The Vice President looked better than Clementine would have expected for a man who had been held hostage for three weeks. His white hair was fluffed up in its usual combover, and his all-black outfit made him look trimmer than she knew him to be. If it weren't for the rope around his hands that connected him to a metal shelf mounted on the wall, she would have mistaken him for a member of the group.

When he saw Clementine, he frowned at the men leading her and said, "Holding me hostage is one thing, but keeping innocent girls against their will shall do little to endear you to the public. Let her go."

Her captors ignored him and tied her up at the other end of the shelf, then left them. There were no guards specifically dedicated to watching them, but the large space was full of people coming and going, peering in on them every time they passed by.

"So what have I been missing out there in the real world?" asked the Vice President. Even down here, he wore the faint smile that he always had when he was on TV -- the smile Tierney had said on more than one occasion was fake.

Clementine tugged on the rope connecting her to the shelf. "Oh, you know, riots, parties, alien attacks." She stood and started picking at the knot with her back to the entrance of their alcove. "The usual."

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." He kept his voice low and gave a smiling nod at the rope. "They're liable to escalate your bonds. I graduated from rope to handcuffs to cable ties because of all my escape attempts."

"Looks like you haven't tried to escape in a while." Clementine gave a pointed look at his bonds.

He chuckled. "I'm an old man. I can only get clobbered on the head so many times before I give in to the inevitable."

She went back to her knot, but her hands were tied across themselves, and she couldn't use both at the same time. After several frustrating minutes, she sat back down.

"Alien attacks, you say?" asked the Vice President.

Clementine didn't return his smile. She'd heard enough about his double-crosses and manipulations from Tierney to bother playing nice. Instead she put her head back and closed her eyes.

"The Vreem," she said. "They actually do want to enslave humanity. They attacked the Squad and the cart, but the Squad fought them back."

"The Vreem," repeated the Vice President.

"They're not real," said a familiar voice.

Clementine smiled even before her eyes popped open. She let out a sigh of relief at the sight of Zack standing in the doorway. She stood and tried to go to him, but the rope was too short for her to take more than a step.

"I know why you told them who I really am," she whispered. "It was the right call. I'd rather be here where you can help me escape than locked up by that pervert..."

She trailed off when she finally noticed his hard expression. Guessing the source of his irritation, she said, "I'm sorry if I was too harsh out there. I know it's easy to get caught up in anger and xenophobia if you feel like you don't have anywhere else to fit in. But you have to see now how dangerous and thoughtless these people are. I mean, that Gretta didn't even care that Ugly -- er, Rhett -- was kidnapping me. Is that the way someone who's supposedly trying to protect humanity would behave?"

Zack had stopped looking at her almost as soon as she started talking. His gaze now rested on his hands, and the phone that was in them.

"Gretta wants to know if you'll make a video condemning the Relicans," he said, not bothering to keep his voice low. "Coming from Tierney Dawson's sister, it would do a lot to help us."

His words hurt her far more than Ugly's slap had. He wasn't going to help her. He was going to leave her down here to rot alongside the Vice President.

"No," she whispered, unwilling to accept it.

Believing that she was answering his question, Zack said, "It would help you too. If you cooperate, Gretta will take care of you. She takes care of all of us."

"Yeah, I can see how she takes care of you," she scoffed. "You told me there wasn't anything going on between you two. I guess that wasn't the only lie you told me."

"I didn't lie," he growled, finally meeting her gaze.

"Oh? What about the pipe through the window? Or the fact that you were assigned to kidnap me?"

"I didn't, did I?" he said, stepping closer and lowering his voice. She was so used to seeing him emotionless that the desperation in his eyes unnerved her.

"I volunteered to break the window so I could make sure you didn't get hurt," he said. "And I've been careful to keep them away from you. That's why I didn't say hi to you at that party."

"Yeah, when Gretta was all over you. How can you expect me to believe anything you say?"

