it be as it was unlikely that I could get rid of this feeling. But there was one question that bothered me more than anything - is Hulk feeling the same way? Did he pick up on the odd connection that happened after the night at the fountain? As if our receivers got tuned in to the same frequency? Nobody could answer this question except Hulk and I wasn't sure if I wanted to know the answer; or his reaction - good or bad - would this shake my inner world again.

I also noticed that those eight points I spent on bourbon, quietly and peacefully recovered themselves back to my bracelet, as if Hulk once again apologised for his involvement in the sharp drop of my mood. I nodded to myself, accepting his apology, and smiled. No matter how hard Hulk tried to pretend to be a monster to the others, for me he became the most caring person since my arrival to Tally and just a thought about him would give me butterflies in my stomach. If our relationship (whatever it was) suddenly froze at this very point without becoming any better or worse, I'd never complain, because I was very happy with just the friendship and with this thread that connected us now.

During those days I managed to accumulate a lot of new translated pages and I knew that another meeting with Hulk in his office was due very soon. I waited for it with bated breath, not rushing it, but enjoying the anticipation of seeing him again. What is he really like, deep inside? And what was making him so special, that I had a constant desire to curl up on his knees like a cat or press my cheek against his warm chest and sleep?

I didn't know it.

But I decided at my next trip to town I will definitely have to find a few things that I had not thought about before. Just in case.

However, the following day I forgot all about the sentimental thoughts as the harsh reality of Tally surrounded me again.

It happened on the next day at noon.

Returning from the quarry with an empty cart and barrel on it, I heard some heated yelling and someone's voices from afar. The guards gathered up about fifty meters away from me, close to the gate leading to the highway. Greg was shouting and gesturing angrily, hands and batons were flashing in the air, and there was someone lying on the ground. Not thinking of what I was doing, I left the cart on the dusty road and rushed to the group. Something terrible was going on.

They were beating up a man. From what I could see, looking at his wrinkled skin covered in dirt and blood, he wasn't young. His crumpled paper cap that the plantation workers were wearing following my innovation fell off his head and was lying nearby. The man was being kicked, beaten with the batons on his back and ribs and he wasn't even allowed to get up from the ground. Other field workers seemed scared but still were coming closer and gathering around the guards, trying to see what was going on. Greg was spitting so much that it was impossible to understand what he was saying. The man on the ground was writhing, moaning and making a hissing sound, as if his lungs have been pierced with something sharp. Blood was trickling down from his broken nose and lips, he was pressing his hands to his chest, trying to protect the stomach from the blows, but it wasn't helping; his limbs would twitch every time the shoes of angry guards smashed into his bare chest, back or head.

I didn't remember all the details, only a feeling of an utter terror and coldness that went over me like a sheet of ice, despite the forty-degree heat. I also remember a feeling of helplessness, powerlessness and a desperate wrath as well as the guard's hateful faces, the eyes of some women full of panic and grief, the old man making a sign of a cross, clenched fists of men and saliva flying out of Greg's mouth.

"What are you doing?!" not recognising my own voice, I yelled, "You'll kill him!!!"

I rushed forward, but someone standing nearby, grabbed my hand.

"Don't! Don't go there!"

-"Where are you..."

"Stop!"

Not noticing any voices and fingers, holding me back, I leapt forward with so much power, that my T-shirt ripped.

"Leave him alone, you brutes!"

I broke through the crowd, jumped to the guard, who at this moment was raising his hand, intending to hit an almost lifeless man. I grabbed his baton and tried to snatch it out of his hand.

"Don't you dare beat him!" I grabbed the baton with one hand and with another I kept hitting him on his back.

The guard turned around and roared at me. Before I could hit him again, someone roughly shoved me aside.

"Get the fuck away from here!"

A second later I found myself sitting in the dust, shook my head, trying to recover after a blow in the ribs, and not paying any attention to the pain, I lashed out at the guards again.

"Leave him alone!" I gasped; my lungs were wheezing as if they were full of sand.

"I'll leave you alone now!" a familiar gruff voice roared directly in my ear, and someone' spun me around. The last thing I saw was Greg's distorted face and his fist dashing straight towards me. Then the right side of my head exploded with pain, and the world collapsed.

After a while I felt someone shaking my shoulder.

"Get up, dear, get up... Are you alive? Don't lie on the ground. Are you here? Oh, silly you... why did you have to get involved?" The voices were fading away, vision was blurry and my eyes didn't want to open. Eventually, scratching my palms against some small sharp rocks on the road and with someone's help, I was able to take a sitting position. My head was throbbing, cheek was pulsating like a bomb, and the world was slowly spinning around. Probably, no more than a minute or two had passed since the moment when Greg hit me, during which time I was lying unconscious in the dust, until someone pulled me to the side.

The man was not getting beaten anymore, but the guards were still standing around him, like some hound dogs that had just strangled their prey. Their victim was no longer moaning or moving - not a human being, but a solid lump of sand, mud and blood.

Greg wiped the sweat from his face, attached the baton to his belt and continued to broadcast to the crowd.

"...and it will happen with anyone else who tries to escape from the ranch or make one step from the gate! Is that clear? Does anyone else want to try?"

The crowd was murmuring and wailing, wrapped in a cloud of terror. Someone was crying.

Greg spat on the sand, barked at the guard to take the beaten man to the infirmary and ordered the crowd to disperse.

"Get out of here! Now!"

Someone helped me to get up from the ground, and I staggered along the road towards the mansion. I couldn't remember properly how I got back to my little room or how I fell into my bed. I closed my eyes trying not to think, feel or remember anything. I didn't want to think about the man lying on the ground or the sounds a baton emits when it crashes someone's bones, I didn't want to remember about this ranch or this city or about anything bad that happens outside this room.

Will there ever be anything good in life? Or will the rest of my life always be a mix of awful events and even worse situations? I rolled on my side, pressed my fingers to my swollen cheek and started to cry.

Hulk came back late in the evening.

I heard his jeep driving into the garage and the front door opening, letting the car inside. Despite the fact that my cheek a few hours later seemed to hurt even more, I was waiting for this moment. As soon as everything quietened down in the yard, I left my room and went to the stairs leading up to the second floor. When I reached the office door I halted for a few second, listening to the voices coming from the inside, but there wasn't any. Then I knocked.

When Hulk opened the door, I, without saying a word or asking for an invitation, walked straight in. When the light fell on my face, Hulk slowly, keeping his eyes fixed on my cheek, closed the door and walked towards me.

For a few seconds he just stood in front of me, looking at my swollen face – his grey eyes twinkling with suppressed rage, his lips were pressed into a thin line, the square corners of his jaw with all the muscles tensed up were now particularly standing out. Even his neck started to look like an interlacing of ropes.

"Greg?" was the only word he said.

"Yes." I said calmly, "But I deserved it, so don't worry."

"Deserved it?" Hulk asked steadily, but it felt like some frost appeared in the corners of the room.

"I lashed out at the guards."

"Why?"

"I was trying to stop them."

"To stop them from what?" Hulk's nostrils were faintly quivering, indicating the tremendous amount of effort he needed to remain unemotional. Something was telling me that Hulk was one step away from tearing everything apart with his bare hands.

"I was trying to stop them from beating up a man."

"What are you talking about?"

"Hasn't Greg reported it yet?" I pretended to be surprised, "the man they were beating up with five batons; the one that was lying on the ground and choking on blood and sand."

Hulk froze. The atmosphere in the room became very uncomfortable. The tension turned into a dangerous mixture that was ready to explode with a carelessly thrown word.

The silence was pressing on my ears and nerves, whipping up my irritation even more.

"And you?" I barely stopped myself from poking my finger in Hulk's chest.

"What about me?"

"You weren't there! You weren't there to stop it!" I spat the words in his face, "Why was that? Where were you?"

"I don't have to justify myself to you." now there was ice in the depth of his grey eyes.

"Maybe you sanctioned all this? Do you benefit from it? Or you just enjoy it? Tell me!" I knew I was crossing the line, but the wrath that's been bubbling inside for the past few hours, was now spilling out, whether I wanted it or not.

"Why was he attacked by so many guards, while he could just be punished with points? Was it really necessary.... like that?"

"There are certain rules on this ranch!"

"Were they set by you? By YOU?" I was now yelling.

Hulk gnashed with his teeth and pointed at the door.

"Go away."

"Go away? Is it that simple? Is everything in your life that simple?"

"I said – go away."

"You are... a monster!" I exploded, feeling the tears pouring down my cheeks, "You have not done anything to prevent it! You have done nothing to help him!..."

"Get out!!!" roared Hulk.

I shuddered, wiped my wet cheeks and walked to the door with my back stiffed.

"He died, you know? He died..."

When the office door closed, Hulk clenched his fists. After standing motionless for a few seconds, he forced himself to relax, came to the wall, leaned on it with his hand and closed his eyes. His whole body was aching from the tension and the silence after all the shouting was devastating. He was the only one who knew what was really going on at the ranch and he must keep it in secret by all means, even if it costs him everything. Even her.

Hulk walked over to the bar and poured a glass of whiskey. After he drank it in one gulp, he filled it up again and only then allowed himself to sink into a chair.

As he lit up his cigar, his hands were trembling.

She knew there may never be a better moment for this than now.

Yesterday, Greg finally brought the key; bastard - he was dragging it out for so long! Jenny would still be upset, if it wasn't for all the events that suddenly joined together into one picture - the picture she really wanted to see. Oh, no! Now she was no longer getting upset - she was thrilled. For the first time in a long time Jenny was truly happy.

How cool that yesterday Shereen got right in the middle of the scuffle with the guards! It wasn't just good timing - it was perfect! Now, when she was so upset and angry with Hulk and his people, everyone will believe that she is guilty, without even trying to get down to the bottom of the truth. Jenny was certain about that. The situation will be interpreted as blazing, hard and fast revenge - Shereen's revenge for the unjust rules at the ranch and for being punched by Greg.

Jenny smiled wryly.

Who cares about these pathetic dregs of society? They all deserve to be here; they all deserve to be punished with hard labour and beatings! Why was there any need at all to stand up for one of them? Jenny seriously doubted that people could act out of so-called noble impulses. Everyone knows - it's a cruel world where everyone tries to do the best they can, and only those who are aggressive enough to snap up the biggest piece of pie could survive.

Now it was time for Jenny's great, poisonous and thought through revenge. Oh, yes! The anticipation has lasted for far too long, but it was well worth it. When she is finished with Shereen, Jenny will live in the mansion - it's all been set up for a while now.

Sitting on the steps, beside the barracks and squinting from the bright morning sun, Jenny was scrolling through every detail of her cunning plan again and again.

The arson must happen tonight; she couldn't wait any longer and had to execute her plot quickly and according to the circumstances. So, come midnight the warehouse with everything that's been harvested for the past month, will be set on fire. It is a pity that the barrels with berries will get demolished too - her neighbours put so much effort into picking them, but there is nothing can be done to save them since the berry yield is kept under the same roof. So, when the wooden barn goes up in flames, the fire will spread onto the women's barracks, which are located close by - Jenny was pretty sure that women will have enough time to evacuate the buildings. Jenny has to make sure that she is not the one who smells the smoke first, it must be someone else - here she will have to rely on her luck. But it wasn't that important.

What was the most essential thing was to bring an empty gas canister to Shereen's room and remain unnoticed. And before that Jenny must steal some of the clothes that the bitch wears all the time and damage it in the fire. The burnt clothes will become that strong evidence when it comes to finding the offender.

It wasn't too much of a problem to steal a t-shirt - that could be done tomorrow afternoon when Shereen is out to do her business at the quarry and later on Jenny will lure her out of the room under the false pretences that too have been carefully planned. It would even better if the guards discovered some other Shereen's belongings somewhere by the burnt warehouse and think to themselves - what could that be?

Jenny frowned, pondering. There wasn't much time left and there was still so much to think about... Meanwhile the sun was climbing higher and higher up in the sky and it was time to go to work - everyone else was already doing their job at the berry plantation.

Jenny reluctantly got up from the steps, feeling the sweat rolling down her back and picked up the gloves, which Shereen bought for all the women some time ago so that they don't scratch their hands on the thorny bushes. Well, well, this puritan thought about every bloody worker at the ranch. But it's OK. Soon everything will change. Very soon.

The time till noon was passing slowly, it was hot and stuffy, but Jenny was not complaining - she was picking the loathsome berries, not listening to what the others were chatting about. Her thoughts were constantly shifting from one subject to another, but the general idea was the same - today's arson. The canister with petrol, which she had stolen from the garage the other night, was securely resting in between the thick corn stalks. That part of the field won't be harvested any time soon as the cobs were still unripe and there was no risk that it would be discovered. Jenny pinched a lighter from Greg a long time ago which was now lying in her pocket, just in case. She couldn't leave it in the barracks - there was a chance that the women would notice and remember it which could potentially serve as evidence against Jenny.

She must also be very careful with the petrol so that her clothes don't soak up the its smell, but even then, it's highly unlikely that nobody would pick up on it when it all kicks off. Jenny is only going to slip outside for a minute to have a pee and when she comes back the warehouse will be on fire. All her neighbours usually sleep soundly and nobody wakes up when someone goes out to the toilet - she made sure of it enough times. Even though there was still some risk (you could never avoid the risk completely in this sort of game) Jenny didn't worry too much.

A pesky fly buzzed past her ear, Jenny angrily frowned and waved her hand – she was so fed up of hanging around in this sun, this heat, from this boredom, earning these miserable points, which might bring her the desired freedom no sooner than a couple of hundred years. She was really missing those days when she was working at the "Polo" earning a lot more, having fun here and there, relaxing with the owner, and returning back in a small, but still her own apartment in the evenings. And Robert was such a nice chap... Yes, almost boy like sometimes, but still lovely. Jenny missed feeding him.

Then Shereen came and ruined everything. Because of HER everything got turned upside down and Jenny ended up at this rotten ranch, living with these women, doing this hellish work with no light at the end of the tunnel! Why was Shereen allocated a separate room, whereas Jenny was placed in the barracks? Why is it that Shereen sees the handsome Hulk every day whereas it was always Jenny's dream to hook up with one of the rich owners and have a luxury life in Tally? Why wasn't Shereen slaving over these miserable bushes, and instead pretending to be a heroine-saviour of all the poor and disadvantaged? Why wasn't she sleeping in the creaky drafty barracks, squeezed like a sheep into a herd and not able to find a moment for a rest?

Jenny clenched her fists, almost shaking with anger. But today Shereen will pay for everything and pay dearly - her room and her possessions will be taken away. It will even be better if Hulk gives her at the mercy of Greg - he wants to have fun with her so much!

But the most important thing is that when the barracks will start burning - all the inmates will have to be moved somewhere else. And Jenny guessed that the new location would be Hulk's house. Of course, where else? There weren't any other unoccupied buildings around. They will have to wait until the new barracks is built or the old one is repaired, but that would take at least a week or two – and when once she is settled in at the mansion, she will find a way to stay there – she's already made a few friends with some maids and dish washers. If one of them would just mention a word to Hulk about Jenny - she could join the ranks of the working staff and eventually she'd find the way to improve her relationship with the owner.

She licked her lips thinking about it. He is a nice looking guy - this Hulk - healthy, strong and proud. No, not proud, but dignified; Jenny really liked that quality. If she showed up with a partner like that, the others would die of envy.

But first thing's first - Shereen must be moved out of the way. She wrecks everything. She's always done that.

Keeping her eye on the sun, Jenny's mind delved again into the details of what would once and forever change the status quo.

The noon has come.

Jenny's nerves already thinned and were strained to the limit - it was time to act and every minute was precious. She made an appearance in the dining room, spent some time there in order not to arouse any suspicion by her unexplained absence, and as soon as she'd finished with a piece of bread and a couple of spoons of some obscure soup, she slipped out into the hallway and then out in the street.

Jenny crept down the alley to the house and hid behind a bush near the wall. The kitchen was easily visible from here - Shereen was standing on the footpath, waiting for Tabitha to put both barrels on the cart. This couldn't be a better time! Jenny thought that Lady Luck was very being friendly to her today.

As soon as the barrels were placed on the cart, Shereen began pulling it towards the road leading up to the hill and to the quarry then Tabitha disappeared in the kitchen. Jenny took a deep breath, emerged from behind the bush, sneaked into one of the side entrances of the house and slipped into the cool shadow of the corridor.

Now she had to pray that nobody saw her inside the mansion. Clenching the precious key with her sweaty fingers, Jenny quickly and quietly cruised through the twists and turns of the first floor. And there it was! Her final destination!

She stood in front of Shereen's door, listening - no voices, no footsteps, nothing. Yes, her hands were shaking and sweat was pouring down her back, yet her heart was pumping loudly and excitedly. Finally! She's been waiting for this moment for so very long!

Jenny turned the key inside the lock, worrying about how well it would fit, and breathed out with relief as she heard a click followed by the creak of the opening door. It worked! She immediately walked in, locked the door behind her and frantically looked around - a table, bed and a single wardrobe. Well... not a very luxurious interior and not really what'd she expected to see, but still it was better than in the barracks.

Now it was time to act fast again.

Spotting the details just with a corner of her eye, Jenny began rummaging through the wardrobe, trying to find something that Shereen wore most often. This exact thing must become the evidence, tainted by fire, and Jenny would get the most amount of pleasure from spoiling it.

She smiled contentedly, inhaled the air and then frowned as she got a whiff of Shereen's perfume.

Jenny hated her as much as she hated all these clever books piled on the table, where she couldn't understand a single word, those pencils and even a table lamp. There was nothing under the bed or in the corners - how primitive and poor - but the porch was quite nice. Jenny was already picturing herself sitting there in the evenings after this room becomes hers. Her fingers were disdainfully feeling the clothes lying on the shelf. There were a few pairs of knickers, spare socks and a couple of shirts, but not the ones Jenny saw Shereen wear on a daily basis. Jenny was getting annoyed - where was the clothing she wanted?

Some bath products, soap, shampoo, towel, toothbrush were on the upper shelf. How cute! But that wasn't what she had to find. Jenny looked down to see what was on the bottom shelf (it was dark in the room, but turning the light on was far too risky), and rejoiced. Finally! There it is! The dirty blue T-shirt that Shereen wore almost every day! Nothing would do better than this. Ask anyone to describe Shereen and they would certainly mention this very shirt as an essential attribute of her appearance. Great!

Jenny folded the T-shirt as tightly as she could and tucked it behind her skirt's belt. That was it. Now she can get out of here, although she would've liked to explore the room more meticulously, it was too dangerous to stay here any longer.

Ready to go, Jenny glanced at the table and just about managed to fight off the strong desire to wreck the ancient books, which were so highly valued by Hulk, but nobody would believe that Shereen damaged them \- everyone knew that she cherished these fossils more than the owner which meant Jenny must leave them alone. But what about her translations? Shereen would never spoil her own work either - it would look ludicrous. Jenny sighed in frustration - it seemed like she had to stop here. The main damage will be caused later on today, so she reluctantly swallowed the poisonous bile, which was eating her up inside.

That's it. Time to leave.

As Jenny turned to the door, her eyes stumbled upon the pillow - acting by instinct rather than expecting to find something specific, she went to the bed and lifted the edge of the pillow. Something was hidden underneath - Jenny lifted the pillow higher and saw a bag with a neck tied by a piece of rope. She threw the pillow off the bed.

What was it that Shereen kept under her pillow? Was it something valuable? It must be something valuable if it was kept there. And Jenny will take it, even if there was a pile of manure - just out of principle \- because no one would keep any rubbish under their pillow, but rather something important to the heart. And who cares what it is?

Jenny eagerly grabbed the bag - it was pretty heavy, and jingling in a strange way. She untied the rope, stuck her fingers inside and took out something round. What is this? Thrusting her hand deeper inside, Jenny pulled out lots of similarly shaped but differently coloured roundels and placed them on her palm. They were sparkling faintly in the dimly lit room. Not believing her own eyes, Jenny approached the window to have a closer look.

Unbelievable! Gems! Roundels were precious stones - a whole bunch of gems!

Jenny almost choked with surprise, anger and joy. How and where did this bitch get these precious things? What if they cost a fortune? How many of them were there in total?... Dozens, hundreds? White, green, red and blue .... Any colour you want!

Her plump lips stretched into a mad grin - it was just incredible to find these gems in Shereen's room! This was huge luck to find them not just in this room, but at this mansion and this ranch! There couldn't be that many places in the whole of Tally where you would find stones like these. Jenny happily laughed and then immediately covered her mouth with her hand. She sheepishly looked around and listened out for any voices. She must calm down! Jenny reluctantly put the gems back in the bag, wrapped them into the blue t-shirt and tucked everything back behind her skirt's belt.

That was really it for now. She is gonna come back here later after she's sorted out other things. A lot of stuff still needed to be taken care of, but, yes, Jenny was smiling - everything was going smoothly, according to her plans, and since the discovery of the pouch in Shereen's room – it all became utterly perfect! If she could sell these stones at a good price, then maybe this was her chance to get out of Tally right away? And if not - there is a possibility to improve her life considerably. She is such a genius for plotting all this and subsequently finding this gift!

Jenny mentally praised herself for checking underneath the pillow and slipped out of the room. Everything was going great! Now it was time to find Conchita.

Conchita was the girl who was in charge of cleaning the first two floors of the mansion and the cellar. They became friends during their daily lunches and dinners in the dining room. A shallow, pale and dull Conchita didn't have many friends amongst the staff, for the most part because she was never particularly clever or bright, however she was doing her work well and Hulk decided to keep her where she would be most suited - with the detergents, cleaning products, rags, brushes and powders.

When Jenny spotted the girl out of the staff dining alone, she immediately decided to take a closer look at her and see if their friendship could play into her hands one way or another. As it turned out - it was a great decision. Jenny never liked missing the chances presented to her by life - it didn't give out the good ones very often, and this girl was really great to get acquainted with, because she had one weak spot she told Jenny about the few days after they'd met.

Conchita secretly was secretly mooning after one of the guards, but she'd never dare to admit that to him, however with a bit of help from Jenny who kept in touch with Greg, Conchita got the chance to stay in tune with the latest events about her beloved's life, even though it was not particularly interesting. Yet when she and her friend would meet up in the dining room, Conchita was thrilled to hear something new about him.

Jenny was happy to buzz about everyday life in the men's barracks, managing to get new information from Greg and even though she quite frankly wasn't that enthusiastic about the friendship with the clingy maid at first, now she was very happy that they got acquainted, because today Conchita will help her to realise her plans.

Jenny turned into a narrow corridor, carefully avoiding the main hall (bumping into someone would now be too risky), snuck in the back room - a small larder where soap-powder and mops were stored, and where, as far as she Jenny knew, Conchita would visit after she'd finish cleaning.

She sincerely hoped that she wouldn't have to wait for too long, but everything turned out even better. The maid was already in there! She was rummaging through some brushes, cloths and bottles and putting them into a basket. When Conchita heard the steps, she turned around and a stupid smile that Jenny hated appeared on her face.

"Jenny, sweetie, what are you doing here?"

Nothing made Jenny grimace as badly as when someone she knew called her "cutie" names. She looked around, squeezed into the room and closed the door.

"Hi, matey. We need to talk."

Conchita looked intrigued by the conspiracy.

"Why are closing the door? Its lunch time, you are allowed to come here and talk to me."

"Sh-h-h-h!" Jenny pressed her index finger against her lips, "Nobody must know that I'm here, OK?"

"OK." The maid was still smiling.

"I need your help. Do you understand? But it's a secret."

Her friend frowned.

"A secret?"

"Yes, if you help me out with something, I'll help you in return."

"Really? But how can you help me?"

"If you do what I ask, I'll ask your... "Jenny halted, trying to remember the name of the guard Conchita liked, " ...your Ben to come and see you."

"He'd come and see me?" The maid dropped the basket and covered her mouth with her palms, "he'd really do that?"

"Hey, be quiet!"

The sound of bottles rolling on the floor could attract the attention of people passing along the corridor and Jenny didn't want that.

"Yes!" She hissed irritated, "I promise, he'll come. I've already spoken with Greg and he said Ben likes you."

The lies were easily slipping from her tongue, as if smeared in oil, but Jenny didn't care - it was vital to get Conchita's full attention and make sure that she was burning, no, raging with desire to do what Jenny needed her to do. If she has to fib that some lame guard is captivated by such a plain girl, like Conchita, so be it. Moreover, if Conchita will do her job well, Jenny would even talk to Greg about this Ben for real. Well, maybe.

But in order to have a chat with Greg, she'd have to sleep with him first, and that was worse than a tooth ache. Well, no! Thank you. She'll let this foolish girl believe in something that will never happen. Jenny will find a way to deal with the consequences later.

"So what should I do? Tell me! I'll do anything, I promise!"

Conchita made a sign of the cross on her skinny chest, draped in dark blue apron, waiting for Jenny to continue with the instructions.

Jenny smiled contentedly. That's better. Now it was time to get to business. She took a deep breath, leaned over and whispered into Conchita's ear:

"It's about the warehouse where Tabitha stores the food. Do you know it?"

"Yep!"

"You must do something there..."

And she began whispering the details of her cunning plan to the nodding maid.

Alright. The T-shirt is spoiled with stains.

As the sun started going down behind the horizon, Jenny set up a small fire behind the barracks and held the T-shirt above it, turning it from side to side - now the garment looked burnt in some places and stank of the smoke. Perfect! It will be returned to Shereen's room along with the empty petrol canister. As soon as the first task was accomplished, Jenny trampled the fire down, so nobody would notice the smoke.

It was now time to wait for Shereen to leave her room to help Tabitha to sort out things in the warehouse that will become a total mess pretty soon. Jenny couldn't resist a giggle, enjoying the image of all the kitchen stuff thrown across the floor. She deserved it - this fat ass who thinks so much of herself. The Queen of the Kitchen, yeah...

Jenny snorted and got back to thinking. If this black woman will stay at the warehouse all the time, then she could confirm that Shereen didn't go away and therefore couldn't commit the arson. But would Hulk believe her? Everyone knows that Tabitha will try to cover up for her friend whatever happens, so would her words matter then? No, they wouldn't. Not after the unchallengeable evidences are be found, and they will be found - she was one hundred per cent sure of it. Jenny frowned, but forced herself to relax. Yes, there were some gaps in her plan, but everything will work out just fine. One way or another - it will work out just as she's planned.

She glanced at the sky - not long to go now. The berry pickers were still working by the bushes, and nobody noticed that she'd left early; dense thickets easily hide any human figure, especially if you pretend you are squatting.

Now it was important not to miss the moment when Shereen walks to the warehouse, which was a separate building, located near the kitchen entrance at the back of the house, and in order not to miss her, Jenny had to make a move back to the mansion.

As she reached the corner of the barracks, Jenny looked around. Not a single person was visible at this moment and only cicadas were chirping in the dry grass. A hot breeze fluttered her hair, which was glued into matted locks on the back of her head from the constant sweating, her skin cooled down a bit.

Moving towards the house, Jenny saw Greg, standing in the distance on the edge of the field, as well as several other guards.

He was already aware of what was going to happen. When the warehouse is caught on fire, the senior ward will notice it at the right moment and will prevent the barn from burning to the ground. This deed will bring him praise from Hulk, and after Greg discovers who the arsonist is, he will go straight into Hulk's good books. Wasn't that his sweetest dream? This way everybody will get what they deserve - Jenny will get a new room, Greg will get a promotion, Conchita will get hope and Shereen will get a painful kick and punishment. So is Jenny a virtue? She can do good things even better than others and it's not long until the others will see it too.

Jenny narrowed her eyes, looking at the sun. Dinner time will come soon. She must hurry up. Time is money. Well, not money but points in her case; and points were what she was needs to get out of Tally.

This day didn't start off very well.

I did some translating in the morning but gave up on this task by the noon; my mind refused to accept the outlandish foreign words and my thoughts kept coming back to yesterday's quarrel with Hulk and clash with the guards by the field. My mood was ruined, I felt tired and broken, but my duties were still there, therefore, at lunchtime I had to push the cart with food to the quarry. It was desperately hot and dry, and it seemed that the air would start crackling soon from how little moisture there was in it, if there was any at all.

After the stone-pit I couldn't get my head around the translation - even with the doors wide open it was very stuffy in the room, and I couldn't find anything better to do than to go and hide in the shade of a small kitchen where an old air con unit was still managing to blow out some cold air.

Tabitha, with a helping hand of a few other dish washing kitchen maids, was engaged into scrubbing of some aluminium pots and tanks, which were left dirty after the lunch and were now lying in the steel sinks looking more like bathtubs. Now and then she was coming into the small room where I was rather reluctantly eating my lunch.

"You seem a bit out of sorts today." She said as she walked in to change her wet apron.

I didn't reply.

"I heard about yesterday and what can I say? It's all written on your face." The black lady shook her head, looking at my cheek with sadness.

"Uhuh. I also got in a row with Hulk."

"Really?"

"Yep. I had a go at him about everything."

Tabitha looked at me with a strange expression in her eyes.

"Did it help?" She put an apron aside and began pouring tea.

"No, not really. It made me feel even worse."

"Yes, it's not easy to be here." Tabitha nodded again went deep into her thoughts for some time. Then, as if she'd just remembered something added, "It's very hot today... Like hell. Something could catch on fire easily if it doesn't start raining soon."

"Yes, it could happen." I replied dully, thinking about what I will do after lunch. My headache was already on its way and my temples were pulsing either from the heat or from Greg's yesterday's hook. And Tabitha was right - today was unbelievably hot.

"I'll go and get some rest, I don't feel very well."

I rubbed my face carefully, trying not to touch my swollen cheek.

"Your head?"

"Yes."

"No wonder."

Tabitha, quietly cursing Greg, began rummaging through the drawer.

"Here it is. Take it. Then you don't need to go to infirmary, there is nothing you can get out of that old bugger."

I thanked her for the pill, put it in my mouth, and took a sip of water out of the tap.

"Get some rest. There is nothing important to do today. And you must stay in bed as long as possible."

"That would be good."

"Now get out of here. I'll wash the dishes and finish off here."

I obediently got up from the chair and walked out of the kitchen, thinking if there was anyone in this world, who could sleep in forty degrees? And can I become the first one if I try hard enough? I had no choice but to give it a go - my head was thumping by now. I could only hope for Tabitha's pill to have a sedative effect, and that nobody will disturb me in the next few hours, because I was literally falling off my feet.

When I got back to my room, I didn't bother undressing, fell straight onto the bed, closed my eyes and immediately switched off. I didn't know how long I was asleep for, but when I woke up, the room looked stripy because of the sunset beams. My headache has subsided slightly and the air got a little cooler. With my eyes closed, I just laid there, listening to the street sounds coming through the open door \- some distant voices, clattering of the dishes from the kitchen and barely audible rustling of the foliage. As I was looking at the cracked ceiling coloured in golden shades by the lowering sun, my thoughts were flowing languidly and vaguely.

Should I attempt getting back to the translation today or should I let myself rest for a little more and read that book that I got from last trip to Tally? My eyes lazily slipped from one crack on the ceiling to another.

It also wouldn't hurt to find time to take a shower and wash some of my clothes. I stretched my arms and closed my eyes it was lovely to sleep for another couple of hours. Perhaps I should consider practicing it more often? Then I rolled to the side and pushed my pillow in order to give it a comfortable shape for my sensitive cheek. The table with an open notebook and the dictionary, laying on it came within my sight - should I get back to it or not?

I couldn't really get focused: something was disturbing my thoughts and a quiet alarm was ringing in my mind. What's wrong? Was there anything wrong at all? I frowned and laid down motionless for a few seconds. Where am I getting the feeling that something is wrong?

A second later I understood exactly why I felt this way - my fingers couldn't feel anything under the pillow. All this time there was a bag with gems given to me by quarry workers, I got use to feeling them with my fingers even while sleeping and now that space was empty. The bag with the gems was gone.

I frantically fumbled back and forth with my hand, hoping that I just pushed them aside and hadn't noticed it., but only a cool cotton fabric was touching the skin; nothing. I quickly got up and threw a pillow against the wall. Yes. Empty. My heart was racing.

How could it disappear? Did I move it recently and forgot about it? Could I be such a goof? My mind didn't provide me with any memories of moving the bag, and my logic was telling me that I had no reason to do so. The gems were always kept under my pillow since the day I brought them into the room and they'd never been moved anywhere else, because these were my only treasure and I liked keeping them close to me.

Stunned, I once again checked in the place where the bag was hidden, but now there was only a smooth surface of the bed sheet. What the hell is going on today! I sighed heavily. Nothing was right. How could they have disappeared if I was the only person living in this room? So it must have been me somehow. Feeling rather lousy, I tried to stop my eyes from welling up - it wasn't about the actual value of those stones, but about a different kind of importance to me - it was a gift. And something that really was mine.

I put my feet on the floor and halted once again trying to recall if I ever moved the bag, but nothing came to mind. Damn it. I must check under the bed - yes, I must have definitely pushed the bag off while sleeping and it's now on the floor. It's that simple. Where else could it be?

But before I could bend my knees, someone knocked on the door and I got up and walked to the door. There was one of the kitchen girls standing there.

"Tabitha wants you." she said, "It's urgent."

I was surprised. Tabitha would never send anyone after me.

"What's happened?"

"Dunno." The girl hesitated and shifted from one foot to another, "But she is raging and fuming."

Tabitha?! She never even looked even nervous, maybe a bit grumpy sometimes, but that was it, and this woman is saying that Tabitha is raging and fuming? The worry about the gems has disappeared in a moment - there will be another chance to look for them later - hastily I put my old trainers on, shut the door, locked it and ran to the kitchen.

Tabitha really appeared to be out of sorts. Her dark face was shiny from the sweat, and her forehand was furrowed with wrinkles.

"How did this happen for Lord's sake? At the warehouse - I went there to get some bread and everything is all over the floor! Everything is sinking and floating in the water!" She wailed, upset, "I can't even get out of here, I must cook dinner and everything will get ruined there! It all will be wasted!"

"Don't stress! I'll run there and clean up the mess."

"I can't even ask anyone to help you..."

"That's alright. I'll fix it myself, you just do what you have to do here."

"How? How could this have happened?" Tabitha angrily waved the ladle, "Everything was fine at noon, I saw it! And now..."

She handed me the key to the warehouse.

"Please do something! Anything you can - at least get the bags with grains out of the water, it will get dump otherwise..."

"I'll do that. You just cook and do not worry."

I grabbed the key and rushed headlong out of the kitchen.

There was an absolute nightmare in the warehouse.

As soon as I opened the door, water gushed to my feet – Tabitha was right – the floor was completely flooded. Did the pipes burst? But why then all the products are scattered all over the place? Bread, cheese, grains - were all floating on the floor. Soaked paper packaging, tin cans, piles of swollen up salt and sugar boxes, darkened by the moisture, bags with flour were piled in the corner.

Oh my God! How could everything get like that?

I threw off my shoes by the door and padded into the room with bare feet. My jeans immediately soaked up water, and I rolled them up to my knees. If the pipes have burst, they need to be repaired as soon as possible; otherwise the water level will just go up higher and higher. The light was very dim and in order to see more, I had to turn on some more lights. Now it became clear how enormous the size of the disaster was. All the goods have been damaged not only by water, but they were obviously disturbed by someone else. It became apparent, as soon as I looked at the torn edge of the plastic and paper wrappings. Someone was really persistent in trying to make Tabitha's warehouse suffer the greatest damage. But why? And who did this?

I didn't understand anything. My mind was confused, the facts that my eyes were seeing, didn't not fit into any picture and my logic refused to come to any conclusions. Did Tabitha have enemies? As far as I knew she has never been at loggerheads with anyone. Then why would someone deliberately harass her? Especially in this way...

Realising that the dozens of questions spinning in my head, will not be answered in the next five minutes, I began to plan my action:

A. Inspect the tube and find the damage.

B. If so, find someone who could fix it.

C. Go and report the incident to Hulk if he is in his office.

D. But if I'm away for too long, even more damage will be caused by the water.

Thus, points C and D were automatically reversed. First I had to save everything I can still save and only then report to Hulk that someone had intentionally ambushed the warehouse. What will he do after that? Will everybody be punished if the one who caused it is not found?

Groaning from the strain, I quickly began picking everything out of the water and putting it on the tables, slowly making my way towards the pipes which I assumed were located under the sinks in the far corner. Long metal table surfaces' were covered with everything that previously was on shelves above them: rice, buckwheat, dried corn and God knows what else...

As I got closer to the sinks, I got down on my knees (I didn't care about my jeans anymore, they'll dry later) and began inspecting the pipes. Five minutes later, the conclusion was obvious - they were in perfect condition. Hence, the flooding was caused by someone intentionally.

What the f...?

I groaned and straightened my stiff back. Someone (or all of us) will be punished for this. Damn it!

Gritting my teeth with rage, I quickly looked around the room. No matter who that bastard was that destroyed everything in here, the priority is to deal with the mess. The most important stuff for Tabitha was the food and, hence, my primary task was to remove it from the water. Only after everything is cleaned and dried, I can go and talk to Hulk, so he can start looking for the culprit.

Once again, I looked around and almost groaned – this will take hours! I'll be stuck here sorting out this mess until dusk and beyond. What a goddamn day!

If only I knew how right I was.

After I was finished cleaning and sorting things out, I opened the entrance door - it was dark outside.

As soon as the sun reaches the edge of the mountains, the darkness seems to throw a velvet cover over the valley below, exposing the sole eye of the moon, shining from the black sky, covered with a scattering of stars.

The light in the room was already off, and now I was trying to find my shoes that I left on the porch. Here is one... but where is the other one? I put the first one on and began looking around trying to find where the other one had gone. They were here on the porch before, but now one of the trainers was missing. It was not on the porch or in the grass nearby, it wasn't under the porch either, I bent down and looked under there, except that I did not poke my hand into the darkness - too scary.

Swearing my head off I got up and walked to the house, pressing my bare heel against the grass. That was it. Enough of this crap for one day. I'll come back and look for the second shoe tomorrow and if I don't find it, I'll go to Tally and buy a new pair. I'm fed up!

Almost spluttering from the irritation and fatigue, I passed by the kitchen. The light was already off and the washed pots were indistinctly glimmering in the moonlight.

I missed dinner but Tabitha, who'd apparently already gone to bed, probably left something in the fridge for me. I didn't feel hungry though. What I really wanted was to take a shower and go to bed, but I have to forget about it - the first thing I had to do was to go to Hulk and tell him about everything that's happened. The sooner I do it, the better.

