BlackWind: Viraiden and Bronwyn

A Cerridwen Press Publication

www.cerridwenpress.com

BlackWind: Viraiden and Bronwyn

ISBN #1-4199-0327-6

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

BlackWind: Viraiden and Bronwyn Copyright© 2006 Charlotte Boyett-Compo Edited by Mary Moran.

Cover art by Willo.

Electronic book Publication: January 2006

With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Cerridwen Press, 1056 Home Avenue, Akron, OH 44310-3502.

This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the authors’ imagination and used fictitiously.

Cerridwen Press is an imprint of Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.®

BLACKWIND: VIRAIDEN AND BRONWYN

Charlotte Boyett-Compo

To Kate Douglas. Thank you very everything, sweetie. Without you…well, it just doesn’t BARE thinking about! ☺

—Charlee

Trademarks Acknowledgement

The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

Frisbee: Wham-O Toy Company

Goodwill: Goodwill Industries International, Inc.

Jeep: Daimlerchrysler Corporation

Plexiglas: Rohm and Haas Company Corporation

BlackWind: Viraiden and Bronwyn

Grinnell, Iowa

August 1995

There was a silver cast to the sky as Bronwyn turned off Highway 6 and onto the road her mother had marked for her on the map. Rolling hills of corn on one side of her car and lush green hay on the other dotted the Iowa landscape. Red-winged blackbirds stood sentinel on rickety old fence posts. Black walnut trees and red maples added their color to the tops of the higher hills. A lone red-tailed hawk soared on the wind, dipping its wings in greeting as Bronwyn passed.

“I always thought Iowa was flat as a fritter,” she commented to the little dog reclining in the passenger seat.

Brownie raised her golden-brown head. The part-poodle, part-schnauzer arched one bushy brow as if to say “That’s what you get for thinking”. Getting to her feet, the

“schnoodle”, as Bronwyn called her, looked out the window, then turned back to her mistress and yawned widely.

Bronwyn laughed. “Oh, it’s not going to be that bad!”

The dog made a huffing sound then lay down, rejecting the scenery.

“Elitist,” Bronwyn accused. She twisted around in her seat. “How ‘bout you? What do you think?”

The black cat, lounging on the backseat, blinked at her then closed its eyes, dismissing the question and the woman who asked it.

“Traitor.”

The road curved sharply to the left around a tall embankment. Bronwyn slowed, making sure she was directly in her own lane. It was a good thing she did, for at the moment she started into the curve, a motorcycle came roaring around the bend, the black machine directly in her path.

“Damn it!” she yelled, jerking the wheel to the right and sending her car onto the shoulder to avoid a head-on collision. She slammed on the brakes to keep from going into a ditch. The tires skidded precariously on the loose gravel as the car ground to a stop within a foot of a leaning telephone pole.

With a curse, she looked in the rearview mirror, watching the motorcyclist continuing on as though nothing had happened. The motorcycle’s brake light flashed on for a second as the driver reached the main highway and turned east on Highway 6.

“Crazy bastard,” Bronwyn snapped. Pulling back onto the road, she realized her hands were trembling from the near miss. She took a deep, calming breath.

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Charlotte Boyett-Compo

The road curved back to the right around another tall embankment. When it straightened again, the first thing Bronwyn noticed was the triple layers of high-security fence, topped with razor wire and dotted with warning signs to indicate the inner fence was electrified. The fences stretched out from both sides of a small square building that sat in the middle of the road. Two sliding heavy-duty gates, also topped with razor wire, flanked the security kiosk. Above the brick structure were two rows of halogen spotlights, four to each side. On opposite sides of the road stood two tall guard towers, one on the outside of the gate, the other on the inside. As she came closer, Bronwyn saw men patrolling the towers, each carrying rifles.

Two guards stepped out of the security kiosk when she braked to a stop. Both men wore side arms, their gazes hidden behind dark glasses. One wore a dark brown uniform—the other was clad entirely in black. She reached down to put the car in park then lowered her window, casting a look at the guard who walked in front of her car and headed for the passenger side.

“Welcome to Baybridge, Dr. McGregor,” the guard in dark brown said as he walked up to her window.

“How did you…?” She turned to look at the black-clad guard now peering into the passenger side window.

“We’ve been expecting you, ma’am,” the first guard responded. “We have your photo, vehicle make and tag number.” He smiled behind the mirrored surface of his sunglasses and extended his hand. “May I have your paperwork, please?”

Brownie had gotten to her feet when the car stopped and was sniffing at the window. The second guard tapped the knuckle of his right index finger on the glass.

“Hey, cutie.” He glanced in the back and frowned. “I don’t like cats.”

“Could you pop the trunk, please?” asked the first guard whose nametag labeled him Danforth.

Bronwyn reached for the control box on her key chain, twisted it so she could see the lettering, and pressed the trunk button. “Is Dr. Hesar here?” she asked as the trunk opened and the second guard walked to the rear of the car.

Brownie huffed and lay down again.

“Yes, ma’am. He’s waiting for you in the admin building,” Danforth replied. “I’ll be right back.” He went into the building and picked up a telephone.

Bronwyn glanced in her side mirror as she heard the second guard moving her luggage in the trunk. “Just a tad paranoid, wouldn’t you say, Brown Stuff?” she asked.

