Chapter (2) ALWAYS LOOK AT THE SHOES.

QUINN'S LIFE IS ABOUT TO CHANGE BUT HE HAS NO IDEA ABOUT WHAT IS TO COME.

Always Look At The Shoes.

 

The world outside the tenement block was noisy, wet and grey. It was mid September and Trent was suffering from another real head banger, nothing unusual there, he suffered these most mornings. Well, actually it was nearer midday. He didn't remember much about the night before, and that wasn't unusual either. He did remember he'd emptied a full bottle of Kentucky's finest.

“Jeeze, my head hurts.” Trent was lying on the lumpy old couch he used as a bed. There was this noise, not the same thumping that he'd come to expect. “Can't think straight.”  Trent tried to open his eyes, “Ooooh that's not nice.” The room was dim, it helped. Questions flashed through his mind. What time was it? Did it matter?  The thumping in his head was keeping a rhythm. He sat up slowly and with his head hung low, his legs swung round and bare feet landed on the wooden floorboards. One foot knocked over the empty Jack Daniels bottle, “Ah, that explains the steady machine gun inside my skull.” Trent thought. There it was again, Trent couldn't work it out. The thumping in his head had developed an echo. It took him several seconds before he figured out that someone was knocking on the office door.

Trent took a deep breath, it made him cough. Confused thoughts rattled around in his head. Maggie had a key, why would she be knocking?  Was it Maggie's cleaning day again? He didn't know, he'd lost count of the days, hell he'd lost count of the weeks. Whoever it was on the other side of the door they wanted him to answer it.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I hear ya.” Trent stood up feebly and shuffled across the crowded floor to the door of his grubby little office. He managed to pull back the latch and turned back towards the sink. Leaning on the sink for support he took a glass from the shelf.

“What the...” A piece of paper was stuffed in the glass. He read it through blurred eyes.  'Mr Trent I'm sorry to ask but it's been over a week and I haven't been paid.'  Hell he'd forgotten about paying Maggie, again. There it was again that thud thud thud. Trent put a hand to his forehead. “What's wrong with these people don't they like to sleep?” He stayed leaning on the sink.

“What d'ya want? A written invitation? IT'S OPEN.”  His voice was weak and hoarse, his throat was dry and the leash on Trents temper was getting shorter by the second.

He was still filling the glass from the leaky faucet when the door came open and a soft female voice cut through the fog in his mind to get his immediate attention.

“Mr Trent?” As he turned towards the voice he saw five feet ten inches of classy broad standing in the doorway. Trent's eyes opened wider all by themselves. The lady was wearing a smart black dress suit and sporting a stylish hat. Ruby red lips smiled at him. Trent couldn't help himself as he looked down at her shoes. You see Trent had this idea that you can tell a lot about a dame by the type of shoe she wears. This dame had a pair of bright red stilettos supporting a pair of well-turned ankles. Stylish, expensive, but not over the top.

“Mr Trent?” The soft voice echoed the question. Trent took a deeper breath.

“Well lady I give up, you found me.” He took a mouthful of the tepid water.

“Arhgg that's nasty.” He put the glass down heavily on the wooden board at the side of the sink. Trent bent down and pulled open the small cupboard door under the sink. He needed a Seltzer, but he didn't know where Mags kept the Seltzer. He slammed the door shut again and turned searching the room, squinting through half closed eyes. Trent's mind was still wandering, where was Mags?  Shouldn't she be here by now? He managed to stagger back towards the couch. Bending unsteadily he picked up the bottle from the floor, he lifted it up in front of his face to examine it. The lady just stood and observed him.

“Damn.” The bottle was dry, and so was Trent. The lady in the doorway spoke again.

“Mr Trent, my name is Camille.”

“You still here?” Trent didn’t bother to look in her direction as he made his way back to the sink. Leaning on the sink again Trent turned his head in her direction. She still had that slight smile on her ruby lips.

“Look, you got me at a bad time doll.” He threw the empty bottle towards a small trashcan by the couch. The bottle chinked as it joined several of its cousins. “What’d you say your name was?”

“As I was saying Mr Trent, my name is Camille.” He looked her up and down.

“Nice pocket book. Don’t suppose you got a Seltzer in there?” The question was unexpected but her face remained expressionless, she didn't answer the question so Trent answered it for her. “No, s’pose not.” He looked down into the sink as he continued. “You married?”  That question caught her off guard.

“What?... Mr Trent...” Before she could continue he cut her off again.

“Well if you ain't married and don't have nothing to hide then you must have another name.” Trent straightened up and looked directly into her face. Pretty.

“No second name Mr. Trent. Just Camille.” Her mouth smiled a little more. The thumping in his head had slowed.

“So...what do you want from me?” He was still looking at those ruby red lips.

 “I'm here to hire your services because I need your help.”  This Dame had style. He liked her soft voice and he was a little curious.