I looked at my bare feet and swore again. Should I go and see him like this? Do I have any other option? Complete barefoot, maybe? I looked like a total tramp - my t-shirt was dirty, my jeans were wet and one shoe was missing, and I to top it off I was really sweaty. And what the hell happened to the shoe?

Loud voices and tramping of feet were heard from the yard. The voices belonged to the guards. They were either running somewhere or after someone. What other idiotic duties did they have? Now I didn't care, they could shout all night long and I could not give a damn.

The hubbub quietened down a little, when I went into the house and slipped into the dark corridors. Here was the familiar door of my little room - once again I regretted that I couldn't just go in and fall asleep, I had to talk to Hulk first. Only after that I could allow myself to watch some sweet dreams and enjoy every minute of the well-deserved rest, which clearly was not gonna happen today, judging by how loud the men's voices were roaring in the yard. Why are they all so enraged? Did they get tired from drinking beer and watching football?

I inserted the key into the lock and pushed the door. Before I went inside, a heavy smell of petrol hit me in the face. What the hell...? Why would my room smell of petrol? It didn't when I left it earlier today...

My heart starting beating franticly and fast, as it often happens when a head gets a good doze of panic mixed with adrenaline. The premonition of something terrible was not just lurking in the back of my mind, but it was flashing with the red "caution" sign. The buzzing in my ears stopped me from realising that the guards' voices were now screaming somewhere in the house.

Almost entranced, I reached out to the switch to turn on the light. Why does it stink so badly here? When the light from the single light bulb filled the room with sallowness, I quickly knelt down and looked under the bed. There was a canister like one of those I've seen several times in the garage. I pushed it with my hand and judging by the sound it was empty. What kind of joke is this? What is the empty petrol canister doing under my bed? And why my blue t-shirt was laying on the bedcover, looking dirty and... burnt?

When Greg broke into the room, I just stood beside the bed, holding the ruined piece of clothing in my hands.

"Here she is! My darling! Take her!"

Some other men appeared from behind his back - a lot of them. Someone was pushing me, someone was tying up my hands, verbally abusing me, but I was hardly able to think - I was shaking and shifting my gaze from one guard to another and then to my burnt blue t-shirt that Greg was now holding in his hands.

The smell of petrol became unbearable.

Hulk was furious.

He was not just on edge, he was seriously livid. Nobody - not as a joke and not as some revenge action - had the right to set any buildings on fire at his ranch, and especially those, inhabited by people or where the food was stored. No one, not a single person will be forgiven for that, and now he was angrily staring at Shereen standing between the guards. He didn't want to believe that it was her who'd done this, but he just couldn't ignore the fact that Greg was holding her burnt t-shirt in one hand and the empty petrol canister in another. Hulk firmly gritted his teeth, as if trying to hold back the words of disappointment, which would invariably slip from his tongue if they were alone in the room.

Shereen stood there quietly. Her hair was matted, her T-shirt was wet and one shoe was missing. The skin on her face was white as chalk, her eyes were shining feverishly and the whole body was trembling, in spite of the fact that the guards were holding her tightly.

Greg, who was no less angry then Hulk, continued to speak, spitting his words out as if they were portions of poison.

".... she poured petrol on the barrack's wall immediately after she'd done the same with the barn, and that's why it ignited straight away. Dry grass is a good conductor for flame."

"Why?!" Hulk roared, "Why would you burn it?"

"I didn't..." Shereen tried to answer, but the words seemed to be lodged in her throat. Finally, she barely managed to utter, "I didn't do that."

Hulk shook his head.

"Why is your t-shirt burnt out? And where did you get the petrol?"

"I don't know!"

Greg laughed hoarsely.

"Of course! She doesn't know! As if it has just materialised out of nowhere"

"I didn't do anything..." Shereen was shaking her head, constantly repeating the same words, "I didn't do anything. I wasn't even there..."

"Where is your shoe?" Hulk asked.

"I don't know."

"How did the petrol get into your room?"

"I don't know. It wasn't there when I left..."

"Why your t-shirt is burnt?"

"I don't know!"

Hulk angrily spat out swear words.

"Can't you see that this all looks like a complete bullshit? Your plan has been exposed but you still keep on denying it. Where is your bravery?! Why can't you just admit that it was huge malicious revenge?"

Shereen could hardly speak from despair. Who did this to her and why? She had never seen Hulk so angry, Greg was just grinning smugly at Shereen's attempts to justify herself. This whole situation looked like a horror movie where a nasty ending was approaching at the speed of a fast train and she had no idea how to help herself.

"I was in the warehouse! I was cleaning there! Ask Tabitha - she has sent me there and she knows everything and can confirm..."

"Who else was with you?" Hulk's eyes narrowed.

The silence hung in the room. No matter how much Shereen wanted this moment to become a turning point, there wasn't a single witnesses who could verify her alibi. So she only clenched her fists and exhaled.

"There wasn't anybody with me. I was alone."

Hulk bowed his head in disappointment, looking at the floor.

"But Tabitha knows that I was in there! She asked me to help, because everything inside was in tatters..."

"Did she actually see you there?"

"No."

At this very moment two more guards burst into the room breathing heavily and one of them was holding what Shereen was looking thirty minutes ago \- her other shoe. But now it was charred, almost completely blackened by the flame. Of course! She nearly groaned. Whoever was her enemy - they put some tremendous efforts into providing the authorities with evidences.

"It was found behind the burning barracks."

An eerie silence filled the room and a second later it was interrupted by the nasty laughter of the senior ward.

"Were you in that much of a hurry that you lost a shoe?" He was almost rolling on the floor with laughter, knowing that this time that bitch will never avoid the heavy punishment. No way!

Hulk stopped Greg's nasty laughter with an angry gesture and it became hushed in the office.

"Is that yours?" He asked plainly.

Shereen swallowed the lump in her throat. That was it. The end. And there was nothing she could do about this since there are too many things and people are playing against her in this game. Someone really wanted her to retire from the playing field, and now it doesn't matter how she lived her life and what she did in the past, all her nice deeds have been forgotten in an instance and there was only this petrol canister, burnt out t-shirt and the shoe now remained in the minds of people surrounding her.

"Yes, it is mine." Shereen replied, not looking at Hulk anymore. She was too scared. That so familiar coldness and loneliness slipped inside. The fear paralysed her limbs, thickened the blood, dried the tongue and made her hands cold and trembling. She hated it. But hatred didn't help to get rid of the fear, quite the opposite, it felt like fear grew stronger because of it.

Hulk was silent. It was almost physically painful to see the disappointment in his eyes. Others were quiet too, waiting for the final verdict to be made. Only the clock on the wall kept on ticking and breaking the silence.

Hulk went to the window and now paused there. Shereen knew - he was now in a process of making his final decision. A tough and cruel decision - exactly the one that the person who dared to set the building with people inside on fire deserved. And this decision will be justified and adamant. It will, most definitely, please the guards, heal Greg's wounded ego, will become a perfect illustrative examples for the rest workers at the ranch, and most likely completely ruin Shereen's life, depriving her of the right to freedom forever.

Or even worse - will cost her a life.

She shuddered.

But she hasn't done anything! It was someone else and she had to try and prove it to Hulk, had to make him listen to her and believe her! She must delay his wrong and inevitable final conclusion. It wasn't right to pay for something you weren't responsible for, it was unfair and it should never be like that! But how is it possible to make him hear her out?

Hulk stood silently staring into the darkness outside the window, where sunset faded a long time ago. It wasn't easy to think straight. Behind him there was a hoard of heavily breathing men and one pathetic girl who dared to cross the line - the boundaries of the dangerous area marked with red, where Hulk's patience no longer existed. No one ever dared to cross it and expect to get away with it.

Why? He almost shook his head again, but stopped himself from doing so. Why did she do this? Did her anger overpower her common sense? He didn't want to believe it, and a part of him continued to deny Shereen's involvement in the arson. But Hulk has already understood that recently she became his weak spot and his response to her actions was inadequate, hence, his disbelief of her involvement is probably just another attempt to justify her, no matter whether she really was guilty or not, and that was not the way to make the right decisions. Getting involved emotionally never helps to be objective, so in order to make the right decision, he has to base his conclusion on evidences provided by the guards and not on his intuition.

This thought gnawed Hulk invisibly.

Something in this whole story didn't quite fit. He couldn't say exactly what it was, because logically all the links were connecting the chain of events perfectly well, where everything lead to one conclusion - Shereen was directly involved in the arson and unfortunately the guards had plenty of evidence to prove this.

But why wouldn't she confess then? After all, there were plenty of examples of her impulsive actions, after which she'd sincerely repented about the committed deeds. So why was it different now? Because this situation was way too serious? Wasn't there any more courage to say "Yes, I've done that"? How was it possible to deny her involvement, when so much evidence was facing her? In fact, too many evidence...

Hulk frowned. He definitely didn't like something about this and felt annoyed because time was pressing him stronger and stronger with every passing minute. Everyone was waiting for his final word, reprimands and punishments to be said and done. Yes, he was short of time and had to act now. Before coming to a final conclusion, he reluctantly turned and walked over to Shereen.

"Do you have anything you would like to say?"

She nodded. The words weren't coming easily to her, and her stare was penetrating directly through to his heart as if she was mentally asking him to listen carefully to what she has to say. Ok. He can do that. And Shereen, feeling Hulk's silent approval, began to speak.

"This afternoon, when I returned to my room from the stone-pit, some of my things were missing. I think someone has got a duplicate of my key and entered my private territory when I wasn't there."

Greg immediately soared.

"You lying bitch?!"

"Shut up!" Hulk roared, "All must keep quiet until she is finished talking! Go on."

He nodded to Shereen, asking her to continue, while listening to her and trying to put the pieces of her story together. It was very important to understand which version of it was true - the one that his guards told him about or the one that was now going to be told by Shereen. Hulk knew from his past experience that in such cases haste or negligence could become a fatal turning point in someone's life, therefore his mind was working hard – analysing everything that was being said, comparing the details, going through the options and selecting those that seemed logically and intuitively correct.

Shereen cleared her throat. Her eyes were still staring piercingly into his and Hulk once again thought that he must not rush into making the final conclusion. Something still didn't feel right. This girl never lied before; it just wasn't her usual style and Hulk doubted she'd start doing it now.

"Somebody was in my room, I'm quite certain. I took a short nap today, because I didn't feel very well and when I woke up, it was the first time when I noticed something was missing. And there were definitely no canisters under my bed. Then one of the kitchen ladies knocked on my door - she said that Tabitha was very angry, because someone had flooded the warehouse and ruined loads of food. I went to see Tabitha and she asked me to help with the cleaning. Yes, most of the food was already badly damaged; a lot of packaging was soaked in water and demolished. I was in the warehouse until ten o'clock. All this time my shoes were on the porch - I took them off before going inside, otherwise they would have got wet. And when I came out after the cleaning, one of them was missing and the canister had already appeared in my room. As well as this burnt t-shirt.

She finished last sentence and went quiet.

Silence hung in the office. Hulk nodded and dove into the thinking process again.

Greg was waiting, trying not to disguise his impatience.

As much as he wanted to just come and strangle this wench, he had to stand motionless, listening to this tearjerker. Fuck it - Hulk will never believe a single word of hers - it was written all over her face "I'm a damned wretch and a thief!" and this was obvious from the first day she arrived at the ranch. And look at how miserably she was singing now, "Oh, please look at me and believe me!"

But nothing will help you, bitch. There is plenty of evidence that you are guilty.

Greg tried to hide a triumphant grin that was creeping up on his face. You're finished! Die, you!

But Hulk didn't seem to be in a hurry to make any decision.

His face didn't indicate a positive outcome but no final word was heard either.

Greg began to feel nervous and finally, irritated by Hulk's pensive look he said:

"She has to be punished for what she'd done..."

"Shut your mouth." Hulk replied unusually abrupt even for Greg's liking.

Senior warden obeyed, feeling that something wasn't going as planned. Why did Hulk remain so deep in thoughts when everything was so clear and obvious? How much more evidence does this man need to see before he orders to kill that damn girl? Don't the findings prove that she is guilty? Or was Hulk even keener than the old soldier thought?

Greg reluctantly shivered, trying to fight back such thoughts. Even if Hulk suspected something, he won't be able to verify her innocence \- there was no way to do it. Too many people knew what he knew, and that will force Hulk to come up with the retribution sooner or later, even if it is to restore the illusion of fairness and keep his reputation at the top. As for his doubts, Hulk can shove them.

But what happened next Greg was expecting least of all.

Hulk finally came out of the pondering mode; his lips were tightly clenched, his face looked grim, but his gaze was expressing great determination.

"I'm not going to beat around the bush for years trying to figure out who is right or wrong."

"Yes!" Greg immediately supported him, forgetting that he was told to shut up, "There is no need to wait any longer..."

"I'm going to use "Blind". Thankfully, I don't need anyone's permission to do that in Tally."

Shereen did not even move; she had no idea what Hulk was talking about; she just stood there looking at Hulk expectantly.

But unlike her, the senior warden turned pale to the point that it became evident even in the dimly lit room.

It just couldn't be true that Hulk had such knowledge. Even he - Greg - had only heard about this technique, but he never ever hoped to see how it works in real life.

Only the Commission could teach how to use "Blind" and they were very picky about whom they'd share this skill with. Greg knew about it because a while back he really wanted to get closer to the circle of the selected members – those, called a "Special Unit". This Unit consisted only of a few men, because the selection process was extremely rigid and Greg couldn't get in there for all the money of the world. Not that he ever really accepted this fact, but he learnt to live with it, though his mind still kept some knowledge from those special and very expensive books that he's bought back then. The essence of this method was in the direct reading of the human memory but it could only be applied to recent periods of time, since the interference with the deeper layers could lead to a partial or complete insanity. Only those who were trained to perfection and passed the required number of theory tests, and then proved their practical knowledge for over a year of practice, could use the "Blind".

And Hulk, judging by his look, was completely confident he could do this.

Greg swallowed nervously. It cannot be like that... It just can't... Who could have guessed that Hulk was one of the squads?

Meanwhile, Hulk approached Shereen.

"Step away!" He barked at guards.

Security guards quickly moved back. They didn't quite understand what Mr Conrad was up to but when he was in such a mood, it was a safer bet to stay away.

"Look directly into my pupils." Hulk ordered to the girl, "I will finish with it quickly."

Greg couldn't believe it - for the first time he was seeing something that he'd never expected to see - Hulk's grey eyes flashed with some glaring white light, (maybe he's gone crazy on this fuckin' ranch?) and then Shereen screamed. The senior warden had to give her some credit - even when screaming, she didn't step back. Her body was shaking, tears were pouring down her cheeks (was it painful? He had a feeling it bloody was), and Hulk at this moment resembled a frozen machine, the eyes of which were flashing with some images at an incredible speed.

Greg thought that it was like a glow on the TV screen, which had some film on a video tape put on rewind. But everything was over so quickly that not now or many years later he couldn't guarantee what exactly he saw on this day. Or he thought he'd seen.

When the old soldier was finally able to get his eyes off Hulk's face, to his horror he saw the direct evidence that the ranch owner really did possess the skills of the "Blind" method. Once the reading process was over, the whites of Shereen's eyes got turned as bright red as a scarlet cloth, which people used to tease the bulls with. There wasn't a single white spot on them anymore, all the blood vessels have burst and now the blindness took over her.

Greg was as sure of it as he was sure of the fact that his name was "Greg".

That was exactly the reason for the name "Blind" - as a result of such a brain scan any person would always lose their vision even if the process lasted for just one second. For how long? No one could predict precisely. That was also the reason why this method could be applied in cases of extreme necessity; when someone needed to obtain the information quickly, accurately and when all other methods were impractical or would take too long to perform, adding the risk of potential failure to the operation for the Special Departments.

It seemed like an eternity has passed since Hulk began performing this technique, but in fact, the overall process probably took no longer than ten seconds. Shereen was now sitting on the floor, covering her face with her hands; her shoulders were shaking, but she did not utter a sound.

Some of the guards were looking at Hulk in total shock; the others were staring in horror at the girl sitting on the floor. It was clear that if it was up to them, they would have been gone out of this office a long time ago, but they did not have the permission to do so, so they retreated to the wall, huddling together and looking insecure and miserable.

For a few seconds Hulk stood silent, looking somewhere ahead of himself, while his brain was analysing the gathered information and when the process was completed, he slowly turned and stared at Greg. At this very moment, senior warden wouldn't mind if the ground would swallow him up, because it became obvious that now Hulk knew absolutely everything about the past few days from Shereen's life and it made no sense to argue with him.

The Knight. Check. And Mate.

There was nothing one could do against the "Blind". There has only been a few times in Greg's life when he felt as bad as now; his knee suddenly began aching - some time ago it was injured in a street fight, a muscle in his back started to hurt - maybe because it got a bit of a chill or was overworked. By the time Hulk came close Greg's tongue ceased to function and became unpleasantly rough and dry.

"She wasn't there." Hulk said quietly in an even voice, and Greg instantly realised that he was afraid to look in his grey eyes. The gaze of the man in front of him reminded him of a steel blade surface - it was cold, and promising some sort of perversely slow death, "You will bring to me the one who is really responsible for the arson in the next twenty-four hours."

A chill crept down Greg's spine; he was almost devastated by the realisation of the necessity to fulfil the order. He understood that very clearly before Hulk ended his sentence:

"Or all the guards including you will be thrown out and replaced."

The senior warden clenched his fists so hard so that his fingers wouldn't tremble and was now looking over Hulk's shoulder.

"If you bring me the wrong person, I'll know it. Do you understand?"

Greg understood and therefore nodded. From now on he has no right to disobey, because he could almost feel how this soulless white light would cut through his memory like a knife that goes through some melted butter. And then the darkness will fall upon him; complete blindness - a nightmare that could become a reality within one day. He gritted his teeth in order to disguise the chattering, which they would produce if he'd just open his mouth.

"You have twenty-four hours. Take your people and get out."

Hardly remembering how he managed to move his feet, Greg left the room. The others left the office right after him.

I sat on the floor, not daring to move.

The shock from the last incident deprived me of every last ounce of strength and self-control. The latest events were blurred in my head, thoughts hid somewhere on the back of my mind, fearing that someone from the outside might come and steal them. The last thing I remembered before the darkness fell was a bright blinding light. No, before that there were Hulk's silvery eyes with the dark rims, bright and unblinking, and then there was an unbearably cold white light coming from somewhere, and it began to feel as though my thoughts started floating away beyond my consciousness. I couldn't describe this even to myself - this weird, surreal feeling. Yes, my head was aching, but the pain was bearable; less pleasant was the pulsing in temples area. What was the point in napping during the day?

But worst of all was the fear - it was now different to the one I felt when I was led into the room and interrogated and when Hulk stood silent next by the window, making his final decision. The Fear, which was now inside of me, was made of some different substance - it was alien, monstrous and too strong as if the world around would came to an end and there was nobody around me anymore. Not a single person. Nobody. And nothing.

I was no longer terrified by either Greg or any other punishment, or even by what other horrendous things might have happened in that other world, which remained outside of my mind. Something very bad, something horrible has already happened to me, and more than anything I was afraid to open my eyes again, and see nothing.

Someone touched my hand.

"Give me your hand I will help you to get up."

Hulk - the voice belonged to him, but where were the others?

I tried to listen to what was happening around me.

Why is this so quiet? Have all the others already gone? When? As soon as this strange light touched my eyes, I was hardly noticing a single thing happening around. What was the verdict then? Was it announced out aloud and I missed it? Or that what was happening to me now was my punishment? Why did it seem to me that Hulk wanted to get something out of me first? Did he change his mind?

Trembling and not daring to take my other palm off my face, I stretched one hand out to Hulk - his warm fingers clenched around my wrist and pulled me up. Barely touching my back, he gently led me to the couch and helped me sit down.

"Do not try to open your eyes for a while, ok?"

I nodded, not knowing whether he saw me do it.

Yet again I felt unusually scared. And freezing. It seemed like the temperature has dropped immensely, I was constantly shaking and just couldn't get warm.

"Hulk, please... what's wrong with my eyes?... Was there an announcement about my punishment? Where are the others... and... What's going on?"

I wasn't sure if my voice was trembling from the cold or my emotional redundancy.

"Hush, hush... Sh-h-h-h..." Hulk comforted me, "Try to sit quietly and calm for a few minutes. You have to get warm first."

"But my eyes..."

"I know. Just stay quiet."

I heard his footsteps die away somewhere in another room and then they approached me again. A soft fabric feeling like a fleece blanket covered up my shoulders.

"Wrap it around you, alright? I'll make some tea and then we'll talk."

"Alright."

He didn't need to be asked twice - I bundled myself so tightly into it that I barely knew how to get my hands out and take the cup of tea. The coldness began to recede.

I could hear Hulk making the tea - the clattering of the dishes, sound of the pouring water, tapping of a spoon on the porcelain.

"Take it."

"I can't see."

"Just give me your hand."

I reached out in his direction.

Hulk took my hand and gently placed a warm cup into my fingers - thanks to him, it wasn't very hot. I took a sip and relaxed a little.

"Thank you."

"You are welcome."

He sat down, probably, in the same chair where he usually liked to sit while listening to my translations. Thinking about it I suddenly felt cold again. If I cannot see anymore, how can I translate? And why was I thinking about the books instead of the more important thing that I couldn't see... What a load of rubbish...

"Tell me..."

"Of course. What I did to you is called the "Blind" - it is a method of reading the human's memory. Unfortunately, it affects the sight. But for me it was the only way to find out the truth quickly and unmistakably. Do you understand why?"

I did. If Hulk was to follow the usual procedure, it would take him much longer and all the facts in this whole story were against me. Yet somehow he, as usually, found the most effective way to solve the problem without a delay.

"So, you read my memory."

"Yes."

I hesitated.

"All of it?"

He chuckled.

"No, only the period of the last few days. It's not easy to define the timing boundaries while doing that, but I tried not to go in too deep. How is your head? Try to think how well you remember the last twenty-four hours."

It felt that everything was fine there and nothing was missing. I remembered walking to the stone-pit, eating in the kitchen later; then I remembered trying to fall asleep, then Tabitha and the warehouse... There weren't any obvious gaps, or at least I couldn't find them yet.

"I think I remember it well."

"Okay." The tone of his voice indicated that Hulk was satisfied.

"What about my eyes? I tried to open them a few times, but couldn't see a thing."

Perhaps this question was the most painful for me, and I was afraid to hear the answer - I felt as nervous as a patient at the doctor's who's just been tested for cancer and was now waiting for the result.

But the answer, instead of causing a fatal shock, brought an incredible relief to me.

"Your vision will recover within approximately ten to twelve days."

"Completely?" I began fiddling on the sofa.

"Yes, completely." somehow, I knew that Hulk was smiling, looking at my happy, but what must be an absolutely terrible looking face - my cheek was still swollen but I had almost forgotten about it.

"I was trying to be careful with you." He added gently, and it felt like I was stroked from within.

The coldness, growling with disappointment, faded away, and pleasant warmth filled up my body.

After a short pause I quietly thanked him again.

He didn't reply and we were silent for a while. Again, I could hear the clock ticking, but this time the sound didn't feel formidable and became familiar and cosy - as the fear was gone, it no longer seemed like a bomb attached to a wall. A light breeze that flew through the half-open balcony door touched my face.

"So, now you know that it wasn't me?" I asked that question to make sure that there was no longer any need to be scared of the punishment.

"Yes, I know. And the person who did it will be found."

Although his voice has not changed much, I understood that Hulk has no doubt he would achieve a good result. Of course - who would dare to argue with him, when it turned out that the ranch owner was not as feeble as it seemed? I never thought that he was that simple, but now it became clear that I have not even seen the tip of the iceberg of the person named Hulk Conrad.

Not being able to hold back my curiosity, I asked:

"Where did you learn how to do that?"

The silence was his answer. Of course. It would be very unwise of me to expect any revelations. I was hoping that Hulk didn't notice my frustration since he was not obliged to disclose any secrets to me. It was good enough he took my side so many times before without jumping to the wrong conclusions. And that was already much more of what I could expect living in Tally.

"Someone betrayed me."

"Don't think about it, I'll deal with it."

His voice sounded particularly warm again and something inside of me began trembling and reaching out towards him as if I was a plant and he was the sun.

Now it was my turn to remain silent. I didn't know what to say and was there any need for words?

In my current situation, it was impossible to identify what the exact time it was, but I assumed it was around midnight. I rubbed my eyes and suddenly felt exhausted. After I'd managed to relax it became especially apparent.

"Try not to open or rub your eyes." suggested Hulk and I took my hands away from my face.

"Will you please take me to my room?" I asked, feeling a bit awkward. The last thing I wanted is to be a burden on somebody, but I simply wouldn't be able to find my way back on my own.

"You'll spend the night here."

I froze. My heart knocked somewhere in my throat. Does he mean I'll spend the night in his office? No-no... My face flushed from embarrassment.

"Here? I... I don't want to be a burden, I can go..."

"I said you'll stay here."

I took a deep breath and slowly let the air out.

"Will I sleep on the couch?" Knowing that there was only one bedroom in his apartment, I sincerely hoped for a positive response.

"No."

"Will you sleep on the couch?"

"No."

I went quiet. I just couldn't force myself to ask anything else. How helpless it is to be blind! Although with Hulk one could have a perfect vision and yet completely lose out in a dispute with him. That's because he doesn't argue, he just informs you of his decisions.

"I don't... please..."

I wasn't quite certain what I was going to say, any objection at this point would sound very pathetic just like a squeak from a kitten.

He took my hand.

"I won't touch you, I promise, but in the next few hours you will have a pain attack and no pills will help against it, but I can. Okay?"

The warmth of his hand, the scent of his cologne, his voice that sounded so close did the job - I melted like a candle, not willing to admit that to myself or anyone else. I knew that the Hulk's promises can be trusted - if he said he won't touch me then he won't. But am I fit enough to deal with my own emotions? What I felt at that very moment, I wouldn't like to share with him even if he'd use the damn "Blind" again.

I carefully released my hand and nodded nervously.

"Ok."

And that was the first time when I felt somewhat pleased about my disability - my face was on fire.

Hulk was leisurely smoking a cigar, sitting in a chair, feeling joyous and relaxed.

Yes, nobody could have ever imagined how things would turn out, and that one day he will have to use one of his skills from the past - the past that will never be erased from his mind. But suddenly this old knowledge became very useful indeed, even though it was used in a different time and place.

But nobody could reproach him here and that was the only reason why Hulk liked living in Tally - in this grubby and unattractive, but to some degree, convenient shithole. Yes, life here was not the same - there were no friends he loved to spend time with, there was no danger tickling the nerves and adding a kick, but also there were no orders. Here he was his own boss.

He thought on many occasions about the choice he would make if the opportunity to leave this place came up. Would he run out of here? Or would he stay?

No, he'd leave this place - he knew it. It might not be a full return to his former life, but some of those old habits Hulk would happily go back to. And he would definitely visit the guys; they'd worked side by side for far too long so it could all be so easily forgotten.

But that was how it was.

Someone people arrived in Tally as prisoners and he - the privileged fighter of the Special Commission's Unit, who once disobeyed the order – disembarked here as an "owner". Not the worst possible outcome. The Commission would not "clean" him - it was too costly to get rid of such talented professionals, but in order to keep the others on a short leash, they still had to resort to tough measures.

Hulk had often thought about it. But that was before.

Now he had this ranch, another life and other problems to tackle. To some extent this mansion has become his home. But what he'd never thought is that one day there will be someone who will bring his heart back to life and make it somewhat soft, excited, even young... Those feelings left him a long time ago.

The smoke was slowly swaying in the air, and from time to time, like an amenable woman, it would go away with a breeze to continue its journey somewhere in the night.

Hulk never complained about his fate – a professional will always be a professional. That will not go away even if he stays here for another hundred years. Even the fact that he was banned from the rest of the civilisation was unpleasant, but tolerable. Yes, he had to turn the blind eye to the local clubs and restaurants, impenetrable stupidity and unwarranted cruelty of their inhabitants, but these were trifles. Hulk himself knew how to be cruel when necessary, and many of the others could learn from him; in addition to that, he was used to enduring a much worse situation than this life here.

Plus, he found his safety valve, which only a few people knew about - the business that would help him to remain the person he wanted to be, and that was important. It was bringing some relief.

Hulk halted and listened to the sounds in the bedroom, but there weren't any coming from there. Shereen was already asleep, or at least he was hoping she was. It would be very cruel to make her go through more stress, if he'd insisted them to go to bed together. She needed some privacy to undress and get ready for bed, as much as it was possible to do so with no vision. There was no need for any pressure.

Hulk got into thinking - he knew this night will be tough for her; the pain in her head will come back, it always does after using the "Blind" - those who've gone through this treatment would subsequently always experience bouts of uncontrolled fear or panic, feeling lost; they could fall into a permanent state of stress or depression and in rare cases could cause the waves of aggression to come over them, followed by physical weakness.

Yes, he must be near her - his past experience has taught him how to identify any potential symptoms and how to deal with them in the best way possible. It would be good if she could sleep for at least couple of hours.

On one hand, Hulk regretted that he had to apply the memory scan on Shereen but on the other, he was glad that he had made that choice. Given the chance Greg would have never missed the opportunity to crush the girl; from day one he disliked her, but Hulk didn't give a damn about it.

Greg was a great convenience and he had all the right qualities - he was cruel, aggressive and not too smart, although a bit too ambitious. However, ambitions without any intelligence never helped to achieve the desired effect.

But Greg served well - he terrified the prisoners, kept them under a total control, preventing any escape attempts that would inevitably end badly. The laws in Tally were unanimously strict, and even Hulk couldn't save the ones who'd try to break them, so no wonder the ranch was surrounded by an electric fence. Most of the wires, like traps, were cleverly disguised and any accidental or intentional touch would cause some unfortunate consequences, and that's why all the prisoners have been made aware of it on their day of arrival.

Thus, Greg served its purposes, but Hulk knew - knew with no undue regret or remorse that his time had run out. Greg was out of his depth and there have been too many times his fist grazed Shereen's face, and every time it happened, Hulk's spinal nerve twisted into a tight spring.

His thoughts switched to the girl lying in his bedroom.

Who knew how things will turn out...

Would he ever have thought that he'd meet her here? How long has he been looking for that person, whom his inner instinct would unmistakably identify as The One? How could it happen that a girl mistakenly brought to Tally would become "The One"? And Hulk no longer doubted that Shereen was "The One".

He accepted that fact as soon as he wised up to it and it was not really important when exactly this revelation came over him. Maybe it happened when she came into his office, shivering with fear, but keeping her chin up, ready to admit the "atrocities" she'd committed, or when she was arguing with him without any right to do so, but still not giving in or when she was stealing the food for the workers and buying medication for them with her own hard-earned points. Or did it happen when he saw her drinking bourbon by the fountain? Or perhaps when she decided that four hundred and fifty thousand dollars was not that much for the one you love?

Hulk didn't really care when it happened. The only important thing was that his heart has been brought back to life. This life presented him with something he never expected to receive and it was the generous gift he could not accept. How ironic...

He'd love to be one of those lucky people who after meeting their soul mate can enjoy every moment of being together but Hulk knew that he had to let her go. He just couldn't have Shereen beside him and therefore she'll have to leave. Even if she reciprocates, they could only spend a very limited amount of time together until Hulk thinks of a way to send her back to the outer world. She must not stay in Tally for too long - it was not the right place for her, and he would feel much more at ease knowing that she returned to her normal life in Klendon City - to her shop, friends, donuts on the corner and all the rest. There she will meet a decent guy (not a lowlife like Alex), who will love and take care of her, while Hulk has no choice but continue to live here on the ranch. That's just how it goes. That's life.

Thinking about Shereen - his beautiful, elegant and soigné Shereen loving someone else, something crumbled inside of Hulk. He must get over it. The fate has played a trick on him, sending the one he'd wanted to find, right here, in the closed "Area 33". It was just as bad as it was good. And now he must be strong, pull through and sacrifice his own desires once again, for the sake of someone else having a better life.

Well, it's not the first time and it's not the last.

The cigar has already smouldered almost down to his fingers, burning them, but Hulk was still sitting in a chair, tortured by the one and only thought that was bothering him for many days now.

Should he expose his feelings to her and let her know how he really feels? Has he got the right to do that knowing that the separation is inevitable? If this will leave a scar in her heart, there will be no one to blame except himself and therefore was it truly worth it?

Hulk felt tormented by inability to find the right answer, especially because the answer must come from the both of them, since it wasn't just up to him now, but up to them.

Hulk left his cigar in a glass ashtray, made sure that it was no longer burning, and got up from the chair. It was time to go to sleep.

I woke up suddenly, feeling anxious and opened my eyes. Darkness. Why was it so dark around? I tried to remember where I was, but I couldn't. My memory was like a big black hole, which contained nothing. Who am I? Why can't I remember my own name? The fear was ripping me apart and wanted to howl. I knew I had a physical body, but it felt like someone disconnected it from my brain, and now it was dark and empty - there were only thoughts of panic fleeting through my head with no direction, nothing was clear. How did I get to the place where I was right now?

Once again, I blinked, yes - my eyelids were moving, but the darkness did not disappear. Have I ever felt this scared? I couldn't remember. And should I? What kind of a creature was I? Was I still a human or was this all this just some dreadful nightmare?

Feeling the desperation, I started sobbing and touching frantically the alien and unfamiliar space around me.

"Where am I? Where am I? Where am I?" The tears began rolling down my cheeks. What if nobody will ever answer?

"It's ok, it's ok Shereen. Calm down..."

Someone's voice managed to make its way through the wall of my panic.

"I can't see anything. Where am I?"

"Shereen, calm down..."

"Why is it so dark?!" My voice turned into a scream.

After someone put their arms around shoulders and pulled me closer, I felt a bit calmer. I realised that I knew this voice... it was a kind voice and it was much easier when it was around - the darkness was becoming less hostile, although I couldn't remember the face or the name...

"Keep quiet, sweetie.... Try to sleep and you will feel better. The darkness will go away."

"Will it?" I asked, not noticing how my fingers squeezed someone's shoulder, "It's pitch black around me and I can't remember anything..."

"It will be better when morning comes. Try to fall asleep."

Someone was stroking my hair and I instinctively buried myself into the tender fingers.

"Is it a nightmare?"

"Yes, it will pass. I'm with you."

"Pass? Good..." I relaxed a little. At least I wasn't alone in this darkness. There were no thoughts, no memories, but the fear has faded away. I stopped shivering, feeling apathetic but nice.

My consciousness imploded as suddenly as it appeared. I fell asleep.

The next time I woke up from a severe pain. My head was being split in two by a red-hot rod. I began sobbing again, before I managed to wake up fully.

"Painful... painful... painful..."

I felt someone's hand on my forehead; sometimes warm fingers would stroke it, bringing me a relief.

"Painful... painful..."

"It doesn't hurt as much now... Sleep."

I fell asleep again just to wake up many more times later in the night, feeling that panic, despair and pain that were taking turns to attack me. Every moment I was awake, the darkness would petrify me, the emptiness would get torn apart by someone's shadows and inaudible screams; and the pain, like a hammer, would put a steel bolt through my forehead. That familiar voice would get through the fear, whispering some hushed and comforting words - sometimes they sounded louder, sometimes quieter. At times it was fading away completely in order to come back closer a minute later, echoing in my mind. The voice was soothing me, hands were warm, and someone's warmth was saving me from getting sucked in by a complete insanity.

Only by the early morning I finally remembered my own name. Some other memories came back too, but because they were so scrappy, it was causing even more pain rather than relief. Only the ability to press my nose against the warm skin and breath in its smell was allowing me to calm down and stay sane.

I didn't know how much time had passed, but I was woken up by the feeling of fingers gently stroking my head. What an unusual feeling....

"Shereen."

I reluctantly opened my eyes and gasped - there was still darkness around.

"Please, not again!"

"Everything is fine. It will go."

All my memories were with me again, as if they didn't disappear at night, causing me to have the nightmares and slip in and out of consciousness.

"Hulk?"

"I'm here."

"It was terrible..."

"I know, it will be alright. Be patient."

He took his hand off my head and I was in awe - it seemed that I'd got used to his touches as though I'd felt them every night. Incredible... I slept the whole night in his bed next to him (or on top of him?), if what I'd experienced during the night could ever be called "sleep" - anyway, my confusion quickly turned into gratitude for the fact that Hulk insisted on spending this night with me. I was terrified even to think what would have happened if I'd stayed alone.

"Is it morning now?"

"Yes."

"What time is it?"

"Twenty past eight. We'll have some breakfast soon. I'll go in my office, so you can get dressed. Your clothes are on the right hand side, on top of the nightstand. Will you manage?"

"Of course!" I didn't feel any of this confidence that was present in my voice.

"Once you are dressed, please call me and I'll help you."

Hulk left the bedroom.

Ok. So where is the nightstand?

I sat up on the bed and slowly put my legs on the floor. It was good to feel that a new day was finally here, even though I wasn't able to see it. It was the same with my memories - it was great to have them back. I shuddered, remembering last night, and once again I got a sense of gratitude that Hulk was with me all the time.

Well... new day, another day closer to gaining my vision back. I just have to be patient, I can do it... I'm strong.

I only have to get dressed somehow...

Never before in my life had I thought about the fact that having your eyes shut is not the real darkness, and what the real darkness was I only really understood now. Previously, it always seemed that if you close your eyes, it will become dark, and only now I recalled that some light was still penetrating through - some spots, some glares.... Sometimes it was brighter or darker, but there still was some light. And now it felt like I had a brick wall in front of me. There were no rays, no shades, and no hint of any other colour other than black.

That was what I was thinking while Hulk was serving the table.

"Let's see what we've got here..." He said in a business-like manner, "Some toast, butter, jam, yoghurt, cereal, ham and cheese. What would you like? Tell me and I'll give it to you."

"Oh ..." I hesitated. It must be one hell of a burden to take care of someone who couldn't find even find a fork on the table. Hiding my embarrassment I requested some toast with butter.

"Shereen, feel free to ask whatever you want."

"Ok, toast with butter and a piece of cheese then."

"Anything else?"

"That's it for now, thank you."

"I'll get it for you in a moment."

He handed me a hot crispy buttered piece of bread topped with a thin slice of aromatic cheese. I bit on a piece and began chewing it with relish, thinking that, perhaps, it's not that bad to be blind - all the things are given directly to your hands and all you need to do is enjoy your life; and it was really easy to enjoy it when such a chivalrous person as Hulk was around.