Brownie sighed deeply. She scraped her paw over her nose a couple of times before turning onto her back, paws in the air.

“My God, girl, but you are a lazy piece of work!” Bronwyn chuckled.

“I talk to my dog, too.”

Bronwyn jerked around to see the second guard standing by her window. She smiled at him, although a bit nervously, since his black uniform intimidated her and he 6

BlackWind: Viraiden and Bronwyn

wasn’t smiling in return. He wore the same dark sunglasses as the first guard and it was hard to read his expression.

“What kind of dog do you have?” she inquired to be polite.

He cocked his head to one side. “A rottweiler. I don’t like cats,” he repeated. “My dog doesn’t either. Sometimes I—”

“That’s enough, Gaines,” Danforth snapped as he rejoined them.

Gaines made no reply as he sauntered back to one of the buildings. Before he entered, he looked back at Bronwyn and gave her a mock salute.

“Is he always that creepy?” she asked.

“Their kind can be a bit intense.”

“Their kind?”

“When you go through the gate, follow the road to the top of the hill. There’s a second security kiosk up there and they’ll have your badge ready. You must wear it at all times when you’re in the facility. Please don’t lose it, because the process to get a new one takes about ten days to two weeks. You will not be allowed back in until your new badge is activated.”

“In that case, I’ll make every effort
not
to lose it,” Bronwyn mumbled.

“We would appreciate your diligence, ma’am.” Danforth pointed at a short post capped with a chrome box. “Those are security stanchions and you’ll see them located every forty feet along the road to the second security kiosk. As a matter of fact, you’ll see similar stanchions throughout the facility. They are tracking devices, and as your car passes each one, your speed is timed and reported to the security console in the main building. Should you stop for any reason between this guard hut and the next, we will be notified immediately and a security vehicle will be dispatched to see why. And please do not leave your car. Remain inside and someone will be along shortly to aid you.”

Bronwyn frowned sharply. “The purpose for that being…?”

“It serves several purposes, ma’am.” Danforth lifted his hand and ticked off the reasons. “Your car could break down and you might need assistance. There might have been a medical emergency. An inmate trying to escape could waylay you. You—”

“Does that happen often?” Bronwyn interrupted.

“It’s never happened, ma’am, but there is always the possibility.”

“And that’s why you wish for me to remain inside the car.”

“Yes, ma’am. You will be issued a stun gun for your glove compartment. Please be sure you keep it in the car at all times. Also, I must warn you—there are ground sensors buried along the roadways, in the fields, within the ten-foot perimeter of all the buildings. You will see warning signs around the buildings but not out in the field or along the road. Pressure will activate the sensors and when it does, a strong current shoots up to incapacitate the intruder.” He shrugged. “Despite our safety precautions, perhaps some accomplices of an inmate might gain entrance to the fenced area and 7

Charlotte Boyett-Compo

intercept your car. They could hide in the trunk or beneath the undercarriage of a truck.

We’ve tried to research all possible scenarios to see that inmates do not escape nor their accomplices enter. This is one of the most secure super-max prisons in the world and we want to keep it that way.”

Bronwyn looked about her. “I take it the perimeter is patrolled.”

“We have guard towers located every half-mile along the property, Dr. McGregor.

We also have guards with dogs who patrol on foot and in vehicles. Every hour, one of our helos makes a sweep of the area with heat-seeking equipment. The pilots will tell you they know every squirrel, raccoon, opossum, deer, fox, stray cat and dog by heat signature, and have even given the boogers names.” He smiled. “You will be well protected here. There are two clusters of buildings at Baybridge. The Eastern Complex houses the staff condos, shops, corporate buildings and maintenance facilities. The Western Complex is where the inmates are housed. That five-hundred-eighty acre facility is entirely underground.”

Bronwyn’s eyes widened. “The prison is underground?”

Danforth nodded. “Yes, ma’am. The farthest underground is Five North. That’s where the worst offenders are kept.”

“No one mentioned that little tidbit,” Bronwyn said dryly. “Anything else I need to know before I traverse the yellow brick road?”

Danforth’s smile faded. He stepped back and thrust his thumbs into the belt of his gun holster. “Just drive carefully.”

Bronwyn thought of her encounter with the speeding motorcycle. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

For a moment, Danforth just looked at her, then shrugged lightly and lifted his hand. “Open her up!”

The heavy sliding gate made a loud clanking noise then began to slide away from the back of the kiosk. Bronwyn put her car in gear.

“Have a nice day, now,” Danforth grunted.

Bronwyn nodded and drove through the open gate, the rear of her car barely clearing the entrance before the heavy structure closed with a thump. She glanced in the rearview mirror to see Danforth and the returned Gaines staring at her.

“No doubt discussing what a bitch I am,” Bronwyn told Brownie.

Brownie opened one eye but remained silent. From the backseat came a soft meow of agreement.

At the top of the hill, the unsmiling black-clad guard at the second kiosk handed her a laminated badge that held her photo, thumbprint and signature. She stared at her photo, stunned to realize it had been taken back at the other building without her being aware. No doubt her thumbprint and signature had been lifted from the paperwork she had given Danforth then transmitted here to the second kiosk.