“So you're here to hire my services?” She'd used the word 'help' and that usually meant money, and Trent was always interested in money. Now Trent was not one for keeping a tidy house, well actually he'd lived in his office since losing his apartment, but that's another story. Trent grabbed a pile of old newspapers from a chair and dropped them over the back of the couch onto the floor, he hoped the dame hadn't seen the little cloud of dust as it rolled away behind the couch.

“Please sit down miss. Sorry 'bout the mess, the cleaning lady don't come till Friday.” Trent thought that was a good line but the dame was quick too. The doll looked around for a second.

“Friday of which month I wonder?” She said as she looked back at Trent and sat down, carefully crossed her long shapely legs. Trent collapsed onto the couch. “Mr Trent did you sleep in those clothes?” Taking a quick glance at his crumpled pants and bare feet.

“What? Yeah I guess... Who are you, the clothes police?” His head was still fuzzy and this dame wasn't helping.

“May I presume I can tell you things in the strictest confidence Mr Trent?”

“Sure babe, anything you want. My rates are five bucks a day plus expenses.” He'd said five, he'd worked for a dollar a day but he figured if she could afford an outfit like that, she could afford to pay a bit more.

“Well I hadn't asked you how much you charged for your services but since you thought to tell me, I think five dollars is quite acceptable Mr. Trent.” Trent looked up at the Dame.

Damn that was too easy, she didn't haggle, everyone haggles. Even the padre had haggled over the price of a box of candles that had come his way. He should've asked for more. The babe smiled, took off her white gloves with practiced precision and placed them neatly in her lap. Then, matter of factually she said.  

“Mr Trent I have a very important task for you.” Trent looked up from her shapely legs.

“Well lady you got my interest so let's have it.”

“First of all Mr Trent, I feel I have to tell you that you were not my first choice, but I was overruled and so here I am.” Christ nothing like instilling confidence in a person, he thought as the dame sat upright in the chair. Deep eyes peered out from under the rim of the hat as she continued.

“Looking around at this...office, I still think my coming here was a mistake. However, here I am, and so I suppose we must make the best of it.” Trent was aware that his life was on the downhill but who the hell did this dame think she was, coming in here and talking to him like that.

“Well now don't you worry your pretty little head about it cos I ain't said I'll accept the job... yet.” In his head he knew he needed this job, whatever it was. The dames face gave nothing away as she continued.

“But I haven't told you what it is that I want you to do.”

“You paying cash?” The question caught her a little off guard.

“Mr Trent will you please pay attention.” Obviously she was money deaf, he'd noticed over the years that people who ignore questions about money usually don't have any or don't want to spend any, so he repeated the question.

“You paying cash?” This time she looked as though she'd understood the question and Trent waited for an answer.

“Yes...if that is how you wish to be recompensed then yes I can certainly pay you in cash Mr Trent.” She sure had a pretty way with the words, he liked that.

“So why don't you tell me what it is you want me to do and I'll decide if I want to take your money". What was he saying, decide if he wanted her money? Of course he wanted to take her money. He hadn't had a paying job since...since... Trent couldn't remember, not for a while anyway. He really needed to pay Maggie and the rent was due. Trent really needed this job; he just didn't want this dame to know it yet. The ladies' soft voice jumped on the train alongside his thoughts as she continued.

“I represent a committee of like minded individuals Mr Trent. We wish you to come to our headquarters so that the situation can be explained to you in detail.”  Trent wasn't fully awake, his head was hurting and he needed a drink.

“Look doll you got my interest.” Trent took a breath as he thought what to say next. “I gotta get cleaned up some if I'm gonna meet this committee of yours. You got a card or something with an address so I know where to find you?”

“Mr Trent I understand completely.” The dame took her gloves and slowly pulled them over her long delicate fingers. When she was satisfied with how they looked she raised easily off the chair.

“Please don't worry about finding me Mr Trent, I shall return for you in one hour, please be ready.” As she stood up he stood up too, he'd remembered that much at least. Trent was thinking she was ready to leave when she came over and leaned towards him. She put her face close to his ear. Trent closed his eyes and breathed deeply, mmmm the babe sure smelled good. Then she said the words that took that breath away.

“Please take a bath Mr Trent". Her quiet cutting words acted like glue on the bottoms of his feet. Trent couldn't move and was still in the same position when dame left closing the door behind her. He lifted an arm and sniffed, damn she'd made him feel dirty.

A couple of buildings down, on the other side of the street, the old neighbourhood Barbers shop still had a bathhouse in the back room. It was owned and run by an old acquaintance of Trent from his years on the force and Trent paid him the occasional visit, usually when Maggie told him to. Reaching into his pants pocket he pulled out a couple of crumpled bills and a few coins, two dollars and change, more than enough for a bath and a shave, and maybe a coffee too.

As Trent ventured out into the busy street it had started to rain, typical thought Trent. By the time Trent returned he'd been out of the office about forty-five minutes. He was clean but he needed a clean shirt and pants. The steam from the hot bath had helped to clear his head and it was no longer thumping, it was asking questions. Maggie, where was Maggie? She knows about these things, as he was thinking about Maggie it came to him, she puts clothes in a drawer.

