Chapter 18: Cage dance

The return trip was much more pleasant than I had initially feared. I couldn’t put anything on because of the chains, but 17 had wrapped a large sheet around me to keep me warm and covered so I didn’t have to sit naked on the bus. The only problem was my full bladder. As strange as it sounds, relieving myself in front of strangers was a problem for me, even though I’m not prudish at all.

Isabell, of course, had no problem with it at all, being a die-hard golden shower fetishist. She even enjoyed it. I doubted that I could just pee on someone like that, even though I found the idea somewhat amusing. It’s pretty much the ultimate humiliation to use someone as your toilet. Damn, I shouldn’t be thinking about something like that when my bladder is this full.

To my surprise, 17 had come along. She still hadn’t said a word; she was extremely disciplined. I would have liked to ask her about it, but since we weren’t alone on the bus, that wasn’t possible, of course. And certainly not in the apartment building. I wondered where she was staying. Linse had mentioned something about the third basement level. I couldn’t get there; I had already tried. When I pressed the corresponding button, a yellow signal and a beep indicated that I did not have access. What was down there? The stairwell doors were also secured accordingly. Of course, there was an emergency stairwell, but opening the doors automatically triggered an alarm, which alerted the security personnel. Without clearance, they could only be opened from the inside anyway. In the stairwell, there was only the way up. Isabell had told me that in passing.

She liked to run stairs and wanted to use the stairs to get to the shows in the basement, but that had proven impractical due to the security measures. Were the 24/7ers the missing women? Were they Rebecca’s slaves of their own free will? Even if I could see her face, it wouldn’t help me much, because in the recordings in the basement, they had been altered in a similar way to me. I looked at 17 more closely; she lowered her gaze and avoided mine. Her prisoner’s jumpsuit was slightly open; she had probably gotten warm during the day, and although it had now become significantly cooler, she had not closed it again. On her neck, below the collar and mask, I could see something that might have been part of a tattoo. But even if I could see it clearly, it wouldn’t help me much, because tattoos were covered up in the basement.

Nevertheless, it made me curious. I sat down more comfortably, the chains pulling at my wrists. The car slowed down a little; we were obviously leaving the highway. Jelena had a rather aggressive driving style, often braking and then accelerating very sharply again. I wondered what she would tell a police patrol if we were stopped for a traffic violation. Carefully, making sure no one noticed, I unbuckled my seatbelt. Then what I had expected happened: the car braked abruptly and tilted into a curve. I lost my balance and fell forward, but managed to hold on to 17’s jumpsuit, which opened further, revealing her bare upper body. She wasn’t wearing a bra or any other clothing underneath, and the tattoo of an Asian dragon winding halfway around her left breast, its tail stretched to the base of her neck, was clearly visible. The tattoo was certainly unique. 17 caught me with a cry of surprise and pushed me back into my seat. She noticed my gaze on her tattoo, hesitated for a moment, as if she wanted to show it to me again, and then zipped up to her neck.

Edward and Andreas cracked a few corny jokes about centrifugal force and laughed at their own jokes, while I awkwardly buckled myself back in with 17’s help. Yvonne, who was also on the bus, hadn’t noticed what had happened because of where she was sitting, but she had heard the cry and the clanking of my chains. She leaned forward between the two men and asked if we were all right.

“Everything’s fine, I just had some trouble with my seatbelt. The stupid chains are just in the way.”

Turning to 17, I moved my lips exaggeratedly to form a silent question: “Are you a voluntary slave?”

She looked at me questioningly.

I repeated the question, slower and hopefully clearer.

She glanced at the others to see if they were paying attention to us, but the men were engrossed in a conversation about technical difficulties with today’s shoot. Then she nodded briefly and shook her head cautiously.

What the hell did that mean?

“What do you think, Johanna?” Edward pulled me out of my silent dialogue. “Would Kumiho have had a chance if she could have floated?”

I had to think for a moment about what they meant. Fragments of their conversation came to mind; it was about the deleted scene in the barn.

“She was at a disadvantage the moment she decided to take up the fight and save her informant. But that’s her way, she doesn’t leave behind anyone who trusts her and helps her.” I looked at 17 to see if she understood the message. “She may pursue her own goals, but she cares about other people’s fates.”