"I didn't lie," he repeated. "It's the Relicans who are lying. They say they're here to help us, but they won't let us go up and prove it. They say there's another alien race that wants to take us prisoner, but all we have for proof is their word and a few booming noises."

"I was on a Squad vessel when the Vreem attacked," said Clementine, her own anger matching his. "I saw how freaked out they all were. And I highly doubt they would have shot at their own ship simply to make sure I go along with their story. There's no reason to suspect them of working against us. They've done nothing but help us since they arrived."

"Did they help the man who Tausson killed in Chicago?"

"That was an accident."

"And was today an accident too?" he demanded.

Clementine's stomach twisted in on itself as she thought back to the afternoon's events -- had it even been an hour since then? Her mom must be freaking out.

"What do you mean today?" she asked. "Was someone hurt at the riot?"

"A woman police officer. One of the Relicans killed her the same way Tausson did."

Lieutenant Duzowski. A rush of grief filled Clementine at the thought of the dedicated police officer's life cut short.

"Are you sure the Relican meant to freeze her? Maybe they were trying to put out that fire your idiot friends were lighting."

"You're always making excuses for them," he snapped. "Why are you so quick to condemn us, but you're willing to give these aliens the benefit of the doubt?"

"Tierney worked with them, side by side, for weeks. If there was something going on, she would know about it."

"She's been brainwashed. Why else would she agree to be one of their sluts."

Clementine tried to slap him, but the ropes stopped her mid-motion. He eyed her raised hands with surprise.

"Don't talk about my sister that way," she snarled. "Don't talk about my sister at all."

"Will you do the video or not?" asked Zack.

Biting back her retort, Clementine closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Having him on her side would make getting out of there a lot easier. Plus, she couldn't just write him off. She had to try and save him, too. They'd been so close when they were kids, and she'd thought they were on the road to becoming that close again. He was so lost, so broken. She could help bring him back. She could help heal him, if he would only let her.

"Zack," she whispered, "none of this..." She gestured to their surroundings. "...can end well. If they really wanted to protect humanity, they wouldn't be kidnapping humans, and they wouldn't be starting fires that could hurt humans. Please, help me get out of here."

The Vice President cleared his throat. Clementine ignored him.

"Come with me. We'll tell the police where they are, and then you and I can actually spend some time together in the daylight hours. Maybe even go on a proper date -- as proper as it can be on a ship with no restaurants or movie theaters, anyway."

She was getting through to him. She could see his struggle and reached for him, once again forgetting her bonds. But the battle only lasted a few moments, and when his eyes hardened again, Clementine knew she'd lost.

"Will you make the video or not?" he asked again, holding up the phone.

After a long sigh of defeat, she kicked her leg up, knocking the phone out of his hand. It clattered to the floor, and before Zack could pick it up, she stomped on it as hard as she could.

"Clem!" he cried, shoving her away.

She caught herself on the shelf and shouted, "Don't call me that! I hate that name. If you cared more about talking to me and less about shoving your hand up my pussy, you'd know that!"

The entire space fell silent. Scattered chuckles made Zack's face turn dark red as he picked up the phone. The sight of its broken screen would have pleased her if she weren't so focused on holding in her tears.

"You were right about one thing," she said, calling after him as he walked out, "I don't like your friends."

Clementine woke up to someone covering her mouth.

"Shh," a voice whispered in her ear.

Zack? Did he change his mind?

"I'm getting you out of here."

No, that wasn't Zack's voice. It was the guard. Cody, someone had called him. He was the second guard to be assigned to watch her and the Vice President. The first had been a woman with a severe widow's peak who hardly ever seemed to blink.

He lifted her to her feet.

"What about him?" whispered Clementine, pointing to the Vice President, who was no more than a dark lump in the dim light. Not that she really cared about his welfare, but President Freeland was getting a lot of flack for not having found him yet. Some people were even accusing her of being involved and demanding she be impeached.