“She puts them in a drawer!" As the revelation hit him he'd said it out loud. The drawer... cupboard under the sink. Trent reached down, found the drawer and opened it. A clean pair of pants and a couple of shirts lay next to some folded drying cloths and a pair of rolled socks. Trent began to feel better seeing the clothes as they lay there inviting him to put them on.

“Good old Mags.” In a couple of minutes he was standing in clean clothes, he had to admit it, it felt very good. Trent had resisted the urge to go get another bottle of bourbon and sat waiting for the knock on the door. Just by the soft nature of the tapping, when it came, he knew it had to be the dame in the red shoes. Trent opened the door, he wasn't disappointed.

“Ahh Mr Trent, you look almost human.” A slight smile on her ruby lips. Trent had no idea of the irony in her statement. “I'm slightly more impressed than I was earlier.” Trent too was surprised to find he was feeling proud of the fact she'd recognised the effort he'd made. Boy she was a doll. As he made to leave the office the dame leaned towards him again. Trent thought she was going to whisper something in his ear again, but as her face came closer to his he was surprised to feel the touch of her lips on his cheek. The kiss surprised him; it was cold, ice cold. His eyes went black; it was the last thing he remembered.

 

The aching in his head was a feeling he knew well, the drumming stopped and then the hammering started . His brain was playing to a different tune. Trent's mouth was really dry. He sat up and swung his legs around to rest his feet on the wooden floor. He'd managed to get one eye almost open and he rested his head in his hands. Thank god he had knees to support his elbows. Trent was looking at the floor but it wasn't there. The question slowly formed in his head. Where'd the wooden floor go? The room was brightly lit and it hurt when he tried to open his eyes. Trent was getting messages from other parts of his body too.

The couch somehow felt harder than usual. He took several deep breaths to help clear his head. It didn't smell right, it didn't smell like his room at all, it smelled...clean. Where the hell was he?

Boy this room sure was bright, Trent was trying to focus through squinting eyelids. A quick look around. He moved his head a little too quickly, that hurts. When he finally stood up Trent managed to make out a white chair standing by a shiny metal table. He turned to look at the bed, yep shiny metal, looked more like a morticians' table than a bed. He should know, he'd seen a few over the years.

Where the hell was he? In his muddled state Trent guessed he was suffering from alcohol withdrawal. Over the last few years he'd drunk more Bourbon than he'd poured down the city drains the whole time he was on the force. As his mind slowly cleared he decided he was in some kind of military hospital. Yeah that had to be it. He'd been kidnapped and brought to a secret army base. No sign of the classy broad. Trent heard a faint hiss and a door opened in the featureless wall. Almost on queue the same doll came into the room. He had to look twice. She'd changed. Her fine curved body shimmered as she stood before him. The sight took the wind out of him. God she was stunning. The deep purple material clung to her body as though someone had painted it on to her skin. Trent just stood and stared at her, his mouth opened to speak but nothing came out. The material covered every part of her. He'd never seen, or imagined, anything like the image in front of him. The suit covered her feet, continued tightly upwards, and stopped at her shapely neck. Her delicate hands and wrists showed white from the ends of the tight sleeves. As she stood before him he couldn't take his eyes away from her. The strange glinting suit gripped her body, crept around her hips and stretched tightly over her breasts. He was mesmerised. Trent didn't know how long he'd stared at her when the moment was broken as she asked.

“Well Mr Trent I take it that you approve of my uniform.” Even before the first of her words reached his ears he was looking down at the floor. Suddenly he was embarrassed, he hoped she hadn't noticed. When at last he found his voice Trent stammered.

“I...er...you look so different. I've never seen a woman dressed like that. Aren't you cold?...I mean...”

“My dear Mr Trent you have no need to feel uncomfortable.” Damn she had noticed. “This is the normal dress for people here.

The atmosphere is kept at a comfortable temperature so excessive clothing is unnecessary.” He was still having trouble, he didn't know where to look so he tried hard to concentrate on her eyes.

“I'm guessing this isn't a dream then. Are you some kind of military?” The doll didn't answer.

“I hope you have suffered no ill effects from your trip Mr Trent.” As the doll moved to sit down on the chair she raised her arm and pointed towards the bed, speaking as she did so.

“Please Mr Trent, I would like you to sit down for a moment.” As Trent slumped back onto the hard bed he had some questions for her.

“What the hell did you do to me? Where are we? How long have I been here? What the hell is going on?” He had more questions but he was too tired to keep going. The thumping in his head was easing off.

“You have nothing to fear from me, from us, Mr Trent.” Now Trent had learned over the years that when someone says, you've got nothing to worry about, it usually means that's exactly when you should start worrying, and he was definitely starting to worry. The doll crossed her long legs, Trent was mesmerised by her.