After I finished my toast I received an open pot of yogurt, spoon and a glass of juice, but before I could think of an interesting topic of conversation, Hulk's phone went off. He answered. As somebody was asking him about the harvest delivery that was planned for this afternoon, I was trying to search for the edge of the table to place my glass of juice. Hulk's voice was now quieter as he went to his desk searching for some papers.

I thought I found the edge but when I let go of the glass I missed, and the juice immediately was spilled all over the carpet.

Oh, my God - what a mess I am! What should I do now? In dismay, I started fumbling my fingers on the table's surface, trying to stop the liquid from dripping on the carpet but then I lost the yogurt - it slipped out of my fingers and now was also somewhere on the floor. Where is it?! Maybe it's still on the table? It must be on the table, right? Or is it also all over the carpet?!

Hulk went on talking in the far end of the room and obviously he couldn't see what was happening with me; but the conversation will end soon! What will he think when he sees all this chaos?! I started to get really upset and panic. This bloody juice was now everywhere! Bloody breakfast! I heard a spoon clinked under my frantically fumbling fingers and I lost it too. Damn it!

I sat down in front of the sofa, trying to find the yogurt, which could still be on the table and I kept on waving my hands up and down, but my fingers could not find the plastic pot. Instead they found a plate with cheese and butter, another glass, and then my fingers climbed into someone's coffee, spilled that, moved to... Oh, my God? What was that? It felt like... Oh, no! Please, not jam!

I rapidly tried to get up, but ended up leaning on some plate a bit too heavily and turned it upside down - all the content was dumped right on the table and now the plate was spinning and rolling on its edges.

What have I done! I can't even clean up after myself!

"Shereen, are you alright?"

Hulk hastily finished the conversation half way through and came back in.

I sat on the floor in silence and my face was burning.

My fingers were covered in crumbles and something sticky and glue-like, juice was still slowly dripping from the table - I could feel it on my ankle, and there was a piece of ham next to my hand. The yoghurt has still not been found.

I sat motionless with my head down, not daring to make a single move in order not to break anything else and I felt ashamed. There must be such a mess around that even a homeless person couldn't bear it.

"Is everything ok with you?" His voice now sounded much closer and sounded concerned. I heard Hulk sit down beside me on the carpet started wiping the crumbs off my fingers with a soft napkin.

"Don't worry about this." He said gently, which made me feel even worse. My eyes welled up and my chin started quivering treacherously.

"I messed up this entire place..."

"Who cares...?"
"I spilled the juice and dropped the yoghurt."

"That's ok. It's not worth getting upset over."

His kindness had the opposite effect on me - instead of feeling better, I felt much worse now.

"You're being just polite! I'm a wally and a burden!"

"Shereen!"

Now the tears were pouring down my cheeks. I wiped them off with my hand covered in fluff.

"The carpet is probably spoiled now..."

"Forget the carpet; I'll buy a new one. Please, don't rub your eyes..."

"These eyes don't work anymore anyway! I'm useless!" I began sobbing. God knows I didn't want to, but I couldn't hold it back, "Breaking and ruining things – that's all I am good for now."

"Shereen, it's just some breakfast."

"Right! And then there will be a lunch, dinner and what else?"

I covered my face with my hands and continued crying. How shameful and humiliating it was to be in this position. I am disabled! Now I'm a useless disabled person, who can't put a piece of bread in their own mouth. It was only an early morning and I've already managed to ruin Hulk's breakfast and mess everything around. And he was trying to comfort me!

The only thing I wanted to do right now was to hide in the farthest corner and let myself cry properly to the point of hiccupping, and then fall asleep surrounded by the darkness. Well, the darkness was not a problem for me anymore, but the thing was that it was only MY darkness, while the others were still living in a world full of bright light. How can I survive like that for another ten days and what if my vision won't recover in time? It seemed that all the accumulated resentment was spilling out of me for the first time since I stepped my foot in Tally - all the loneliness, beatings, humiliation, powerlessness, anger, cold nights and the absence of someone close to me - all of it has now turned into a stream of continuous tears.

I started to hiccup and choke and then I suddenly soared up into the air.... and realised... I was sitting on Hulk's lap. Everything happened so fast - his arms lifted me up off the floor and moved onto something soft and warm - his knees.

"Hush, girl... calm down..."

He held me warmly, reassuringly, my face pressed against his chest and was stroking my hair.

"Don't cry. They are only dishes."

I sobbed once again and went all quiet in amazement. He was so kind to me and it made me feel ashamed. Really... why am I acting this way when my life is not that terrible? Yes, I entered Tally by mistake, I've had to tolerate some rough situations, but then I ended up at this ranch which in reality was great luck. I was lucky to find some work in the kitchen to start with and then the translating came along. All of that happened because Hulk was always fair, always noticed the details, whenever there was a need he would always be there for me and never punished me even when I really was guilty. I became such a moaner because of a few plates that he now needed to comfort me even though he'd already helped me to avoid a whole load of problems when someone tried to set me up. Why did I get so upset because of the stupid plates? The reason I was blind because it was the shortest way to find out the truth and in a couple of weeks everything will be back to normal again. It didn't feel right to use his kindness and waste the time of a person who had always acted in a more than reasonable way towards me.

His hands were warm and caring and it felt so good to sit on his lap, leaning against his chest, listening to his heartbeat. What would've been the right thing to do at this stage would be to stand up and assure him that I was not crying anymore, and that it was just an awkward incident, and that he was right - I should not be so upset, since it was just some dishes, but for some reason I continued sitting motionless not saying a word.

He was still holding me, stroking my hair, and his breath was gently touching my cheek while my sticky fingers were convulsively clutching his shirt as though it was a lifejacket, and I did not care if there was any stains on its fabric or not. It was overwhelmingly good to feel someone big and strong under my fingers... and close; to feel that there was someone warm next to me, someone who can help, protect and support me, or just sit next to me in silence; because even the silence would become comfortable when his hands were embracing me as they were now.

What am I doing?

This thought brought me right down to earth. I sighed and said," Please forgive my behaviour - you were right, these were only plates, even though I broke a couple."

Hulk smiled. Somehow I felt it.

"You are so cute when you get moody." He replied quietly, "Would you like to get some pencils so you could mess up the walls as well?"

"But I can't see."

"That's OK. You could draw on anything in your reach."

"Get out!" I couldn't help smiling too. Then, I grumbled resentfully, "I've got sticky fingers."

"We'll wash them in a minute. We'll go to the bathroom and wash the jam off."

"And my legs are covered in juice."

"We'll clean them."

"And I didn't find the yoghurt."

"I'll give you another one."

"I don't want another one..."

"Should I scrape off the one on the carpet?"

I poked his side with my finger, and Hulk laughed.

This conversation was almost ridiculous but somehow it felt warm and cosy; and homely.

I was surprised with myself for continuing to sit on the lap of a person who was justly regarded as my "owner", but instead I felt so close to him as if he was a family member, or at least a close friend.

I moved, knowing it was time to leave the warm spot - otherwise the situation was going to get awkward .

"But still I am such butter-fingers. Such an embarrassment..."

"Shereen." Hulk said, and his voice sounded very peculiar, as if he was intending to say something serious, "Just listen to me now, ok?"

"OK."

"Please, let me take care of you and everything you might need."

"But..."

"I haven't finished."

"I'm sorry." I stopped, feeling ashamed and uncomfortable because of what he'd just said, no matter how hard I tried to hide it.

"I'd appreciate it if you helped me out by telling me about your desires, otherwise I won't know."

I was silent. His heart was beating so close to mine, and his fingers were gently touching my hair. A wave of shivers went down my spine and this time it happened not because I felt embarrassed, but because he continued holding me in his arms. Suddenly all my body became... too sensitive.

"Will you do that for me?"

I slowly let the air out of my lungs and said quietly, "I will."

His finger was gently stroking my cheek. One more movement like that - and the wave of excitement will reach the place where it's not supposed to be. I did not move, afraid to provoke anything.

"But why, Hulk?" I asked quietly. It was very important for me to hear the answer to this question. I just could not help myself but ask, "Why are you doing this for me?"

His fingers gently walked around my chin, paused for a moment, then lifted my face. Now, his breath was on my lips. I began shivering, and I suddenly felt the need to change the position, because...

That last thought in my mind remained unfinished because he kissed me - kissed me slowly, carefully; tasting, soothing and enjoying me; a hot wave shot down through my body.

His lips weren't in a hurry to disappear and at the same time they were not forcing me, as if saying - "Hello! Please, open the door; I am the new owner in here. And no, don't offer me any objection, because they will not be accepted, because I am here for good, and to make sure that you are happy, I'll take care of everything as you please."

When the kiss ended (or just stopped for a few seconds?), I could still feel Hulk's breathe on my lips, and the pulsation between my legs was so strong that I had to tighten my muscles, desperately desiring more... I am sure if I was able to see, this room would be spinning right now.

Now his thumb was slowly tracing my swollen lips, which made me press my legs together even tighter.

"Do you still need an answer to your question?" Hulk asked.

I was in dismay.

My nerves were stretched to the limit, blood throbbing in my ears, threatening to drown the thoughts that were not that worthy as they were flying in my mind like crazy. I wasn't just nervous - I couldn't find a place to rest for even a second.

Of course, Hulk was the reason for it.

He was not in the room right now; he left the office about an hour ago and I was standing somewhere by the sofa, not knowing which way to move. In fact, it didn't matter if I was standing, sitting or moving - nothing could help me to calm down.

What has Hulk done? Why did he kiss me? Especially with the sort of kiss that made me melt down to the floor.

He didn't let me go right away after that, and was still holding me in his arms, and I could still hear those words he said to me before he let me go.

Get used to my arms, baby. From now on it's the safest place in the world for you.

Oh, my God! I almost wailed, and body covered with goose bumps. With his actions and with this kiss, Hulk clearly made me understand that since this day our relationship will change drastically. And for good. I didn't know why I was so certain about the words "for good", but I was.

Hulk is not a kid. He won't play any games or pretend, he won't comfort someone with kisses in order to just dry up the tears. If he came to the conclusion that our relationship must go to another level, then he'd given it some thought before. Somehow I felt Hulk's thoughts, moods, everything about him - yes, he must have thought about it and not just once. And how precisely he chose the right time to express his affection - exactly when I needed someone's support the most; but not just "someone's"... (What's the point in lying to myself?) but his, Hulk's, support. How could anyone resist his kindness being completely blind?

Unable to bear the weight of my body, my knees suddenly became soft and buckled - I sat on the floor with a sigh, constantly twisting my fingers.

"I'll be back soon" Hulk said before leaving.

And he will be back soon.

I begged the Lord to give me strength to make the right decision, because if I want to say "no" to Hulk - I must do it as soon as possible and not after I'll spend another night with him. Will the night ahead bring me the nightmares as the previous one or will something different happen? I knew perfectly well what will definitely happen as soon as I felt better.

Hulk had switched to an "attacking" mode and he won't wait for too long - he is not the type of guy who will be inactive or waiting for a special signal to proceed. He is not like Alex and it won't be possible to live with him in the same room just as roommates. If Hulk asserts his rights for me as his woman, then he'll want to possess every inch of my body - from the tip of my hair to my toes; from the first to the last thought in my mind.

So if I still want to say "no", I must to do it right now, weighing up all the "pros" and "cons." Yes, I have to come to the final conclusion before he gets back.

I tried to think logically.

I am Shereen Moore - a free woman (not from Tally of course) and I'm allowed to choose who I want to be with. This is clear. I don't belong to anyone and therefore I'm not betraying or cheating on anybody. Alright, moving on... What will happen if I say "yes" to Hulk? Does that mean I'll have to live my "happily ever after" in Tally? No matter what I felt towards Hulk, this prospect seemed rather frightening. How could I voluntarily choose "Area 33", knowing that there was a normal world somewhere outside of this place? So, if I cannot imagine myself living here, I should definitely say "no".

That was the whole issue dealt with. It didn't take much time to find the answer!

Before my logic had a chance to start clapping hands in joy, a strong feeling of longing appeared in my heart as if a heavy boulder laid on it which no logic could get rid of. Well, not everything was as simple as it seemed...

Damn Hulk!

Why did he have to change everything in one day - so directly and bluntly?

But then how else would he do it? Would it have been better if we just held hands for another ten years? Of course, not. My emotions could now be described by the word "hurricane". That's probably how any woman chosen by Hulk would feel, but I wasn't "any" woman... I was me.

I remembered his kiss again and shook my head. So slow, so gentle and very significant, one of those kisses that doesn't demonstrate the strength of a man to the full, but just hints about it - tenderly, tactfully but very clearly.

A languid spring immediately began to tighten in my stomach. How will it feel when he demonstrates his strength? And he will do it - it was only a matter of a few hours... At first his movements will be lazy, precise and slow in order not to startle and only when the heat will turn into a fire, Hulk will take what he wants to own.

Oh, God! What am I thinking?

I covered my face with my hands and groaned out loud. What else could I think about when Hulk turned my whole body into a big magnet located in the groin area and directed at him? How can I take it off? And should I even do that at all? Someone silly and happy inside of me immediately answered "no". I groaned again, this time silently.

How quickly can one become an idiot thirsty for physical pleasure? Am I that simple? Like an amoeba? Or has Hulk found a clever way to influence my complex chemical compounds? What the hell is going on with me? One kiss and now I've had to endure three hours of constant shivering...

The 3 hour time limit of course, I assumed at random, but it felt like at least a few hours had passed since he'd left the office.

And what am I going to do when he comes back? I cannot just stay silent and observe. I either refuse to play this game with him, or I surrender myself to this new relationship completely. It felt like I already knew the answer. My logic, however, immediately demanded a rematch, yelling at me that, in fact, I have not been offered anything yet.

Yes, nothing has been offered to me verbally, but Hulk has done it anyway...

I pressed my forehead against the sofa and finally stopped twisting my fingers.

Hulk has offered himself to me, thoroughly, his whole self as much as it was possible. Am I going to pass on him because I don't like being in Tally?

No. I won't. I can't.

Even if I don't say these words out loud, if I don't dare to say them to myself in my mind, I still know that I love him. It's that simple. Simple and prosaic.

I love him.

Very slowly I inhaled and exhaled. Now I have confessed everything to myself.

Was it that hard? No, not really.

The truth is never difficult to admit, if there is at least one particle of courage in you, and I never considered myself a coward, and therefore it was unfair to continue denying my real feelings by replacing them with suitable for the mood epithets.

Especially, not after what Hulk has done for me.

Yes, he is tough. Yes, he owns this ranch in the desert and piles of prisoners, who sow, plough and crumble the ore. Yes, sometimes people die on this ranch, yes, it's always damn hot here and there is nowhere to go. Yes, it is impossible to make friends here or live any kind of my old familiar life; but if that was what our lives are destined to be like, we'll stay here together. Because... Who knew... Yes, let it be like that.

I shook my head, longing for Hulk. Maybe it was strange, but I didn't feel complete without him, and with him I felt like a different person - another me; me as I never was with Alex. Everything that happened today made me realise that getting to this situation was inevitable and I was surprised with myself for not being able to predict it earlier. Now, when my feelings emerged so clearly, it became unimportant if we'd speak about them out loud or not - they were there and they weren't going to go away.

So, logic – you are lost and now even if you scream at my decision - nothing will change.

Even if Hulk was to suddenly change his mind, I'd still feel the same about him. Once my body landed in his arms, my heart immediately said "He's mine. Give him to me!"

Weird? Ridiculous? Right? Wrong?

It was too late to think about it now.

Sitting on the floor I rocked from side to side and then smiled, turning the inner sight to the one who was in charge of creating destinies somewhere up there, and kindly and reproachfully shook my head at him.

What a joker you are, Lord! But Thank You. Whatever happens in the end - still Thank You!

Greg was smoking a cheap cigarette, standing on the porch of his wooden house.

He didn't smoke very often - only when the nerves started playing up just like they were now. There wasn't a place to buy any decent cigarettes at the ranch, and Greg didn't travel to the city very often - he had no desire to waste his precious points on this rubbish that was ruining his health and he was not in good health lately. But today was a special case when a cigarette was of an extreme necessity and therefore he didn't hesitate to bum one from one of the guards. Exhaling the bitter stinking smoke from his mouth, Greg could not help but remember the flavour of Hulk's expensive cigars, which certainly cost him a fortune. The senior warden had never tried cigars like that and probably never will.

Now, when his career was at risk, he could lose a fair share of his hard earned points, just because Jenny could not keep her ambitions at bay. Greg, like a complete fool, trusted to her reassurances that everything will go smoothly. Yeah, right! What did that bitch sing in his ears? That he will become Hulk's deputy, he will be praised and rewarded, and might even get some unscheduled days off, which he'd spend in the local bars of Tally....

What a scum...

What difference does it make now? Greg spat out pieces of tobacco stuck to his tongue on the dusty ground, and took another drag. It would be great if everyone could just keep their jobs, never mind the praise or rewards. If Hulk gets really mad - they all will be kicked out of his ranch with zero points on their bracelets.

Greg was seriously frightened by what he'd seen the night before. It turned out that this bloody guy is from the Special Unit and men like him never forgive or forget. They are as hard as steel. Greg could have sworn that the trick with the blinding was just the tip of an iceberg, and hence there was no chance he could avoid the responsibility.

Damn that bitch!

All day long the senior warden has been thinking about the best way to present his involvement in the story so Hulk wouldn't get too angry. Greg didn't care about Jenny - she was just a cheap floor mat, who'd fart in a church for a bit of cash, and if she gets punished, it's OK, she deserves it. But as for himself... Greg thought that even though his arse was a bit shabby - it's still was precious to him. The day was slowly coming to an end, withered grass was softly rustling, the mountains were coloured orange, and the day seemed to go on as usual, but he still couldn't decide what to do next and that was making him nervous.

If he tries to lie, then Hulk would simply apply the same shit to him - this "Blind" technique, and all the truth will be exposed in seconds. God knows, Greg didn't want to experience that. Therefore - lying was not an option and he could only hope he could twist the story to his advantage and make Jenny look like the guilty one. That would be the best outcome... Yeah, that would be really good.

The senior warden finished his cigarette, burnt his fingers with the butt, swore out loud and threw it on the grass. Then he thought for a while, stepped forward and pressed on the smouldering end with his shoe. It wouldn't be fun if something else gets burnt down today.

There was now only a few hours left out of those twenty-four hours given to him by Hulk. Greg wistfully looked at the sky where the sunset was painting everything in pink.

It's time to go and find Jenny.

When the loading of the goods was finally finished, and the trucks left the warehouse, Hulk wiped his sweaty neck, hoping to get back to his cool apartment and take a shower. All day long, no matter what was discussed or what documents needed to be signed, he was constantly thinking about Shereen. How was she? She spent almost the whole day in his office alone. Hulk swore quietly - he wanted to get back sooner, but things kept him busy till the evening.

At noon, he popped to the kitchen and asked Tabitha to bring his lunch upstairs, knowing that he would only feel relaxed with lady Shereen and therefore will be able to eat normally; after he'd done that Hulk's conscience calmed down a little and he carried on with the daily grind.

He was writing something, answering queries, watching the huge boxes with berries loading in the trucks and kept returning to the taste of her lips - so soft, gentle, cautious, almost timid, but because of that even more captivating.

Oh, yes, Hulk wanted her - not just her body, but also on a mental level, he wanted the whole of Shereen to belong to him – from top to the toe. Hulk never wanted any woman to belong to him so strongly and entirely - he wanted to absorb her laughter, the sparkling light of her eyes, the warmth of her body, let her every emotion pass through himself, enjoy every word that comes out of her sweet mouth. He wanted passionate nights and endless embraces, filled with tenderness, conversations at breakfast, and evenings together on the balcony, trips to the city, plans, discussions...

This desire tormented him, causing an everlasting internal struggle, because eventually he must let her go. How? When? It didn't matter, but it must happen sooner or later.

Hulk was almost growling, thinking about it.

His nature rebelled against the separation from the one that should belong to him day and night, week after week, month after month. Always. He wanted to act nobly, in accordance with his conscience, which with an uncompromising voice of the supreme judge was stating again and again that Shereen must be sent back as soon as possible. Hulk would moan and agree, and then would get back to thinking about the sweet pictures of how he and Shereen would talk in the evenings, discuss something and laugh together, how he'd cherish and pamper her.... Until his logic would interfere again reminding him of what has to be done in the end.

And then Hulk would growl again.

When, finally, all issues have been dealt with, and it was time to go back, Hulk sighed with relief. Yes, he became like a youngster, running to the tower where the Princess was locked up, and so what?

Was it naive?

Maybe .... But he spent far too long in places where there were only orders, cruelty and where only his endurance and strength mattered, but not emotions; and now his inner control, previously firmly entrenched into every cell of his body, was shaken up. Strangely enough, Hulk was glad. He became glad about it even earlier, when he started experiencing a flicker of the human emotions again, which seemed to be exterminated from all of those who the Commission ever hired to serve for them. Their first lesson was the toughest one – to liquidate any human feelings from every part of this body - the heart, mind and even the spinal cord.

At the time it didn't seem like a too bigger price to pay for the knowledge they were providing him with in return, for the extraordinary trainings of all the body reflexes, for the superpowers, which were impossible to take away, for the fact that it was almost impossible to kill a man trained to work for the Special Unit.

They were the best of the best - professionals getting the highest rates. What else could be more attractive than the absolute physical shape, which could never be achieved without an outside interference, and big money, flooding on your head like a waterfall for even the most trivial task?

A long time ago, it felt like the whole world was at their feet - his own and at his friends' - professional killers with different specialisations. Ren Dexter, Mac Allerton, Dell Odriard, Aaron Kann, Dane El'conto... where were they now? In total, twelve guys under Drake's management. The same old and rigid Drake... Will it be possible to see any of them again?

Hulk shook his head as he'd realised that he unconsciously drowned in the memories of the past, inspired by the emotions that flooded his mind so unexpectedly and violently. And now, instead of going to the house, he just stood there, by the warehouse, staring into the distance, where the mountains were trembling and blurring in the haze.

He was a killer, trained as a killer-sensor, he went through masses of different tasks, completed hundreds of orders, and now has settled down as a farmer in an abandoned city-prison. In the past he was almost like a robot, which never makes mistake, and he was now trying to live a life of a "normal" person in Tally.

Hulk was standing there, feeling the wind-dried white shirt that was slapping his sides, the chain around his neck getting hot from the heat.... and he was smiling.

She brought him back to life.

When Hulk finally got back to the office, the first thing he saw was Shereen sleeping peacefully on the sofa. Her head was lying on an arm-rest, as she was breathing almost inaudibly. Hulk smiled, then, trying not to make too much noise, took off his shirt and went into the shower. On the way to the bathroom he found her some new clothes and shoes. It's good that she fell asleep during the day, because, more often than not, the nightmares were most likely to come back at night time, and if a person could stay awake at night, it would be much easier to get over them.

Well, Hulk definitely intended to help Shereen to stay awake. Yesterday he could not keep her from falling asleep, her body was too exhausted after the "Blind", but now it should be OK for her to stay up. Shereen will choose exactly what she wants to do herself; Hulk will only provide her with some options... and maybe with a slight hint.

He smiled again, feeling his body filling up with heat. The muscles hardened, blood flow increased, and Hulk began breathing evenly and deeply, forcing himself to relax. Not yet. That was not the right time right now... but when she wakes up...

He turned on the tap and stepped under the streams of hot water. In a minute it will take away the dust and sweat accumulated on his body during the day.

When Hulk heard the noise and bustle on the stairs, he almost immediately realised what was going on. By the time someone knocked on the door, he'd already carefully moved sleeping Shereen into the bedroom and shut the door. After his "Come in", the door opened and Greg literally rolled into the office, dragging somebody kicking and desperately trying to break free behind him. That "somebody" turned out to be the girl who Hulk remembered very well ever since visiting the "Polo Grand" club. This was the girl who was brought to the ranch along with Shereen.

Jenny.

Hulk always remembered names. He carefully examined her profile, as well as the others, as soon as she arrived here. "Convicted for setting up fire to her own house in order to obtain insurance pay-out..." - the lines of text he once read floated before his eyes.

He never directly interfered in the relationship between her and Shereen, but was inclined to believe that they were socialising together when both of them lived at Belle Oak Park. When Shereen found herself in more comfortable conditions, her "friend", most likely, got upset and decided to launch a vindictive revenge. That was why Greg tugged her into the office.

The whole picture was quickly evolving into one and all the pieces were falling into the right place.

In addition, Jenny lived in the barracks which she subsequently set on fire; she had some friction with one of her neighbours.

Hulk almost winced, looking at her round blue eyes, lit with undisguised fury.

"Let me go!" She yelled at Greg, jerking from side to side, "You'll break my arm, bastard!"

This time Hulk winced.

He was not particularly fond of rude expressions, especially coming from women, and especially when they were said with such disdain and brutality. Plus, a loud voice could wake Shereen.

"Shut up." He threw abruptly to Jenny.

This only word sounded short, cold and rough - rough enough for her screams to be cut halfway through. Her round eyes, which were now filled with a mixture of lust and fear, stared at him without blinking. It seemed that she was almost licking her lips, seeing Hulk so close. Even the fear did not stop her from looking at him up and down.

Now it became even clearer why Jenny decided to betray Shereen so badly - Shereen had the opportunity to stay in touch with Hulk, whereas this one, who was secretly pining for him (or pining for all the perks that he came with?) couldn't even get close to the ranch, let alone its owner.

When the woman standing in front of him, finally finished inspecting his body parts, Hulk met her gaze directly, coldly and pensively, resembling a snake ready for the fatal bite.

The blond girl immediate saw the threat in his eyes and involuntarily took a step back, almost hiding behind Greg's back.

Hulk unkindly smiled with the corner of his lips and turned to the senior warden.

"Talk."

Greg hesitated and for a while couldn't utter a single word. It was the first time Hulk saw such behaviour from the old soldier and he could bet his arm that Greg's biggest problem was to decide how to exactly present the unsightly truth. At least, Greg understood that it would be much better not to lie. Hulk silently praised him, noting to himself that it would not mitigate the penalty.

Finally, Greg cleared his throat.

"Ok, I brought the one responsible for the arson, as you requested." He pointed at Jenny, "She did that. She set the barn on fire and brought petrol into the room and stole the shoe..."

"How dare you, bastard!? I didn't do anything!" She squealed, trying to kick the guard. But before she could add anything, Greg squashed her hand, and instead of words, Jenny howled in pain.

"It was her, I'm certain! You can check her as you did with the other one and you'll see..."

Hulk was looking at Greg composed.

"How can you be so certain that it was her?"

Greg swallowed nervously.

"I found a few witnesses. They saw her carrying the canister to the house."

"You're lying! I didn't do anything with the petrol! I was picking berries all day, and then I went to bed and only woke up because of the smoke!"

Hulk looked at Jenny, then at Greg, waiting for his response.

The fact that both of them were involved in the arson was obvious, but Hulk didn't want to interrupt the show, allowing the details come up on their own. He enjoyed catching the slightest body reactions, tones of voices and their facial expressions - it would always tell a more truthful story than any words. In addition, he was the Sensor \- a man capable to affect the brain, alter, or receive any information from it directly through the eyes, but these skills were not required at the moment. So he waited.

The senior warden looked seriously nervous and was sweating heavily. However that didn't prevent him from pushing Jenny to her side whenever she attempted to say something.

"She's lying. Everyone knows how rotten she is inside; she's only good at lying, envy and dirty words."

Hulk raised his eyebrows, noting the reddish spots appearing on Jenny's face, but Greg, who was getting carried away with blaming, continued, "Everyone from her barracks can confirm that she couldn't stand that girl - Shereen - and was always making up rumours about her even though nobody believed them."

Jenny stood silently, ready to explode - her lips turned into a thin line, and her chin was shaking with rage as if every word said by Greg was burning her from inside; while the senior warden was continuing to expose all the juicy details of her intriguing life. But as soon as he started saying that, he also saw her dragging the canister to the house, Jenny exploded in anger.

"Why are you lying and using me as your cover up? It was YOU who gave me the duplicate key to her room!" Now Jenny didn't care about the consequences of her own words. Her anger finally burst out, she turned to Greg, and yelled at him what she'd wanted to say for a long time. (Hulk was expecting exactly this to happen). "You hated her no less than I did and every time after fucking me you wouldn't shut up about it!"

Greg went pale and raised his hand to give Jenny a good slap, but Hulk sharply cut the show short.

"That's it! Enough, I said!" He snapped when he saw that Greg can barely control himself, "Is it true, Greg?"

Now Hulk's voice sounded so harsh that Greg could almost feel its steel edges. He couldn't push the answer out of his mouth - his throat tightened and completely blocked the flow of oxygen. At this moment he hated Jenny so much that he was ready to strangle her right there in the office, and do it ruthlessly, without any hesitation.

"You bitch..." His scrawny fists were clenching and unclenching, "You are dirty little bitch!"

Even when he slept with her, he never felt much of a pleasure, only dirt - any prostitute in Tally was better than this one, and now Greg regretted that he ever came close to this woman. What a petty vindictive creature! He should have strangled her earlier... a lot earlier. Why didn't this idea come to him before? He could have just said it was an accident and then nobody could turn him in... But it was far too late now - Hulk will know if he lies. Fucking blond slut...

"Greg?" Hulk repeated, "Are you gonna give me an answer or should I get it out of you?"

The guard panicked that Hulk's eyes will flash with the white light and then his life will be over. Everything will come to an end! And yet it was not too late to confess!

"Yes, it's true! I made that damn key, but I didn't know what she was going to do with it!" Greg shouted, apologetically.

"You DID know everything!" Jenny yelled viciously, revenging for her own defeat, "I told you every bloody detail of my plan and you agreed to it, hoping to get extra points for saving the barn!"

Streams of sweat were now pouring down Greg's face.

Hulk clenched his jaw, enraged.

"You..." He turned to Jenny, trying to prevent any further altercations, "...get out of this office now and next morning I will pass you to Tally City Court with a full description of your actions. They will decide what to do with you next."

"No!" Jenny murmured, suddenly turning pale, "They will send me to the forced-labour camp! They will..."

"I don't care!" Hulk cut her off.

"But we can deal with this here, at this ranch; there is no need for the Tally Court, I'll work for every single point, you can punish me!..."

"Not after what you've done."

"I want to stay at the ranch!"

Hulk tensed and slowly lowered his gaze as if looking at something on the carpet.

"You have three seconds to leave this office." He said calmly, "I have already made my decision."

His voice reminded Jenny of a concrete wall, strewn with glass. Feeling dark despair, she broke away from Greg's hands, howled and ran out of the office. The sounds of her steps had already faded away, but Hulk was still standing silent and motionless, staring at the floor. Greg was too scared to look at his face, and even more scared to hear what Hulk has to say.

Finally, Hulk raised his head and glanced at the senior warden who suddenly realised that he had seen many different expressions on boss's face, but never this one.

"Well..." Hulk said, "Let's talk?"

Greg didn't dare to say a word.

By the time the door shut behind Jenny he knew that the punishment for involvement in the arson cannot be avoided. She unmasked him with might and main, didn't forget to mention every dirty detail of their sordid relationship, which, of course, wouldn't help him to gain any kind of leniency.

Scum!

Greg prayed that the conversation with Hulk would end sooner rather than later, so he could go and find this snake. Oh, he will make sure that her poisonous tongue will be dangling around her neck! Yes, he will make sure of it. Personally.

But that will happen later and what about now? How serious will his punishment be? Greg waited, listening to the oppressive silence, and not daring to make a sound.

Finally Hulk began talking.

"You've been working at this ranch for two years. I gave you practically an unlimited amount of power and allowed you to deal with any situations yourself. I made you a senior warden and left you to manage the rest of the guards. But it seems that the power has gone right to your head."

Greg swallowed, trying to push the saliva down his rapidly drying throat. Even though Hulk was shorter than him, Greg felt as small as a dwarf. It was probably about the atmosphere, or even about this damn threatening aura that emanated around Hulk, forcing everyone to kneel to the ground. It would become especially noticeable when Conrad was really furious. As he was now.

"You crossed the line when you decided that inflicting damage to my ranch will bring you some personal benefit. I don't care about the reasons for your actions, but I care about the fact that my ranch was damaged, because you helped that happen. Starting from tomorrow morning, the role of the senior warden will be given to someone else."

Greg couldn't believe his own ears.

Fired? Has he just been fired?! Yes, he certainly thought that he could be told off, get a slap on the wrist, reprimanded or even fined. But to be ousted?! He stuck it out for two long years at this damn ranch, working hard with no rest or free time at the weekends and now he's going to get thrown out just like that?

"That's not fair!" He roared angrily with a tint of guilt in his voice, "Yes, I gave her the key, but I didn't know what she was up to!"

"I don't care what you were thinking."

"If I knew that Jenny was going to damage that..."

"Did you know about the arson?" Hulk interrupted him.

Greg didn't respond, because he didn't want to confess once again what was already obvious. So the question became a rather rhetorical one and hung in the air. Hulk though didn't expect to hear anything back, so he just continued, "You didn't care about the fact that if the barn gets damage, I won't be able to export anything to the city..."

Greg gritted his teeth, thinking that the economy in this ranch wouldn't suffer too much from it.

"... as you didn't care about the people, who could get burnt..."

Who'd care about the prisoners! They were not people; they were worse than a cattle herd and needed to be held in the iron fists!

"...you shamelessly dragged an innocent woman into my office..."

"She was never that innocent! She was stealing food from the kitchen..." Greg exploded, because the subject of Shereen was more painful than the rest of it all.

But Hulk didn't let him finish and the tone of his voice had now changed to a dangerously sweet one.

"... you didn't think I'd be able to determine the truth, right? You thought I was a fool who could be told any old rubbish. But you're wrong, Greg. You were very much mistaken."

The silence that hung in the room between the two men was almost crackling with tension. Greg's lanky tall figure was now angrily and nervously shifting from one foot to another.

All of this was Shereen's fault! It was her who set Hulk against Greg, played havoc with his mind and now was peacefully sleeping in another room, while the senior warden - actually, ex-senior warden - must go and look for another job first thing in the morning.

Greg just about stopped himself from spitting right on the carpet. He knew from the beginning that he should've strangled her too - they both should've been strangled before he'd went for one of them and Hulk fell for the other...

"For the actions against my property and for insulting me, you will be fined two hundred points. In the morning you will leave the ranch grounds"

"What?!" Greg shouted in frenzy, "Two hundred points? For some fucking barn that didn't even really burn properly?"

The warden's bad temper had already let him down in the past, but not as badly as this time. This time the anger blinded him to such an extent that he didn't realise how his own fist went flying towards Hulk's jaw. Fear, surprise, delight, anger and relief - all rolled up into one ball of emotions, when Greg thought that he will finally pay this brat back. How nice it will be to hit his detestable unemotional mug!

But in a split second Greg's arm and shoulder were twisted with such a sharp pain that he gasped and sank on the floor. Somehow, Hulk swayed his flying fist off to the side with the speed of light and twisted Greg's elbow behind his back; he then pressed the point, located between his shoulder blades with his steel fingers, which made the guard see black and red dots in front of his eyes.

He wheezed, arched from the sharp pain - the shoulder ached as if thorns and spikes went through it, and one hand quickly began to go numb.

"Three hundred points." Hulk said, "If you jerk just one more time again, it will be four hundred. And one more time after that - five hundred. Do I make myself clear?"

Greg nodded, grimacing and spitting.

"You will leave this place in the morning, and you will not have any right to come back here again. If your bracelet is detected within five miles of this ranch, you will be losing another hundred points every time it happens."

Greg was pining from the pain as Hulk was still clenching his shoulder with his fingers.

"Did you hear what I just said? Or would you like to try and use your limbs again?" Hulk's ice-cold voice filtered through the painful throbbing in Greg's head.

"Let go of me!" He croaked with the hatred, "I got it!"

"You are dismissed." Hulk said shortly and angrily, "Get out of here!"

Greg ran out of the office as soon as he was able to stand up and distinguish the location of the door

Jenny was crying. She was sitting in the darkness behind the women's barracks, smearing tears all over her face. For the first time she was in despair.

The night air, as if reminding her of the recent failure, smelled of fire.

Everything had gone wrong and not at all in accordance with the immaculate plan she had in mind. Greg betrayed her, Hulk appeared to be absolutely not what he was supposed to be like, the whole sham was exposed before it got a chance to materialise, and the future now looked not just grim, but terrifying. Instead of a little room in the house, increased wages and general life improvement which Jenny was expecting to achieve from this, the next morning was promising the looming walls of the Tally Supreme Court - a prison inside of a prison.

Just a mention of the name of this institution was making her blood curdle blood. Jenny's knowledge about this place was quite veracious - she's spent almost two years in Tally, collecting any relevant information from anyone who was willing to share it, and everyone was saying the same about the Supreme Court - if you don't want to know the real meaning of the word "grief" - never ever come close to that building.

Only those prisoners who failed to show satisfactory behaviour in the normal conditions of Tally were sent there for additional measures of "personality correction". In five out of ten cases such measure was a public execution. In the case of the other three, it was penal servitude. Nobody knew for certain what happened in the last two cases.

The judges considering the cases didn't pay much attention to what the papers said - for them it was enough to know that a certain prisoner was declared unfit to live in Tally by their "owner", and so life in Tally would look like living in paradise after what would happen next. Who'd care about the dregs of society who couldn't even be useful in a prison - wastes of space like that would be just "erased" in order to give way to new and more useful individuals.

Jenny was shivering, despite the heat that was rising from the warm ground. The dry grass stems were scratching her feet and digging into her inner thighs. She twisted on the lumpy ground, squirmed and hugged herself, trying to get warm. Where should she go now and what should she do?

Women from the barracks somehow discovered the truth about the arson and now were greeting Jenny with reproachful silence and gloomy looks. Sometimes they were whispering behind her back, but even when they were quiet, the silence felt so hostile that Jenny just wanted to run away aimlessly.

Why am I so unlucky? Why?

Jenny sobbed and bowed her head. Why doesn't life want to provide me with at least one winning lottery ticket? Why do I always have to fight, struggle, snatch something and keep hold of it as tightly as possible so she doesn't lose it? Why doesn't anybody want to help me? Is there any place in the world, where I would feel good, loved, understood and accepted?

Jenny raised her tired, tear-stained face up to the sky, but saw nothing except the lonely moon, gazing back down at her - a fat and ugly girl - with disapproving silence.

If before she had some energy to fight, it was gone now. There was no longer a desire to argue, fight, and strive to get or put anymore efforts into getting anything. This night laid bare the essence that Jenny was carefully guarding her insecurity from prying eyes her, her low self-esteem, her helplessness and vulnerability in front of anyone who'd point a finger and say something harsh to her. Only bitterness and brutality were helping Jenny to survive. Jenny - a girl who actually was neither strong nor particularly talented nor as life has shown recently fortunate.

