Sean Harrison looked up from his coffee when the striking redhead exited the bathing chambers and stood before him. She had donned the vintage a-line dress he had brought her, pinning back her full curls into an arresting coif that nestled at the nape of her neck. The dress, while plain, accentuated her small waist and showed off her delicate calves. The slippers he had procured were too small given the swelling she had experienced from her time outside, so she had gone barefoot instead, giving her a waifish and girlish look.

The community doctor had repaired her shoulder with old-fashioned medicine, so her left arm remained in a sling that supported her shoulder and kept her arm immobile. Despite her injuries, she was breathtakingly beautiful and he felt a flutter deep within him that hadn’t been there before. Surely, she belongs to someone, but whom? he wondered. The Order wanted her, but why? Was she Hawkins’ wife? Why wouldn’t she tell him who she was? He planned on getting answers.

“You look…human,” he said with a slight smile to his voice. He wanted to say ravaging but caught himself. It wouldn’t do to frighten her. He gestured to the rickety chair next to him and watched as she walked over and seated herself in the chair. Almost as if she’s going to an inquisition, he thought. He gestured to the food that was in front of her. “Help yourself,” he said, lifting the lids on several dishes that were still steaming.

She looked a bit like a deer trying to decide if she should fight or flee. He watched as she mentally assessed her options enough to start plying food onto her plate. He stretched back in the chair and watched her eat. It was evident she was undernourished, but again that nagging question of why kept begging for an answer.

“Aren’t you going to eat?” she asked between mouthfuls.

“I had something earlier,” he said. She stopped chewing and put her fork down, spitting the food she was eating onto the floor.

He laughed out loud. “You think I’m trying to poison you?” he asked incredulously. She stared at him. He picked up her fork and began shoving big mouthfuls of food into his mouth. “Would I do this if I were trying to poison you?” he asked, reaching for another dish. When he had sufficiently made his way through every dish, he handed the fork back to her. “Eat,” he encouraged her. What has she been through that causes her to be on guard all the time?

She took the fork from him and resumed eating. “Who prepared all this?” she asked, wiping her mouth.

“The women and men in our community,” he replied. He didn’t want to lie to her, but he needed to err on the side of caution before he revealed more information. “Who are you running from?”

“You obviously know the answer to that,” she replied, venom dripping from her voice.

“Fair point, my dear. Let me rephrase the question. Why does Hawkins want you?”

“I don’t know,” she replied, but he noticed the hesitation in her voice.

“You and I both know that’s a lie,” he said, folding his arms across his stomach. “Do you want to try again?”

She remained silent.

“What were you doing in the tunnels?” he asked.

“What were you?” she snapped.

He released his breath and leaned forward. He could see the irises of her eyes. She really was quite enchanting, even with bruises and cuts marring her porcelain skin. He wanted to get to know her better.

“Fair enough,” he acknowledged again. “I was looking for you.”

She creased her brow and gave him a perplexed look.

“Like I said, the Order’s men were crawling all over these grounds and it didn’t take long to figure out what—or who—they were looking for. What I want to know is, why?” He waited for her response, knowing full well she wasn’t going to give him one.

She folded her napkin and placed it on her plate. Pushing her chair away from the table, she stood. “Thank you, Mr. Harrison, but I believe I’ve overstayed my welcome. Good day.” Spinning on her heels she turned to exit the room. He watched her leave, his eyes following the sway of her hips as she sashayed across the room. Pushing back his chair, he closed the distance to her in three easy strides, placing his hand on her good shoulder.

“Stay. I really am just trying to get answers. You are welcome to stay as long as you need.”

“Mr. Harrison, if this Hawkins character wants me as much as you’ve indicated, then every day—no, every hour—that I remain here, puts you and your people in danger. I appreciate all that you’ve done but I must be on my way.”

“But why?” he interjected. “Why does the Order want you so badly?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know,” she confessed. “The details are…fuzzy.”

He stared at her for several seconds. “Alright,” he said, shaking his head. “But at least let me take you through the tunnels and across enemy lines. It’s the safest way I know.” At her protest, he added, “Besides, how else will I get to spend more time with you?”

The corners of her lips turned up in a half smile and she laughed, a delicate sound that made him smile. “Ok,” she said, nodding her head. “I could use the escort, especially since you do look a lot like Indiana Jones.”

He cocked his head to one side, unsure of what she was referencing. “Let me pull together some supplies and provisions and I will be back to get you in 30 minutes.”

She acquiesced but he could still see the hesitancy in her eyes. Walking her back to her room, he brought her hand to his lips and kissed the back of her knuckles. She didn’t flinch, but stared at him with her large, soulful eyes, and he was left wondering once again who she was and how she ended up here. He held her hand as his eyes searched hers. She didn’t pull away. For now, he’d take that as a good sign.

* * *

True to his word, Sean returned in 30 minutes, a large pack slung over his shoulder, and carrying a weapon and holster that he handed to Caitriona. She took the weapon, eyeing it with suspicion.

“Can you use a next-gen weapon?” he asked her, hesitating when he saw the uncertainty in her face.

“I’m not sure,” she mumbled, panic gripping her at the unfamiliarity of the weapon and his words. Strapping the holster to her hip, she secured the weapon and followed him from the room, her long legs matching his steps stride for stride. The boots he gave her were small and hurt her feet, but she knew she’d need some protection from the snow.

After several minutes, she lost track of their direction as they made their way through the labyrinth of tunnels. “How do you know so much about Hawkins?” she asked, breaking the silence that was nearly deafening in the cavernous echoes of the tunnels.

“Let’s just say I wasn’t winning any elections back in my youth,” he scoffed. “Hawkins’ archaic prejudices and religious extremes have gone too far,” he continued.

Caitriona nodded, unsure where she stood with this man. They continued walking in silence for what seemed like several hours but was only about 40 minutes. Sean led her through several turns where the tunnels forked and crossed each other. At one point, they went out a side door that led to the outside, but after traversing 20 yards, they climbed down a drain tunnel and were back in the elaborate underground tunnel system that had been built long ago.

After climbing and walking for several hours, the fatigue started to wear on her. Her head was pounding and she could feel her body losing the battle. When she stumbled, Sean quickly put his arm around her waist and kept her on her feet. “We’re going to stop for the night,” he said. “In about another 10 minutes, there’s an exit where we can go top-side. There’s an inn not far from there. I know the owner. You’ll be safe.”

She nodded. Her head hurt like hell and she was exhausted from their journey. She was mentally spent and worried that her memory was fuzzy at best. She had no idea if this man was friend or foe or even if she had any friends. She could feel the tears brimming behind her eyes. She swiped the back of her hand across her face and followed Sean into the white-blanketed night, determination her only asset.