Concrete Underground by Moxie Mezcal (desktop ebook reader txt) 📖

1906 quake caused a land slide that buried the old town. However, by that time the city's most powerful businessmen had realized the true value of this valley - that practically anything would grow in its soil - so they simply rebuilt the city on top of the ruins.

"Back in the fifties, during the cold war, the city started looking into building underground fallout shelters in case of nuclear attack. They discovered the remnants of the old town and decided to preserve them as a historical site. It now exists as a labyrinthine series of subterranean tunnels connecting the old buildings. The idea was to make them safe for tourists to walk through, but the funding dried up and the project was never completed. These tunnels snake around, under, above, and through the old buildings in an intricate maze with a total length of over thirty miles if laid end-to end. The buildings themselves have multiple rooms, some have multiple stories, some basements, and all are in a dangerous state of ill-repair. So watch yourselves out there," he added with a mischievous grin.

He then reached into his pocket and produced another small red metal box. "Somewhere in the ruins of old town there is hidden a box that looks exactly like this. This one is empty, but the other contains something very valuable. Find it, and it's yours to keep."

I was back upstairs in the Highwater Building, wandering through a maze of unfamiliar hallways. I was looking for the bathroom again, but I must have made a wrong turn somewhere because I was completely lost.

I turned a corner and saw one of the masked servers.

"Hey, do you know which way leads back to the main ballroom?" I asked.

"Sure," he said, approaching me. "But first, you have to tell me where you hid the Ariadne Key."

The voice was unmistakable; this was the same man who had interrogated me with the taser. I turned to run, but he was on top of me before I had even made it a yard.

"Not quite ready to talk yet?" he said as I felt a cold blade press into the flesh of my neck. "Look ahead."

Inexplicably, I lifted my eyes and obeyed him. Directly in front of us, painted on the wall, was the crowned globe symbol of the Highwater Society. It shifted and shimmered, as if it had been painted in mercury, having a hypnotic effect on me.

I felt myself slipping into a trance, which was broken only when I felt jostled from behind. I turned to see Violet and my assailant struggling on the floor, each trying to wrest the dagger away from each other. I reached into my pocket and dug out my pocketknife, then jammed it into the base of his neck.

He let out an anguished cry and sent the back of his fist flying into my nose, stunning me. He knocked over Violet and tore off around a corner into a connecting hallway. We tried to give chase, but by the time we recovered and made it around the corner, he was gone without a trace.

"Come on, let's get you outside for some fresh air," Violet told me.

I followed her back the other way.

"It was lucky you happened to be going by," I said, still shook-up.

"It wasn't all luck," she said. "Turns out you were right."

I looked at her questioningly.

"I'm starting to pop out," she explained, grinning while adjusting her dress around her cleavage. "I was headed for the bathroom to fix myself up."

"Was the bathroom that way?" I asked.

"Yeah, you were right outside it when I found you," she said.

"I've been so confused tonight," I replied.

"Don't worry," Columbine said, her face scant inches from mine. "Someone was slipping something into your drinks. They were trying to disorient you so they could get information. It's just messing with your head a little, but you should be fine by tomorrow morning."

She rolled over away from me and returned to the arms of the young man lying next to her, whom she had been cuddling.

I stood up found myself in a large open room illuminated only by black lights and star light coming in from the massive glass sun roofs overhead. The walls were all mirrors.

The floor was covered with blankets, pillows, and cushions, on top of which couples and sometimes groups of more were laying down and embracing each other. They were all fully clothed, and there wasn't any overt sexual activity. There wasn't even really any kissing. It was just people holding each other.

I treaded carefully over the bodies until I found the strawberry-blonde from underground with her arms wrapped around a dark-haired woman I didn't recognize. She was behind the other woman, cradling her body against her own.

I laid down behind her in the same position, pressing my pelvis snugly up against her ass. "Congratulations," I said.

She looked over her shoulder and flashed me a smile. "Thank you."

"So what did you get for winning?"

She shook her head playfully, "You know I can't tell you that."

"I guess I'll just have to win another game myself to find out," I replied.

"Some day. But don't expect it to happen right away. These people take their competitions seriously, and this was your first time, after all."