Jenny knew she wasn't pretty. And ugly people never got easy gifts from life. Pretty girls get everything they want with their hands down while she'd always had to wrestle her way through, relying on her brain, lucky circumstances or intuition. But at times even these qualities would let her down, as they have now.

The immaculately conceived plan had failed so rapidly that there was no time to question even her mental abilities, and that was the last stronghold Jenny based her self-respect on. Now that was destroyed as well.

So she kept on sitting with her back pressed against the wooden barrack's wall - quiet and depressed, little and lost, tucked away somewhere in the depths of the ranch, ringed by the mountains, far from home, away from the normal world, away from the knowledge of what to do next. Gradually her tears dried out and Jenny began nodding off; her head lowered and her body crooked as she fell asleep.

After a while she woke up from hearing someone's irritated voice - somebody was muttering and swearing.

Jenny shivered from the cold and woke up completely - her body stiffed and numb hands covered with goose bumps. She was scared. Something was wrong. Whose voice forced her to wake up?

She quickly looked around and realised that she fell asleep on the ground behind the barracks. The moon was still hanging in the black sky, but it had now surfaced to the right and almost rolled over the wooden roof.

Jenny twisted again, and suddenly heard a voice - familiar, low and creaky.

"Where is she? Where can she be at night, damn it!"

Greg! Jenny gasped convulsively. Greg came after her because he wanted to punish her for betraying him at Hulk's. Why else would he come to the barracks?

She froze in fear, listening. One of the women said irritably," How can we know where she is? She came back after dark, we were sleeping."

"Turn on the light and show me her bed!" The guard growled, "If I find out that you're hiding her..."

"See for yourself if you want to!" Someone snapped in reply, and then floorboards creaked.

Run! She must run!

At first, Jenny couldn't think, speak or move - why did he come after her in the middle of the night angry as a mad dog? To kill her? And if not to kill her, then to cripple her anyway. She must run away as soon as possible - who cares where...

She jumped up, cringing from the pain in her shivering knees and frozen groin, and rushed to the nearest bush. As soon as she reached it, she darted through the branches and halted with her heart pumping. She scratched one of her knees and it was now hurting, but Jenny just gritted her teeth.

What next? How to get away from Greg? This vindictive devil is not about to leave her alone that easily, he doesn't give a damn that tomorrow she'll disappear from the ranch; he wants to give her a good beating before that happens. What a maniac!

Feeling like a hounded fox, Jenny looked around, trying to figure out which direction she should move in. Soon Greg will realise that she's not hiding in the barracks and will start searching for her all over the ranch. If he didn't want to get any help from the others in catching her, then he didn't want them to know his intentions; rather bad intentions, obviously.

The tree branches blocked the view completely and she had to rely on her memory. The first thing to do was to get away from the barracks as far as possible. If, God forbid, Greg notices her t-shirt in the bush, no neighbours would help her then. After choosing a direction, Jenny quickly and quietly made her way through the scratching thorns to the opposite side of the bush and got out of the thicket. To the field! It'll hide her for a while. She ran across the deserted footpath, which separated berries from the corn plantation, and darted into the tall thick grass, which rustled and closed up above her head.

This shelter was good, but not for long, because the leaves crushed on the ground would provide a hide-out better than any rocket flare and anyone with a flashlight would immediately locate the "prey", and Greg had definitely got a torch.

Ignoring her panicky pounding heart, Jenny frantically tried to gather her scattering thoughts in a more or less acceptable plan.

Where can she hide?

It can't be the fields - any movement will be detected by the shaking leaves and tree tops, it can't be a stone-pit either - as soon as she appears on the uphill road the other guards will raise the alarm.

Think... think... think...

Again and again she was glancing towards the women's barracks, horrified of spotting Greg coming out of there.

Where to go? Where?

She couldn't get too close to Hulk's mansion since it was constantly patrolled; moreover - once in the house, where would she go in there? The infirmary was shut at night. In order to get to the berry plantation, she had to pass the damn barracks once again and Greg was still hanging around there.

Jenny felt that she was starting to freak out. Time was running out - it was the moment to finally decide where to go, and she just couldn't pull herself together. Any place within the ranch territory was now potentially dangerous, and Greg wouldn't go beyond the fence...

She froze intensely, thinking. Is there any way to get out of the ranch? Can she find her way out of here?

Jenny was startled and suddenly recalled something and this "something" gave her a weak hope.

In order not to waste time, she moved to the far edge of the corn field, thinking as she went - if she crosses the road, she'll dive straight into another field, closest to the woodland belt. If she can reach that point, it will give her a chance to get to the old cargo gates, which have not been used for the past few years. And from there...

The hard corn stems were reluctantly opening up to the sides, giving way to the charging human body. That body was particularly persistent; there was boiling blood mixed with fear running through its veins. Jenny was surging forward scratching her hands, hissing and cursing. After a while she stopped and listened to the surrounding sounds - was she being chased?

But the night around, as if mocking her fears, was silent. Not a single sound other than cicada's chirring. Only a slight gust of wind was occasionally touching the leaves which would rub on the cob and then freeze.

No, she wasn't being chased as yet, but this will change soon. She knew Greg too well to think that he'd give up on his wish of revenge.

As soon as Jenny decided to move forward an unpleasant thought pierced her mind - she forgot to dig out the gems! The one she stole from Shereen's room! If she's really going to escape from the ranch, she must find them because these could help her to get rid of the bracelet; if that was ever possible....

Her thoughts were flying around, trying to form a flimsy solution to the salvation - if only she could find someone who would help her to get rid of the bracelet then neither Hulk nor anyone else could track her. But was there anyone who could do that? And how much would they charge? In any case, the gems could be exchanged for some additional points.

But was it really a smart idea to return to the barracks?

That forsaken bush was growing not far from the spot where she sat. Right there under its roots Jenny buried the whole fortune. Damn it!

Before Jenny had time to make a decision she heard a strange sound behind her. Was it just a rustle or was it a muffled cough? She went numb from fear and listened again. Was there a sound or wasn't there? What if Greg is already near?

Fuck the gems! If only I'd stay alive...It's not the time to be greedy!

Jenny began wading through the tall grass.

The wide leaves were clinging to her clothes and slapping her in the face; the resentment and anger was gurgling up in Jenny's throat - the gems were too good to leave behind, most likely they were rare and expensive - she was almost howling that she had to get out without them. But there was no choice – most likely in the morning she'll have to face an execution or a penal servitude, and if she comes across Greg first, she may not even see the morning.

Finally, after the painfully long last thirty meters, with cut hands and legs, Jenny ended up on a deserted moonlit road - there were trees growing on the other side.

Phew! She's pulled it off so far! It wasn't easy, but still....

Suppressing a strong desire to scratch her itchy skin, she quickly ran across the dusty path, and almost fell into a ditch on the other side of the road, rolled on her stomach and settled there quietly. This place was in the shade - the foliage wouldn't let the moonlight through - so Jenny could relax for a second. She rubbed her sore skin covered with grazes and grimaced - damn grass! Even her t-shirt looked a total mess now. But her appearance was not as significant as the other problem at hand - how can she get over the fence?

Having walked on this road a few times before, Jenny knew there was an old gate there, which was previously used for big trucks, but then they built new shiny gates much closer to the house and this one was abandoned. Even though the old dusty metal gate was now rusty and lopsided it still had electricity running through it twenty-four hours a day, like it was designed for the rest of the perimeter. But there was, however, one "but" that made this place different from the others, and this "but" was a chain that was holding the gate's doors together.

A few times in the past Jenny thought that this chain was long enough to allow the doors to separate adequately in order for a human body to squeeze through the existing hole. It remained unclear why Hulk didn't pay attention to this bit, but did it really matter now? The only important thing at this very moment was that she doesn't find a new shorter chain here and that the gap is still wide enough.

Jenny swallowed.

She didn't really want to go through this - if she touches the metal, she'll roast and become a dish called "made out of Jenny". But if she doesn't try, then she might as well forget about ever getting out of this ranch. The rest of the perimeter had a few rows of twisted barbed wire around it, which you would not want to mess with as it carried a significant risk to one's life.

So what would the right choice be? Should she try or not?

Either because of the long run or her fear, Jenny felt the sweat running down her back. She wiped the droplets from her temple, buried her face in her hands and halted in doubt.

What if she gets killed? What if she is not slim enough to squeeze through the gates? It was damn scary to even think about that. Jenny closed her eyes for a moment, but then aroused. She must look at the gap once again and then decide what she is going to do before the panic takes over her. She reluctantly got up from the ground and looked around - it was quiet. Wherever Greg was at the moment, he still wasn't here which meant she's got a chance to give the fence a closer look.

Trying to prop herself with her heels, Jenny slid down to the bottom of the ravine, and climbed up on another side of it - there was a narrow path behind the trees. On the other side of the path, there was an electric fence smelling distinctly of death.

Jenny shuddered as she saw it.

In fact, there wasn't any unusual odour around - the air smelled of dust and pollen from the rare flowers, but her imagination was going wild, forcing Jenny's nostrils to tremble from the non-existent electrical smell.

Trying to keep in the shade, Jenny was walking along the fence until she reached her destination - the old rusty gate. The doors were high and heavy, with cage-like bars, which could be used for animals in a zoo. There was a chain there - like a fat dead python, it sagged in the middle, holding the iron "ears" together on both sides, and the gap was exactly the same as Jenny remembered it.

With her breath bated and eyes glued to the metal that could cause an immediate death, Jenny approached the gate. Is the gap wide enough? Will it be possible to slip through it sideways and not touch it? If she inhales and goes through very carefully, it might work out.

Jenny listened to the sounds around again.

At first it seemed that there was the same silence, but after a few seconds, she heard something that made her shiver - male voices. Was this area also being patrolled?

Like a hunted animal she was shifting her gaze from the gate to the empty road behind the trees. They will be here soon - either the guards or Greg, and if she stays here, then her last chance to break free will fade away as if it never existed.

This thought forced her to make the final decision - Jenny started moving slowly and cautiously, and then froze right in front of the gate with her nose almost touching the rusty bar. She thought she must bend her legs and kneel to make sure that they won't touch the iron. Damn, that will be hard! But she can only do it once - it may not work. This is it - life or death.

She took a deep breath, filled her lungs with as much air as possible, then breathed out and made a step forward - turned sideways, pressed her hands against her body, pulled every little bit of herself in, and began carefully squeezing through the gap.

First the iron bar went past her left eye, and now it was exactly in the centre of her face - opposite her nose. For a moment it seemed that Jenny's hair touched the chain and her back was almost pressing against the rear rack, but judging by the fact that she was still alive, it has not yet happened. By this time the sweat was pouring like hell - running down her neck, sides, and thighs, but that was the last thing Jenny cared about. She was slowly crawling to the other side \- the freedom side.

The left knee successfully passed the danger area without touching the macabre metal pipe and now it was before her right eye. Then the right ear... Hand... Right knee...

Don't touch... please, don't touch it, just don't touch...

I've gone through!

It's worked!

Jenny took a step away from the gate, looked at her limbs still in place and fell on the grass - on the other side of the fence.

She did it! She didn't even notice that she was lying in the grass and laughing.

It worked! She squeezed through the hole without being noticed! Could anything be better than this? Greg didn't find her, the patrol didn't surface, the night had just begun and she was still alive!

Life had presented her with a lucky lottery ticket and there was justice in this world. Not willing to spend another minute by the ill-fated gate, she got up off of the ground feeling a new wave of energy after the successful implementation of the plan; briefly looked around and decided to run towards the weald, which stood, like a dark wall, a hundred meters away. The moon coated the tree crowns with silver light - this place will become her shelter until she decides where to move next. To get to the trees, she had to cross a dry grassy meadow - Jenny grimaced, knowing that her irritated skin will not be pleased with new scratches, but that's alright. They'll heal. The most important thing was that she was out of the ranch's territory and from now on there was only freedom ahead.

Encouraged by her success, she bravely stepped into the grass, then took another step and then... stopped. The feeling of calamity close by suddenly loomed in her mind – a very bad, heavy and dark premonition that something terrible is about to happen.

What's wrong? There was nobody after her, so why has this feeling come over her all of a sudden?

After standing motionless for a minute, Jenny shook her head.

What a dope she is, imagining something and ready to shit her pants for no reason.

She took a step forward - and this step was to become her last one.

The ankle burst with pain, as if someone dug their teeth into it, to chewing it in half. Her body jolted with such a force that Jenny got flew backwards, but she did not feel anything anymore. She fell on the grass, like a heavy sack. She did not see the sky or the moon; she no longer felt the dry grass poking her skin.

It took just a second for the electric current to rapidly run through her muscles, organs, blood and nervous system and go back to the ground. But not before it stopped her heart beating.

That was one of those moments when everything seems surreal - when you look at what's happening in your life and think "No, all this is not happening to me..." and it feels like a play, written by a crazy writer.

This evening reminded me about the one when Alex went, and instead of him returning home, I received a ransom note. Just as it was then, now it seemed that no matter what I do or say - someone else is pulling the strings and calling all the shots, and all my attempts to influence the events of life, was nothing but a false illusion about my own abilities.

First there was an apologetic Greg, malicious Jenny and angry Hulk. Then the first two were gone, and there was only Hulk left, not angry anymore, but rather concerned. He apologised and quickly left the office to talk to the guards about the vacant position of the senior warden.

The rush regarding this matter was understandable, and I was patiently sitting on the sofa, waiting for his return, going through all the Tueric words in my mind that I could remember.

Later on, a maid, whose voice I didn't recognise entered the room. She greeted me and started serving dinner on the balcony table. I was listening to the tinkling plates and cutlery, inhaling the smell of the dishes that the wind was bringing into the room. After a while the maid finished her task and went away. Once again I was left alone, wondering what this evening is going to bring when Hulk returns.

Tired from the silence, interrupted only by a monotonous clock ticking, I fell asleep, but soon woke up, from the sound of a slamming door - Hulk returned. As it turned out, not for long. We were about to have our dinner then stamping feet and men's voices burst into the room.

"Mr Conrad! We've found the body of one of the prisoners who tried to escape, and..."

"I got it." Hulk replied sharply, "Let's go."

Jenny, instantly flashed in my mind.

The room was quiet again.

My hope for a pleasant evening was replaced with a melancholic silence, filled with anxious thoughts. Almost enchanted I was sitting alone on the balcony, on a wicker chair, feeling a warm night breeze, looking into the darkness. No, not into the darkness, but into myself, where the pictures of my friendship with Jenny were beginning to appear. Well, at least, some time ago I truly believed that it could grow into a real friendship, if things could've in turned out differently...

Was she really that desperate? And decided to run? Did she not remember that the fence was electrified? There was no way she would have forgotten that, so yes, she must have been desperate. I didn't know much about the Supreme Court, but obviously it was something that Jenny wanted to avoid at all costs.

I had a heavy heart now.

I didn't want to believe that someone, whose voice I heard just a couple of hours ago, suddenly turned from an living, breathing person into what could only be described by a hollow word - "body". Even if this person was your enemy it was somehow devastatingly wrong and I didn't feel any relief after this news.

Yes, Jenny betrayed me not just once, but twice and yes, we were never real friends. Sometimes I'd get angry or wouldn't understand her, but I never wished her or any other person any harm, and especially a death like this. And still, she was the first person who I could talk to, share my problems with, and since she was the first one who supported me, she became symbolic.

I was always grateful for the helping hand she gave me in the first days in Tally. The days when I was like a blind puppy, not knowing where to go or what to do. Jenny explained the rules to me gave me advice, helped me to find work at "Polo Grand" and somewhere deep inside, I've always regretted that the circumstances forced us to choose different ways of life. Where I'd hope for a miracle from above, trying not to compromise my own principles, she'd grab everything she could reach for, using any opportunity to get out from the dumps, to survive, to make her own life a little better. Even if at times there were dirty methods.

I was aimlessly drawing doodles on the table, lost in heavy thoughts.

What would I do if I'd known that a couple of hours later she'll be found dead by the fence? Would I have interfered when she was here earlier? She wasn't perfect but least she was alive and trying to justify herself for what she'd done? Would I have taken her side and try to affect Hulk's decision to pass her to the Supreme Court? And would Hulk have understood me then?

No, I don't think he would have done. Nobody would have done.

It was always very challenging for me to explain to someone that it just was not right to respond to one's aggression with anger. I'd rather try and find a more forgiving way to solve the problem other than stoop to their level. That's just how I was - I always believed that a kind word would do more good than bad, but not too many people followed the same logic. Not every story has a happy ending and it was naive to believe in fairy-tales. And yet, I believed - secretly, silently, without telling anyone.

But the reality was teaching me to see what others saw - pain, dirt, injustice, and my own powerlessness. Sometimes I was able to resist it, and sometimes - as it was now, I couldn't. The terror of what had just happened came over me once again - Jenny was dead. She was no longer good or bad, she was just dead.

I suddenly became indifferent to the smell of food, to the warm evening breeze; I stopped listening to the distant voices, covered my face with my palms and started to cry.

"Are you crying because of her? Her, who gave you so much grief?"

Hulk's question was logical.

He came back a few minutes ago and was now standing beside me on the balcony. I wiped my wet cheeks and didn't reply, because I just didn't know what to say. But then I tried to explain, "Maybe she wasn't that nice. It's very hard to be nice in Tally. But death, any death - is something horrible. How did it happen?"

For a while Hulk kept silent as if thinking of something.

"Jenny was trying to escape using the old gate. For some reason, the gap between the doors was not fixed and it was wide enough for her to squeeze through it."

"And did she?" This picture was so vivid and clear before my eyes that I involuntarily shivered.

"Yes."

"But then why did she die?"

"She couldn't know that there is a three-tier protection laid out around the ranch and the fence you see is just the first obstacle. There are also wires stretched out on the ground which are very hard to notice in the daytime and not at all possible in the dark."

"Did she step on one of them?"

"Yes. Looks like she decided to move on to the grove and hide in there, but almost immediately stepped on one of the wires."

I didn't know what to say - the heaviness on my heart was not going. There was only one question, which for some reason I wanted to ask, even though this information was useless for me.

"Is that quick? When you touch the wire, do you die quickly?"

"In most cases, yes." I heard Hulk walking around the table and sit on his chair. The fabric of his shirt rustled, "Usually the voltage is high enough to kill in seconds. But sometimes there are exceptions."

"What do you mean?" My heart missed a beat.

"Electricity flushed through her body, threw it backwards and her heart didn't stop completely. I could trace a very weak pulse, which gives a hope that one day she might regain her consciousness."

Stunned with the news, I could not speak.

So, Jenny is alive? And she might recover? Well, in that case not all the stories have bad endings; perhaps it was strange, but I felt relieved. Let Jenny's life be whatever she wants to be in the future, but at least she's got another chance to fight for it. Life is always better than death, because death would never let you to fix any mistakes.

Hulk predicted my next question before I could ask it.

"She is in the infirmary now, in a coma. She has a 50/50 chance of recovery. I can't give you a prognosis."

Something in his last sentence made me realise how tired he was. So I wasn't the only one exhausted by the latest events and today's hassle.

"We should eat and then get some rest. Both of us."

I couldn't see the look that Hulk gave me after these words – I felt as though it was long, thoughtful and warm.

"Okay." He agreed finally and put the fork into my hand, "What does the lady prefer to start a cold dinner with?"

I certainly managed to sleep for some time.

The unpleasant images were disturbing me now and then, coming back and forth, but at least my memory wasn't disappearing for too long, which was a good sign.

Waking up from the slumber, I felt Hulk's warm hand hugging me through the blanket, and it was calming me down. Listening to his deep breathing I would fall asleep again.

Finally I woke up early that morning and worked out what the time was by my internal clock. The dawn probably wasn't here yet as there were no birds chirping that loved sitting on the trees as soon as the first sunbeams would pierce the chilly morning air.

It was quiet and dark around.

Hulk - silent and motionless - was fast asleep. Somehow I knew he wasn't awake yet. Because of my restless tossing and turning I rolled over to one side and wasn't touching him. Good. Less chances to wake him up.

Listening to the silence, I was pondering about the ranch, about yesterday, about my life, but most of all about Hulk.

What is he like deep down? Does he really believe it's all serious about us, and if so, would he be willing to open up? I desperately wanted to know more - what he did in the past that led him to this ranch and forced to settle down here, in Tally. He was not the type of person to voluntarily grow wheat. He's got an enormous strength in his personality and such an adamant will, which most could only wish for, as well as some internal barriers, which couldn't be opened, no matter how hard you tried, unless he gives you his permission to see more.

Which secrets is he hiding? Where did he get such nerves of steel and those strange abilities, which no one knew anything about? If Hulk could so easily deal with the memory of another person, what else could he do? This trick with the "Blind" could not be learned on its own... but what other knowledge did he have?

"The Commission" must be involved.

I didn't know much about it, really, at least, no more than others. They bounded authorities of all cities - those strange people in silver uniforms with two white stripes on their sleeves. They didn't have an office building with The Commission title on it, where one could go to with a complaint or suggestion, but, nevertheless, they kept their eye on everything. Another strange thing about them was that they hardly ever interfered into any situations unless they wanted to. Some people were scared of them, some were worshiping them, as for me, I've never seen any of them.

Some said that the first meeting would always be the last, while others hoped to sniff out more information after getting closer to them, except no one could say exactly what one must do in order for such a meeting to take place.

Some people were confused and wondering, some anticipated who knows what; some feared and respected them whilst trying to keep their distance.

It's not possible to understand more about something you don't know and you don't see.

The Commission would never fine for any violations, they never broadcasted anything on TV, or proposed to elect their own members, and generally never exposed themselves, apart from some exceptional cases. But yet, it existed and everyone knew that for sure.

I could bet my right arm that the Commission taught Hulk what he knew. So who is he really? Maybe it was too naive to think that nobody would want to live in Tally out of free will? Maybe it was Hulk who chose this place, knowing that he could earn good money and not be deprived of power over the others? After all, he was visiting the local clubs, drinking with other "owners"; he let his guards beat the prisoners and looked calm and collected whilst watching such atrocities, overall, he seemed quite content living on this ranch.

It was strange, even absurd.

Thinking logically, it was fairly natural - any person who wanted to get a respectable income and a high status in society (even society here) could get the relevant documents, come to Tally and settle down here, enjoying the cruelty of the local laws that allowed to ruthlessly exploit the labour of prisoners to your own benefit.

But was Hulk really like that?

Did he really take pleasure from the beating of the prisoners, this forsaken ranch and could he really live happily ever after, managing the guards and collecting profit from the countless harvests? Something inside of me refused to believe it. He wasn't that type of person. He demonstrated too much fairness in some situations, where (if he was really selfish) he could have just turned the blind eye.

Yes, occasionally, some prisoners were still dying from the beatings. Hence, for some reason, Hulk needed to maintain this appearance of a "cruel owner", but he wasn't cruel inside, I could have sworn on it.

Then who was he \- the man sleeping by my side within a hand reach? Why was he here? Why does he do what he does even though it's not logical?

"What are you thinking about?"

The sound of his voice made me startle.

"Do you have a headache?" Hulk sounded worried and touched my forehead.

I unwittingly pulled the blanket over my chin, as if it could help me to hide my recent thoughts and doubts.

"No, I don't have a headache. I was just... reflecting."

"On what?"

I chuckled - he just woke up and he wants to know everything! But should I say it aloud or not? Or should I lie that I was thinking about myself or tell the truth that all my thoughts were about him? What will be will be!

"About you."

The sheets rustled and the mattress sagged - Hulk leaned on his elbow and now was much closer to me. In a second he carefully stroked my cheek with his fingers and his warm breath touched my forehead.

"What exactly?"

I hesitated. I didn't know how to combine the words into a single structure that would accurately and unobtrusively express my thoughts. I either must be honest from start to end, be ready to hear the truth, or beat around the bush, trying to gather the information bit by bit, without being scared to hear a response, which I might not like.

His fingers began gently stroking my cheek, distracting me from my dilemma.

But I didn't want to play any games. If he refuses to answer my direct questions, so be it, but I'll know now and not later. I decided to get straight to the point.

"I was thinking that everything that's going on between us means that we are getting closer..."

"And?"

The question didn't sound irritated, more curios. It was reassuring.

"And that means that soon from two people who are attracted to each other we'll become something... more?"

Hulk kept silent waiting for me to continue.

"Is that correct?"

"Yes. Does it scare you?"

"Yes and no." To explain what I was thinking appeared to be harder, but I wasn't about to give up, "I'm not scared to think that I'll be with you... It's quite the opposite, I want it..."

"So what scares you then?"

"I'm scared of my desire to know more about you. I want you to open up to me."

"Have you got any specific questions?"

"Yes." I hesitated.

Maybe he wasn't planning any serious relationship with me, and here I am - early in the morning, starting on him with the complicated female demagoguery. I should have kept silent! I silently swore to myself \- why did I have to start this bloody topic first thing in the morning? He's just woken up and I'm already trying to turn him inside out. What should I do now? Keep on pulling the answers out of him, or shut up and go against myself.

But Hulk helped me to get out of this awkward situation - just not the way I expected him to...

Instead of saying something, he lifted the blanket and rolled directly onto me. Before I could say a word, his thighs were between my spread legs and his elbows were leaning on the pillow on both sides of my head.

"Ok, let's talk."

At first I couldn't make a sound. Something big and hard, covered with fabric, was now pressing against my groin and the lower part of my body was pressed into the mattress by the weight of a man.

I just gasped, realising how helpless I was, and because I unwillingly responded to this closeness with convulsive contractions of my abdominal muscles.

What's going on with me? The blindness only added vulnerability, increasing the sensation of every touch.

Hulk halted. He wasn't in a rush to act, which scared me at first; he was just lying on top of me, as if giving me a chance to get used to that intimate feeling of his body being so close to mine. Even though he wasn't moving, the bulge that was pressing into my crotch, made me feel pretty nervous. It was not because I was afraid of what might happen, but because my body's reaction was too acute. I've never got aroused so quickly before. It was new to me, almost painfully pleasant, and completely out of control which was very unusual.

"I can't talk... like that."

"Yes, you can". Hulk lips tickled my temple, "That's exactly how I want to talk to you. To be sure you understand what I mean."

I involuntarily jerked upward trying to, at least, reduce the contact with the protruding male's part, but my attempt wasn't successful - the top of my head immediately pushed against the pillow, which pressed against the bed's headboard. In the end, I just rubbed once again on something I was trying to avoid. The place where we touched became even more sensitive and began to pulsate weakly, sending some warm waves from my lower stomach up throughout my body.

I swallowed, twitched again and froze; Hulk, of course, noticed that.

"Hush-hush..." His fingers gently stroked my forehead and temples, "We'll just talk at first. No need to worry."

"Talk?" I could barely control my thoughts.

"Yes, talk. I want you to understand and realise the importance of what I'm going to say. Ok?

"I'll try."

He continued stroking my hair.

"I'm not a little boy, and I came into your life not just for a day or two and I am not about to leave. I understand the meaning of being "together" and I understand why the closeness in all aspects is so important to you.

His words sounded quiet and serious, and I was desperately sorry that at this very moment I couldn't see his face, the expression of his eyes and the emotions reflected in them.

"... and I'm ready to answer any of your questions."

I gasped with relief.

"Really?"

"Really. But there are some subjects I have no right to talk about even now. You have to understand it. There aren't many, but they do exist."

"I understand."

For the first time I allowed myself to put my hands on his broad shoulders, hug them, touch his warm skin with my fingers. Then his neck... it was tense; his unshaved face tingled with bristles...

Hulk's organ reacted instantly, pressing into my underwear even harder, while he was not moving, not letting himself lose control.

Instead, Hulk said:

"In order to prove to you that I'm serious about us and to avoid any unnecessary doubts I am ready to answer your questions right now. Ask."

It wasn't easy to lie under an aroused man, try to hold back my own excitement and to think all at the same time. But I forced myself to focus - it was important to hear what Hulk has to say on the matter of the "closed" subjects that were taboo for everyone else but the one who he chose to be "his".

"Okay." My brain was working feverishly, while my lower abdomen was still painfully demanding the continuation of this sensual game, "What was your profession before you entered Tally?"

Hulk gently ran his lips on my cheek, rubbed his nose against the delicate skin on my neck and said, "I worked for the Special Force Unit, serving for the Commission."

"What was your role?"

"We don't have specific names. The Squad is trained for variety of things."

"Including killing?"

"Yes."

I wasn't surprised.

"How many people are there in the Unit?"

"Twelve." Hulk's lips slowly touched the corner of my mouth, sealing it with a kiss.

"Names?" I began to get carried away with the excitement, but was still trying to ignore the subtle and slow caresses.

"I cannot say."

"Ok. Was it your choice to live in Tally?"

"No."

My heart skipped a beat.

"Can you leave this city?"

"No."

Whew! I realised that I just got a piece of information that significantly changed the picture in my imagination and got silent. So, even the "owners" here were not as free as they seemed. Or was it just about Hulk? I will have to clarify this later. My brain quickly packed the new information away, unable to focus on long logical chains. By that moment Hulk's lips has already fully seized mine; his tongue was slowly and rhythmically investigating my mouth, stroking and caressing. My thoughts were eluding, blood heated up immensely. Soon all of this will be impossible to ignore. I desperately wanted to stop questioning him, but the opportunity was too good to drop it now.

Breathing heavily, I tried to compress my legs to no avail - the moisture had seeped through my thin knickers, my body fiercely wanted his hard and hot part that was so sweetly pressing on me, to finally penetrate inside. To push, to invade, to fill...

"You are not playing fairly!" I gasped, scratching his strong back with my nails.

"No. Because I want you badly." The row of kisses tracked along my neck and below. My breasts were extremely sensitive awaiting their turn of ravenous lips.

"I'm not able to ask my questions, when I want you to..."

"Want me to?..."

Hulk was smiling. I couldn't see, but I knew it.

I could not hold on any longer.

I was not about to act like a shrinking g violet.

"I want you to enter me."

An imperceptible movement of his hand and the head of his penis - swollen, thick and demanding - brazenly squeezed into the slippery opening. But only for a few centimetres and then stopped.

I sharply exhaled and shot towards it - that's it, he's almost mine, almost inside of me - only the one who was won and lost at the same time could feel so sweet. But instead of letting me move, Hulk nailed my hips to the bed.

"No, before this happens, I want you to answer my question."

I fell silent, waiting for it.

"Yes, I wasn't playing completely fair this morning, but I am ready to answer your questions any time after, you can be sure of it. However, now you know enough about me to make a decision. Shereen, do you want me to become your man?"

The way his arms and neck tightened under my fingers, I realised how important it was for him to hear the answer – just like it was for me earlier on. Did Hulk really think I could give him a negative answer? Maybe he was afraid that I would, because he had just admitted that he was a member of the killer's squad? But that didn't frighten me, it was rather exciting.

"Of course, you are a bad boy..." I couldn't resist teasing him, and Hulk reacted with a growl and pushed inside for another couple of centimetres, making me choke with a sweet delight, "But you're mine now. And I don't know how to half love somebody."

"Do you know how to love your other half then?"

"My other half?..."

"Yes, Shereen. Because I am your other half."

These words went directly under my skin, passing through all sorts of barriers, and as soon as they reached the core of my heart, Hulk slowly and inevitably entered me.

*****

It is boring to be blind.

It's, of course, also uncomfortable, but most of the time - it's boring. There are not many things blind people can do: they can think, get lost in memories, listen or talk.

But to be blind and happy isn't that bad.

At breakfast I was happily chasing my sausages on the plate with a fork, trying to catch and eat them. I was complaining that it was the right time to start feeding me some ice cream, because my mouth would never miss that dessert. Hulk was telling me about his plans for the day ahead and was smiling and listening. He was also beaming, despite the fact that this morning promised to be full of things that required his attention.

Right after breakfast Tabitha took me to the kitchen, where I was delighted to listen to her stories about how things were in her daily life, or if she had to leave the kitchen I would enjoy listening to the music coming from the old radio; I haven't listened to any music for God knows how long. Plus a raspberry pie was taken out from the oven a few minutes ago, and I was indulging in a piece of it. Could this day get any better?

The world around me, despite the lack of vision, had blossomed with bright colours. The sun was warm, the birds were twittering their uncomplicated melodies from the tree crowns, dishes were clattering, someone was mildly quarrelling in the kitchen, and an absolute idyll was prevailing inside of me.

I sighed happily.

Now I had everything that any woman dreams of - my own man! Attentive, caring, strong, polite and absolutely wonderful. And totally mine! I could go every over every moment of last night for hours - cuddles, words and gestures. Just the thought of it would fill me up with such warmth, as if now I had an autonomous sun integrated in my heart. Tabitha was smiling, sensing my happy mood. Although I couldn't see her face, I could still feel my happiness reflecting in her, as if it was passing from heart to heart, multiplying and intensifying.

The ranch, that was like a prison to me before, suddenly and unexplainably transformed into something else. How was that possible? I didn't have the answer, but it's happened. Now, the corn fields became "mine", the neighbourhood was familiar, the dust and bracelets turned into a usual attribute of people in Tally, the heat was tolerable, the orange mountains became picturesque, and this mansion - almost a "home." What a miracle!

I shook my head. It was impossible to imagine how much the environment can change if you'd just alter your attitude. After all, the physical world around did not change, just my perception of it did, and that was enough to paint everything with new colours.

They say "It doesn't matter where you are, it only matters who you are with", and for the first time in my life, I truly knew the meaning of this.

Everything had changed. Everything - inside, outside, far from me and near me - it just became different.

Even this kitchen felt cosy.

Of course, there was still a serious and sensible part inside of me, frowning and wondering how long I'll stay in Tally, and what my life will look like, since I was still a prisoner, albeit living with my beloved.

But it wasn't the right time to think about that at the moment. Later I will.

Yes, I still had the bracelet on my wrist, and it will probably remain there for some time, but I was quite certain that Hulk will bring up this subject soon; as well as many other ones. Therefore, I patted the serious and logical "Shereen" on the shoulder and continued to enjoy this wonderful day. At the end of the day, there was never "another" moment in life, but only "here and now", and since all the talk about tomorrow or yesterday was just an illusion, why wouldn't I just stay in harmony with the world, as the world was so loyal and wonderful to me right now?

I found another juicy berry on top of the pie, and it went straight into my mouth.

Delicious!

I would be happy to carry on meditating in the kitchen until dinner, if it wasn't for Tabitha's voice.

"Shereen, someone wants to see you!"

"Who wants to see me?" I rocked in the chair, feeling relaxed and not particularly worried about the unexpected visitor. My home, my world, everything was fine and wonderful. If my soul is singing, then the visitor will be fine as well.

She came into the room.

"Let me help you outside. There is an old and wrinkled man from the fields here. He wants to talk to you. He refused to chat with me, saying that he'll only speak with you. I told him "She is blind!" and he said "I don't care. She'll still be able to hear!"

I got up from the chair and leaned on Tabitha's chubby elbow.

"Have you seen him before?"

"Dunno. There are hundreds of workers. I can't remember every prisoner, but his face doesn't look malicious, that's all I can say."

I stood on the spot where Tabitha left me - in the shade of the trees, by the kitchen. After she was gone, I heard someone's steps along with strained coughing and then the words followed.

"Shereen, you probably don't remember me..."

The man's voice sounded familiar - an invisible gear in my head turned, pushing up the vague memories associated with that voice on the surface, but I still couldn't identify the owner of the voice.

"I'm Ted." The man said, "We sat next to each other when we were on the bus to Tally. Do you remember?"

Yes, I remembered him - the lanky man with the apples. During the whole trip he was trying to tell me something, but I could hardly remember a word from that story.

"Hello, Ted!"

"What's happened to you?" My companion got worried, when I blinked and opened my eyes for a split second.

I winced.

"Don't worry, it's just temporary and it's getting better. How are you?"

"I'm alright, quite ill, but am still alive, the rest is not that important. So the reason for me coming... I know it was you, who gave us - the plantation workers, hats. If you had not of been so kind, many of us would still be suffering from the sun.

"Don't mention it Ted, I know you needed them."

"Nevertheless I want to thank you once again, from all of us. But that's not why I am here... I heard about that rogue that set the barn on fire and planted the canister in your room. We all heard about it, because the rumours spread so quickly."

I nodded, feeling sad.

"So I thought I should ask, if there was something stolen from your room?" Ted coughed and I stiffened.

Why was he asking me this? How would he know?

"Yes." I decided not to lie, "One thing is missing, but why do you ask?"

"Because I found something. Give me your hand."

Feeling worried and excited, I stretched my hand out. Something heavy and painfully familiar landed on the palm of my hand. With a pounding heart and not quite trusting my own feelings, I brought it closer and started touching it with my fingers. Of course! The same fabric, the same sound of the rattling stones, the same weight... How many nights did it spend under my pillow in my tiny room? The only difference was that the fabric felt dirty and dusty.

"Where?" My voice broke from excitement, "Where did you find it?"

Ted sighed with relief.

"I knew it was yours! Now listen to how I found it. I usually don't sleep well at night because I cough a lot, and when the coughing fit bugs me too much, I go out so it doesn't bother the others. They work really hard in the daytime and it just wouldn't be fair on them. So, the other day I went outside, due to my usual coughing fit. I looked around, couldn't see the patrol, so I decided to take a walk along the field to get some fresh air and calm down. I kept on walking aimlessly and then I saw her - that girl! At first I couldn't even work out what she was doing, I just recognised her blond hair, she was crouching down and digging under the bush that grows behind the women's barracks. So, I thought "Well, she might have come out for a wee or something, you never know..." and decided not to call her, and just went back to mine."

I didn't interrupt her, listening with baited breath and a loudly pounding heart. That's where my gems ended up!

"I have to say, I didn't figure out right away what it was all about, but when I heard the story about the barn I got thinking again. I thought to myself, why would she be digging under that bush if she wasn't trying to hide something? And if she was hiding something, what was it? Thus, she could only be hiding something that she'd stolen on the day she broke into your room! This conclusion really concerned me for a while, until I decided to check it out for myself. Of course, I could have been wrong, but I still decided to go there to take a look. Oh, yes, I was kicking myself for this decision - what if the other men thought I went to see some women? But this secret really captivated me and as a result I found this bag!" Said Ted happily, "Yes, I'm sorry - I glanced inside the bag, but I didn't take a single stone, I swear. But now when you say that it's yours \- all the pieces of the puzzle have finally come together and it shows that I was right."