"Another guy's coming for him," said Cody. "Come on."

"What about...?" she held up her still tied hands. He held onto the other end of the rope.

"It stays on," he snapped, adding, "If someone sees us, I'm taking you to the bathroom."

Clementine nodded, and he led her out of their room -- cell? Hell hole? Whatever.

The space was almost pitch black, with only the front section of lighting still on. When she had finally cried herself to sleep, almost everyone had already left the storage space, opting to sleep on the soft benches out in the auditorium. The few people who remained slept on makeshift beds of clothes, towels, or suitcases.

Excitement plucked at her nerves. She wanted to run -- to bolt out of there. But she kept her pace slow, keeping up appearances in case someone was watching.

They stepped into the auditorium. It was mostly dark here too, though the lone light shining down was right above the two of them. If anyone was awake and looking their way, they'd be seen easily. There had been a guard sitting in front of the stage door before, but he was conveniently absent now. Clementine wondered if he was in on the escape, or if he had been diverted to enable Cody to leave with her. She hoped it was the former -- she wanted to believe there were good people here, even if they were severely misguided.

Instead of turning left to the bathrooms, Cody led her to the right, towards the transport door. A pale glow shone beside the door at about where the control panel was, and when they got close enough, she saw why. While every other control panel she had seen was sleek against the wall, this one had been popped out about a foot, though still connected to the wall by a metal frame. Rather than the typical circuit board with wires that human technology used, the inner workings for this device consisted of a series of thin beams of different colored light that stretched between the front panel and a series of nodes mounted on an inset panel in the back.

Cody took a lighter from his pocket and, careful not to touch any of the others, interrupted a gold thread of light. The transport door slid noiselessly open. After taking a peek into the dark space behind the door, he gave a quick tug on the rope and pulled her through.

The room was completely black. She didn't hear anything except the man's heavy breathing as he started walking.

"Can we take this off now?" she whispered, holding up her hands. "It would be magical to feel my fingers again."

Cody responded with a, "Shh," and kept walking.

He must want to get as far away as quickly as possible.

She couldn't blame him -- she felt the same way.

"We wouldn't have to walk if you took the ropes off," she said. "I mean, we could run now, I guess, but my balance would be better --"

"Shut up."

His harshness surprised her. If he cared enough to help her escape, wouldn't he be nicer? He was probably just really worried about being caught. Considering Gretta's broken moral compass, betraying Humans Right would likely come with a heavy punishment.

Still, a tiny voice in her brain whispered that something wasn't right. Why was Cody helping her, anyway? He hadn't been particularly sympathetic before. She'd stood up more than once to get the feeling back into her numb legs after sitting on the hard floor, and each time he'd demanded that she sit back down, even knocking her down once.

They stopped walking, and Clementine heard the sound of his hand shuffling around on the wall, followed by a soft groan of a hinge. Was he opening a door? They'd hardly been walking for a minute.

"Where are we going?" she asked, resisting his tug on the rope.

"There's someone back here who knows the best way to get out of here. Come on. And be quiet -- the others are on the other side of this wall."

He jerked on the rope again, and she had to step forward or risk stumbling to the ground. A tight ball of fear clenched inside her as she fought against the certainty that this man wasn't helping her at all. Should she scream? Kidnapping aside, the VP looked like he'd been treated well. Was this man leading her to a fate worse than what Humans Right had planned? But what if he was helping her? Did she really want to be the reason she didn't escape?

A light flashed into existence, and even though it wasn't bright, Clementine had to blink to let her eyes adjust. Cody used the flashlight to see as he closed the door, presumably so it wouldn't clang against the wall, then led them down the long metal hallway.

The corridor wasn't very wide -- maybe six feet, and went straight for as far as the short beam of light would penetrate the darkness. There were some intersecting passages, but Cody stayed on the main path.