“Listen doll you're real cute an' all, I mean you're REAL cute, but this...whatever it is, is making me kinda nervous, you know?  I don't know what you did to me, what was it? Some kind of Mickey Finn? How did you do it?”  The dame smiled with those oh so ruby red lips. Then, even with his head thumping it came to him, the kiss. “It was the kiss, it was something on your lips, that red lipstick, some kinda powerful sleeping drug, very clever Miss Camille, if that really is your name.”  The doll raised her perfect eyebrows.

“Very well done Mr Trent, perhaps we were correct in choosing you after all.” He could see she was impressed with his detective skills, he'd even impressed himself. If only they would help him to find that door he'd be outta there. Trent was on his feet again.

 “I don't really care to be kidnapped so I'm leaving right now, and hey, I'm not even going to charge you for wasting my time.” There was that smile again, despite everything, no denying she sure was a looker. Her voice changed in tone as she replied.

“Mr Trent listen to me. You CANNOT leave. Not yet anyway. This is not your time.” The dame had an edge in her voice now. He'd heard her, he hadn't really understood her, but he'd heard her all right. Those last words were playing repeats inside his head. 'Not his time, not my time for what?'

Then the doll stood up and pointed once again to the bed. Her voice was softer this time.

“Please Mr Trent, please sit down.” He wasn't in a good place to argue, he wasn't in any place he knew at all, besides his legs still felt a bit wobbly. He flopped back onto the hard metal bed. “Mr Trent would you like something for your head ache?” As he looked up at her he almost said yes but Trent wasn't ready to trust her, not after the last time, he needed some answers first so he shook his head.

“Tell me, what did you mean when you said it wasn't my time?”

“Well Mr. Trent, that is quite literally the truth of the situation. This is not your time.” Trent was trying hard to pay more attention to her words and was detecting slight changes in her voice. It was more...normal, less monotonous, easier on the ear. His mind was doing its best to keep up with her, it wasn't doing a very good job. The hangover and the effects of the sleeping drug weren't helping. Maybe he should ask for a seltzer. The situation was beginning to worry him so he voiced his concern.

“Listen lady you're starting to make me nervous, I don't like being nervous.”  It was true, Trent tended to act on impulse when he was nervous. Where he grew up you learned to act fast if you wanted to survive on the streets.  “What do ya mean I can't leave? Who the hell are you? Are you the military? Just where the hell is this place?” More of his gathering questions had escaped and verbally assaulted her, she still didn't show any signs of emotion.

“Mr Trent, let me see if I can explain this to you so that you will see we have nothing to hide from you, and that we have no intention of harming you.” She had his attention anyway and it seemed he wasn't going anywhere for a while so he'd got nothing to lose if he listened to what she had to say. “My dear Carlton, may I call you Carlton?” The doll didn't wait for him to answer, the question was obviously rhetorical. “You may have a little trouble understanding what I am about to tell you, but I want you to stay calm and please listen attentively.” This dame was using a lot of big words, he was sure she didn't live in Brooklyn. His head was clearing faster now.

Trent looked at her, he figured he wasn't in any immediate danger.

“You see Carlton, this place is... different to what you would normally encounter in your usual life in Brooklyn.” Well, she was right about that at least. So far the only thing he'd recognised was the thumping in his head.

“Well...and this is going to sound a little strange to you.” She hesitated again before continuing. “It's not so much 'WHERE' you are Carlton, it's more of a 'WHEN'.”  Well Trent had listened, he'd paid attention, and then he'd listened some more. So far he hadn't understood a whole lot. How could someone be 'when' somewhere? Without thinking, Trent was on his feet again, clearly agitated.

“Okay okay, I'm sure you're having a ball with all this, but I'm a busy man. I got places to see and people to go to.”  That last sentence didn't sound right but he knew what he'd meant to say and he was too busy looking for a way out to bother repeating it. Frustration mounted as he searched the wall. The dame sat and watched him for a few seconds. “Where'd the damn door go? It was here when you came in.” This room was far too bright, and who builds a room with walls made of panelled sections like huge picture frames, then paints everything Grey. This had to be some kind of secret army base.  Trent had his back to Camille as he groped uselessly at the wall. The soft monotone voice continued again. “You see, it's all to do with Time, Mr Trent.” Trent wasn't interested in the time, all he wanted was to get out of there and find a bar. The doll continued to talk. “Time is a concept, Carlton are you paying attention?  I'm trying to explain things to you.” Well of course he wasn't paying attention he had a single thought at that moment, find the door and get out of there. He wasn't having much luck with his aimless groping. The dame watched his pointless efforts and then stood up and went over to him. Trent jumped as he felt her hand on his shoulder. He'd looked for the way out, he knew there was a door here somewhere, He'd seen her come through it, he just couldn't find it. “Come and sit down Mr Trent, I assure you, you have nothing to fear from me.” Trent returned with her to the bench and sat nervously down, the bench didn't get any softer.