I was so grateful, I almost cried.

"Thank you, Ted. If it wasn't for your observational skills and logic, I'd never have see these stones again. And they were a gift that I thought I'd lost forever."

"Well, you see! Then all my thinking about this whole story wasn't in vain!" He looked flattered, "And I'm glad it wasn't, especially since you were so kind to us."

"Oh, come on ...." I found his hand and squeezed it, "Anybody else would've never returned the stones and you got them back to me. I don't know how to thank you..."

"No, I would never even take one." my former bus neighbour firmly replied, "I'd never take what doesn't belong to me. That's just my nature. You don't need to thank me, I did what my heart told me to do and I'm glad it all ended so well. You get well soon; it's unbecoming to be sick, whether you're old or young."

He left, and I stood still in the shadow of the tree, facing in the direction where his steps were fading away.

How everything has turned out! Unbelievable!

Jenny stole the stones from my room, and when she decided to run away, she somehow forgot about them, and fortunately for me, good-hearted and honest Ted noticed it, not someone else - what a happy coincidence. Not that these stones were that precious to me - I could live without them, but it still felt indescribably good to know that some valuable part of my life got back in its place. I didn't know who was responsible for the fate and coincidences, but I thanked them in my mind.

"Why are you still standing there?" Tabitha's voice came from the distance, "Your guest has gone as I can see."

When she came closer, I asked, "Tabitha, do you still have the key to my room?"

"Yes, indeed. Do you want to go there?"

"Yes."

"Then hold on to my elbow, sweetie." She laughed, "What did that man want from you?"

"He brought back one thing that I'd lost some time ago."

"Ah! That's good! He must be an honest man then... I told you his face was not malicious."

We slowly limped to the house.

The day was blooming with bright colours again.

*****

We sat by the same fountain again, but this time it was early evening, the water was splashing in the pool. I still couldn't see it, but I could hear its tender murmuring nearby. It was a good place, and Hulk chose it himself in order spend a leisurely evening away from the ranch.

As with the last time we were here, there weren't many people around; only occasionally I could hear some distant footsteps and voices of the passer-byes. The heat had subsided a little and the sun was moving down towards the horizon.

"What do you want me to do about Alex?" Hulk asked after we spent some time in silence.

I was surprised by his question. It's been a while since I thought about my ex-boyfriend, and if I ever did, I felt only a sense of great relief that he was no longer in my life.

"Why would you do anything about him?"

"He lied to you."

"Yes, he did. Why are you even thinking about it?"

"It's not nice to know that you were brought here because of him, while he is relaxing on the beach, spending that money you paid so dearly for."

I shrugged.

"Yes, it's not nice for me either, but if it wasn't for this, I would never have got here get and would not have met you. Should I keep blaming somebody or should I regard it as a gift?"

"Maybe you're right. You were always too kind." I heard Hulk smiling. Then he became serious again, "This time things turned out to be ok, but there could be another time and it all could go pear-shaped. I can teach this slug a lesson."

"How would you do that being in Tally?" This time my curiosity took over my kindness.

"I still have some contacts. I could really do some damage to him but first I'd like to hear your opinion on the matter."

I suddenly went quiet. What did I think about it? Of course Hulk was right – I always tried to be kind, wherever possible, but at the same time I knew that some people didn't deserve it, but was it worth it to let the anger, bitterness or revenge take over you like that? What would my positive answer bring to me? If I encourage Hulk to make Alex suffer - would it deliver more happiness into my life and would I breathe easier, knowing that the guilty one has been punished?

No, not really. Frankly, I didn't care how Alex spends his time with his new lover.

In the end, Alex didn't demand any money from me, he tried to force Elmer to pay, but so it happened that it was me who sent him the required amount. Another consideration was that even though Alex was fully aware of this fact, he didn't have the courage to confess and return the money. Instead he chose to disappear, forgetting that there was someone waiting for him at home.

Yes, that was making me sad. But was I upset enough to say Hulk "Please make him pay! I want to see him writhe in pain from the realisation of his own mistakes!" No, I was not, and although I was angry, I still didn't want to be responsible for such words and actions. I'm not a judge. None of us are. Yes, people interact with each other, sometimes it brings us joy, and sometimes it brings disappointment, but you always have a choice whether you want to keep dealing with a certain person, or you just to go your separate ways and find new friends to communicate with. It's not necessary to try and change anyone, whose opinion or principle does not coincide with your own \- life is too short for that. I firmly believed that I would never waste time on some fleeting desire to teach someone a lesson or make them realise something. My own time and my inner peace were far more valuable than that.

So I happily refused the given opportunity to vent revenge on Alex.

"It's not necessary. I've already forgotten all about him and I don't want to even think that our paths would somehow cross, even through your actions. I am happy with you now and he is in the past."
"Ok. I understand."

Hulk's fingers squeezed mine as if saying "Don't forget that I'm always here for you" and I squeezed his in return.

We both fell silent again. A breeze touched the grass growing on the stone basin, and the stems gently rubbed my bare ankles. The new shoes that Hulk brought to the office the day before were now standing next to me, on the concrete. It was nice to wiggle my bare toes and feel them being caressed by the warm air.

"Tell me about yourself." I asked Hulk, "Why did you end up in Tally? And why can't you leave?"

He chuckled.

"It's a long story. But if you have some spare time, I'm ready to share."

I playfully pushed him to his side.

"Mr Head of the Ranch! All the time I've got in Tally belongs to you now. So if your Excellency would deem one of their servants worthy of an ice cream, then your servant would be more than happy to spend some time with you, which they'd be ready to spend with you anyway, but not half as happy should they have an ice-cream in their hand."

Laughing, Hulk tilted me onto his own hand, and kissed - gently, slowly and savouring it. Then his fingers stroked my chin.

"You little devil."

"Yes, but a very happy devil!"

Everything was great - I laughed and he laughed. It was summer and the tree crowns were rustling, the water was splashing in the fountain and people were peacefully walking around. Now I had more freedom inside than ever. Yes - Tally, yes - a prison, but I felt so amazing inside as though I'd suddenly got wings. As though there was only one thing ahead of me - flying high; flying over the green plains and gingerbread houses, hearing joyful wind in my ears and feeling that this happiness will never end. As if it's here and it'll stay with you forever. Then the rest of life will fall happily into place.

This new feeling was giving me strong and soothing hope, even confidence that everything will be just fine.

I put my head on Hulk's shoulder – big, strong and reliable shoulder.

His fingers intertwined with mine.

"I love it when you do that. But you have to let me go for a couple of minutes; I'll fetch you an ice cream."

"I have a sweet tooth, right?"

Hulk kneeled in front of me and paused. Then he gently stroked my cheek with the back of the fingers.

"You are the one I love and that's all that matters. "

He gave me a gentle kiss, and then disappeared somewhere in the depth of the park. I sat there, listening to the distant sounds of cars and passers-by, enjoying the magic warmth inside that I was beginning to fear if it was for real. I felt so much love, that I was ready to pop like a balloon. I loved everything - Hulk, the world surrounding me, the people, that intangible feeling, that very moment and the one who's given me such good moments in life. I loved the warmth of this evening, knowing that I was loved and understood, no longer alone and there will always be someone to squeeze my fingers and keep me from falling. I was continuously thanking someone above for putting these wonderful feelings into my "Feeling piggy bank". I had no desire to be anywhere else, but here and now and nothing could compare the beauty of what and how I was feeling inside right now.

And even though Hulk was now somewhere else - on the other side of the park at by the ice-cream booth, he was still here, with me - permanently and for good.

I happily sighed and wriggled my feet. Then I reached for the water and dipped in my toes - what a nice chill! How nice everything around me was. No, I didn't think I was dreaming - quite the opposite, only now I finally felt awake and all the things that were in my life before now seemed like a dusty grey tape with no sounds, colours or smells.

Soon, the aroma of Hulk's perfume appeared and I got my ice cream.

"This is for you, to ease the boredom of hanging around with me."

"You!" I tried to put the ice cream on the banister, but before that happened, Hulk deftly caught it and sat in front of me again. I found his face and squeezed it with my hands, "It will never be boring for me to spend time with you, even if we don't have anything but three walls and a stormy sky over our heads; no food, no water, no money, but a bunch of enemies on the horizon."

He laughed.

"I won't let that to happen to us."

"I know. But did you understand what I just said?"

Hulk's voice became serious. This was another moment when I painfully wanted to see his face, but alas...

"Yes, I understood."

I knew that he did.

"I'm with you until the end - no matter how, no matter where."

"I know."

As my forehead pressed against his, and we froze, shielded by a feeling of some deep knowledge that was only available to the two or us; us, who belong to each other, whose hearts were connected by an invisible thread, which is stronger than anything else.

Hulk gently rubbed his nose against mine.

"Let's go to the bench before your ice-cream starts melting."

"And you'll tell me your story?"

"Of course, I promised."

I slipped my bare feet into my shoes, leaned on his warm elbow, and we walked to the bench.

The story told by Hulk, was fascinating - it was deep, at times even dark, but at the same time heartfelt. But even more so I was fascinated by the fact that the man, sitting next to me on the bench had opened up - just like that - without any fear or hesitation, knowing that he'd be accepted for who he was, trusting me completely, and it was besotting.

"You already know that I used worked for the Special Force unit." He began his history, "There were twelve of us - neither good nor bad, just some trained guys, doing their job. Sometimes we'd work together, sometimes separately. We'd never judge or have anything personal against those who we worked with, we'd always act according to the orders, because that's what we chose to do. I'm not saying that we had no freedom, of course, we had. After all, we were selected based on our qualities and ability to rely on ourselves and our own decisions. And years of training unified our team. We were all friends."

"All of you?"

For some reason I thought that in any good team there was someone who could spoil the whole picture. I didn't know why – maybe, because that's how it was often portrayed in movies - some mad person or difficult to cope with maniac.

"Mostly, yes. I know it's hard to believe since each of us had their own perspectives on life and temperament, but yet we were similar in many ways."

"Did you always have to live together? In military barracks?"

"No." Hulk laughed, "At first, when we were training, we'd spend a lot of time at the gun ranges, offices, test labs, racing tracks, gyms and so on.... We'd learn something new in all of those places. Later, after we were fully trained, we could live our lives as we wanted in our own houses, but not too far from each other, so we could get together quickly if we needed to."

"Were you all taught the same things?"

"No, as general studies, we all had our own specified areas of knowledge and you already know mine."

"Yes, you are a Sensor."

"That's correct. All the others had the knowledge in something else.... One, for example - I won't give you any names - a professional assassin, who was able to regenerate damaged tissue - his own or somebody else's'. It is a very complex skill. Another guy could track an object from a distance; find any person, using only his inner vision...."

"You must be kidding..."

"No, sweetie, I am not. Believe me, you wouldn't want to become his target - it's a very painful process. There were only a few of those who could withstand being chased by him for more than thirty minutes and stay alive, so he'd usually find the desired object very quickly."

I just opened my mouth and then closed it. Were there really such people who could do this? Maybe it's good that I was living in peace and quiet, busy with my shop, and never heard about anything like that? Otherwise I'd be subconsciously worried and expecting a hunter like that to appear behind my back, since you never know when and why the Commission would decide to send someone after you...

"And you? Are you able to do much?"

Hulk chuckled again; I felt it with on skin.

"Believe me - it will be hard for you to find something I cannot do."

"What is most dangerous thing about you?"

"For you? Nothing."

"Not for me, but for your potential victim?"

Hulk was silent for a while but even the air seemed to rattle by the rigidity that appeared in him.

"I can kill not only physically but also mentally, through your consciousness. One look is enough. I can turn all the memories upside down, obtain any information, set traps in minds, and force a person to act in accordance to my plan. I can erase their memory completely or replace it with a new one. I can make them believe in something that never happened, change the perception of the reality, cause insanity or set a death timer."

I nervously swallowed and suddenly began shivering as though the winter has fallen on Tally. A second later everything became normal again - warmth, summer, rustling trees, walking people.

"Oh..." I just gasped – what a good and kind boy I got myself. But anyway, I was ready for it even without knowing the details."

His fingers gently caressed my neck.

"Scared?"

I smiled like a wild predatory cat that's just caught a huge gleaming silvery fish.

"No. I am happy with exactly the way you are. It makes me feel... safe."

"But yet you are still scared." He smiled, playing with me.

"It turns me on."

"Good girl."

Those words made my stomach cramp and a hot wave shot through my body. I felt my love inebriating me - it was always the same with Hulk - sublime feelings were mixed with this psychological game, passion, even lust, which I'll hide till the end, letting him derive it from me, tear it and enjoy the victory. But it would be my victory, which of course, I wouldn't tell him about.

I smiled, knowing that Hulk is watching me.

"Every time you look into my eyes, I'll be shivering."

"Yes, you will be, but from love. And if I ever see the fear in your eyes, I'll kill the one who caused it."

"Just like that?"

"Yes. Just like that, believe me."

"I believe you."

What a strange conversation. If I'd ever had this with Alex, it would have been horrible for me. But now, sitting here on the bench next to Hulk, such a discussion felt completely normal as if it'd always existed in my daily schedule. Let's say, from the morning till lunch..."

Yes, everything changes - times, people, views.

"Do you know that your ice-cream has melted?" asked Hulk, holding my hand.

I turned my head to where it was laying and smiled.

"That's alright, I don't want it anymore." Talking to Hulk made me forget about any gastronomic delights, "But what happened to you that meant you have to spend your last days in Tally?"

"I am not on my last days as yet." Hulk laughed, "And, hopefully, I won't be done with them anytime soon."

"Of course not." I sat back and leaned on Hulk as he put his arm around me. Gently and relaxed. Somewhere nearby, the voices of two men mumbled, discussing the news from the evening newspaper. When they faded away, I continued, "How did you find yourself in Tally?"

Hulk fell silent, as if immersed in his memories.

"I wish I could tell you that I'm here because of a mistake, but I can't. There wasn't any mistake - I disobeyed an order, that's why."

I shifted on the bench from curiosity.

"What order? Tell me."

"Drake's order." said Hulk, "He was our chief and commander. In fact, he is still now."

"Is he the man from the Commission?"

"Yes."

"What kind of order was it?"

Hulk fell silent again and then took a deep breath. So, I was right - it wasn't easy for him to recall the past, and my curiosity increased. By the time he decided to carry on, I was almost exploding from impatience.

"One day we were given a new assignment to "clean up" one of the regions. It was one of those rare occasions where all of us were involved. The plan was developed meticulously, to the smallest detail, to the second. The who, how and where down to the miniscule detail. If one of us stumbled, then the whole task would be at risk and that was unacceptable. We were given the order not to go back for the wounded if something was to happen."

As I heard these words, my heart began to ache. I'd already understood that their team was cohesive, and such an order would've been a real test of their loyalty to the given commands. I was all ears, and prepared to listen up.

"All was going well, exactly according to plan until one moment... when the bullet pierced right through one of our guys. The rest of the team had gone, they dispersed and went ahead to finish off the mission. Only myself and Dell stayed behind."

That was the second time he mentioned someone else's name out loud, and I quietly placed it into my memory, wondering if this information could ever come handy in the future, unless, of course, my boyfriend doesn't decide to play the memory trick after this chat.

"It was dark and every second was as valuable as gold. We only had seconds to decide whether we had a chance to pick up the wounded and finish the job. The grenades were exploding too close by and our hope seemed a bit far-fetched, but nevertheless it was there. I remember Dell looked at me and I instantly knew that we were thinking the same thing - we cannot leave our friend to die. The Commission probably could, but we couldn't. Eventually they would replace him with another trained specialist, but we couldn't replace a friend that easily."

Hulk quietened down.

I swallowed, feeling as if it was me who was there that night, listening to the wind roaring in my ears, breathing in the air smelling of the gun powder, feeling the dust and sweat in my eyes. Only one more second and it will be your back that gest the next bullet...

"Did you save him?" I asked quietly.

"Yes." Hulk replied simply, "We did."

"And what happened with your mission?"

"It nearly failed. We put it at great risk on a few occasions, but eventually we achieved the result Drake wanted."

Hulk's voice became cold and distant as if he was back there, where all this occurred once again

"Was your boss unsatisfied that you'd broken his order?"

"Yes, "unsatisfied", if you could apply that word to him. This is the Commission, Shereen, and things are much more complicated there than I am able to explain. They have many rules. One of them is to never violate their orders, so of course we were punished almost immediately after the mission."

"Did you realise that you're revealing their names to me?" I asked, nervously, interrupting Hulk.

"Of course, I did. I don't say a word without thinking of dozens of other answers beforehand. I think in this case it's more important to give you a sense that I trust you, rather than be scared that his information might hurt you."

"Ok, then." I relaxed and became all ears again.

"We were prosecuted, yes. The tribunal took place on the same night, but not in the presence of the other guys. They were only told that we'd both got punished for what we'd done, but they don't know exactly what had happened to us."

"Why weren't they told? At least it could have been an example of what could happen to them should they break the rules. Isn't that how Tally's Supreme Court works?"

"That's correct, but the Commission is not Tally. They knew if they go into details, then the guys would try to help us. We'd become real friends and Drake was aware of it. If one of them would've discovered where I was, then the others would've discovered it too and then they would've come up with the redemption plan shortly. But by trying to help us, they all would have been punished. It was safer to leave them in the dark in order to keep things under control."

Hulk grinned bitterly and stopped talking. I felt his muscles tense.

"So you were exiled here without the right to come back."

"Yes. I also don't have the right to communicate with other members of my team and inform them about my whereabouts. However, the Commission allows me to contact other people in the "outer" world as long as I don't try to leave Tally, so I've retained some of my connections."

"They've locked you up here..." I whispered in shock, "...for good? How many years do you have to spend here before they decide that that's enough?"

Hulk didn't answer and that upset me the most.

Suddenly everything seemed different. Whereas previously, myself and other people with bracelets on their wrists were the prisoners, but we had a hope (illusionary hope, but still) to collect one thousand points and get free, while Hulk hadn't got a chance like that. Somehow, this realisation genuinely shocked me and made me feel outraged, even furious, but I quietly buried this emotional whirlpool somewhere deep inside until a more appropriate time.

"And Dell? What happened to him?" I asked, anticipating that Hulk may not know or choose to remain silent. But, he answered.

"Dell was given a strange sentence, but no less monstrous. I don't know whose freaky fantasy it was, but I'm glad I ended up in Tally rather than receiving his punishment."

"Why?"

"Because he was handed the knife."

Hulk told me more about the knife in the car on the way to the ranch. It was getting dark; the air got chillier, the air-conditioner hummed quietly, ventilating the air inside of the cabin.

From Hulk's words, I understood that once the knife was given to his friend this made him a slave - and not in a metaphorical sense, but quite literally. Once this dagger was passed into someone's hands, Dell was obliged to serve and obey this person until the moment when it was given to someone else or is lost and subsequently found by a new owner. Then Dell would have to serve another person, continuing to remain completely constrained and not being able to choose his own actions.

I thought it must be truly awful, especially for people like Hulk, and if Dell had a similar personality which in Hulk's opinion he had, then it was difficult to find a "better" hell for those who were used to rely solely on their own actions and loved freedom more than anything else. It was like taking a fish, cutting off its fins and tail and adding sulphuric acid, so their life wouldn't seem as sweet as honey; and that's exactly what Commission has done to Dell.

I shook my head. What kind of people are they?

Hulk was right \- he didn't get the worst punishment. Yes, Tally wasn't a five start resort, but it wasn't the most disgusting place either. In any case, it was possible to survive here even if you had to grit your teeth and abate your desires. But what was it like to be a slave for a stranger?, I couldn't imagine at all - and not just a slave for one stranger, but a whole string of them, when you never know how long you'll have to serve them for and who will become your next owner. Wasn't that horrible? What if amongst those "owners" there was a mad old woman, drug addict, criminal or hysterical bitch? What kind of dark desires might appear in their minds as soon as they know that they have won a prize in a form of a strong six-foot male body, perfectly trained for killing?

I felt sincerely sorry for Dell and hoped that one day he would get the dangerous toy back in his own hands, if one of the "owners" would ever sacrifice their own pleasures for the sake of someone's freedom.

"How long has it been since this happened?" I broke a long silence while we were both deep in thought.

"Since when?"

The Jeep was smoothly riding on the night road, my hand was resting on Hulk's knee and he was gently stroking my fingers with his.

"Since you entered Tally and Dell was given the knife."

"Almost three years."

My head swayed when the wheel hit a pothole on the road.

Three years of living in Tally, in this mansion, ploughing and harvesting fields, trying to get used to the farmer's lifestyle. Three long years of slavery for Dell.

"And is he still serving those who own the knife? Hasn't anybody released him and returned the knife?"

"I don't know, Shereen. I've no idea."

"Did the Commission ever tried to contact you here?"

"No." Hulk replied quietly, and my heart felt heavy again.

"Do you miss them?" I asked him after a pause.

"My friends?"

"Yes."

Hulk didn't reply, but I already knew the answer, and so I did not expect any response to my rhetorical question; and, perhaps, for the first time since I lost my sight, I was glad I couldn't see his face. The last thing I wanted to see was the pain in his grey eyes. I knew it was there, I could feel it.

Not knowing what to say and how to cheer Hulk up, I just gently squeezed his fingers, while my mind began working. My brain switched to a thinking mode, and was now scanning through all the possible options on "how to help Hulk".

I think I've always been that sort of individual. I didn't stand up too much for myself, but when it came to other people I'd immediately become highly motivated to act. First it was Alex, then the quarry workers, then the plantation workers and now Hulk's happiness was at stake, so I had to think how to help him. The fact that I couldn't see any opportunities to help right now didn't mean that I wouldn't think of something to help in the future.

So I tried to stay as optimistic as possible and prepared to wait.

The next few days, I remembered as the happiest days of my life; they were filled with joy, peace, complacency and a complete lack of worries. The nights were hot and passionate - Hulk enjoyed with concupiscence what he owned now (i.e., me) - taking, playing, caring, crushing, electrifying, calming and attacking again. He'd force me to merge with him, begging for more, immerse into a fire to the point of screaming, to the point of words of hate or pleading, and then, finally he'd spare me and we'd lie side by side as he, tired and relaxed would be looking at my smiling lips, stroking them with his thumb.

We talked about talking everything that would come to mind, we loved our morning breakfasts together and evenings on the balcony as I would sip a refreshing cocktail with mint, and he smoked one of his favourite flavoured cigars.

When we had some spare time away from the office, Hulk wouldn't let me off his knees - being silly, laughing, stroking, caressing, and whispering sweet nothings in my ears. But at the same it, it felt like he was suffering from some mental anguish, which he still preferred to remain silent about.

I could sense his tension by the way he was touching my body - so insatiably, absorbing my every word, kissing me and at times squeezing my shoulder painfully, as if trying to put his permanent ownership mark on me; or when he would stroke me tenderly, without saying a word, deep in thoughts.

What he was thinking about in these moments was a complete mystery to me.

How could he be afraid of anything, if he was the only man I would love from now and forever? In order to erase any doubts from his mind, I'd often clutch his face with my hands and tell him how much I loved him. For a while Hulk would behave normally, but then he would start acting like a wounded animal going to lose his favourite toy. And then, again, he was taking, crushing, and then melting my inner being with his. Eventually it wasn't possible to separate us and distinguish where one of us started and another finished. It was electrifying but also scary.

"Are you hiding something from me?" I'd ask him feeling worried.

But instead of answering, he'd only press me against himself tighter, and breathe in the smell of my skin as though it was the only thing that kept him alive.

Once, however, he answered.

"We'll talk about it when you can see again."

It made me sad.

"Ok. But I am scared."

I was really nervous, feeling that something was hurting him from within. After all, there wasn't a shadow of doubt in my heart, and I didn't want anything to cloud his mind.

"You don't need to be scared – all will be fine. I promise."

"Will you stay with me?"

"Yes."

"Always?"

"Yes, one way or another."

This answer didn't comfort me at all, making me feel strange, but there wasn't anything I could do. If he wants to wait until my vision is back, so be it. But whatever happens or is said, one thing I knew for certain - Hulk was mine, and he always will be. I will do everything possible so that my other half would never separate from me. This knowledge was feeding me with faith and strength, allowing me to be patient and prepared me to greet any twists and turns that our future had in store for us.

If Hulk confirmed he was mine - then this was true, and everything else was insignificant.

Two days later colourful spots and light glares started dancing before my eyes. For the first time in a long time a brick wall fell and the light began to make its way through the darkness. Even though my sight was still very vague and blurry, I was jumping from joy.

"I can almost see! I can see!" I shrieked, trying to walk around the room, dancing. Hulk was laughing, but still not forgetting to watch over me so I would avoid sharp corners and walls safely.

"Don't rush, my kitten, if you've already began seeing the highlights, then after a day or two, everything will return to normal."

"Only two days? Yahoo!"

No matter how hard he'd try to hold me back, I couldn't stop moving around the room randomly, watching the light by the windows get brighter. It was now as an unusual experience as a happy one. As soon as Hulk would leave the room, I would walk back to the windows, still unable to believe that I was starting to see again.

Once, we sat on the balcony - Hulk, smoking a cigar, and I was just enjoying the warm breeze, playing with my long hair.

"Hulk, does it ever rain here?" I asked the question that's occurred in my mind a few times since I got in Tally.

"It does." He replied, "But not very often, maybe, once a year. It rains for a few days in a row and then stops and dries out again."

"And when will the "wet" season come?"

"Soon, in about a month."

I paused, thinking. Perhaps it would be interesting to see this wilderness flooded. Many plants will start blooming as soon as the moisture will touch the soil; dust will be nailed down to the ground by streams of rain, and the wind will thrust through the air. Maybe even some thunderstorms will occur; at least I was hoping for it. For some reason, I really missed thunder and lightning strikes. This sight had always filled me with awe, reminding me how weak people are in comparison to mother nature. And the lightning over the desert - that must be a great spectacle.

"It's good that I'll be able to see it."

"Uh-huh." Hulk confirmed neutrally, his thoughts wondering elsewhere. The wind brought a fragrant smoke, smelling like cherry or was it vanilla?

After sitting quiet for some time, I began to ask more questions.

"Hulk..."

"Yes?"

"Tell me more about the Commission."

"What exactly do you want to know, baby?"

"What is it? Where are their offices located?"

He chuckled, made himself comfortable in the chair and flicked the ash from his cigar. By now I'd learnt how to identify some of his movements by the sound, which I couldn't before.

"The Commission is a strange authority that governs all Levels. I can't tell you where their offices are located, Drake usually comes to the allocated place, and we were trained in one of their buildings, but trust me - you won't find it on the map. I don't think even I could find the way there myself, because its location constantly changes within the space. It's hard to explain, but I'll try."

I was surprised to hear the words "changes within the space", but I didn't say anything. I guessed I had to learn many things that I didn't think could ever exist. Therefore, instead of showing my mistrust, I just asked, "But how could I contact them if there are no addresses, phone numbers and marks on any map?"

"Why would you contact them?"

I thought to myself that one day I might need this option, and if there was a chance to learn more about the Commission from one of the people who'd worked with them so closely, it certainly must be used.

"I wasn't going to." I avoided a direct answer, "Everybody knows that they exist and wonders who they are, but nobody knows where to find them. Are they human beings?"

Before answering, Hulk pondered for a while.

"Yes, Shereen, I'd say so, but they are not exactly like us. What do you know about the Levels in general?"

I had to shrug since nothing specific came to mind.

"Nothing really. I just know that they have created the cities where we are living."

"Do you remember how you entered the first city and where you lived before that?"

I referred to my memory with a new request, but got nothing in return. The thoughts were slipping away as soon as my brain tried to catch any information on this topic. Everything seemed to become like cotton wool, and the thinking process would immediately switch to something else. I told Hulk about that.

"That's right." He nodded, "Some areas of your memory are not possible to reach, because they've been blocked."

"Blocked by the Commission?" I tensed

"Well..." Hulk sighed, "You raised a very complicated topic and I have to start my explanation from the very beginning. At least, I'll tell you what I know, which is far from the full picture, but it's still more than anyone else could explain to you, except, of course, the people from the Commission."

"Won't you get punished if you share this with me?"

"No, I won't. You're a smart girl and won't be spreading it to everybody, right?"

I nodded.

"Right."

"In order to protect this information from leaking or in case if a talented individual would decide to extract the information from you, I'll block it out after our conversation."

"So I'll forget everything?" I became capricious, "And will lose my vision again?"

"No." Hulk's voice sounded soft, "You will remember everything and you won't lose the ability to see. Well, agree?"

"I agree!" I said; ready to hear his interesting story. At least, I thought it might be interesting. And yes - the story didn't disappoint me.

"Let's start from the beginning." Hulk started, and I listened to his every word with a great amount of fascination, "The Commission is a group of people. I don't know how many of them there are in total, but it was them who created the place where we live now - the Levels. Yes, all the Levels were created by the Commission and I could bet my right arm that they didn't exist before."

I tried to hide my amazement.

"Does this mean that the place where we are living in is artificial?"

Hulk pondered for a while.

"I wouldn't call it "artificial" since, to some extent that word means "unreal". This place is real, it became real some time ago, even though it was created manually. Don't ask me what kind of knowledge you must possess in order to create something that didn't exist before and out of the emptiness, because I don't know. But the Commission was able to do it. I don't think they were called "the Commission" in the world they came from; they were just a race there. Or not even the "world" - because when I use the word, I think of some kind of outer civilisation, and we are only talking about this world - our world, and just about human beings, not about strange organic creatures. Thus, it would be appropriate to use a different word - a Reality. We have plenty of those in our world."

Hulk fell silent. Then he asked, "So? Do you understand?"

I slowly nodded, fascinated by the lifted up curtain that was hiding either a fairy tale or some crazy fantasy behind it.

"Yeah, I get it, but... it's weird. Are you saying that there are many Realities?"

My head was spinning - five minutes ago everything was easy - one life, one world; just what you see with your eyes, but now my brain stuck, thinking that not everything is that simple.

"Yes." His reply was firm, "I know that for sure - there is a huge number of Realities and you can switch from one to another, but that's another really complicated subject. So let's get back to our sheep."

I giggled. The guys in silver uniforms, no matter who they actually were, would not approve of such a comparison.

"They came to this place, and created it from scratch. Gradually, step by step, they built these cities and connected them with roads, created the environment and so on. You probably noticed that all the cities are different?"

"Uh-huh." I nodded.

"Some of them are completely made out of concrete - they are grey and mostly dark. Many high-rise glass buildings, offices, strange neighbourhoods and unsightly areas, as if everything were copied from a postcard image from another world."

After I'd heard these words, something twinged in my head, which was painfully familiar, almost tangible as it often happens, when you smell freshly baked bread and it suddenly makes you recall a distant old and forgotten image from your past. But in my case it didn't smell of baking, but of tangled up streets - dull, dirty and dangerous. As if it was in a different city, many years ago, but as soon as I tried to grab this picture by its tail, it would instantly dissolve into my intricate memory corridors.

Hulk, meanwhile, continued speaking, "Other cities aren't like that - they are green, cosy, with old beautiful architecture, small and cute. Or there could be a mixture in one city, where half of the buildings are made of glass and steel and another half is made of stone and wood. Like your Klendon-city. There are islands, coasts and deserts. There are many things... And such diversity allows everybody to discover their preferred environment to settle within."

Or where you'll be exiled to, I wanted to add almost out of the blue, but shut my mouth on time, thinking what exactly in Hulk's words brought this bright feeling of Déjà-vu.

For a few seconds there was silence, but I hardly noticed it.

"Are you trying to remember something?" Hulk asked.

"Yes, you said something that made me briefly recall a chunk of my memory, but I couldn't catch it."

"Shereen, you won't be able to catch it. I'll explain why, but later, ok?"

"Ok."

"And another thing - what I tell to you now, can greatly affect your perception of the world. How can I explain... This new knowledge can be reluctantly accepted, or start to bother you. A human brain doesn't like any changes in habitual feelings, it always wants to be sure that it knows and understands everything, and when we learn something new that invalidates the old knowledge, then we lose a sense of control over the situation; it knocks us for six. If this happens to you, I'll carefully shut access to this area of your memory, so it won't bother you. You have to tell me if this happens."

I shivered and frowned, not willing to experience any new interventions in my poor mind. I'd rather try to accept all the new information without losing my normal attitude. In attempt to avoid any further unpleasant discussions, I asked:

"Hulk, what are these realities? Are they like parallel lives? Do they have the clones of us that live and behave differently?"

A long time ago I saw a sci-fi movie where the characters were constantly intersecting with their second selves, trying hard to avoid any changes in the space-time continuum - that's how convoluted all this was called. But Hulk, for better or for worse, didn't confirm my theories.

"No, Shereen. These realities exist outside of space and time, and they are not parallel to ours. They don't have our "clones"; there are different people, cities, systems and regulations, and different places."

"So, those are worlds?"

"They can be called "worlds", but they aren't located in space, they are very close to us and they interact with each other. We don't see it. This is a completely different level of knowledge, not available to us."

"Is it available to the Commission?"

"Of course, it is. Otherwise, how would they have created an entirely new place? Moreover, you've seen the oddness of the place, but never questioned anybody about that – nobody did, because that's just how it is, and, nevertheless, you've seen that there are no births or ageing people at the Levels. Time doesn't exist here. People come here from different places, but no one knows exactly how or where they'd lived before.

Now I was puzzled.

-

"Right... For some reason I never thought about it, but really - there is no getting old here. But there is time - there are watches we wear on our wrists, there are days, months, and years - calendars... So strange. Do you really think I came here from another world? And Jenny did? And you?"

"Yes, we all lived somewhere else before."

"But I don't remember my world before, it seems like I've always lived here."

"It seems this way for everybody. Yet you can't remember being born here."

I shook my head.

"Because you came here from another place, where you were born."

"How did I come?"

"I don't know, baby. It's different for everyone - only the Commission knows how and where."

Feeling confused by what I'd just heard, I was still trying to build up some kind of a logic chain.

"Why would I agree to come here? Was it bad for me there?"

"I don't know, maybe. Or, perhaps, you just wanted some changes in your life. Anyway, all of us were given a choice, and we all willingly crossed the border. I'm certain about that."

Something pinched me.

"What about you, Hulk? Do you remember your world?"

He paused, inhaled and released a cloud of smoke, and then he said:

"No, frankly I don't and I don't want to. Whatever made you say "yes", it must have been a good enough reason; and if there was a reason, I made the right choice to move here. I don't regret anything in my life - in general, not in Tally, of course."

It was my turn to be quiet, thinking about everything he'd said. The picture that my mind had created was strange, but spellbinding. So, all of us - all who live in these cities, once lived in other places, until the Commission offered us a chance to move. Greg, Jenny, Tabitha... And what kind of world could produce Hulk – a beautiful one or a mean one? Or Alex, Elmer... every face I saw on the streets came from a different place...

"Hulk, it is possible to recall where I came from?"

"Do you want to?"

I thoughtfully wrapped a long curl around my finger.

"I don't know... I'm curious, but scared. What if I want to get back or remember something terrible?"

"Anything can happen, but I have to disappoint you - I won't touch the door of the forbidden area of your past, otherwise, I'm quite certain, the Commission will take some action as soon as I do that."

"Then don't do it." I easily refused this idea, "Wherever I lived, I don't remember it, so what's the point? And here I have you."

I knew that, Hulk smiled, as if the air around got warmer.

"Don't you regret asking about all this?"

"Regret? No. It's amazing to know that we live in such a place we know so little about. On the other hand, it makes it even more interesting, and the fact that there was a time when I was a different person and lived in another place - yes, it is surprising and somewhat shocking, but when I think about it, I really don't want to go back. Let the past remain in the past. I'm more curious about the Levels - who are those people in the Commission and how..."

"You are thirsty for some knowledge, aren't you?" Hulk chuckled. Then his clothes rustled as he got up from his chair, "But leave your questions for another time. My cigar had finished as well as my whisky and I do want you closer than across the table."

His warm palm squeezed my fingers.

"Shall we go?"

Hardly being able to restrain the sensual shiver that ran up my spine every time this man touched me, I allowed myself to forget about all the questions, and got up from my seat.

A strong, attentive, caring man, smelling of whiskey, a warm southern wind, filled with aroma of flowers, a warm and friendly night - what could be better than all of that? Wherever these Levels and cities existed and whoever those people in the silver uniform were - they allowed me to be here, enjoy life and experience moments of true happiness. Therefore I didn't care that there were more puzzles than solutions and I'll never find some answers to my questions, but those people have made my happy with someone, who was now standing by me, and I was grateful for that. All the rest can wait.

Over the next couple of days I often thought about the story I'd heard from Hulk.

Who was I before? Where did I live? Why did I decide to move here? But since my memory was not particularly helpful (thanks to the Commission), I dropped these futile attempts, and remained busy with other things. By now my vision was completely restored.

Now I was looking at everything in a completely different way - with love, maybe... The reddish mountains were so picturesque, the fields eared with green grass, and all seemed oddly bright, unusually vivid and alive, as never before. To some extent, the loss of my vision became a gift that allowed me again, as if from scratch, to appreciate the beauty of the world.

Whenever I wasn't questioning my memory about my past, I was thinking about how to help Hulk. It became obvious that living on the ranch for the rest of our lives was not an option, since it wasn't the right place for "happily ever after". I simply couldn't imagine myself being a farmer's wife for years to come, not because I was too demanding - Hulk's presence guaranteed my happiness, but I wasn't sure that he - a trained member of the Special Squad and a former killer will ever agree to live here for another couple of dozen years. As I understood Hulk was in a difficult position and couldn't influence the situation much, so it was totally up to me to find the way for us to get free.

But genius ideas don't come easy and no matter how hard I tormented my brain, trying to plot any sort of acceptable plan, I still couldn't see the light at the end of the tunnel; but the final destination could only be reached if I kept on walking, so I kept on thinking.

All former duties from my life had disappeared. Completely. Whereas before I was brushing the yard, washing the floors, delivering food to the stone-pit or translating the book, now nobody asked me to do any of that. I was still allowed to do the translation if I wanted to, but there was no more scrubbing or cleaning tasks. Last time I touched the foam was when I was helping Tabitha to rinse the dishes after lunch. So my life suddenly became unexpectedly easy and I couldn't decide whether this was good or bad. In order not to feel useless or lazy I would sit with the notebook and the Tueric dictionary hoping that this information will become handy one day, if not for Hulk (somehow I felt that he won't stay in Tally for much longer), but for someone else, who'll be his successor.

Perhaps, this whole situation would have remained so vague, forcing me to moan from powerlessness and doing nothing, if not one event that made this phase to come to an end and start a new era.