Another light, not too far ahead, blinked to life. Cody kept his flashlight aimed at the floor, so whoever else was in the tunnel was still hidden by the dark. As Clementine drew closer, the person lifted their light and shone it straight at her face. She shielded her eyes, but, heeding Cody's warning about how close they still were to the others, didn't say anything.

Finally the outline of a person became visible, but their face remained hidden. Cody turned off his flashlight and stopped walking a few steps away from the other person, who was still blinding Clementine.

"Can you get that out of my face please?" she whispered.

"Please?" the person said. "Awful polite now, ain't you?"

At the same time that Clementine recognized the man's voice, a thick piece of fabric slapped over her mouth. She reached up to pull it off, but Ugly grabbed the rope around her wrists and yanked her hands down. She tried to scream, but she'd missed her chance. The gag was already too tight to open her mouth, and her cries were muffled. Cody tied it behind her head, pulling out strands of her hair in the process, and pinched his hand painfully on the back of her neck.

"She bought it?" Ugly asked.

"Yeah," said Cody. "She came real quiet."

Ugly chuckled and moved his hand from her wrists up to her breast. "Well I won't be so quiet when I come," he said.

Clementine jerked away from his grasp, but Cody held her in place. She shivered with disgust and adrenaline. She couldn't let this asshole touch her. She wouldn't.

Jabbing her elbow back, she caught Cody in the ribs. His grip loosened and she did it once more even harder before spinning around, running back the way they had come. But she only made it a few steps before she was caught by the hair. Her feet flew out from under her, and she landed hard on the metal floor.

"I was hoping you'd give me a reason to be hard on you," Ugly said, slapping her in the face. He seized the rope and yanked her hands above her head, dragging her back.

Clementine tried to get to her feet, but he was pulling her too fast. Ugly shone the flashlight on Cody, who stood in front of a ladder. Only the bottom of it was visible, the rest disappearing in a square hole in the ceiling.

He glared at Clementine, rubbing his side as they passed. "How about we go at the same time?" he asked. "She'll keep quiet with my johnson in her mouth."

Terror and nausea swelled inside her, and she renewed her struggles to break free.

"If you wanna risk --" started Ugly, but Cody, peering up the ladder, cut him off with a, "Hey!"

Something -- someone? -- dropped down the ladder. They almost landed on Cody, but he stepped out of the way in time. Clementine only caught a glimpse of a man wearing what looked like a baggy diaper before Ugly's flashlight moved off of the newcomer and he began running, with Clementine in tow. She thought she heard footsteps -- bare feet, it sounded like -- chasing after them, but right as Ugly turned into one of the intersecting corridors, a grunt and a scuffle told her Cody had tackled whoever was trying to help her.

Ugly kept running, turning more and more corners until Clementine wouldn't have been able to find her way back even if she got free. That didn't stop her from trying, but he held her rope tight, and too soon she was sliding through a door that Ugly hastily closed behind them.

The ceiling brightened, illuminating a large room with pipes running along the walls and down the middle of the room. It was warmer in here than any other space in the tunnels Clementine had been in, and she guessed it was some kind of boiler room -- or at least she would have guessed, if she cared about anything at that moment except getting away from Ugly.

He'd let go of her rope to turn the round hatch that locked the door, and she quickly got to her feet. Ripping off the gag and running deeper into the room, she searched for a place to hide or a weapon to use. There was only one other doorway, leading to another chamber that was clearly Ugly's room, with a sleeping bag laid across two suitcases, and various objects lining the floor against the walls.

"Daisy!" Clementine whispered, running over to her cello. The case at least was still intact, but though she yearned to open it and make sure the instrument itself was okay, she had a higher priority. Daisy sat between an open box full of jewelry and a pile of snack food. No help there. She scanned the room, hoping to find a sharp or blunt object. A box of medical supplies caught her eye and she began rummaging through it, though her crossed hands made it awkward.

"Welcome to my abode."

The hairs on Clementine's neck stood straight up. She glanced over her shoulder to see Ugly standing in the doorway.