It was clear to Camille she would have to go slowly as she explained the situation to Trent.

“I'm sorry if I've made you anxious.” She said. Trent was well out of his normal comfort zone. Camille could see tiny beads of nervous sweat on his brow. “It's my fault you are nervous Mr Trent, I'm not an instructor and I'm not making a very good job of putting you in the picture, as you might say.” Was that a smile? He was sure it was, it had been fleeting but definitely a smile, maybe she's not the stone maiden he thought she was. “Let me try again. You have asked me how long you have been here. The answer is a little complicated as your concept of time is different to ours.” Trent was paying attention and wanted to understand.

“I can tell you the answer to your question is relative to your present location. Time is not a piece of mechanical engineering you might hang on a wall or wear on your wrist. Your concept of time is going to change Mr Trent, it is not as straight forward as you might think it is.” Trent sat looking at the vision in purple before him, her red lips forming words but Trent wasn't hearing them all. Her mouth stopped moving, it took several seconds for Trent to realise she wasn't speaking anymore.

“I'm sorry Camille...look... I'm just a simple guy from Brooklyn. You got to explain stuff as simply as you can. I'm not stupid but I ain't no scientist.”  Camille relaxed a little and sat back on the chair, her stiffness softened. Her eyes were a pretty shade of blue. This was going to take longer than she'd imagined.

“Alright let me see... do you know what ‘Time’ is Mr Trent?” He didn't have a watch so he told her he thought it must be about mid morning.

“No, Mr Trent, I didn't ask you What time is it? I asked you if you knew what Time IS.” Well the more she tried to explain the more confused he became. This was going nowhere, Trent still had no idea what she was talking about so he thought it was about time he told her so.

“Listen doll I got no idea what you're talking about and I still got a head. This has been fun but I need a drink so just show me the way out and I'll leave.”  Trent made to get up again but the smile on the dolls' face straightened out. She reached out and placed a hand on his arm. Trent looked down at the delicate fingers curled around his forearm.

“Carlton. PLEASE.” She'd caught him off guard with her plea, he hadn't expected that. Looking into her bright eyes he took a second and sat down again. “Thank you Carlton. I really do need your help, WE need your help.” It was the way she said it, somehow he felt she meant it. With both arms resting on the tabletop Trent leaned across and looked at her. His eyes flicked left and right as he studied her features. She had a flawless creamy skin.

“So when am I going to meet this committee of yours?” Camille moved back a little to get away from his stare.

“You are not going to meet them Mr Trent, it isn't necessary.” Trent wasn't impressed with that reply.

“Okay so just tell me what you want me to do and let's get on with it.” She gave him another gentle smile. It seemed Trent had accepted the situation, and the job.

“Well, here it is. Time, as I was trying to explain to you, is not as straight forward as you think it is.” Okay, he accepted that much, he nodded, she continued.

“If you had been wearing a watch when I came to collect you, you would be able to quickly work out that you had been asleep for five hours, twenty two minutes and forty one seconds. HOW-ever that is only because the watch would have been on YOUR wrist.” Involuntarily Trent looked at his empty wrist, images flashed back into his  mind, recalling the day he'd had to pawn his police watch to buy another drink. Instantly he was brought back to the moment as she asked him a question. “When you woke up yesterday in your office what time do you imagine it was?” Trent pondered for a second, yesterday was it really that long ago.

“I don't know...11.30 ish I guess.”

“Okay let us accept that you are correct, and what time would it have been for someone on the western sea board of your United States?” Trents mind was working better and his years in the force had taught him to notice things that most people would not. Right now his mind had given him a flash warning.

“What do you mean? MY United States. You said 'of your United States'. Just where exactly have you brought me to?” The dame raised an eyebrow as she realised Trent was beginning to show signs that he really might have the potential to see the task through. She was starting to believe that the things she'd read about him might actually be possible. From the beginning she'd had doubts about their choice and when she'd finally met Trent, in his grubby little office, the impression he'd made did nothing to dispel those doubts. Trent sat with his arms folded across his chest waiting for some form of explanation. He was certain now that he was a prisoner of some foreign power. This caused him some concern but he was trying to remain calm until he could find out more about his situation. Until then he'd play along. Camille realised she had to give him something more than a lesson on time and relativity. 

“Alright Mr Trent I think you might be ready for an explanation.” She leaned a little forward and asked him. “Are you ready to give me your trust and believe that we are not going to hurt you?” Trent studied her face, not much expression to go on, her voice sure sounded sincere though. The next words out his mouth would dictate Trents future, of course he didn't know that, then. He had to think for a minute before answering.

“Just suppose I agree, will that make me a traitor to my country? The truth, I need the truth.”

“You have my solemn oath that nothing you do will have a detrimental effect on your country, on the contrary Mr Trent.” Trent sat and waited.