Here is what happened.

Someone was being beaten up again. I heard a guard's distant shouting when I finished with the translation and went out in the yard, intending to find a sun umbrella for our balcony in one of the pantries. As I was about to reach it, I halted and listened carefully.

Yes. Someone was being beaten up - I wasn't mistaken. The guards were angrily shouting by the field and I ran towards them, not quite knowing what I was going to do.

My heart was beating frantically again, my eyes were covered up with a veil of rage and fear and that feeling of devastating inadequacy had returned once again.

Why? Why are they doing this again? Violent Greg was fired; did Hulk find the same type of person to replace him? Someone who loved tormenting the prisoners here? Why wouldn't Hulk prevent such actions?

It was unbelievably hot. By the time I ran to the field and froze by the corn, the guards, huddled around a poor guy, had stopped screaming by then. Their stunt was over. The man, who'd been beaten up, was lying on the ground and not moving. I was looking at him, feeling a nasty taste of bitterness in my mouth - a long awkward body with bruises all over it. I could see the ribs protruding on his bare back, a few old scars from whips and thin sand-coloured hair...

The flies were buzzing around annoyingly, as I was staring at his hair that looked somewhat familiar. Such a memorable shade. Was it... No, God, please no! Let it be someone else!

Once the guard heard my mental scream, he pushed the body with his foot and it rolled on the back - the inevitable conclusion became obvious - it was Ted.

"Dead." Confirmed the guard, and walked away from the body, lighting up a cigarette.

No, please no! I was looking at the familiar profile in horror - motionless and pale, with sand stuck on his cheeks. It really was Ted.

The same Ted who stood next to me at that dilapidated bus station, who gave me the shiny apple and who endlessly talked about planting the garden, the one who was hoping that he'll be given a piece of land where he could plant trees, the one who had that gut-wrenching cough when he returned the stolen stones.

He was the only person on the entire ranch (except Tabitha), who I could call a friend, and now his body was lying on the ground, covered with blood, sand and dust, and there was nothing that could be done.

There was Ted. Now he was no longer.

Suddenly my knees became wobbly and I sat on the grass and covered my mouth with my palms, trying not to cry out loud. Unbearable pain spread out inside of me. I wanted to cry, yell, lash out at somebody and rip them to pieces, but instead of doing that I was just silently rocking from side to side, not noticing the tears dripping on my new t-shirt.

Lord! Why Ted? Why did he have to get beaten to death when he was already so ill? Why wasn't Hulk around? Why is he never around when this happens?

Trying my hardest to restrain the sobbing, I was watching the clouds running across the blue sky. The grass was swaying; the voices of other workers sounded muffled as if I had cotton wool in my ears. For some people it was just another usual day, not different to any other, but for me something had collapsed.

I don't know how long I would have sat on the ground, if the guards hadn't passed me with a stretcher – a cover over Ted's body and only his hand was lifelessly dangling from side to side.

As the guards passed me, the cicadas began chirring again.

Through the veil of despair a strange idea came to me - what if he's not dead? What if the guards were wrong and it was still possible to help him? It was a silly hope, but yet it was a hope. Maybe if I do something on time, he could survive even after such a severe injury?

Though I could hardly imagine what exactly I could do for Ted, I followed the group of guards with my gaze. They were going to be out of my sight soon, so I quickly got up and ran in the same direction.

For a moment I lost them around the field's edge, but then I saw them again on the road leading up to the buildings. As I was expecting, their final destination was the infirmary, where they'd leave the body covered with a blanket.

I stood there like a dog with my nose to the wind, staring at the white building and waiting for the moment when I could get closer. The stretcher disappeared in the doorway and for a while nothing was happening. A few minutes later, the men came out onto the porch, stood there for a while and finally walked away. I wiped the sweat trickling down my temples and in order to avoid bumping into the guards I rushed to the isolation ward using another footpath. There must be that old doctor inside, who watches after his patients like a vulture What can I tell him to make him let me see Ted? Hoping that the doctor wouldn't be in there was stupid as he'd almost never leaves the infirmary.

All these thoughts were flashing in my head faster than the soles of my shoes on the dusty road. It doesn't matter what I tell him, but I'll force him to let me in and see the only friend I had at this ranch. I'll make it even if I have to move him out of the way. It would be good if there was another guy instead - someone reasonable and kind, who'd help me examine Ted and see if we could do something for him, but it was nothing but wishful thinking.

If I could only tell Hulk about everything and ask him to help! He could definitely examine Ted's injuries much more precisely than I could, but every time I thought that Hulk was the one who'd let this all happen, I felt a lump of anger in my throat which meant that it would be better to postpone this conversation.

Plagued by conflicting emotions, but still determined, I finally found myself in front of the white door of the infirmary, took a deep breath, and then carefully knocked. No response.

I waited for half a minute and then knocked again. Again nobody answered. That seemed odd. Where was the doctor? He must be somewhere around since the body had just been delivered. My next though made me shiver - wasn't he in the morgue? I'll never know until I go in and see it for myself.

I carefully pulled the door handle and stepped into the "reception area" that smelt of medicine. I noticed some white curtains with the corner of my eye, a table with some papers on top of it, a couch, a depository with some flasks and white coats hanging in the corner, and nobody inside. The room for better or for worse, turned out to be completely empty. The chair, standing away from the table, was lonely, sparkling with its metal back.

If it wasn't for the ticking on the wall clock, it would have been completely silent. I didn't want to continue lingering in the doorway and attract any unnecessary attention, so I carefully slipped inside, closed the door and took a few more steps towards the table. The smell of medicine was even stronger.

Where is the doctor? And where is Ted?

I kept on listening to the sounds around me (did I just hear men's voices coming from another room?) I looked at two doors leading from the reception in opposite directions. The first door led to a treatment room - a light, but narrow little room with a couch and a partition curtain that allowed patients to undress. I went back to check another corridor.

Jenny must be somewhere here as well, but she wasn't the one I was searching for. Passing a table my eye caught a piece of paper lying on top of others and I froze to the floor. "Death Certificate" – was the first line on the sheet. I took the paper with trembling hands, and quickly began reading through it.

"I, Doctor blah-blah-blah... confirm the death of a prisoner Thaddeus Ranzhevsky that took place at fourteen hundred hours on the date..."

My first reaction was to howl in despair! So, Ted was dead and it was too late to help him. But before I allowed myself to succumb to the dark wave, my eyes, darting back and forth over the lines, sent an alarm signal to my brain. Something wasn't right... Something didn't match.

I read the document from top to bottom once again.

Yes, there was Ted's name on it and the paper had already been signed and stamped with a date and time - two o'clock this afternoon.

I slowly raised my eyes and looked at the clock - it was only quarter past one. It wasn't even two!

How could the doctor sign anything before the body was delivered to the infirmary?

I felt as if my brain were filled with sand - I couldn't put two and two together, getting either five or eighteen as a result.

How could the doctor have learnt about Ted's death without knowing about the beating? And it's not even 2PM! Why would this paper be created in advance? What kind of terrible things are going on in this place? I saw the guards beating up Ted; I saw them bringing his body in here, where the death certificate had already been signed. Is it some kind of a plot? A conspiracy?

At this very moment I heard a distinct cough. The same cough that I heard that day, when Ted was standing beside me, giving me the gems. He's alive! This meant he's alive!

I put the paper on the table and rushed into the corridor that appeared to be a rather spacious hall with three more doors. I paused for a moment, not knowing where to go, but then someone started coughing again. Guided by the sound, I pushed one of the doors and burst into the room.

The first thing I saw was Ted sitting on a bed, alive, and looking even content; the second was the doctor, wiping his wounds with a cotton tampon and saying something. As soon as those two saw me - they froze with an expression frank confusion and panic on their faces.

"Ted!" I screamed, "Thank God, you are alive!"

I ran and hugged him- he grunted from the pain, but still managed to smile, still looking confused.

"What are you doing here, Shereen? How did you get in here?"

"What are you doing, woman?" The old man resented, "Go away now!"

Not giving the doctor a single glance, I once again happily looked at beaten up, but alive Ted.

"I saw you being battered and then taken to the infirmary. I thought you were dead, but I was still hoping... that maybe you weren't and I wanted to help you."

I was almost hiccupping from joy and shaking from the excitement. The dark wave subsided, as if it never existed, and happiness took over.

He's alive! Alive!

"Is everything ok with you?"

Noticing that both Ted and the doctor were silently looking at me with strange expression on their faces, I went quiet. Why do they look so embarrassed, confused and extremely concerned? Almost scared?

"What's wrong?" It was my turn to be lost, "I was just worried about you, Ted... I saw this paper on the desk about your death..."

This time, my friend and old fellow-doctor exchanged long looks. The doctor turned pale and Ted swallowed nervously.

After a long pause, he said, "It's not good that you saw me here."

*****

"So, you make death certificates and then send them back?"

"How else, in your opinion, could I send them back?" Asked Hulk, holding a glass with whiskey in his hand, "I can't just add a thousand points to their bracelets and let them go "with peace". Also, frequently occurring deaths are good for the reputation of the "good" owner."

This conversation took place very late in the evening, once Hulk had finished with his daily duties. By that time I'd had my lonely supper and created hundreds of possible variations of what was going on within the ranch.

"So, a certain person dies in Tally and a completely different individual goes back to the "outer" world? New name, new documents, new life?"

"Yes, because I cannot send them back using their old names. Because if it was the Commission who sentenced the person, they can't just go back, without a confirmation that they've worked for a number of years in Tally, fully remorseful for their actions, received one thousand points, and now have got another chance to start a normal life."

"But it must be very easy for the Commission to check this - yes, new names, but the faces..."

"I don't give a damn about their checks!" Hulk was annoyed, "It's the only pleasant thing I can do for myself, and the only way I can escape the reality in here."

It was risky. But I could understand him. Tally absolutely was not the place where you could find a lot of pleasant things to do, and each of them was as precious as gold.

Hulk's logic was simple - choose those who really needed the help and give it to them. But do it very thoroughly, so nobody would see the truth, but believe in a completely different story about the angry and unfair "owner". In order to create a myth like that, the person must organise things in the right way, have a strong personality and excellent knowledge of human psychology. Hulk possessed all of those qualities, and that's why he was able to build an effective system for rescuing people from the shithole named "Area 33".

"How do you pick the ones you want to help?"

"I run rigorous checks on every person that enters the ranch. What kind of person they are, what their past was like, what exactly brought them here, pay attention to their behaviour, observe and so on. There are some people that almost didn't deserve to end up here. Why "almost"? Yes, some of them stumbled, like your Ted, but not so much that he'd have to spend the rest of his life in Tally. His lungs cannot be cured without proper hospital treatment, and I don't have the necessary equipment. Was he guilty enough to die in Tally from TB just because he was looking for some seeds in a closed nature reserve? I don't think so. I had to act quickly, because in this climate, he wouldn't stay alive for longer than one month."

His words were flowing smoothly, but my mind was hovering somewhere far away, thinking that not so long ago, sitting on the same couch, I accused Hulk of cruelty to the prisoners, feeling angry that he'd never interfere to prevent the beatings, complained about the lack of attention to the worker's needs, and it now turned out that he wasn't just looking after everyone, he was also assessing their individual situations. If you are guilty - then work and get punished, but if the destiny turned its ass to your face, then it could be possible to turn it back.

So what they had to change their identity? Hulk said that every person that gets released from Tally receives a certain amount of money to start living and a good CV in the area where they want to find a job, which is a lot of help!

So ultimately Hulk was almost my twin in his actions - he couldn't look at undeserved suffering through his fingers and do nothing.

While I was reflecting on all of this, Hulk was thoughtfully looking at me.

"Was that unexpected? I'm not a monstrous beast as you might've thought."

I looked at him reproachfully.

"I never thought you were a beast."

"At least, I kept my promise to answer any of your questions and I've been as frank as I could. Now it's time to talk about another thing..."

He paused and looked at the glass he was holding in his hand.

For some reason I never liked phrases that started with the words "We need to talk..." "Let's be honest ..." "It's time to discuss something ..." \- all of these never promised any good continuation, so I tensed.

"What do we need to talk about?"

"About us, Shereen."

Well... That was exactly what I didn't want to hear.

Feeling worried, I was staring at the familiar and dear face, which I couldn't stop looking at ever since I regained my vision. Those light grey eyes, tanned skin, short, slightly curly hair, beautiful lips, so often curving into a smile. I still couldn't get used to how fit and muscly Hulk looked, how the shirt stretched on his broad shoulders, how tight his jeans seemed on him, although they were not skinny. I liked looking at his golden chain, gleaming around his neck in an open collar - so daring and sexy. I enjoyed knowing that these eyes - the eyes of a sensor killer - could be so gentle and warm, and how glimpses of care splash in them and love would sparkle.

So why, damn it, do we need to talk? About what? Everything was great and I didn't want to change a single thing.

"Are you angry with me because I saw what I wasn't supposed to see? Please, forgive me. You can delete any of those memories..."

"No, Shereen. I'm not angry with you and I wasn't planning to hide it anyway. Sooner or later your nosiness would sniff out the details."

He smiled, and I felt something ache in my chest. I shrunk inside and then asked, "So why would we need to talk about us?"

I, as a complete coward, was ready to flee, instead of raising the subject, which was desperately frightening for me.

"Because it's time for it. I told you that we need to discuss something when your vision recovers."

True. He did. And now I wasn't happy that I was able to see at all.

"Hulk, what's wrong?" It wasn't a nice question to ask, but if something was going to be revealed, I'd rather know about it sooner rather than later.

Now the man sitting in the chair opposite me fell silent. Stirring the whiskey in his glass, he was looking to the side and that was unusual. It was bad and it was wrong.

The pause went on for too long and again the ticking of the clock on the wall became too loud and annoying.

"What, Hulk? Talk to me!"

He turned and looked into my eyes, causing a new way of nervous shivering. There was something incomprehensible, painful and dreary in them.

"I want you to go back."

I froze in surprise, trying to understand the meaning of what he just said, and then clarified, "To my room? You want me to move to my little..."

"No, back to Klendon-city."

The arrow on the clock moved with an unbearably loud sound. And then once again. Pauses between the seconds were stretched into eternities.

"What?!"

"Yes, Shereen, I want you to go back there."

Something crashed inside of me, like in an old building - the floor collapsed and the ceiling sunk in. How often did I think about my return to Klendon-City, to my shop, to my old friends, to the familiar things I loved so much...Live a normal life again? All these dreams were filled with impatience and happiness, every minute of anticipation was sweet and attractive, so desirable and so unreachable.

And now it was so close - this minute, and I felt no joy and no enthusiasm. Only fear – fear of not being able to see those grey eyes again. I didn't want Klendon-City without them.

"No, Hulk, I don't want to! I feel great being here with you."

"You will go." He cut me off and the shadow ran across his face.

So unusual... as though the world is crashing down on me...

I couldn't say anything, feeling cold.

"I put a lot of thinking into this and I've come to the conclusion that it will be better if you return."

"Better for whom?" I exploded.

"For you."

"But I want to be with you!"

"You will be." He finished the whisky in one gulp and winced, "I'll find a way to get out of here and I will be with you. But for now, I want you to live in a normal place, amongst normal people and do whatever you like to do."

"But Hulk..." Although I felt a little bit better knowing that I wasn't going to be dumped, but it still was very heavy on my heart, "Can we think of something together?"

"No, Shereen. I knew that I'd send you back before we got into this relationship. This is not the right place for you; I will feel much more relaxed, knowing that you are at home, safe and sound. And you will do what I say without any further discussion."

I was just opening and closing my mouth, still unable to recover from the shock - I won't be seeing him any time soon. An unfamiliar tough expression on Hulk's face reminded me that he wasn't a fluffy cat sitting in the chair, but someone capable of coming up with some inadequate and not always understandable solutions.

But why? Why would he send me away and what does it mean?

I suddenly realised that I was about to get hysterical. Even though it wasn't the state of mind I was used to, the powerful wave of fear was on its way to me.

And instead of being logical and responsible, I just jumped from my seat and ran towards the door, intending to get out of here as soon as possible. He can't see me in this state! How terrible! What a load of nonsense.... How could everything turn out this way? I can't go to the damn Klendon-City now! The only thing I wanted was to burst into tears.

I was on my way out of the room, when strong hands gripped my shoulders and dragged me back into the office.

"I don't want! I don't want to go back!" I was shouting, trying to escape from the steel grip, "You just don't love me, that's why..."

Hulk abruptly and even roughly threw me back onto the couch, and as soon as my bottom touched the cushion, something white blazed in his eyes - a bright light penetrated deep into my brain, and although I did not lose my vision, I was now sat in silence, because any ability to move, completely disappeared and my mind became soft and stringy; almost calm. However, it was a false calmness, somehow I knew that this calmness was inflicted on me with a force, but in fact, the emotional fire was still raging in the centre of my brain.

Hulk was standing opposite me, breathing heavily and looking irritated. His eyes were still lightly glowing with the white light and this sight was absolutely fascinating - his broad chest was rising and coming down, and his chin lowered as he was staring at me silently.

As I'd completely realised that I could not move anymore, I drooped. I just gave up and understood that I'd lost the game. Whatever he decides now, I won't be able to either argue about it or to change it. If he doesn't want to see me, I'll go away. If it appeals to him to speak to a piece of jelly that can't utter a word or even nod, so be it.

For the first time in my life he hurt me deeply - just because he deprived me of any ability to participate in our dialog. And now, to be honest, I no longer cared about what he was going to say. The only part of my body that was still able to move was my eyes and I looked aside, avoiding his face that was so dear to me.

"Look at me." He demanded quietly.

I did as he said, hoping that there was enough of disdain in my stare and trying to figure out if I could still burst into tears as I really wanted.

"Tonight, a track with the berry crop, which I export to the outer world, will depart from the warehouse. You'll be in one of the boxes. All of your possessions will be put into a bag and given to you, as well as a credit card. I will be transferring enough money on it every month, so you have everything you need should you decide not to go back to work."

If I could spit in his face, everything I was thinking after his words would sound something like You, freaky bastard, you can put your money where the sun doesn't shine! If you don't want to see me, then I don't need your charity! You didn't even let me say good-bye to anybody properly!

But, of course, I didn't say any of it out loud.

Hulk was quiet as well. I was incredibly angry with him, but yet I saw how tough it was for him to say those sentences. As if overcoming some inner pain, he continued, "Your documents and your name will remain the same, since you entered Tally under the false documents and the Commission has no real claims to you. You will disappear from this place as if you'd never been here."

If I could I would've turned away right now.

As if I'd never been here - right! And as if I'd never met Hulk, never spent nights with him, never found my other half.

Feeling desperate, I sent Hulk a look Why are you doing this to us? You are my man, so why does everything have to be so harsh? And to my surprise, Hulk understood everything I was trying to tell him (bloody Sensor he is - I almost forgot about that), he stepped forward and kneeled down in front of me. Before he said anything, he was staring at me for almost a minute.

"Please forgive me for using such extreme measures. I wish I could spend another night with you, give you a chance to say your farewells properly, let myself enjoy every inch of your skin and hold you on my lap till the dawn, but God knows, I couldn't let you go after that. I just couldn't."

I wasn't looking in his eyes. I was looking at the curtains moving lightly from the wind, blowing from the red mountains and tears were cascading down my cheeks. So I was still able to cry. It would be much easier to live with anger and wrath, than with realisation that someone you had to leave behind still loves you, but Hulk wasn't letting me go with anger, and I almost hated him for that. He didn't let me think that I was just thrown away, which I could get over with time. But how could I ever forget someone who loved me more than life itself?

I knew that Hulk loved me. Loved me more than anything else in the world and therefore wanted me to go. I didn't want to understand his motivation, but yet I did.

"I will come for you wherever you will be." He said quietly, "And I'll give you the life I always wanted you to have. I'm your man and I will always be by your side."

I couldn't contain myself any longer and looked up at him. And I drowned in the eyes. I loved him so much, it hurt, I wanted to hold him, get lost in his arms.

But he was right. If I touch him I'll never be able to detach myself from his body, and so, could I really blame him for restraining my body from moving and speaking?

No, once again, he was right.

He was such a strong, attractive, dear and loved man. At this very moment I hated my love for being so painfully strong, and because of it I couldn't help myself to feel better or prevent our separation. His eyes were hypnotizing...

"And never ever tell me that I don't love you, Shereen. God knows, I didn't know that I could feel what I feel now. And if I have to, I'll make you forget everything in the world except for my love for you."

Then he kissed me. And that was the longest and the most tender kiss that my memory kept ever after.

Once the kiss was over, Hulk's gentle wave of his hand made my world slip into darkness.

**Klendon-City. The Return**.

Rain drops were falling on my face; grey mist hung in the air.

The trees still had the green foliage - August had just replaced a hot July and soon the leaves would turn into orange-yellow. Yes, soon, but not yet.

Now the rain was falling down - it felt as desirable as it did unusual.

The drops were pouring down my face and my light raincoat, pounding on the pavement, and drowning in overflowing puddles. Music was coming from around the corner; cars were spluttering a myriad of splashes with their wheels, but I was barely noticing that, staring at a bright flickering screen was a showing for the advertisement of Dreams Ltd for the umpteenth time.

We will fulfil your heart's every desire - the sweet lines of the text were repeating again and again for those who wished to change their lives for better (which was doubtful for me now). Just pick up the phone and dial the number – it's that simple. We will take care of the rest!

Yep. They definitely will.

It seemed that within the last hour, I watched this ad no less than a thousand times. It seemed to have hypnotised me, plunging me into a strange calmness that reminded me of something familiar, but very distant. Dusk was falling upon the city and low clouds were immersing the streets into even deeper darkness. In thirty-forty minutes the street lights will be switched on. Wet displays were flashing with bright colours and neon signs, telling everyone about some big discounts and there were different people walking around me. They were smiling and free, rushing home from work, to the shops, to visit friends... normal people in a normal world.

My wrist was free from the burden of the bracelet and there were no red mountains on the horizon. I slowly moved my head and looked at the road - some grey, blue, red, green, yellow and white cars. People here could allow themselves to choose any colour for their vehicle. In every one of these cars people were going somewhere, thinking about business, everyday troubles, or maybe, something nice. They were thinking what to cook for dinner, what to wear tomorrow, what their beloved would say about the forgotten anniversary, who else they should call this evening, or what to watch on TV when it's time to relax their backsides on soft couches.

What could be more normal than rain in the early autumn, the cars driving by and the lights of the big city starting to glow? But this normality has suddenly become alien to me. I wasn't looking at people and I wasn't listening to their conversations.

Standing on the pavement not far from my home, I couldn't force myself to move. Where should I go and why? And why do I call this flat "home"? How did it happen that some time ago I was used to living in this place? Why can't I fit into the space that doesn't smell of heat and is not saturated with the aroma of the pollen of the flowers growing on the fields?

The world surrounding me now was huge, almost endless in size, but, strangely enough, for the third day in a row I couldn't find my place in it. I could walk anywhere, get a taxi, travel by train, talk to anyone, but instead of doing all of that, I felt like an alien who doesn't know where they'd come from and where they should go. An alien with no spirit and completely lost.

Something wasn't right.

Perhaps, three months ago it was ok for me to stand on the corner, thinking which pastry I wanted to buy on the way home, about growing sales and expanding the shop or what else I could do to help Alex to return...

Now I didn't give a damn about Alex; as well my shop; and this city and all of those who were passing me by. My heart would howl and sink every time I thought about the one I loved who was now in a place which I once was so desperate to leave.

Life could be more ironic and tough sometimes.

One way or another, it always gives you everything you ever dreamed of, but it will pick its own, very specific time for it. And often, as it happens, it will present you with your dreams when you expect least of all.

Why is it like that? Everything had changed so quickly and out of the blue.

One light gesture, one decision, one word and the truck is taking you through the night in an unknown direction in order to provide you with the no longer desired freedom. Freedom from what? From the one you loved more than your life? From your own happiness? From the place where you, funnily enough, decided to stay?

Hulk, did you really think I'd be dancing from joy, standing on these wet streets, while the wind of freedom blows in my face with the swollen from the tears eyes? Did he really think that all the money and entertainment that's suddenly became available, could fill the emptiness in my heart?

It seems that the deepest canyon, located to the east of Klendon-City, was much shallower than the gap that forcibly crippled my inner landscape, and instead of the overgrown flowers of hope and new timid joy, this gap seemed to be widening day by day.

Hulk, did you think it was a good idea to send me back here? Why couldn't we wait for a while and think of something different? We could have talked about it at least...

But Hulk heard neither my thoughts, nor my words. He was somewhere far away - in the white mansion where the wind gently touches the light curtains. Where the sofa opposite the chair where he likes to sit, is always empty.

I shook my head, wiped off the cold droplets from my face and realised that I was completely frozen. Not looking around, I made my way to the house, walked through the entrance, got in the lift to take me up to the fifth floor, turned the key in the lock, as I had done many times before, and went into the quiet hallway.

Not a single sound, not a movement, nothing.

Only the raindrops rattling outside the window.

I took my wet raincoat off, put it on a hanger and went to the lounge. The sofa, the table, the shelf above the fireplace, with a porcelain hare and crystal vase - everything was still the same.

Not feeling anything at all, I approached the fireplace, picked up the black and white picture of smiling Alex from the shelf and threw it into the bin. It's enough of it being there. That was not the face I was willing to see anymore.

In complete desolation, I sat down on the sofa, and suddenly realised that I didn't have a single picture of Hulk. Only my memories had everything - his face, his laughter, his smell, his touches, his words... Even though there was no aging in the Cities as we know it, but somehow I felt more grown-up now. No, not grown-up, but old. I felt empty, lonely and strangely aged from everything that had happened to me over the past three months.

Just three months ago, I was mourning Alex, who deceived me so cruelly, and who, as it turned out, wasn't worth a piece of a rotten egg, and as I got into Tally, I found the man I loved with all of my heart. Wasn't that just twisted?

I suddenly thought about the bracelet - how many points did it have on it before it was taken away from me? I didn't even look at it. I stopped looking at it after Hulk, from being the owner of the ranch, turned into the owner of my heart. After all it didn't really matter how many points I had - in reality I wasn't even supposed to gain any of them at all for something I never did.

A bag with my simple possessions - a few t-shirts, pair of jeans, couple of knickers and that little bag with the gems, was unpacked by the door. Should I just throw everything away, so it doesn't remind me about those times?

My mind was producing heavy and gloomy thoughts. Pushing them away I was drowning in memories, in all of the situations that were now "past". I also recalled Christopher Laroche, who had been now free for over three months. Where is he and what is he doing? Was he happy with buying his freedom from the Corporation?

Well, maybe yes.

Later, on the same evening as I was lying in bed, I began thinking that I have to come up with some plan and keep myself busy with something, because it was no longer possible to live like I have done for the past three days. I must stop searching for someone to blame for what went wrong. I didn't feel happy because I was one of those lucky prisoners who got a chance to leave Tally, without even having to collect a thousand points, and therefore I must think of what to do next.

Before falling asleep, I thought that I still hadn't visited my own boutique, which was strange and I also thought that somewhere in this city, there are Hulk's friends here - the one with the knife and another one, who can chase people from a distance. Why didn't I ask Hulk for his home address? Who knew that at that time my freedom was only one day away from me? If I'd been aware of that, I would've asked him about so many things, and would've tried to prepare myself for living here, if not physically, but mentally. And what's the point in thinking about it all now?

Listening to the rain, I fell asleep.

*****

Hulk was exhausted.

It wasn't because of the daily worries that needed to be resolved or because of training a new senior warden on how to deal with the rebels - a group of new prisoners were delivered at the ranch a day earlier. Nor was it because he was playing poker in the Polo till the early hours, emptying the pockets of his colleagues. What was the point of getting more money, when he's already got so much that it would be enough for three luxury lives? Money was nothing in this city and the nearest place where he could spend some of it was behind the borderline which he couldn't cross.

Hulk was exhausted because of Tally – once and for all.

Everything became different and suddenly unbearable: the air - too hot, the office - ignominious and the mansion - now empty.

Why is that only few days ago it felt so right to send her back? Back then he desperately wanted to present Shereen with freedom, give her a chance to wait for his return outside of "Area 33", living a normal life. And now he felt like an immature youth, worrying about everything - was she alright? Because if she wasn't, he couldn't help her from here as he couldn't ask any of his friends to do so.

Sheer prohibitions and pitfalls. Damn that Drake!

Beforehand, Hulk was trying to reconcile his position, hiding his anger inside and waiting patiently for the Commission to decide to revoke the punishment, but all he could do was sit around doing nothing.

Nothing felt right anymore.

The trained soldier from the Special Squad rested his fist on the door-post by the balcony, lowered his head and stood still, feeling the hot dry wind getting under the collar of his shirt.

He was so tired of it. He's had enough of being the prisoner in this shithole. He was more patient being single, but after he'd found his soul mate, which he was separated from now, his patience had disappeared.

Uncontrollable anger was growing inside and it was dangerous. He must keep calm as long as possible in order to avoid making new mistakes.

Hulk vigorously hit the door-post with his fist.

Before, he was the person he'd always wanted to be - strong and confident - and he had everything. He knew how to find a solution to any problem, and now he was standing there, cooped up, if not in doors, but in a huge place that wasn't even on any map, unable to return to the normal world and do what he loved. He was now barely breathing without the one he let go a few days ago.

Hulk slowly pushed away from the wall, walked over to the bar, poured a glass of whiskey and sat in the painfully irritating chair. It was better for her to be in Klendon City, where she could do whatever she liked, meet up with her friends, chat to them in a cafe, and go shopping. By giving her a credit card, he's secured her future - the monthly transfers will allow her to live comfortably.

But he knew that curly devil... He knew her well enough to understand that despite all the luxuries in the world, Shereen will still be suffering alone and waiting for him. Perhaps, with her stubborn and restless personality that he loved so much, she'll even try to plot something.

His grey, half shut eyes were staring at the horizon, while his brain was feverishly scrolling through the options of changing the current situation.

It wasn't possible to call anyone - all telephone lines in Tally were blocked and there was no internet. Hulk could not make contact either with the guys or with the Commission, and even if he could... Drake was not a soft toy and stuffed with cotton wool. Most likely, the conversation with him would be short and unpleasant.

Should he escape from Tally? Break through the security guards and get out into the outer world? But what will happen next - fighting again?

Hulk grinned, realising that he wouldn't mind stretching his hands a little. How much time will he have before Drake will make an appearance? Probably, not much. And no fight can help against the Commission. If he kills one of them - his death will be pretty much guaranteed. Nobody would be forgiven for things like that, Hulk knew that for certain.

Should he take a short trip to Klendon-city in one of his trucks in order to make sure that everything is alright with Shereen? But if they find out about his raid, the penalties will be toughened.

Hulk took a big gulp, put the glass on the table and rubbed his forehead wearily, still searching for some acceptable and not too risky options. He must find one; he just must, because it was harder and harder to sit still while worrying about Shereen's safety. Yes, Klendon-city was quiet, suitable for leisure and for business, almost a "normal" city, but Hulk knew that there were no "normal" cities within the Levels. They were all dangerous.

The Commission had formed the Special Squad for a reason, members of which were well aware of all the hidden threats and, oh my, there were plenty of them.

Hulk felt irritated that the time he'd spend thinking didn't pay back with any ideas that would be worth consideration. He'd pushed one option after another away, because all of them would endanger the only thing he wasn't prepared to risk - his ability to be with Shereen.

She wants to see him healthy and alive, so he must curb his temper and work with his head. Well, it wouldn't be the first time! But how exhausting it was to waste time with no result!

Fucking Commission. Fucking Tally.

Hulk walked over to the bar to splash some more whiskey into the glass, and swore out loud hoping that Drake, by some incomprehensible way, will be able to hear him.

*****

"How great! I can't believe you are here!"

Usually moderate in expressing her emotions, Linda was hanging around my neck for almost half an hour now, glowing with joy and relief. We were in the staff room, which was located on the shop floor. There was some freshly brewed tea and three types of different biscuits on the bright chequered tablecloth. The girls had already run to the nearest supermarket desperate to celebrate my unexpected return.

"Your skin is so tanned! Fabulous!" My unusually talkative deputy was babbling on non-stop, "Everything is alright in the shop! Although we didn't know for how long your unscheduled holiday would last, we did everything for the boutique to flourish. And you are a good girl! How many times did I tell you that you need to get some rest? You went through so much worrying and crying..."

Linda stumbled and rapidly changed the topic, thinking that any conversation about Alex was still painful for me.

"And, Shereen, we are really doing great now! Can you imagine, Jacques Laurent himself now orders the clothes from our shop and Divuee gave us an additional ten per cent discount!"

She was talking and talking and talking. I could understand her. Three months of my absence made Linda become more responsible and enterprising, forced her to invent her own ideas and make bold moves in the organisation and management of the business. I had to admit that she'd done really well and now, of course, hastened to share with me every significant and insignificant detail of her (in her opinion "our") success.

"All the paperwork, all the bookkeeping, and taxes - we took care of everything. I hired a new employee about a month and a half ago - you, of course, will decide whether you want to keep her or not, but I think she is doing great with our accounts..."

I was barely able to squeeze in a word into her monolog. While Linda was dumping all the details of sales and orders in recent months on me, I was silently munching on a strawberry flavoured biscuit, thinking if Hulk would like it? Probably, yes. Or, maybe, he was keen on chocolate? How little I still knew about him.

The flow of Linda's words suddenly ended, and I realised that I missed a question.

"What?"

She smiled softly.

"You are still not yet fully here after your trip, huh? That's ok. Soon you'll be alright, I know you. I asked what kind of accessory you wore so there is a white strip around your wrist?"

I stopped chewing the biscuit and slowly looked at my hand, where for the last three months there was a tightly fastened bracelet.

"Yes, there was one trinket. This bracelet, quite wide and it had beads. It must be somewhere at home, I suppose," I lied.

"Where did you enjoy the sun for so long?"

It was an ordinary question, but God is my witness, I didn't want to answer it. I sighed and began to invent a mountain of lies.

Two hours later, after I'd listened to bunch of questions, suggestions, reports and all about the girl's intrigues, I finally left the shop. When everything was sorted, Linda and I spent some time reading through some documents. I had to put a tremendous effort into not getting distracted from the main subject and remain focused, but somehow I managed. We agreed that Linda will direct the boutique for another couple of weeks while I'm getting back on track, which was very helpful.

One o'clock. The day has only just begun.

I popped to the nearest cafe, bought a sandwich with cheese and ham, packed into a triangle paper box and then headed to the central park to sit on the bench to think what to do next.

Secluded in one of the alleys, I opened the pack and started chewing the bread, looking at the passers-by. Unlike in the Tally's park - people here were sunbathing on blankets, laughing, chatting, eating and acting very relaxed.

Sliding my distracted gaze on their figures, I continued to wallow in my own thoughts.

Before visiting my shop, I unpacked the bag, standing at the door - put the clothes into the wardrobe, placed the gems in a jewel box, found the credit card, that Hulk planted in between my shirts, checked its balance and found out that I am the owner of fifty thousand dollars on the account that my beloved pledged to replenish every month. At least, that what was written on the note that the card was wrapped in.

I bit another piece of sandwich, chewed it, swallowed and sighed.

He had thought about everything. And fifty thousand a month is plenty of money. I could change cars every week, I could abandon my shop and travel around the Levels, or I even could buy bricks of gold and build a wall around the house; or if I waited for another two or three months I could buy a nice house somewhere on the isles. But did I really need it?

What exactly and how much does a single person need? Not much. Because it's not about what the world is like on the outside. It's something deep inside, in your mind, and inside of my mind there was just a realisation that Hulk is there whilst I'm here.

I sighed, trying to make desperate brain work.

What should I do? I couldn't just sit and wait for Hulk to appear on my doorstep and for the second part of our "happily ever after" to begin. What if that happens in a month or a year? What if I don't see him for another ten years? I wasn't questioning the power of my love for him - I was certain I'd still love him in ten years, but I was seriously questioning my ability to keep sane for ten years, sitting there and looking at the door.

Therefore inaction was not an option.

So what do I do?

Later the same evening, looking at the "Dreams Ltd." advert it suddenly came to me. Of course! Why didn't I think about it earlier when I'd just arrived to Klendon-City?

I returned to my apartment an hour ago. It was getting dark and it was drizzling outside.

Trying to calm my trembling hands, I began to speculate feverishly. Was there a light at the end of the tunnel I dreamt of?

Walking in circles around the room, I couldn't believe that I'll start acting soon - the smell of change surfaced in the air.

Well, I have to focus and think carefully about every single detail. I must not rush and make mistakes!

Just calm down, Shereen. Calm down.

I forced myself to sit on the sofa, gritted my fingers together and halted, thinking.

That's right. I can't go and ask Hulk's friends to help me, because if they learn about Tally, they might want to participate in Hulk's liberation, which will put them all at risk. That must not happen.

But I have the money. And the Corporation is now around.

Think... think... think...

I began remembering everything that Christopher Laroche once told me in Tally. What did he say when he'd got his parcel?

I paid them for the bracelet that already had a thousand points and they'd sent it to me.

Exactly! He paid first and then they'd sent it and that was why he didn't get any punishment, which meant you could go the Corporation and just pay them for what you want to have.

Bingo! This was a completely different matter.

Perhaps, it would be logical to be scared to even pronounce the words the Corporation, that three months ago sent me to the middle of nowhere, but for some reason I didn't feel scared. I felt uncomfortable, but nothing more than that. I knew that they acted solely in accordance with my desire and their own rules, and it wasn't just some troll who for some strange reason decided to throw me into an enchanted forest.

All this time I was avoiding the "Dreams" because I was afraid of being liable for my new request; and of getting another official commitment, that had already almost led my life to a disaster. But now, if I act smart, the situation might change to my benefit.

In theory, just to imagine, if I have enough money, I can just call them and ask to set Hulk free from Tally. Yes! Just one call! Good morning, Dear Corporation! I've got a new wish and I've got the money, so how much?

I couldn't believe that it could be so easy.

I jumped up from the couch, ran to the window and began shifting from one foot to another, looking at the cars driving on the wet pavement.

How much do I have?

Hulk gave me fifty thousand. Next month I'll get another fifty, but it was too long to wait. Linda said that business was going well, so, perhaps, I could take another hundred thousand out of our turnover. Altogether it would come to one hundred and fifty thousand.

I took a deep breath.

Not too much.

Laroche paid a million for his counter.

Could I borrow some more money from Hulk's friends? All the guys from the Special Squad were paid well and they shouldn't refuse to help.

Before getting excited, I frowned.