I nodded, and then after a pause added, "You know, you never told me what your first game was like."

She turned her head back to face forward, looking away from me. "Well, let's see," she began. "I joined when I was sixteen. My father was already a member, and he thought it would be good for me. On the first night I went out with Max, there were only a handful of us, like six or seven, all women. Max helped us get into these horrible disguises, like big wigs and trashy make-up, leopard print and bustiers and leather skirts. Then he drove us down to the north end of San Hermes Park late at night with nothing but the clothes on our backs and turned us loose with all the drug dealers, the vagrants, the junkies, the hookers. And he told us the one who had made the most money by daybreak was the winner.

"I was the one who lost that night. I didn't make a single cent. I wanted to play the game, I thought I could, and I even found a man. I got into his car, and he drove down the street and pulled into the empty parking lot of a middle school. He parked the car and didn't say anything, just unfastened his seat belt, reclined his seat, and unzipped himself. Then he looked at me with the most disgusting face I've ever seen - I still can see it to this day - and I realized that this wasn't about sex to him, it wasn't about getting off. He hated himself for being ugly, for being old, for being fat, for being too much of an asshole for any woman to voluntarily put up with. And he hated me for being young and beautiful, he hated me for making him desire me. And this was his way of getting revenge, by subordinating me to him, by taking me down to his level. Somehow, looking at him in the car with his disgusting little prick peeking up out of his open pants, I knew all this to be true, and it made me sick. I opened the car door and ran out as fast as I could, I ran for something like a dozen blocks before I finally collapsed, and I just felt sick. I tried to throw up to see if it would help, but I could only dry heave. So then I just went back to the park and waited for daybreak to come and told Max what happened. And so I lost.

"A week later my father lost his job. Max leaked to the paper that he had been keeping a mistress who was drawing a salary of $500,000 a year from his company as a 'consultant' even though she never set foot in the building and hardly spoke a word of English. He had also been using his expense account to fly them overseas for vacations under the guise of market research. Two days after this all came out, he killed himself. My mom and I lost everything and ended up on the streets. Instead of going away to an ivy league university, I had to stay with her and work two jobs to put myself through community college. It was rough, but I ended up finishing my degree at State and getting a scholarship to Stanford to get my Master's. The day I graduated, Max came to see me and told to me that he never harms the people who lose his games. He just tests them, shows them who they really are. I told him that I already knew this. And then he offered me a job."

At that moment, I felt a strange longing come over me that I couldn't quite explain. For some reason, I found myself wishing that I had actually been the person she thought I was earlier that night, her friend from high school. I didn't really know what to do, what to say, or even how to feel about what she had just told me. I just felt restless, like I had to do something, anything. So of course I did the most stupid thing possible.

I leaned my head forward and pressed my lips the side of her neck, kissing her skin softly.

Immediately I felt her body tense, so I pulled back. We stayed still for another uncomfortable silence.

"Please leave," she said.

I stood up and saw Max standing across the room, leaning casually against the far wall. I walked over to meet him.

"Cuddle parties. They're becoming more and more popular with young professionals," he explained. "People who are so alienated, so wrapped up in their jobs, in technology, in creature comforts, that even the simplest acts of human affection become salacious. We have to schedule in any human contact, pencil it in on your calendar and treat it as anonymous as a date with a prostitute, just another transaction or business dealing, just another meeting to take or appointment to keep. Ours is a generation so neutered we can't even manage a proper orgy."

"It's doing my head in, honestly," I told him. "I guess I'm just old-fashioned some ways; I need something more visceral."

"Luckily, I think I can arrange for that, too."

We were sitting on a red velvet couch.

A beautiful woman in a black corset and stockings was walking towards us slowly, seductively. She had long, jet black hair and light mocha skin. Her face was obscured by a gunmetal mask like the servers downstairs, except hers was a half-mask, exposing her full, ruby red lips.

Max turned to look at me with a knowing grin.

"Shit, everything's running together, like side two of Abbey Road."

"Just shut up and enjoy this," Max said, shaking his head. "Would it help you if I made her wear a purple wig?"

The woman knelt between my legs and started working the zipper on my pants open. She leaned