 He wasn't fully convinced. He didn't know this dame so why should he put his trust in her? He'd trusted a pretty woman once before and suffered for it. Camille waited for him to reply. Trent's mind was working well as he mulled over his choices with the information he had to hand. If he said 'no' he had no idea if they'd let him return home or even if they'd let him live. If he said 'yes' he'd gain himself more time to get better information to act on.

So far he'd not suffered any ill effects, apart from a headache, but then he suffered those almost every day anyway. On the upside his captor was a real babe with a body to die for, oooow that last thought suddenly became less appealing.

“Okay. Yes. I'm in. Now cut the bull and tell me what's going on. I'm hungry and I need a restroom.” A broad smile appeared on the dolls face. Trent liked that.

“Good, good my dear Carlton. Now we have a lot to get through. I am going to explain some things and I want you to listen and then you can ask me any questions you might have. Okay?” Trent nodded in agreement.

“You see my dear Carlton you already know more than you think you do. Imagine you were in Brooklyn at 11.30 in the morning, if you had been in Los Angeles it would have been 8.30 in the morning.” Carlton nodded. “You know there are several Time zones across the United States and the further away you are from a place, the longer the time difference. Does that help you Mr Trent?” He had to admit THAT bit he'd understood. Maybe this science stuff ain't so difficult after all.

“I need to get up and walk about, I think better that way.” Trent thought it was a good idea to tell her why he was standing up, he didn't want her thinking he was trying to run away again. Wouldn't have worked anyway he couldn't find the door. It was at this point that Trent became more coherent and started to talk in longer sentences.

“Ok. So I had a good sleep. Thanks.” Trent thought a change of attitude, and a little humour, on his part might also help. “Look I don't know what this time thing is all about or why you think I can do whatever it is you got in mind for me. I'm just a has-been cop with no real prospects. I'm not a guy that had a great education. I learned on the streets. I'm just a simple guy and I like things simple, you know?  You're obviously some kind of science person, probably military, so lay it out for me in language a guy like me can understand. WHAT am I doing here? What is it you need me to do? Why can't I leave? And what's all this stuff about time?” Camille was impressed with his sincere statement.

“Carlton I have already told you that it is not WHERE you are, it is WHEN you are.”

“There you go again, how am I supposed to understand when you talk in riddles. How can somebody be WHEN somewhere?”

“I'm sorry I thought you had understood. So here it is, you see we have taken you many years into the future Mr Trent.” He wasn't expecting that.

“The future? I'm in the future?” there was a mocking laughter in his voice. “You've done all of this to make me believe that I've been magically transported into the future.” His arms gestured wildly as he spoke. “Do you think I'm that stupid? Did you think I'd be impressed by a disappearing door and some bright lights? I was willing to give you a chance to explain yourself but it just gets more ridiculous. I want to leave. NOW.” 

“You cannot leave Mr Trent, where would you go?” Camille waited for him to answer.

“You just show me the door and I'm gone.” Trent was on his feet and searching the wall for the secret door when a sharp voice demanded he return and sit down.

“SIT DOWN.” This wasn't a request, it was an order. Trent was sure now he was being held by some secret foreign agency. He thought it better to comply, after all he didn't know what these people were capable of. “If you want to return to your world and live out the rest of your pointless life then I'll arrange it. It will confirm exactly what I thought about you from the first, that choosing you was a mistake. There were others you know, you were not the only subject to be examined.” Trent's anger was rising.

“You listen to me Miss Camille whoever you are....” He didn't get to finish the sentence. Camille was out of her seat in a moment and for the first time showed some signs of emotion. Almost screaming she let her frustrations fly.

“NO... YOU listen to me Mr Trent. I did not ask for this assignment, I was ordered to go and get you. Have you any idea of the risks I went through, of the efforts and the resources it took to get you here? No of course you haven't, how could you, if it doesn't come out of a Bourbon bottle you're not interested. You're just a waste of a life, in your world and ours. So sit down, shut up, and listen.” Trent was in shock, if she was a soldier he'd never come across anyone like her or even heard of anyone like her. He was contemplating his next move when the choice was taken from him.

“I...SAID...SIT...DOWN.” The hand on his arm took a much firmer grip this time and moved him physically to the bench and pushed him down. It had not been painful but Trent realised she was no ordinary dame. He sat and for the first time in her presence he felt real apprehension. “Are you ready to accept your situation? I have tried to be polite and understanding of your nervousness but enough is enough Mr. Trent.” He could only manage a nod of the head. “Then you will sit and listen do I make myself clear?” Well no mistaking who was in charge, for the time being at any rate. Trent sat nervously waiting to see what was going to happen next. The dame spoke again but her voice was lowered and less commanding. “This is the year thirty one fifteen Mr Trent, and you were brought here into the future to help us.”  That statement didn't do a lot to help him relax either. He was thinking she had been spot on with her assessment of him, he really did need a stiff bourbon, or two.

“Do you think I was born yesterday or what?” He wasn't thinking about what he was saying he was just saying stuff. The doll continued using the same tone in her voice.