Perhaps, they won't refuse (even if I can find them), but they will ask me some questions that I must not answer in order not to jeopardise Hulk's safety.

Damn it!

I have to deal with everything on my own.

Different emotions were taking over me one another like the waves of a stormy ocean. Wild joy, excitement, worry and joy again. I'll manage, I'll find a way, I'll think of something and who cares how exactly. I'll do it anyway.

I headed to the kitchen to put the kettle on. My brain was working so intensely that it seemed if I kept thinking for a little longer it would explode like a watermelon that's been overheated in the sun.

It's ok. It wouldn't hurt for my head to work sometimes.

So where can I get more money and how much do I need in total?

Should I call the Corporation and ask them how much they would charge for a favour like that? Will they answer my question over the phone or will I have to go there again? Perhaps, the latter. They are not too keen on talking over the phone and that means I have to collect a decent amount before even considering calling them.

But what kind of sum could be regarded as decent in their opinion? No less than a million, I guess. If Laroche bought his freedom for a million then they won't set Hulk free for less than that.

Fuck! One million dollars! Where can I get that much?

I put a teaspoon of instant coffee into hot water, stirred it, but moved the mug aside without even drinking it and rubbed my forehead.

If I save what Hulk sends me every month, it will take twenty months before I get a million. No, that's far too long. I have to find the money sooner. And is one million enough?

Think, Shereen, think!

There is always a solution; I just have to find it.

How do people make money? They earn it (nope), they borrow it (nope), they steal (nope), they sell something...

And then it suddenly hit me.

I slowly got up from the chair; my coffee was now completely forgotten.

Of course!

I have something that I could try and sell. And maybe, my inner voice sang timidly, maybe I'm wrong, and this "something" doesn't have any real value, but there is no harm in trying, is there? I only have to wait till the morning to find out.

I sat back in the chair, and, feeling an inner excitement and relief, finally, took a sip of coffee.

*****

A middle-aged man with a moustache and curly hair that fell over the collar of his neat dark jacket was scrutinizing my gems for over thirty minutes now, using either a magnifying glass, or a microscope. He's turned on so many lights that it would be enough to flood a small stadium with light, and because of that it got really hot in the room very quickly

I started feeling tired. Well, how much longer does he need to examine my stones? During the examination he didn't speak a single word which could have possibly given me a clue about the value of my gems, he was just smacking his lips, scowling and murmuring something unintelligible, staring into the depth of each gem. What is he looking at in there?

I wasn't particularly picky with choosing a jeweller, just opened a yellow pages book, found a company located in a prestigious area of the city, and then immediately went there. Now I was in the room, where, behind a counter, that man was carefully and silently studying and weighing something. His desk was piled high with some books and papers, as well as different tools - God knows what sort of things they use to do their job. The tools were not important, the result of his examination - that was the most important thing.

Will he buy them or not? And for how much?

Trying not to show my impatience or irritation, I took off my coat, put it next to my bag on a chair, and then went back to studying some chains, rings, bracelets and pendants that he had on display.

As I understood there were things that were not shown on the main shop floor and they were not for sale. Or maybe these were going to be sold later.

In one of the windows I caught the reflection of my own face - pleasant, barely there make-up; smeared with some moisturiser; overall I looked fresh but a little peaky. I almost forgot how good I could look with a proper hairstyle...

"Mrs Moore?" Finally, coughed the jeweller whose name Theodore sounded either too proud, or pretentious, "So, you are saying that you are willing to sell these stones?"

"Yes." I stepped away from the display and walked back to the counter, "That's correct."

Theodore stood there for a while deep in thoughts. His thick glasses glittered in the light.

"May I ask you where you got these from?"

I hesitated. Why would he ask such a question? And what difference does it make?

"It's a long way from here, Mr Larsheld. Why do you ask?"

The jeweller chewed his lips again.

"Well, you have quite rare stones here."

At these words, my heart jumped excitedly - will I hit the jackpot or not? My face continued to maintain an impassive expression. No way, he will see that I am clueless about my own treasures.

"Yes, I know that the stones are rare. And they are very precious to me." I pretended not to be too interested in the subject, "But now I'm ready to sell them. Of course, if I'm offered a good price."

"I understand, Mrs Moore." Theodore rushed to reassure me, "Your diamonds are not just outstanding quality; they are unique and very rare..."

I almost jumped on the spot. These sparkling roundels are diamonds? Unbelievable! Did the quarry workers know what exactly they'd presented to me? And Hulk? Did he know that there was a diamond vein in the stone pit which he used for mining limestone?

"Of course, I am not belittling the quality of your emeralds either..." continued the goldsmith, "...and your sapphires have quiet rare colour, but the diamonds - this is something else. They are pink and without any inclusions, just perfectly clean!"

It was clear that Theodore was already picturing how he'll cut them and imbed them into gold or platinum. After selling such a unique collection for an immense amount of money he'll perhaps, become one of the richest jewellers, and would probably live a luxury life for another ten years. But that wasn't the point. I only cared how much he was prepared to offer me, so his dream, written in capital letters across his face, would become a reality.

The man behind the counter kept on running his fingers over my stones, as if he was afraid that if he taook his hands off the pink diamonds, just like a mirage, would vanish.

"How much do you want for all of them, Mrs Moore?"

Hell, no! You, sneaky devil! It will be YOU who'll tell me how much you want to pay for them.

"I'd like to hear your offer first, Mr Larsheld."

The jeweller looked at me and then at the stones. Then back at me. The he swallowed.

"We-e-e-ll..." He drawled hesitantly, "I think I'd be willing to give you... let's say... five hundred thousand. "

The disappointment on my face was very obvious and absolutely genuine. Theodore immediately reassessed the situation.

"Six hundred!" he announced.

I tried to keep the sulky look on my face.

"Six hundred and fifty?" uncertainly continued the greedy man.

Six hundred and fifty? Well, no! If these gems are diamonds and they are rare pink colour, I'm not going to play petty! More so, the Corporation will not take less than a million, and six hundred and fifty thousand is nor here nor there, if I can put it that way.

I walked right up to the counter and made a disgusted expression, which would usually appear when the person I was talking to was either a fool (which would not be appropriate to say aloud), or he was pretending to be a fool which was no less irritating.

"Mr Larsheld." I began softly, "It's not just the fact that these stones have no inclusions, they are also huge. Even after cutting, each one of them will be at least three carats in size. So let's be honest with each other - all I want for the entire collection is one million. It isn't that much, admit it, Theodore. For you it's almost a gift."

There was a great actor, trying to get out of me! But the storming emotions, which I was experiencing at the moment, I couldn't do a bad performance if I'd tried. I was very glad that the stones turned out to be rare and valuable, but I was also worried that if I don't get enough money for them, I won't be able to contact the Corporation and ask them to release Hulk. And if Hulk is not released, I'll be very angry and unbearable.

Mr Larsheld's pale blue eyes behind his thick glasses were staring at my shameless gren. And it wasn't clear whether he was shocked by my statement, or he wasn't surprised at all. I didn't take my eyes off his, he was doing the same.

Well, let's see who will lose out more, Mr "Golden chains on the belly" - me or you?

"One million, Mrs Moore, it's a lot. Even for this collection." said the jeweller, finally, after clearing his throat

"What a pity, that it's a lot for you." I sang, depicting boredom and frustration, "Then I'll have to sell them ... what's the name of that posh shop? .... Oh yes! "Diamond Bay"!"

A randomly picked name from the same yellow pages made a huge impact on Theodore. Obviously it was a big company and, apparently, one of the most brutal competitors of my new acquaintance. He somewhat lost the healthy colour on his face, but I had to give it to him - he wasn't about to throw in the towel.

"I think they will agree that one million for a bunch of pristine pink diamond is a true gift of destiny, don't you think?" I kept pushing my way through the fortress. He's shared his knowledge with me, now he is paying the price! I continued attacking him, using the information he had given me.

There was a pause.

Pink diamonds spread out on the counter beautifully glittered in the light.

"Eight hundred and fifty!" Theodore forced out his new offer huskily, but greedily.

"One million!" I rapped angrily, "And stop bartering!"

The jeweller was looking at me without blinking with his protruding eyes, resembling a fish that was about to explode, but yet didn't want to lose a tasty and greasy mosquito, and therefore continued to hover above the water, trying to catch its prey.

"Nine hundred thousand!"

Oh, you meanie! I began angrily and quickly raking stones from the counter back into the bag.

You got me to the bones, fat bastard! If you don't wanna buy my gems, I'll find somebody else. You are not the only one who could appreciate their beauty and give me one million without any additional jitters!

The determination written all over my face, finally shattered Theodore's desire to reduce the price.

"Alright! One million!" He squeaked, "I'll pay by card or cash! But it'll take more time to get that much cash..."

I stopped and smiled coldly.

"Transfer the money to my bank account then."

And just like that, five minutes later I was out on the street a millionaire.

*****

I took a taxi to get home.

It was kind of strange, but now, when I got enough money, I wasn't in a rush to call the Corporation. I felt uncomfortable, almost scared and circling around the lounge I kept glancing at the telephone. Well, everything is ready, just pick up the receiver and dial the number, but somehow I couldn't psych myself up to do that.

What if something goes wrong? What if one million isn't enough? What if I'll be obliged to do something in return again just because I dared to call? What if they refuse to help me?

Thinking of numerous questions, I kept on circling around the room, feeling gloomy.

Hulk, what would you say to me in this situation? I mentally begged for the answer from the one who'd always find the right words, no matter how difficult the situation may seem. What would you advise me to do? I am alone, and I'm scared"

Everybody gets scared. I thought Hulk would answer me, even those who never show that they are. But only those who try to move forward, carrying their fear through everything, through every minute and never give up, can achieve something. And even if you stumble, even if something goes wrong - it's still a result - the result of your move forward. But if you succumb to your fear, if you don't make up your mind and make that step, even the smallest step, you will never see the end of the road.

But I have so much fear, so many doubts in me, I'm paralysed!

Don't think about the final aim. Think about one step at a time, and then you will know how to take the next one... and the next one. That isn't that scary, is it?

I didn't know if I was talking to myself, or if it was a wise voice that came to me from the outside, but either way, this mental dialogue helped me calm down.

The voice was right - I shouldn't be scared before I even make that first step. I'll dial the bloody number and ask them a few questions, and before I hear their "yes" or "no" nobody will make me do anything.

Even if I hear "no" I'll still know that at least I've tried.

Not pressuring myself into doing anything right now, I sat on the sofa for a while, and then went to the kitchen to make some tea whilst getting my head together.

*****

He didn't know why he came here.

The dark cellar was a narrow room, located underneath the mansion, lit by a few lamps. The entire wall was covered in different types of weapons. There was everything that he ever managed to find, buy or trade in Tally; pistols, machine guns, a box of grenades, rifles, a collection of knives, several chemical and smoke screens, and even a grenade launcher. There were also flares, body armour, knuckle dusters and a bunch of other small things that could be useful in a fight.

Or escape.

Hulk was standing still, staring at the ammunition, trying not to think about what he was trying not to think. After all, he is not that foolish to break through the secure perimeter of "Area 33" or through the armed cordon at the front gate, is he?

Of course, not. And who knows why his brain has already started to embrace the idea of how exactly he can get around the central towers, sneak into the security centre and turn off the voltage...

His biceps tensed involuntarily, and black t-shirt tightened around his muscular shoulders, strong fingers clenched. Hulk's grey eyes continued to study the array of weapons, picking them up, noting and sorting any possible usage according to the situation.

Is he foolish enough to risk everything he'd achieved in the last four years?

(The ranch would explode beautifully; he would take care of it. Just for fun)

But he isn't willing to kill couple of innocent policemen, is he? (Although, it was doubtful that anyone would even notice a loss of a couple of dozen brain dead cops. What a nice feeling that would be to thin out their number with something like Minimi. That type of pleasure could hardly be compared to anything else)

But of course Hulk didn't think about that even if his lips were curved into an unfriendly grin.

No, he didn't.

He just came here to stand around, to look, and to refresh his memory.

Is he silly enough to find Drake and meet him face to face despite the possible outcome?

Maybe, not. But Hulk was fed up with waiting. He'd been waiting for a very long time now and Drake didn't come. So, perhaps, it was time to take the initiative into his own hands?

Suddenly, something distracted Hulk, and smote the previous thought. Everything was quiet in his mind,

After a few seconds Shereen's troubled face appeared before his eyes as if she was calling for him and asking something. Hulk listened to his inner self. Damn it... She looked scared.

What's going on in there? He clenched his fists feeling powerless. Whatever she needed, he couldn't help her from here, but yet Hulk closed his eyes, cleared his mind, took a deep breath and tried to imagine Shereen's face again.

What's going on, girl? Is everything alright with you?

There were no answers, just the feeling that she was worried and feeling lonesome. Before he could let himself feel angry and start cursing, Hulk tried to calm her down mentally, telling her that he is still there for her, that she isn't alone.

But then he swore out loud.

What's the point of trying to break through the distance using just thoughts? If that was ever possible, he wasn't taught how to do that. Drake would probably be able to appear in someone's mind if he wanted to, but Hulk could only hope that Shereen managed to feel the distant presence by her side.

But in his current presence he'll just have to wait, because if he makes a mistake now, his girl will be doomed with loneliness forever. And that must never happen.

That's why he was just standing here and observing. It's just some weapons and he is not touching anything.

Can you see it, Drake? Not touching anything.

*****

I couldn't believe that I was in this car again; the car, windows of which were tinted so much, that I couldn't see a thing behind them. The car owned by the Corporation.

And, yes, that could only mean only thing - I made a call.

I did it.

And exactly as I guessed, they didn't want to talk over the phone, just asked me not to make any calls after our conversation and that no ID is necessary, just a retina scan will be enough, blah-blah-blah...

Ok. I'll do as you say.

I was riding in silence, drowning in suspense of something unpleasant ahead.

But why unpleasant? I still don't know what result this trip will bring. Maybe it would be a good one? Or even great?

But my memory which had already recorded a memo film, was tactfully reminding me every five seconds how this precious ride ended up when I was in this care once before.

Yes, the nightmare was repeating itself.

I immediately reproached myself - nothing was repeating again itself. I'm not the same Shereen, who was going there to ask for money to save Alex, not the same confused girl with big green eyes, waiting for a miracle, or at least anything remotely similar to it. And nothing will be like it was three months ago.

Of course, my eyes were still the same green colour and I was still hoping for a miracle, hoping maybe even more than ever before, but now my mind was straight and logical, and I've prepared all the questions in advance.

When the car finally stopped, I found out that we were already in the underground car park - long, empty and echoing, with the square concrete pillars across it and the lifts at the far end.

Accompanied by two men, I walked towards them. There was an unreadable expression on their faces - Silence. The doors shut with a soft rustle, and the cabin began to crawl up. Then there was a quiet tinkling sound, and the doors let us out in the lobby, located many floors above.

There was a girl-secretary with not a particularly noticeable appearance, behind a low desk. Her fair hair was neatly combed back, her lips slightly touched up with a gloss. She was wearing thin rimmed glasses on her long nose, her eyes, however, seemed smart and insightful and the jacket fit her figure very well. It was obviously custom-made.

I had a quick look around - posh carpet, beige walls without any windows, and different pictures on the walls, a few chairs for visitors - empty at the moment, and a coffee table with some brochures on it.

During my last trip here I didn't have time to spot any of that, and now it was like a whole tour around their lobby.

Before reaching the table, I thought whether I should try and find this high building without any windows on the map? Although, the room where I spent the night before going to Tally, had windows - they were covered with curtains. Then it will be very difficult to identify the location of the Corporation. And did I really need to do that?

*****

Everything was ready.

Pink sunset, red mountains shivering in the evening haze - Hulk was looking at it for the last time, trying not to think about what will happen next. It felt as though many years had passed since he was left alone at this ranch alone the time was right to leave.

Tabitha with her luggage and the new documents was put on a creaky bus, going towards Klendon-City. Of course, she resisted and cursed but agreed eventually.

Hulk didn't try to look for any ingenious ways; he just paid a couple of people and the bus driver. It will certainly be discovered soon, and somebody will be very unhappy, but any trace of Hulk would be gone by that time. Therefore, it was forgivable to do something stupid for the last time.

The entire weapons arsenal was cleaned and prepared; everything that could be useful was put aside, waiting for the right moment, and Hulk, smoking his last cigar - one of the three remining in the wooden box was waiting for the same moment.

The tobacco was dry and tasted harsh, but Hulk didn't order new cigars - why would he? Soon, when he's free, he'll buy his favourite ones.

Thirty minutes earlier the doctor knocked on the office door and said that the patient, who was in a coma for a long time regained consciousness? Hulk just nodded. Of course she did, because an hour ago he visited the infirmary himself, but the dopy doctor, who promptly went to have a drink in the dining room, didn't notice him.

Five minutes of work, a few touches on the right areas of the brain, and it switched back on. Regarding all the changes that have been made, it was now working even better than before - no more wrecking, greed and no constant craving for anger and destruction. Instead of that bitch that tried to squeeze through the gap between the gates, one very good person will open her eyes soon.

Why did he do that? Just because he didn't want to have something "unfinished" on his mind, and now he could just forget about it.

It's been a long time since Hulk felt like he did right now - his brain completely freed of any emotions. The analysis function will turn on later, when the time is right; and now, he was sitting in the ambush like a patient predator, waiting his hour. He was just killing time by smoking a cigar, idly scrolling through all the details of the upcoming operation in his mind. There wasn't any agitation or excitement, he felt calm and relaxed, as he always did when a job had to be done.

The guy that Hulk chose as the new Head of the ranch seemed promising - determined, intelligent and ambitious. If he does everything right, he'll be allowed to mix in the right circles, with the right people on his side receive some benefits, and if favoured by the mayor of Tally, then he will achieve a new status - the status of a fully legit "owner". What a damn good goal! Hulk almost spat on the carpet from the sarcasm that filled his mind.

No, that's it. This part of his life is not behind him. It's time to turn over a new page and forget about the last three years - there wasn't anything worth remembering, when sat at home with a glass of whisky.

Except for her.

And so that she doesn't turn into a distant memory as well, today - for the first time in all these years, he'll abandon this place. He will crash the rusty gates with his forehead if he has to, but he'll make it to the other side of the fence, and maybe on the other side of the law.

The stare of his grey eyes fixed on the horizon. The smoke was drifting away with the dry wind; the transparent white curtain was swaying by the balcony door.

Four hours before sunset. Four hours of inactivity.

And four hours till his new life.

*****

They were driving silently in two cars - Dell with Chaser and Ren in Dane's Jeep. The clock on the dashboard was showing close to midnight; there was no need for words anymore, as everything had been discussed and agreed before the ride. Now it was time for action.

Dane El'Conto, unrivalled sniper, had to take care of the guards up in the watching towers, Dell will detonate the lock on the gate, and Mac will disable the electric fence. But they could only proceed with their tasks after Ren connects remotely to the Tally security centre and replaces their camera images with a picture prepared in advance.

Everyone knew exactly what to do. They'd been working together for long enough and now learnt how to act flawlessly.

Two cars, like a couple of wingless shadows, were riding up along the narrow serpentine-like road. The mountains were ahead. Given that Klendon City was located on a plain, spread out in all directions for several hundred kilometres, the mountains in this area looked odd, out of place, but not for those who knew that this landscape was created much later after the Level itself. When the Commission needed to build a new object, they didn't particularly care about the harmony of the nearby nature. If they had to have some mountains, they would just create them.

The beams from the headlights were snatching out the rough and uneven road surface, covered with fog. Bunches of grass were growing on the sides - sage and wild heather - all the plants seemed dark and brown and only when a light would fall onto some flowers, their bright colours would appear for a second.

"I've never been here before." Mac broke the silence, not taking his eyes off the road, "I didn't even know this place existed."

"Me neither." agreed Dell, who was having the same kind of thoughts.

"You know, I've tried to find Hulk with my inner vision a few times, but I always felt nothing. I thought he was dead."

"This city seems to block any signals from those who are inside." shared his thoughts Dell, "I never heard about such areas, but apparently anything is possible. If this girl says that Hulk is alive, let's hope she is right."

Mac nodded.

"I hope that apart from blocking the signals, there will be no more surprises there."

"We've checked everything we could've checked."

And they went quiet again.

Judging by the GPS, there was only eighteen kilometres left until their final destination. Chaser slowed down.

"Get ready for the stand-by." he said to those who were following him in another car.

The radio set made a rustling noise and Dane's short "Gotcha".

"Do you think there are any beautiful girls in this city?" Dane asked a friend, looking at the car riding in front of them, who was reading something on the phone.

The assassin shrugged.

El'Conto loved women. Especially those who weren't scared of him, and there weren't many of them.

"Amongst the prisoners? Maybe there are, but I doubt it."

"Could you stop reading for a second? Of course, you don't care; you've already found a beautiful girl and stopped looking at all the others." grumbled Dane jokingly since he had nothing better to say.

"I don't think I paid that much attention to girls before I found my girl." Ren replied automatically without any irritation in his voice.

"And us, mere mortals," continued the driver as if not hearing the words of his friend, "have to drag a miserable existence in a vain attempt to snatch a moment of happiness and solace in a gentle embrace."

Ren chuckled.

First of all, this "mortal" was quite an attractive guy and he knew that. And second - he was the head of one of the most complex and serious places within all the Levels - The War Level, and he was paid for this work so generously that his existence would never drag miserably. Such a position, of course, didn't facilitate any communication with the opposite sex, and even if it did, Dane would hardly rush to the first one available, no matter how much he'd go on about the tedious loneliness; he never lost his particularity. So he mumbled on just because he felt a "white" envy towards those who were lucky enough to find their better halves, although Dane didn't really believe that the creator took care of the One for him.

Nobody found his grumbling annoying anymore, like a chewing gum that stuck to a sole of a shoe and was impossible to scrape off. Therefore, Ren listened quietly to the usual monotonous mumbling about women.

"You'll meet your girl, don't worry." he said for the hundredth time.

"Yeah...." Dane said profoundly, "Not with my personality."

They would probably continue on this subject, if it wasn't for the Chaser's voice coming from the radio set.

"We're arriving".

Ren immediately began to prepare the equipment: he took out a laptop, inserted a flash drive with the data which was downloaded in advance and checked that the area scanners were on.

Dane didn't distract him and for the final part of the way they were silent.

Once both cars were disguised, everything went according to the plan: tidy, clear and quiet. After Ren took care of the cameras around the central perimeter, Dane quickly and accurately shot down the guards on both watching towers.

No screaming and no alarm went off.

While Chaser was dealing with the electricity, Dell prepared the explosives for the gate. From this point on, it was necessary to act quickly, because the loss of voltage on the electric grid would be noticed soon. They knew it from the beginning, and therefore no one was worried and acted without any fuss.

Only one man, lurking in the bushes on the other side of the fence, got himself into a tizzy. In order to avoid unwanted attention, he left his car far away from the gate; two heavy machine guns were pressing on his shoulders and he was holding a gun with a silencer in his hand, which he intended to use for a quiet removal of the guards.

But as soon as he was ready to do it, something happened and not at all according to his plan. As he was aiming, the guards dropped on the floor one by one - one with a moan, and another as silent as a sack of potatoes.

Hulk immediately hid in the shadows and kept on listening. He didn't have to be a rocket scientist to understand that someone else had just taken them down; from a long distance, using a sniper's rifle, and did it very professionally. Hulk felt the excitement and the adrenaline boiling in his blood.

What the hell is going on here? He has been watching this place for a few days, connected to the system of the city surveillance, and he never saw anything like it. Of course, in order to have more accurate data, the observation should have ideally been carried out for several months, but he did not have that much time. And now someone or something outside had intervened, threatening to disrupt the whole plan of escape. Like a big and flexible cat, Hulk stood warily, watching what happens next. Was this good or bad?

Whoever comes through the gate, Hulk should remain inconspicuous. The only way they could notice him was if they had some night vision devices, which was very likely. Damn it. Going ahead now was too risky and foolish. He must urgently reassess the situation, since this unaccounted factor has come into the equation - there was someone on the other side of the gate - one person or more, and this "someone" wanted to get inside of Tally at any cost. Judging by the fact that the alarm had not been raised, the guest didn't just take care of the guards in the towers, but also the monitoring system, otherwise at least three police units would have been there by now.

And if the surveillance system is off, then...

To confirm his suspicions, Hulk moved toward the fence quickly and quietly, took out a screwdriver-indicator attached to his belt and touched the iron.

Its tip remained unlit.

Right.

Hulk swore quietly - someone has just turned the electricity off. If the guards raise the voltage up to ten thousand volts at night, as it was done in other places with very important strategic targets inside, then both Hulk and the guest would have a lot more problems. But regardless whether the electricity was on or off, he was going to escape tonight anyway. And no guests are going to stop him from doing so.

In order to avoid any unnecessary risks, he quickly moved in the opposite direction, away from the gate, not forgetting to monitor it. He had to find a safe shelter, before the guest's arrival.

For the first time the darkness was not his friend - yes, it was concealing him well, but it was also concealing the others. And why did Tally's mayor care to illuminate the area outside the fence, but not the inside it?

The CAT building, where the new prisoners were brought in was empty at night. The lifeless dark windows gleamed in the pale light of the moon and the distant lights that were attached to the gate. Before Hulk slipped behind a concrete wall he heard a popping noise - the lock on the outer sashes was shattered by the explosives.

Hulk cursed and strained his eyes. The events were unfolding exactly as he'd expected....

Who will come in now? And why the hell did they decide to do it today? Why for God's sake did this diversion coincide with such an important day? Was the Creator laughing at him as he watching everything from above? Hiding behind a corner, Hulk was peering into the darkness so intensely that his eyes were hurting.

Finally, the gates opened, just enough to let a man dressed in everything black slip inside. Judging by the silhouette he was well armed.

The person, who entered the territory, quickly darted to the side and another one appeared right after him. Dressed in camouflage and armed, he immediately disappeared on another side.

Damn the darkness!

Conrad chewed his lips, waiting for the others to appear, but everything went quiet. Not good - those two men were operating quickly and cohesively - it was a professional assault team; Hulk was certain of that, judging by what he had just seen. And God bless them if they just pass by and let him get out freely. However going there now was the same as signing a document about a voluntary retirement from life - there was a sniper there. As soon as he sees a person who is not "one of theirs", he'll bring him down.

Hulk almost spat in anger on the ground - this whole situation meant that his escape had pretty much failed. All the thorough preparations were in vain, and who knows when he would get another opportunity to implement his plan. Least of all, Hulk wanted to get back to the ranch - even just to wait out, and it didn't matter what the reason was for this group to break through the gate today, but they destroyed his intentions. Hulk was furious - all because of the uninvited visitors, misfortune and bad timing.

His mind was now spinning at higher speeds, planning the retreat - he was just about to walk along the building, to the place where he left his car when a quiet rustle of shoes on the ground stopped him in his tracks. The steps were definitely approaching fast - one of the commandos was moving towards him.

Hulk's thinking processed faded - only his instincts remained. Survival was the highest priority at this very moment. If he managed to get rid of this man quietly, then there could be a chance to flee unnoticed. So instead of swearing out loud as he'd like to, Hulk held his breath in order not to give himself away. At that moment he put the gun down (the shooting sounds will be heard) and took out a knife. Listening to the beat of his heart, he was counting down the seconds - four, three, two, one...

As soon as the man's shadow appeared around the corner, Hulk jumped on him, gripped his neck from behind and prepared to slash the exposed flesh with a blade, but no such luck - the captive was not weaker than Hulk and in a split second, he deftly wriggled out and raised his hand, prepared to hit back.

Hulk's caught it with the corner of his eye - everything was happening at the speed of light, but at the same time unbearably slowly - the physiological responses escalated to the limit and the adrenaline was raging in his blood.

He managed to block the first blow, but the second one almost reached his jaw - Hulk barely managed to duck from it, bending to the side and kicked the opponent just below his knee, forcing him to step back. It was a good, professional, accurate and perfectly executed technique - if he had more time Hulk would savour this small victory. His own fist, with the knife clutched in fingers, was already flying towards the man's body, in order to finish the unnecessary and unplanned battle, but it was easier said than done - Hulk's rival avoided the knife, escaped from it beautifully, almost effortlessly, and was now aiming with a dagger in Hulk's throat.

A strike, block, counter-attack and another blow... Blocked again. A second later, the man fell on the ground. Was Hulk out shape? Or was it a worthy opponent?

Hulk was looking at the tip of his blade, trembling a few centimetres away from his eyes, while pressing on the enemy's arms, trying to change the situation to his favour. The sweat was stinging his eyes, his wrists became slippery and covered with dust, and the body was throbbing with pain where it was hit.

But his contender got no less - Hulk could swear that he recouped his losses, attacking every part that he could reach. Though the power was running out - in a short while he wouldn't be able to withhold the pressure any longer, but a few seconds later it suddenly disappeared. Hulk was confused. What?.. Why has the attack stopped? Was that a trick? Then he suddenly realised that the man lying on top of him stalled.

His eyes were wide open, as an image of someone familiar surfaced in the memory, causing his mind to become struck dumb. Such a moment could easily be fatal, but it wasn't. When Hulk allowed himself to look properly at the enemy's face for the first time, he was staggered at what he was seeing, and when he managed to open his mouth, he gasped in amazement, "Holly crap... Dell?"

At the same time, the familiar voice growled, "Fuck! Is that you, Hulk?"

Even if a real ghost appeared in front of his eyes, Hulk would not be any more surprised than when he saw his old friend in Tally. And then another one.

Before they had time to get up from the ground, the second saboteur arrived, and it was none other, but Chaser - Mac, damn him - Allerton.

They all spoke at once, "What are you doing here?! I can't believe you are here..."

"Erm, you found him really quick."

"Mac, he nearly stubbed me, can you believe it?"

And then, they all went quiet just as abruptly. The night air filled with glee from the unexpected meeting. After a moment, Mac hugged a friend who he had not seen for three long years.

"I thought we'd lost you. I'm so damn happy you are alive."

Hulk patted the man's shoulder tightened in camouflage, unable to put what he was feeling at this very moment into words.

"I don't believe this! How?!...!

Dell said, "Let's get out of here, we'll talk in the car."

Hulk nodded, reserving his questions for later. That's right; they can talk later after they've left the damn place. Following each other, with short dashes, they reached the main gate and slipped out, and only after that Dell chuckled, pressed Hulk's head to his chest and ruffled his hair, "Damn! You almost stabbed me! I was beginning to think that if all the Tally's guards are like that we'd better get out of there! But hell, I'm so happy!"

"Did you really get into a scrap there?" threw Chaser in astonishment.

"Hell, yeah! He almost broke my neck!"

Mac grunted and preventing any new questions from being asked shouted, "The cars are in the forest! We'll discuss it when we get away from here."

And the three men rushed to their friends at full speed, where cars and freedom were waiting for them.

Hulk still couldn't believe the fact that he was sitting in the car, taking him to the place, which he had not seen for several years - that place, glowing with the city lights, the place with the high-rise buildings mixed with small cosy cottages, where the music was pumping in the nightclubs, and where there was something for everyone at any time of the day; to the city, where his own house was left empty for three years. Did anybody take care of it? And what about his cars in the garage?

Hulk grinned in the darkness - four cars, dammit!

He also couldn't believe that a few minutes ago he met two other friends of his, who came to help him to get out of Tally, and one of them was Dane - the sniper Hulk had been so worried about. Now he had a smile on face, thinking about it.

He couldn't believe that in this pale night, where the dim moonlight was coating the road, he was heading for his new future - away from the red mountains and the hateful heat; away from the ranch, from the ridiculous rules of the stupid clubs and even more idiotic laws; away from the faces wrapped by the suffering, from the eyes, full of bitterness. He was so fed up with it all!

Now his ammunition was resting in the boot of the car, Hulk knew he could trust his life to the one who was driving the car without any hesitation.

Hulk touched the cool leather of the rear seat, as if making sure that it was real, and not just a dream. And with his hands he was touching the leather, he nearly broke the neck of one of his best friends. Life truly is, very unpredictable! Again, the imperceptible smile in the dark, and a whole bunch of feelings – too many of them, were making his eyes water.

"Tell me...." Hulk asked hoarsely.

Dell, sitting next to the driver, looked at Mac.

"You tell him, because it all started with you."

Chaser nodded.

"We didn't know where you were, otherwise we would've come earlier," he began.

"I know."

"And we would've been none the wiser if it wasn't for one girl named Shereen. Do you know her?"

A warm wave ran down Hulk's spine as her name was mentioned. Of course, who else?

"Yes, I know her."

"So she called me and told me that she knew where you were. She refused to take any money for this information and said that she needs our help to get you out."

Now Hulk had a big open smile on his face. He was overwhelmed by the feelings he had to supress for such a long time: tenderness, desire to embrace, to dishevel her hair, to put her on a bed and kiss her laughing lips; maybe, just to feel that she is by his side, at last. These enticing images swirled through his mind, but Hulk had to push the heady joyful thoughts away for now as he really wanted to hear the continuation.

"So what happened next?"

"Next? I visited her apartment. To be frank, I was quite sceptical about this call at first, but then I realised she was serious. So I brought her over to mine, gathered all the others and asked Shereen to tell everything she knew. After that we put our plan together and invaded the "Area 33" which I'd never heard of before...

Hulk shook his head imagining what it was like for Shereen to face Chaser for the first time, especially if he was in a sceptical mood. This guy could frighten any man, let alone a woman, and as for the rest of the guys - Ren, Dane, Dell... She had, of course, heard of them, but had no idea who they were in reality. A timid person wouldn't dare to attempt a meeting with these people, but Shereen wasn't listed amongst the timid ones.

He rubbed the seat's leather with his fingertips again. Soon.

Dell turned his head and smiled.

"What were you doing by the gate? You weren't waiting for us, were you?"

Hulk grunted.

"You were the last thing I was expecting to see there," he paused, thinking about the last few days when he was planning his escape, and then about this morning (now yesterday's morning) - it felt like it was ages ago. "I was going to escape. I got fed up with being in that prison. If only I'd known how everything will turn out."

Hulk went quiet, and his friends didn't interrupt his thoughts, knowing that it will take him some time to let all those painful memories go, get over them and move on.

"There was a point I stopped caring about the consequences it might cause. It was harder to stay there than to break another damn order."

They knew what he was talking about. And who.

The silence deepened and became heavy and viscous. Only Chaser, who knew a little more than everyone else, remained calm and serene.

"Do you know that because of me, you broke the law?" Hulk didn't want to ask that question, but could not help himself.

"We know." snapped Dell seriously, "and we'll sort it out one way or another. If Drake wants to punish us, he'll have to fire half of the team."

Mac was silent.

Hulk rubbed his chin and asked him, "Where did she get your phone number from?"

"Soon you can ask her." the driver smiled; his eyes sparkled in the mirror, but Hulk didn't return his smile.

"I may not have the time." he thought that he can be captured at any moment now.

"You will." Chaser said confidently, "You will have time for everything."

And looking at the road, he smiled mysteriously again, but Hulk didn't see it in the darkness.

*****

His arms were embracing and giving out so much warmth that it seemed like despite the autumn outside, summer suddenly blossomed in my heart. I still couldn't believe that he was here; such a familiar smell and the gentle touch of his fingers, running through my hair. It felt like if he squeezes me a little tighter, my bones would snap, but I loved it. My chin, pressed against his shirt, was trembling and my eyes were full of tears.

Hulk was here, in my hallway. It was as unreal as it was incredible.

Yes, I saw the cars arriving on the driveway; I saw how they stopped by the entrance, because I had been standing by the window for a good few hours now, as if pinned to the floor, having neither the ability nor the desire to move, as if I was afraid that as soon as I walked away then something good might never happen. That happiness will fly off without noticing me behind the window pane.

Was I worried? Probably more than ever. No other life woes could make me wobble inside as much as I was during these long minutes full of anticipation of the upcoming meeting. It felt like it would take years to untie all the knots formed in my stomach.

I knew they were going to come back with Hulk, but yet I wasn't ready to see him in the door of my apartment, no matter how hard I tried to stay calm and pretend that everything that was happening wasn't such a big deal.

His arms were almost strangling me for some time now, but I wanted this moment to last forever. Then his fingers gently lifted my chin, and I got lost in the molten silver of his eyes full of adoration and affection. Another second, and his lips covered mine and his tongue penetrated inside so demandingly and eagerly as if its owner couldn't survive in this world another moment. Hulk was drinking my love with this kiss, absorbing it and returning it back mixed with his passion and despair. Didn't he believe that he'd ever see me again?

"I can't believe you're here..." I whispered, trying not to sob.

He slowly rubbed his nose against my cheek, enjoying every centimetre of my skin, soaking up the knowledge that he is here at last.

Hulk didn't speak, but his deep stare was saying everything louder than any words.

He was examining my face: forehead, eyebrows, eyes, lips; he was slowly touching them with his fingertips, and then kissing me - very gently or hot and demanding, as if proving something to himself. His fingers were pulling my hair almost painfully, but I was melting from his love. He was here, with me.

"Tell me you love me. Say it! I want to hear..." was the first thing he finally uttered hoarsely.

His thrust pushed me to the wall, my back pressed against the cool plaster, but I only felt the heat of his body.

"Of course, I love you! More than anything in this world. I've been waiting for you for so long..."

My fingers were squeezing and stretching the fabric of his shirt, wanting to touch his skin and caress his soul, to soothe his doubts, to make him believe my words.

After my confession, Hulk exhaled noisily, pressed his forehead to mine and closed his eyes. He was slowly relaxing, though something was still tormenting him. I gently stroked his unshaved cheek.

Did Chaser tell him or not? About Drake, about the freedom... Why did it feel like something was still oppressing him? I had to check and make sure.

"Hulk, I..."

He smiled softly, with his eyes closed, and pressed his finger to my lips.

"Later. Don't worry about anything, you did everything right."

After these words, I realised that Mac kept quiet. For some reason, he gave me the chance to confess everything myself. Maybe, he understood how important it was for me or maybe he didn't have enough time. Although I doubted the latter. Either way, Chaser presented me with the opportunity to see that Hulk's love, despite his "oblivion" about the conversation with Drake, didn't decrease.

I saw it and the wave of tenderness filled my whole body - never ever I'll leave this guy. I loved him before now and I will always love him thereafter.

"Aren't you angry with me that I called your friends?"

Hulk opened his eyes - grey, deep, serious and very warm.

"Angry? I couldn't live without you for another day." he smiled and said confidently, "No matter what happens next, we will make it. We will, trust me."