“No Mr Trent. I do not think you were born yesterday. I KNOW that you were born one thousand one hundred and eighty five years, one hundred twenty six days ago.”  No smile now on that perfect face. If he was suffering bourbon withdrawal it was getting way too crazy. He had to stand up again. “SIT DOWN.” The loudness and venom of her words shocked him. He sat down.  He'd read a comic book or two from the news stand but they hadn't prepared him for this scenario.

Most of the time he hadn't a clue what the doll was talking about.

“So...you want me to believe that this is real and you're from the future and somehow you got me here too?” He watched her face for a sign, nothing there to help him. “You keep saying I can't leave, so I'm a prisoner. You keep saying I'm in no danger but so far you done nothing to put me at ease. If I was to believe all this stuff about futures and time and stuff do you have any idea how that might make me feel uneasy?”  The doll looked at Trent and didn't speak for a few seconds. Trent waited for a response from her.

“Of course you CAN leave Mr Trent, and you will. You'll arrive back at your home quite safe and with no after effects from your journey. But not just yet.”  He waited to see if she would tell him more.  “You see we have need of you, that is, we have need of your...” she hesitated, Trent worried. “We have need of..your brain.”   The dolls' words hit him again like a wet sponge. His head was cleared but his bladder was full, he needed to pee.

Trent was sure no one was going to start messing with his brain. He knew it wasn't up to much just now, but it was the only one he had.

“What d'ya mean you need my brain? What's my brain got that the rest of me don't? What you gonna do with my brain?” A wry smile crossed the dolls face.

“Your brain gives you free will Mr Trent, you have free will. That is what you have that we need.”

“I don't get it everybody's got free will don't they? Why me?” Should he start to be really worried?”

“I assure you, you have nothing to be worried or nervous about, no one is going to hurt you or your brain. On the contrary, studying you during your years as an officer in the Police force has shown that you have an astute and calculating mind.” The dolls words gave a little boost to his self-esteem.

 She had that little smile back on her sweet face. It seemed to him she was sounding sincere. He was still confused but he was ready to take onboard whatever it was she wanted him to do. His natural curiosity had gotten him into a few problems in the past but then he'd had someone guarding his back, this was different, at least his life was getting less boring.

“And this free will thing, that's important to you, right?” The doll stood up and came towards him. He started to back away.

“You ain't gonna try an' kiss me again, are yuh?” He didn't fancy another sleep, not just yet.

“No Mr Trent please relax. We don't want to harm you, you'd be no good to us if your precious little brain was harmed in any way.” She'd done it again and Trent wasn't impressed as he thought to himself, 'there she goes again insulting my brain'. Now it was one thing Trent calling his brain little, but he wasn't takin it from no broad. Trent had a lot to learn. The doll turned and took several quick steps away from him and stopped. “Please follow me Mr Trent.”

“Where are we going?” He asked as the dame stopped by the wall.

He didn't know how she did it but she found the door with ease amongst all the identical panels around the room. It opened with a slight swish and with a glance backwards in his direction she said.

“Please follow me and I will show you something I think you will find most interesting.” He had nothing to lose and he sure wasn't going to stay here alone, wherever here was. Boy he sure could use a bathroom. He'd noted that she hadn't answered his question.

“Say, is Camille really your name?” The dame ignored his question again, Interesting he thought. The tall leggy dame stepped out through the doorway into a brightly lit corridor. He wasn't sure what to expect but even as she walked away he followed her like a new puppy. The corridor looked much like the room except it was narrower and longer, Trent realised he'd not seen a window since he'd arrived.

  They walked a ways down the corridor, Camille in the front and Trent following behind. Those delicate feet seemed to glide over the strange floor covering. Inside that purple skin suit her body sashayed like she was made of pure rubber. He was still admiring the movements when she suddenly spoke without turning or slowing down.

“In answer to your question about my name Mr Trent, Yes, and No.”  Well that cleared that one up then.

“Yes and no?” He repeated. “Whatdya mean, yes AND no?” She didn't reply she just swayed her hips. They continued to walk down a corridor that never changed, except it wasn't straight. He could only see a little further ahead as it always seemed to be curving to the left and it just went on and on. He had no idea if they were passing other rooms as he couldn't see any doors. He didn't like places with no doors, a friend had once noticed when they were in an elevator with him, that he looked a bit uneasy, his friend had said he thought Trent might be claustrophobic, Trent had looked it up later in a dictionary, he was thinking about it now. There were no obvious windows, none that he could see anyway, just lots of grey panels and bright lights. For some reason Trent started to wonder who was paying for the services. It seemed like they'd walked for an age but it was maybe only a couple of minutes and it bothered him a little that they'd never encountered anybody else. His shoes didn't like this floor, they were telling him by the way they made squeaking noises with every step he took.

“We going much further Camille cos I sure do need a restroom?”

“No.”  Was all that came back. He was having some very short, one-sided conversations with this dame.