My restless fingers kept on groping his shoulders, stroking his back, arms, neck... I almost forgot how big he was - and he was mine. Completely. I was besotted with this feeling. And of course, I trusted him - even if I'd never met Drake, I'd still trust Hulk wholly - if he says "we'll make it", I'd never doubt his words for a second.

But yet, it was necessary to tell him about the meeting with his boss as soon as possible. After all, I'd seen everything I wanted to see, and it was unfair and cruel to keep him in the dark.

As I was about to open my mouth, looking forward to one of the best moments of my life, that, one day will become a priceless memory, but before I could say a word Hulk's mobile went off.

"Yes, I'm on my way." He said shortly and I tensed.

I forgot everything I wanted to say, and the only nasty thought that raced through my mind was "He is going to leave now".

I swallowed. Please, not like that... What if he just goes, says something like "Alright, I have to run, I'll call you tomorrow" or even worse "see you next weekend" and disappears?

My mind, my logic, even my bum knew that it shouldn't happen, but yet I felt shocked by this untimely image. Do beautiful stories ever end in such a banal way? Does it ever happen that once the prince overcomes all the obstacles on the way to the Princess Tower, suddenly decides that the princess isn't actually that nice as he'd thought all this time, and that a stop at a nearby bar wouldn't hurt? After all, since this lady has been waiting by the window for decades, why couldn't she wait a little longer?

Real life is not a fairy tale and a beautiful ending is never guaranteed. Reality may be very different: cruel, stupid or pointless and the logic of one person may not always be understood by the logic of another.

I held my breath, waiting for what was to come next.

Please, don't tell me that you ought to go.

And while my brain was running this horror movie, Hulk was looking at me, smiling gently and knowingly. Then he shook his head reproachfully.

And I, silly me, forgot that he is the Sensor...

"Do you really think I could leave you now? Why would I rush here, ask the guys to drop me off at your place first? Because I wanted to see the most important person in my life, not because I wanted to leave after a short "hello"."

A feeling of relief swept over me and immediately washed all my worries. I didn't answer, just hugged him tighter. How could I explain that sometimes I'm not as smart as I'd like to be, and that sometimes I am afraid for no reason? That all I want is to get lost in his embrace, feeling safe, loved and protected?

"Let's go, I'll have to chat with the guys first and then we'll go home."

"Home?" I asked in awe, feeling that my heart suddenly filled with an inexplicable hope. Hope for something good and bright that I never had in my life before.

"Yes, home." Hulk nodded and gently touched my cheek with his lips, "Do you want to see our new home?"

I froze for a moment, stunned, filled with happiness, and then nodded with such enthusiasm that Hulk laughed.

"Then let's go, sweetheart." He kissed the tip of my nose and the corners of my lips. Then he intertwined his fingers with mine, and we headed to the door.

Again, there were too many men for one room, instead of four there were five of them now. And the atmosphere had changed greatly - they were discussing something, happily and excitedly, sharing their impressions - inconsistent, fragmentary, and impacted by a long, eventful and intense night. It was clear that it would take more than one meeting, somewhere in a cosy bar with whiskey, snacks, sharing their experiences they'd had in that time they were separated; building new plans, calm down from all the excitement; absorbing the feeling that they are together again, and this time as the whole team again.

It was pure bliss to watch these men, who like tired from play-time puppies, were gesticulating, showing something to each other, tapping each other on the backs and laughing. They were still full of energy, while I was sleepy, affected by the recent worries and long anticipation. Now that I knew everything was alright with Hulk, and all of them were back home alive, I could relax. Nobody was looking at me, so I yawned, nestled my head on a soft pillow in the corner of the sofa and immediately nodded off. Somewhere in the back of my mind there was a thought that it would be worthwhile to stay awake for a little longer, talk about Drake and dot the I's and cross the T's, but I couldn't find the strength to do that. My eyes closed, and no man's voice could stop me from sleeping peacefully in the middle of the room.

Next time I woke up I was in a car.

I only briefly opened my eyes to see a dark cabin, to feel a warm shoulder, and tender hands hugging me. I moved and Hulk gently stroked my head and whispered, "We are going home. Everything is fine, sleep."

And I fell asleep again.

Hulk's thoughts went back to the conversation that happened soon after Mac noticed Shereen sleeping on the couch. In fact, Dell was the one who discovered her first, patted Mac on the shoulder, and then they all turned to look at the girl who was comfortably curled up in the corner of the couch.

The voices in the room immediately quietened down.

Hulk smiled tenderly - she looked so cute, so vulnerable with her brown curls tossed around her head.

"Is she your other half?" asked Chaser.

Hulk nodded.

"That's what I thought. Otherwise why would she go through water and fire for you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Didn't she tell you?" he seemed surprised, and all the other men in the room looked at him with a hint of interest, "I'm sure she wanted to tell you herself, but probably, she didn't get the chance. Anyway, you ought to hear something."

Mac chuckled.

"It was before we came after you; I was taking Shereen home and you know what she'd confessed to me?"

Hulk became serious and focused - what does his friend mean? He wouldn't have started this conversation with no purpose, and everything related to Shereen, was related to him, therefore every detail was important.

"Come on, buddy!" Ren hurried him, intrigued by the Chaser's tone, "What exactly did she confess to you?"

"Maybe that she liked him more than our brother Conrad?" Dane laughed, sipping on the second beer, but almost choked on it after Ren poked him in the side. El'Conto hissed, "You have to improve your sense of humour, not the physical shape, mate..."

"No, not that." Mac replied, "Although, I don't think I'd mind if she did."

He caught Hulk's narrowed eyes and smiled.

"Calm down. Even if I was to lock her up in the basement and didn't feed her for weeks, she still wouldn't swap you for the world. It is clear to everyone."

Hulk instantly relaxed and Chaser became serious.

"No, she told me that the day before calling me, she'd met Drake."

It took a good few seconds for this information to penetrate into the minds.

"What?!" a chorus of surprised voices aroused, "Are you kidding?"

Hulk froze, afraid to assume any continuation. Despite the fact that his face was tanned, it still turned pale, and his lips pressed tightly. His jaw line became stubborn, showing tension and determination.

"Why would she do that?" the words didn't come easy. No, he wasn't afraid to hear any bad news regarding his own future - he was kind of ready for it \- but thinking about Drake's response to some strange girl, who tried to have a conversation about something she wasn't even supposed to know about, Hulk suddenly was covered in sweat.

"Why? To talk about you, of course." Mac shook his head, "believe me, when I heard about it, I reacted exactly the same way, I was shocked."

Dell was looking at him in disbelief, Ren had an unreadable expression and Dane nervously ran his fingers through his short hair.

"Gee," said the sniper, "Is she nuts?"

"Apparently, not. She just proved once again how strongly she feels about this guy." Mac looked at Hulk, "I envy you. So, this beauty found the informant and asked him how to contact the Commission. He advised her to "call" Drake, which she did, not forgetting to go to an open field first."

The tension and interest grew to such an extent that it became hot in the room. Hulk realised that his own heart began beating extremely fast, which had not happened for a long time, and it appeared damn hard to calm it down.

"She shouted Drake's name into the sky, at least that's how I understood her story, and he came. The car sprang up out of nowhere in front of her. And what do you think she said to our boss?"

"I can't even imagine." Hulk said dumbfounded.

The others were waiting for him to carry on in silence, holding their breath - after all, it wasn't just about Conrad - it concerned all of them.

"My arse is gonna be damp from the worrying now!" Dane complained, "Tell us how deep is the shit we got in?"

Chaser looked at Shereen and shook his head, remembering their conversation in the car.

"She told him that you had already realised your mistakes and that you needed to be released, or at least Drake should think about it. That's what she told him."

He stopped because the girl sleeping on the couch moved, as if feeling the tensed atmosphere in the room, rubbed her cheek, and then began snorting again peacefully.

She didn't wake up and Mac continued.

"So, Drake listened to her and at first scared her by asking if she knew about the possible consequences of such a conversation? But your lady appeared to be quite brave and said that you were worth any consequences. And then, you won't believe it - Drake just tossed a coin, caught it and said "Today is your day. Tell him that he is free". He disappeared, leaving her standing in the field.

Hulk couldn't breathe - the air was stuck in his lungs. Judging by long faces of his friends, they were experiencing something similar.

"Tell me you're not kidding, man?" Dell said, staring into Chaser's eye, "because it sounds... erm-r-r... too incredible, I suppose."

"Yeah, you're telling me..." Mac rubbed his neck, "I don't really believe it myself. She also said (he nodded toward Shereen) that before Drake left, he stopped and said, "Ask him to visit me when he is around." That's it - so no shit for us, guys, we had a legal right to help our friend, who is also legally free."

The last sentence was addressed to Hulk, who at this very moment was looking at Shereen with a strange expression in his eyes, and no one knew how tenderly his heart was aching inside.

He will digest everything that had been said later - that there is no more fear for the future; that everything had been resolved without his involvement and resolved in a good way, but all this will come later. Now he was looking at her, sleeping peacefully on the couch, and felt that love, affection, appreciation, and the desire to protect entwined into a new strong feeling, its roots had already sprouted through every cell of his body and mind, filling him wholly.

His Shereen, who came to the ranch to scrub the floors, who was stealing food and buying medication for the quarry workers using her own points. His Shereen, who had thrust herself into hell, in order to help the one she loved - that's just how she is. And he couldn't, just didn't, have the right to let her go away. He had to give her everything she deserved and much more...

Someone touched his shoulder. It took great effort for Hulk to take his eyes off the reddish curls.

"Don't ever lose her." Mac whispered.

"Yep". Ren agreed and Dell just nodded.

Only Dane sighed in annoyance. He wasn't annoyed with Shereen, but with the destiny that still didn't present him with such a lovely gift - his own woman.

Hulk sat down on the carpet. For three years he was carrying this desperation inside, not knowing what would happen next, he was holding himself back from howling like a locked in a cage wolf, without the chance of a way out. For three years he had his hands, aching from inaction. And for the first time he could put an invisible axe and the desire to fight for his life, happiness and freedom aside, because none of that had to be fought for anymore.

She brought it to him. It was as simple as that.

No, it probably wasn't that simple at all, but she did it - without asking anything in return, she'd just gathered the strength and joined the battle, and he became free, without fear of retribution for another mistake, without fear to be separated again.

His curly "toy" took care of everything. Hulk still couldn't believe that she'd done it; he was sitting on the carpet, looking at her curly hair, long eyelashes, hiding her bright green eyes; looking at her pouting lips, and shook his head.

*****

Waking up the next morning, I felt like I was in paradise. I was lying on soft sheets, pondering whether I should open my eyes now, or spend another minute or two enjoying the bright sun flares coming through my closed eyelids. A warm breeze was rustling through the curtains, and the birds were whistling joyfully, like it was blooming spring outside, not an early autumn.

One word - paradise.

I smiled and slowly opened my eyes.

For a moment, I felt a bit disappointed by the fact that the bed which I apparently slept on all night was empty. As well as the room.

I looked around and found myself in an unfamiliar, but cosy bedroom with beige wallpaper. Thinking about what happened to my beloved, I discovered a note attached to the pillow.

My love, I decided not to wake you up, because I knew how tired you were, and my passionate outbursts can wait until the evening (but no longer).

All my worries disappeared straight away, and my cheeks blushed. I smiled happily \- everything was all right and that was the most important thing. Hulk must be having a busy morning, which means we'll meet a little later, when he returns.

I looked at the note and found a postscript, written in small letters, which read that the bathroom is down the hall on the left.

Excellent! I have time to take a shower and freshen myself up. Of course, I didn't have any makeup or toiletries with me, but why would I worry about it after Hulk saw me as a complete ragamuffin in Tally? I cheerfully threw the blanket away, touched the fluffy carpet with my bare feet and looked around for my clothes. There wasn't any. Hm-m-m...

I still had my underwear on, but the rest of my clothes had disappeared. I remembered that last night I fell asleep right in the middle of the room on a sofa at Chaser's, and felt embarrassed, but I quickly got over it. OK, I didn't have that fantastic stamina inherent to these guys, but I'm a lady and my mission is quite different to theirs, therefore why should I worry? Yes, I fell asleep, it could happen to anyone.

I giggled.

Anyway, where are my clothes? After a brief examination, instead of my clothes I found a white fluffy bathrobe, lying on the edge of the bed with another note pinned to its collar. I reached out to get it.

It didn't belong to anyone before. It was ordered this morning from the shop, so no wild assumptions. "

I smiled reading this. To be honest, I wasn't about to start building any wild assumptions anyway. After I saw his face yesterday and felt his embrace, I was totally convinced that Hulk was mine - I knew it with my heart. I put the white soft robe on and headed to the bathroom where I spent half the morning, soaping myself with everything I could find.

After the bath, I saw another note hanging on the bedroom's door that informed me that breakfast would be served somewhere in the conservatory. Since I had no clue where this conservatory was located, I decided to try my luck by exploring every single room in the house.

The served breakfast was eventually found, but not before I spent thirty minutes admiring the number of rooms - one better than another. Living rooms, bedrooms, studies, dining room, gym, library, reading places and lounges - it appeared that Hulk enjoyed a bit of luxury not only in Tally.

The view from the window told me that Hulk's mansion was located somewhere in the eastern part of the city, I could still see the blue skyscrapers in the distance, but they were seen from a different angle as opposed to my apartment at West Barton Avenue.

The conservatory drowned in greenery and flowers; the white wicker furniture stood on the porch. The trees were rustling, touched by the warm breeze. I noticed a blue shimmering surface of the swimming pool In the distance.

And the silence all around.

It seemed that the house was empty. Whoever looked after the garden and the pool was not here at the moment. I looked around, breathed in the fresh morning air, let lose my wet hair, and sat on one of the wicker chairs.

It was a pity that Hulk wasn't here with me now - I was missing him a lot. The time we'd spent together yesterday was not enough to hug, to hold, to enjoy our newfound presence in each other's lives. On a table, there were plates with cheese, ham, jam, yogurts (as soon as I glanced at them I recalled my "blind" breakfast in Tally), a jug with juice, and a slightly cooled, but still tasty omelette.

One more note was lurking under the cutlery.

I hope you enjoyed the bath. After you finish with breakfast just ring the bell that you'll find in the middle of the table - your clothes will be brought to you. The car and the driver are already waiting for you – your task is to go shopping and be ready to meet me at the "Plaza" restaurant by six o'clock. Do not worry about the money \- the driver will provide you with a credit card and he'll take you anywhere you ask him to. I'll be waiting for you at the restaurant at 6pm.

See you soon.

Hulk.

PS. You'll find your set of keys to our house next to the bell.

I read this note several times, then slowly put it aside and looked at the keys. Overloaded with feelings I could hardly sit still. My house keys! My Hulk! My new life. He took care of every single detail! I finally understood why he wasn't in bed with me, why he'd disappeared before I opened my eyes. Something was telling me that my beloved belonged to the type of men who'd always try and keep a touch of novelty in a relationship (no matter how long it lasts) as well as some interest, passion and mystery; he'd always find time for a surprise, pleasant gift, or simply a sign of attention.

Hulk didn't want to do things in an ordinary way, he wanted a real date. He wanted me to miss him and languish before our meeting, as if everything was happening for the first time; and, to some extent, it was our first date.

Well... Judging by my rapid heartbeat, he achieved his goal. I looked at the note again, then at the omelette, then at the bell, took a deep breath and smiled.

This day was promising to be a great one.

I was looking at him in astonishment, not able to believe that the man in front of me was really Hulk. He was dressed impeccably, his blond hair was trimmed and he was radiating an aura of a calm self-confident person who makes the world go around. A well-tailored suit, powerful shoulders, white shirt's collar bowed the tanned neck, golden watch gleaming on his wrist, and a clean-shaven chin emphasized by the square corners of Hulk's beautiful jaw.

"Is that really you?" I stammered and apparently blushed.

As soon as I walked over to the table, he got up and froze for a moment, scanning me from head to toe. And there was something to look at - after visiting a beauty salon and doing some shopping, instead of the usual Shereen there was a lady with perfect hair and makeup approaching my courteous beau.

He smiled, gently kissed my wrist, and made sure I was comfortable sitting at the table opposite him. And I (not knowing whether to laugh or cry) was afraid to look at him. It was hard to believe, but I felt shy. Hulk looked the same, but also somehow different and unfamiliar. In Tally he seemed less sophisticated, not as nitid and lustrous, and it made me lose my bearings.

How much I still didn't know about him? What was he like in reality? Was he really the Hulk I knew, or was this perfectly looking and smelling man in front of me actually someone else? Suddenly, I was scared that we weren't suited, that I don't know him at all.

"Shereen." he called, "Is everything alright with you?"

I forced myself to meet his silvery eyes, interrupting the aroused stream of fears in my mind.

"I just wasn't expecting you to be... like that."

His lips twitched into a smile - so familiar and beautiful. Are these the lips that kissed me last night with such passion?

"Like what?"

"I don't know... perfect?"

He paused for a moment, digesting what he'd just heard, and then burst out laughing. Several prim and proper couples, dining nearby, turned their heads and looked at us judgmentally, but Hulk didn't pay any attention to them.

"So that's what it is! And I was beginning to think God knows what... When you walked into the restaurant, I also stopped breathing, although I always knew you were incredibly beautiful. But yet I was not ready for what I saw. You're gorgeous!"

I blushed with embarrassment and pleasure. The world became cosy and familiar again, an instant relief replaced the recent fears, and the following words helped to dissolve them completely.

"I'm sorry if I've embarrassed you, I just wanted to make everything right."

"What do you mean?"

His eyes were warm, as if hugging me.

"I mean, doing something in a way that I'd never done before, taking you on a real date, having dinner with you in a restaurant, spending as much time with you as you deserve."

"But you always spent time with me..."

"Yes, but I've never had a chance to take care of you properly."

"What are you talking about?"

Our conversation was interrupted by a waiter, we had to pause and order. As soon as the waiter was gone, Hulk took my hand in his, leaned forward and kissed my fingertips.

"Hush, Curly"

My eyebrows quizzically rose hearing this nickname and made Hulk smile

"Just listen to me, okay? My hands were tied in Tally in many ways, and I couldn't take care of you the way I always intended. There was the most beautiful woman next to me, and I could not even get her good clothes, because there were no shops. I couldn't take you out, because there were no restaurants, where couples could go to. I couldn't prove my love with my actions...

"You are silly..." I gasped.

"And now I can, Shereen. And I'm going to do just that - take you out, pamper you, cherish you, take care of you and express my love in all ways possible."

He paused for a moment, squeezing my fingers. I looked at him, wanting to shake my head. Yes, he was silly. Didn't he realise that I loved him not for his ability or inability to "express" his love, but for his personality, temperament and all the traits that made him Hulk who he is. I didn't give a damn how he was dressed and where he lived. I was certain that somehow we will improve our financial situation, even if it was a bit questionable. But what was really important to me that he was now by my side. He was the same Hulk I met and fell in love with. It happened in Tally where I didn't care if he could get me new clothes or not. It was enough to get one ice-cream in a park to understand how much he loves me.

Hulk was staring at me and his eyes were deep.

"Will you let me?

"Let you what?"

"Let me take care of you? Love you?"

"Of course." I said warmly and smiled, "It's the only thing I want - for you to be nearby. Is that hard to understand? And get out with your gifts!"

I laughed, leaned forward and touched his face. Not taking his eyes off my face, he took a small box out of his pocket and opened it. He then gently took my palm off his cheek, and without asking for my permission, slipped the ring on my finger.

Hulk kissed my finger, decorated with his "gift" and handed it back to me as if saying "look at it". I looked at my hand, and a wave of warmth spread from my heart into the world. That thread that was connecting Hulk and I all this time, singing of heavenly voices, suddenly turned into a golden chain - solid and resilient, eternal and indivisible. Its glow turned two of us into one and became the final element in a perfect picture of love.

The ring that now was firmly sitting on my finger had no diamonds or any other gems, but it had two capital letters "HC" in gold interlocking together, as if proclaiming to the world who was now the owner of my heart. Unable to find any words, I got up, walked around the table and sat down on Hulk's lap, hugged his neck and buried my nose into the white collar of his shirt.

"I love you," I whispered, not caring about anyone else looking at us - some of them reproachfully, some with a smile, some with a sentimental nostalgia in their eyes, "I love you so much."

"I love you too, Shereen." his fingers carefully stroked my curly hair, "From now on I am the one you'll come to laugh or cry, to ask for protection or a new house."

I couldn't help giggling. I took my face off his collar and looked into his laughing eyes.

"And I'll never leave you." he added quietly. "No matter what happens, I will be with you, for you, always there to help, to support, and I will love you more than anyone else in the world."

Yes, despite the suit and a white shirt, he was the same Hulk. My Hulk. The only man I wanted to be with.

"I adore you." I rubbed my nose against his cheek, "And I will always come to you to laugh and cry and for a new house, and sometimes for an ice-cream."

We laughed together at the same time. Next to us, hiding his smile and not interrupting our conversation, stood the waiter with a trolley full of food. As soon as I saw him, I slid off Hulk's knees and took my place at the table.

Our wonderful evening continued with a bunch of questions we were eager to ask each other.

"Hulk, what happened to Jenny?"

"I healed her. Just went to the infirmary and worked on her brain a bit, so she is alright now. And how did you figure out where to find Drake?"

"Oh, you won't believe it, it was so scary! First I sold those gems that the quarry worker gave me. I haven't told you about them... I sold them to try and get money so I could use it when I go for help to "Dreams LTD"

"Did you go there again?!"

"Yes, I did, but they refused to help me. They said that no money in the world would make them get in a row with the Commission. So I decided to find Drake and talk to him."

It took me a while to tell the whole story in detail; I mentioned the calls to the informant, the field, how strange and scary it was to stand there, and after we exchanged comments about it, the conversation switched to other topics.

"Hulk, what happened to Tabitha?"

"I sent her out of Tally and found her a new place to live in. Now she feels useful and needed. What about our new house, do you like it?"

"O-o-o! It's fantastic! I got lost in all the rooms today. Is there anyone looking after it?"

"There is a cleaner and a gardener I hired a few years ago. They had been coming in from time to time. I have to pay them for their voluntary assistance. Did you see the pool?"

"Yep. Do you use it?"

"I do. If you want, we could invite an interior designer to redecorate some of the rooms to our taste."

"Great! And who is now the head of the ranch?"

"I found one guy; he's quite smart and not too cruel. What do you think about Mac? And Dell? Was it scary to meet with them too?"

"A little. But they are nice guys when you get to know them. Did it rain in Tally after I'd left?"

"Nope. By the way, where is your shop? Will you show me?"

"Of course!..."

We had endless amount of questions for each other. There was so much we wanted to know, ask and to share. We enjoyed each other and this comfort we were experiencing, being together. Unbelievable, but after dinner we were actually going home - our new home. Together.

Hulk's sophistication was no longer making me shy, but rather impressing me. I couldn't wait to take his jacket off, and feel his hot strong body that I missed so much during those lonely nights. But I already had the most important things - the way he was touching my fingers, his smile, warm waves flowing between us. And all the other things like when exactly I take this jacket off him, when he sees my shop, if I decide to redecorate any rooms didn't matter that much. Who cares about these small details when the greatest gift of them all is already here.

*****

The time hadn't changed him at all.

The same tough face, predatory nose and stubborn chin... Only his clothing was plain this time, not the usual silver uniform. But it could change in seconds - from casual to formal, Hulk knew that.

But this morning Drake chose to look like an ordinary man and that was strange, as strange and unusual as it would be walking with him down a park lane, looking at the overcast sky.

Although Hulk learnt how to accept changes light-heartedly, since too many things have changed in the last three years. If earlier there was a strict schedule, things were in their places, actions were planned ahead, and the future was predetermined; now nothing was predetermined anymore. All his carefully built plans were ruined a long time ago.

"I did what I had to do." Drake said, breaking the heavy silence. Almost trying to excuse himself.

Hulk didn't object. He knew Drake was right. The commander must punish those who disobey the orders, teach the others by explicit examples, and has no choice but to stick to his word and follow his principals. But Hulk also knew that he couldn't have acted any differently in that situation and he was right in a sense; however it did not have any impact on the consequences, and those three years of captivity laid a painful weight on his shoulders.

Drake was quiet for a while. His pointed leather shoes trod on the dusty pavement barely covered with a few leaves. It was a dull autumn morning with a light drizzle in the air.

"I was surprised when she called me." he said, "I wasn't expecting it."

They both knew who the conversation was about and Hulk didn't say anything again. His thoughts switched to Shereen. This morning she, wrapped in a fluffy bathrobe, was drinking coffee in the kitchen, flicking through a magazine, getting ready to go to her shop. So cosy and home-like.

"She met you out of her own initiative."

"I know." Drake looked at Hulk, "and you've changed. Not outside, but inside."

Hulk didn't know what to say. And what could he say? Anybody would change under pressure. Yes, some time ago he was hot-tempered, more aggressive, but water can smooth the edges of the hardest stones, and that infuriation he felt about Drake's decision before, was almost gone now. There were times when he thought he would never even talk to him again, the accumulated resentment was so strong, but then he'd come to realise that it just was his immaturity. Only by speaking with each, can other people get a chance to change any situation for the better. He figured that out later.

"Why did you want to see me, Drake?" Hulk scowled looking at the sky, "I'm grateful that you'd changed your mind. Now I am free to do whatever I want."

"True." his commander agreed, staring at the former soldier, as if trying to grasp what was on his mind, and how to turn the conversation so they would both like the result, "Have you worked out what you'd like to do in future?"

Hulk didn't show any emotions - he looked as calm as ever, and didn't even shrug his shoulders. He didn't want to admit that he missed his friends and his former life. There was no need to give any additional strings to Drake to manipulate him - he already had enough of them.

Yes, Hulk had been thinking about the future, and he couldn't find the type of business he could devote himself to. Everything seemed too boring even if it was profitable. He loved his previous lifestyle not for its safety or plentifulness, but for the feeling of unity with his team, for the adrenaline that was bubbling in his blood, for the joy he felt after a successfully completed raid, when he could say to himself - "I've done it! We've done it". He was not just a trained soldier; he was a natural warrior from birth.

And more than anything else he was missing those nights, when, after another completed task they - hectic and strong- would go to the bar for a chat and a drink and a pat on the back. He missed exhausting training sessions that would suck out the last drop of his energy, but somehow still bringing some incomparable moral satisfaction to his mind. He missed the gun ranges, shooting and accomplishments. He missed the moment when he knew that he was covering someone's back and someone was covering his; when they worked as one.

But he'll never be a part of that team if he starts with another business.

No, his friends wouldn't say a word and never show that he became a stranger, but the feeling of unity will be lost. Even if he still attends their gatherings and hears about new jobs, he'll never be the one who participates in them, and therefore he'd feel uncomfortable and a fake joy from being in the ranks where he actually is not listed anymore. Hulk didn't want that - to pretend that he was still "one of them".

So, he had to choose, either he was in or out - there were no other options.

Hulk never asked who they'd replaced him with and was now regretting it. They couldn't have worked for three years without a sensor, could they?

But he didn't mention any of it to Drake. The "Area 33" has taught them well when they should remain silent and when to speak.

"No, I have not yet worked that one out." he said shortly, in order to say something, so the silence wouldn't seem rude.

They had reached the end of the lane and turned into one of the side alleys. It was empty and quiet.

"Then that's what I want to tell you." Drake suddenly stopped. Hulk turned to the chief and also slowed down, "I haven't found a replacement for you. Not sure whether it's a good thing or not, but I searched and searched but I just couldn't find one. Yes, there were some candidates, but they didn't show anywhere near your impressive results and the team didn't accept them. Therefore, if you want to come back, the doors are open for you."

This time Hulk tried his hardest to hold his emotions back. Only his heart bumped loudly from the ray of hope. Only his wounded pride was still there in the same old place like a splinter, not allowing him to grab this opportunity hovering in front of his nose. There was only one organisation like that in the all the Levels. And only one team like that. God knows, Hulk really wanted to just open his mouth and say "yes", but yet he couldn't, and he almost hated himself for this weakness.

Drake seemed to notice it. He peered into Hulk's eyes and somehow transformed from this impenetrable commander into almost a human.

"Get back to us". He said unusually quietly, "I'd be happy if you came back as I'm sure the guys would be. As for me, I can promise a generous increase to your salary and an apology cake for you and Shereen."

And not waiting for an answer he turned around and walked off. Hulk saw his clothes changing – the silver trousers slowly replaced the faded jeans, and a second later a matching jacket with a white stripe on the sleeves complemented the suit. Where did his plain clothing go?

The grey car was waiting for Drake behind the fence; he sat in it without looking back. The door shut and the engine started.

Watching it, Hulk was still standing in the middle of an empty alley, breathing in damp air. The old splinter that was causing him pain suddenly disappeared and his healed pride, like a new copper water tank was now shining in a light of this sudden relief.

Shereen will enjoy the cake - silly but happy thoughts came to mind, and a salary increase is always a good thing.

Smiling, Hulk headed towards the exit of the park with a springy gait. There was no rush, but his raised to the sky spirits made him want to run, and Hulk, following that sudden impulse, raced ahead at a full speed, just like he did a long time ago, when life was easy, and there were only joy and freedom in his heart.

He asked me to return. He said that he hadn't found a replacement!

It felt great to run, just like that, without choosing a specific direction, giving in to the bursting energy. Life gave him a second chance and presented it so beautifully, without asking for anything in return.

Hulk knew that Drake will be waiting for him, as he knew that he'll go back.

*****

A week later I was hanging on Hulks neck and squealing joyfully.

"Is it true?! That you decided to go back?"

"Not just decided, but I've already got my ammunition and all the documents that I am on a new rate of pay."

Hulk's face shone brighter than a sunny day. This morning he went to see Drake at the office and just returned home a few minutes ago, unbelievably happy, bursting with strength and confidence.

"The training will begin in two weeks, and today we will have a magnificent banquet. The guys will come. Ren will bring his girlfriend, so you'll have some female company."

I sighed happily and looked at his smiling face. It was great to see him like that - solid, agile and without deep weariness in his eyes. Now he was glowing from within.

"How is everything going at the new shop? Have you already mastered the new territory?"

He was talking about a place that he, without me knowing, bought in "Somerset" - an incredibly expensive shopping centre I used to visit sometimes after work. Only the most expensive and prestigious boutiques were located there. One evening Hulk just brought the documents saying that he bought a space there and I could set up a new shop if I wanted to. I won't go on about the amount of joy that his gift made me feel. I've been thinking about the expansion for a while now, and Hulk's acquisition met all the requirements perfectly. This mischief didn't want to confess the price he paid for it, no matter how hard I tried to extort it out of him, so I gave up these useless attempts and began to happily develop a new business plan. Linda was the second person who almost cried with delight when she learnt that I needed a manager to lead our new branch.

There was so much to do, but it was nice, exciting and inspirational.

"The interior decorators are working there now, they won't finish until Monday, so there is no need for me to go there. Linda is managing them."

"Great! Do you think we can prepare everything for tonight's party?"

My enthusiasm was boundless. I nodded confidently.

"I know who can cook heaps of tasty food for a crowd of people. Can you guess?"

Hulk laughed.

"Do you have her phone number?"

"Of course!"

A minute later I was dialling the number of one of my best friends.

"Tabitha? Hi! Do you think you could help me out today? Such a gluttonous bunch is going to be here tonight, so I have to cook in large numbers."

The joyful female voice answered.

"What? Yes, I have some large pots. Will you come to help? I owe you a raspberry pie!"

An hour after she arrived, she was seething with energy and looking younger than ever.

The doorbell rang again.

It was a delivery service, they brought a huge, tiered cake, decorated with white icing and flowers, which I have only ever seen in "Luxury desserts" catalogues. I took out the note, and then turned to Hulk in surprise.

"It says only two words From Drake."

"Really?"

And he smiled, like the cat who'd got the cream.

**Epilogue**.

A week later.

Hulk enjoyed a hot summer evening, sitting on one of the benches by the shore and watching people. The sea was calm, almost lazy, allowing the beachgoers to relish a late night swim in the warm salty water. The taut palm's trunks were creaking on the wind; music was playing at the coastal cafes. Cocktails, short skirts and colourful swimwear, tanned guys accompanied their no less tanned ladies – some home, some to the nearest luxury car in order to continue their night elsewhere.

Paradise. This place was a beautiful tropical paradise for those who loved to swim not only in the sea, but also in money.

There were no primitive houses. All villas were divided in three categories - expensive, very expensive, and unbelievable expensive.

Hulk smiled. Almost gentle and relaxed. Then he took out a cigar, bought specially for this occasion; lit it, exhaled a cloud of smoke in the tropical humid air and looked around again.

It felt good being here. The climate was allowing people to enjoy the summer all year round, and the temperature of the sea water, even during the coolest days would never go below twenty-three degrees.

And Alex Viver was living in this paradise for three months. Alex, who caused this whole adventure to happen - the money, Shereen, Tally, Hulk and his freedom to follow.

Hulk was grateful. But while his other half was convinced that there was nothing good about the revenge, Hulk thought that it was ignoble to let people who loved to live in such places at someone else's expense, go unpunished.

Injustice must be always punished and things like that had to be fixed, sometimes, fixed in the most "sophisticated" way. More so, the plan had been prepared a long time ago, and has just been waiting to be put into action.

Hulk followed another couple with his eyes - a woman in high heels, walking a tiny dog, and her muscular companion, and grinned - what a show-off and how cheap. Vile bling, pulling the wool over people's eyes - could anybody really like this lifestyle?

He still had two hours before catching his plane and he could allow himself to enjoy the sunset, feeling the breeze rustling the sleeves of his light cotton shirt, decorated with boats.

Everything went just fine. Even more than that, it went brilliantly.

Tomorrow precious Alex will learn that his life has changed irreversibly and for good. Just with a click of the fingers, it made a sharp turn in completely the wrong direction. And the show will begin with him finding his new girlfriend wallowing in bed with her fitness instructor in Alex's own bedroom. It didn't take much to find out that Lillian - the girl from those photos that he showed Shereen, was having a fling with the muscular Claudio. Whether Viver screwed up as a lover or Lillian appeared to be a bit slutty or just couldn't walk past a good looking guy - Hulk didn't care, but it was easy to discover her private secrets.

A short conversation with Claudio was rather successful. The handsome guy was short of money and for a hundred dollars he quickly agreed to meet Lillian at her home next time.

And tomorrow, with Hulk's helping hand, Alex will get home early only to find the two love birds in full play, which would inevitably lead to his mental trauma.

Wow! What a pleasure!

The reason for Alex's early return home would be that his favourite sports car Marjatti that he'd bought with Shereen's money was stolen. And he is never going to see his priceless car again - what a pity!

Hulk flicked the ash from his cigar on the ground.

And this is just the beginning.

Some time ago Hulk discovered that after his arrival to the island, Alex successfully found a new job, doing the same as he did before - a weapons design engineer in one of the largest military companies on three Levels. It was a massive company with loads of offices, major development lines and huge supplies. So subsequently Alex's salary was very significant - all that was playing directly into Hulk's hands.

Stealing the blueprint of one of the machine guns, designed by Alex, for their team was a trifling matter. Logan Everton - the hacker from the Special Squad quickly fished it from the company's protected servers. After that, Hulk slightly modified the blueprint (thanks to the Commission he had a better knowledge in weapon design than Viver), safely sealed the design in an envelope, took it the post office and sent it to his own home address. Before doing that Hulk agreed with one of the staff from the post office, that the stamp would be backdated by one year.

It cost him another hundred dollars - not a big loss from the budget.

Thus, Hulk had direct proof that the design of the machine gun, that the company had been successfully producing for over six months now, was stolen from Hulk Conrad by some Alex Viver. And today they found out about it.

The company director and several senior officials didn't argue with Hulk, they'd just called in the experts to evaluate the design and a few hours later, pale and sweaty, assured him that the machine gun would be discontinued and withdrawn from the market at all Levels, and the culprit, Alex Weaver, would be punished rigorously in accordance to the Law.

Hulk was satisfied; very much so.

Because the words "punished rigorously" meant the following: Alex would be stripped of all salaries and bonuses he had ever been granted from the start. He would also be fined for the damage that his "stealing" caused to the company (which was not only profit they'd already got, but also any future profits). Hulk assumed that such a penalty would cost Alex about five to six million dollars. Subsequently, Alex would lose his house, including furniture, and everything that had any value; his bank accounts would be frozen. If Viver didn't pay the debt within three months, he would be rightfully prosecuted by the Commission on request from his own employers.

Hulk chuckled.

The Commission had a wicked sense of humour - they didn't recognise the ordinary prisons, and for people like Alex they'd find something a little more interesting.

Wow, how unexpectedly life can turn sometimes. You never know where you get lucky. Or unlucky...

If Alex wanted to avoid court, then he might try to visit the "Dreams Ltd" whose commercials Hulk has already seen along the coast. Who knows?..

Perhaps, the Corporation would give money to Alex, but it was anybody's guess what they would ask in return.

Silvery icicles gleamed in Hulk's eyes, and his lips formed into an evil grin.

Whatever Alex decided to do, the money from his life-long payments would be credited to Hulk's and Shereen's account, providing them with a prosperous life for many years to come. Isn't that wonderful?

It certainly was.

Hulk got up from the bench, stretched, and breathed in the fresh sea air once again.

It felt amazing by the seashore. Maybe he ought to buy a summer house here? By the time Shereen visits this place, Alex will disappear from the island forever.

Hulk glanced at his watch, went to the side of the road and hailed a taxi, coloured pink by the setting sun.

It was time to go to the airport. Despite the beauty of the tropics, he wanted to go home, where, thumbing through a fashion magazine in front on the TV, there was Shereen was waiting for him.

She liked falling asleep in his arms and would always get a little stroppy if she couldn't press her cute nose against his neck, and Hulk didn't like to upset her - his Curly.

He smiled, thinking about it. Then he told the driver the final destination - the airport and leaned back on the seat.

It felt fabulous to go back home. Not just to his house, not to Klendon-City, but home. Never before he had a chance to call any place that, but he got lucky, having somewhere to return.

When three hours later a whitish trail from the plane would disappear into the night sky, he would walk in to the hallway, where he'd be met by a happy squeal, smell of the softest hair, and by the most beautiful green smiling eyes.

Glancing in the rear-view mirror, the taxi driver could not help asking, "You are going home?"

Hulk raised his eyebrows.

"Why do you think so?"

"Because we smile so happily only when somebody is waiting for us at home."

Hulk didn't reply.

He smiled and looked outside the window, where a pink disc of the sun was slowly sinking into the sea.

The end.