“Say Camille, any chance you got a rest room and maybe some food around here someplace?” The dame stopped, then turned to look at him, he had to look up. Suddenly stopping like that had caught him off guard, his eyes were still focused on her rolling hips and slim legs. Looking into her face again he couldn't keep his eyes from those soft ruby lips. Tempting, but he couldn't forget the coldness, pity that. She had beautiful smooth skin too, kind of off white and pure.

Those ruby red lips moved seductively. “Yes of course. I'd forgotten that your body has needs and you like to feed at regular intervals.”

It took a while for his head to get it, even then her words didn't make a great deal of sense. My body? Feed? Damn this dame sure did talk funny. He did wonder if she was taking something, but if she was he sure could use some, it might help him to understand this place. Camille moved a few feet to the side and put out her arm. As her hand touched the wall a small panel moved sideways with a barely audible swish to reveal a little alcove. It revealed a small glass fronted cabinet. Camille rested her hand on a small panel by the door of the cabinet and spoke a few words he couldn't hear. Then she pushed a couple of red buttons, which was funny 'cos he knew just how they felt, she'd been pushing his buttons since he'd first met her.

“Say Camille, what kinda place is this anyway?” He thought he might start to get some answers, he was wrong.

“Do you always start to speak with 'Say', Mr Trent?” She'd avoided answering his questions by asking questions of her own. This dame was starting to push the wrong buttons now. Trent decided it was time to man up.

“Listen doll...” He never finished the sentence as she shot in almost before the words had left his mouth.

“Please don't call me doll. Mr Trent. My name is Camille.” My god, she cut him up again. He had to get back in, and quick.

“Listen...Camille...” He'd started the sentence in a sarcastic voice but didn't get the chance to complete it.

“That's so much better Mr Trent.”  She'd done it again, and once too often, she'd pushed the last button. He was brought up to respect women and he was normally real polite but his head hurt, his  bladder hurt, and it was his turn now. 

“Christ woman will you let me finish speaking?” He was almost shouting and his voice echoed up and down the corridor. Camille remained surprisingly calm and replied.

“Please go ahead Mr Trent, I'm all ears, as you say, I'm all yours, let's not beat about the bush, say it as it is, let's get it all out in the open, let's not keep anything back, mmmmmm?” Her sarcasm had been obvious and hadn't gone unnoticed by Trent. He took a breath and dropped his voice.

“Nice one lady. Point taken.” He guessed she knew how to calm down a situation, military training no doubt.

“My dear Mr. Trent I do not expect you to understand everything that is happening here. I accept that you are somewhat confused and possibly a little frightened.” Yeah well you got that right thought Trent. “Please believe me that your being here is vital to our continued survival on this world.” What in the world of T.V. dinners was she talking about now? Ummm T.V. dinners, the thought of food triggered a hunger pang inside him. Trent was thinking there were two things that he was passionate about. The first was money...naturally, and the second was food and dames. Well three things he guessed he was passionate about, money, food, dames and booze. There are four things, arr what the hell. Trent's brain was playing mind games again. It occurred to him that he was either under the influence of some drug they'd given him, or, he was almost sober. It had been a while since he'd been sober but he still remembered the feeling. His head ached, his mouth was dry and his bladder was bursting. A faint noise from the cabinet thing, bit like a bell, broke his thoughts and brought him back. He thought he saw a green light flash for a second on Camilles face. She reached forward and he watched her reach in and open the door. She took out a shiny plate with something on it, it appeared to be ham and eggs, and she passed it to him. The plate wasn't even warm. He put his face close to the plate and sniffed. He could feel the heat from the food. Smelled okay too. He looked up at Camille.

“How did you......?”

“Thank you would have been nice, I hope you enjoy it.” She gave that little smile again. He looked at the plate in his hand. When he looked up she had already started to walk away again. Boy that dame's got great hips but the attention span of a gnat. Better stay with her I guess. He thought.

“What, yes, thank you, Hey wait up babe, where we going, I got no fork, and I still need a RESTROOM.” Without bothering to turn she made a forward wave with her hand as if to say follow me.

“This way Mr Trent, this way to the rest room.”

Reviews

[Kathy Van Kurin]

"Chapter (2) ALWAYS LOOK AT THE SHOES
MAD ENGLISHMAN,
Characters in this story so far are really interesting. Mr. Trent has his hands full and quite an adventure ahead of him. You have found an interesting way to introduce the contact with time. Is it a place? Hmm...
His cleaning lady seems to be a part of the story but I am not sure. We shall see if she continues on as part of your story. Smooth walls where doors appear and food and other possibilities materialize. 'Camille' is a fascinating character as well. I thought you did a great job with this chapter.
Blessings,
Kathy

[MAD ENGLISHMAN]

Thank you kathy. I've done 6 re writes so far. I've done the ending and working on the plot in the middle. Hope you enjoy more.

[MAD ENGLISHMAN]

Did you read the intro?