"Me too," Tommy said. He tugged her forward toward the tunnel. "But at least I got the car so we could come here."
As they walked into the tunnel, their sneakers squeaked on the rock floor and echoed off the walls that closed over their heads. Water dripped from the stone, making slimy puddles. Their pace picked up and then they were into the courtyard. Tommy led her toward a low building built up against the stone wall to their right. It had been the headquarters for the Pershing unit and was now littered with empty bottles, needles and used condoms. Some enterprising soul had even hauled a stained mattress up here, but Kirsten didn't like it, thus the blankets.
Tommy pushed open the door, which protested loudly on its rusted hinges. Kirsten scuttled by him into the dark interior. She quickly took the blankets, putting half on the floor, and wrapping one over her shoulders as she sat down. She was small under the rough wool, just under five-foot-two, and weighing slightly over a hundred pounds. She had short hair that she bleached blond and combed straight back with plenty of gel to keep it in place. A long earring dangled from her right ear, while a small gold ring adorned her nose.
She could see out a broken window into the courtyard as Tommy settled down beside her, pulling the blanket over his shoulders and pressing his body against her side.
"Here," Tommy said, handing her a can from the six-pack he had carried up along with the blankets. She took it and popped the top. Despite the chill, she drank fast. If she'd ever stopped to think about it, she would have realized she'd never had sex with Tommy sober. But that was just one of many things that Kirsten and most other sixteen-year-olds had never stopped to think about.
Tommy pulled out a sandwich bag and waved it. "I got some good stuff off Pete."
He began rolling a joint, much to Kirsten's irritation. She didn't like drugs, even just grass. Too many kids at school were walking around wasted all the time, not even knowing what class they were in, and she knew every one of them had started with grass before moving on to heavier stuff. And the heavy stuff brought with it other problems, like AIDs. Heroin was big at school and readily available off post, but the needles scared Kirsten to death. Tommy hadn't done that yet, at least as far as she knew. She didn't ask, but she always covertly checked his arms for any sign that he might have used a needle. She loved him, but she wasn't willing to die for her love.
Tommy lit the joint and took a deep drag. He offered it to her, but she declined by taking another deep gulp of her beer. He didn't push. They'd talked about it before, and tonight, with his departure looming in a week, it just wasn't worth talking about anymore. She felt a rush of sadness and pulled Tommy closer.
A shadow passing by the window caught the corner of her eye and she stiffened.
"Hey!" Tommy exclaimed, trying to dig her fingers out of his shoulder.
"Someone's out there," Kirsten whispered.
Tommy looked out the window. The courtyard was empty, lit by the glow of a half-moon. "I don't see anyone."
"I did," she insisted.
"Well, someone could be up here. You know, someone from school."
Kirsten shook her head. "I don't want to be here. Let's leave. Please."
She felt Tommy stiffen. "We just got here. We've got more beer and…"
His voice trailed off, but she knew the rest of the sentence. The condom in his pocket wasn't going home unopened if he could help it.
Something moved outside again. This time she was positive it was a man. "There!" she pointed.
Tommy forgot about the condom momentarily. "I see him."
The figure was medium height, a dark shadow in the courtyard, standing about forty feet away. A brief glow — the person had lit a cigarette — then darkness. It was a man, not one of their friends, Kirsten knew that, but she could discern no details. Average height, slender build, dressed in dark clothes.
His hands had glittered strangely in the brief glow of the lighter.
"Let's get out of here," she whispered once more.
"He'll see us. Maybe he's an MP," Tommy said.
"He's not an MP."
"How do you know?"
"He'd have a helmet on. A uniform."
"Maybe he's Polizie."
"He's not Polizie." Kirsten was certain. "If he was Polizie he'd be in here already. Besides, they don't come up here."
Kirsten felt the man already knew that she and Tommy were in here and he was waiting on them. She couldn't see his eyes, but suddenly, staring at him, she felt colder than she'd been all evening.
"Shit," Tommy muttered, standing up, the blanket falling off his shoulders. He played defensive tackle on the school team and topped out at six feet and a hundred and ninety pounds. The figure in the courtyard didn't scare him. "I'll see who it is."
"Stay here," Kirsten said, grabbing his hand.
Her plea only served to irritate Tommy. "First you want to leave, now you want to stay. Shit, Kirsten, we can't do anything with this guy standing around."
"Let's just wait till he leaves," she said.
"We don't have all night. I need to have the car back by midnight," Tommy said. He pulled his hand free with more force than was necessary and walked to the door. He stepped out and the door swung shut behind him.
Kirsten was frozen. She knew she should follow, but she couldn't move. She heard muffled voices, then silence. Footsteps approached the door. It swung open and her eyes fixed on the figure that was silhouetted in the frame. Smaller than Tommy. The glint of eyes staring at her froze her breath.
"Where's Tommy?"
The man smiled, even white teeth showing in the shadowed face. "Busy."
"Busy doing what?" Kirsten found control of her muscles and slowly got to her feet. She still held the blanket tight, arms crossed in front of her chest.
"Drugs." The voice was odd, without an accent, definitely not a German who had learned English. Maybe American, but she couldn't place it, and she had met people from all over the States in her travels. There was a faint southern tint, but it didn't seem right. There was also a quality to it as if the man had a cold and his nose was stuffed up.
"What do you mean?"
"It seems," the man said, now stepping into the room, "that your boyfriend would rather do cocaine out there than be in here with a pretty young woman like yourself."
Kirsten looked out into the courtyard, past him. In the part she could see there was no sign of Tommy. He wouldn't just leave her like this. She took a step backward. "What do you want?"
The man's smile hadn't abated. He held out a hand. "Would you like some?"
There was small vial in his palm. It glittered in the light, made of some expensive metal. Kirsten could now see that there were rings on each finger, numerous jewels reflecting the scant light.
"I don't do drugs."
The man pointed at her beer can and sniffed the air, where the odor of the joint was still noticeable. "Come, now." His hand was still out.
"I don't do drugs," she repeated. "I'm going now."
She started for the door, but the man didn't move and she stopped before making contact.
"No."
Kirsten felt the single word hit her harder than if he'd struck her with a fist. She backed up.
"I highly recommend what is in here." The man held the vial out to her.
"What do you want?"
"Simply for you to party with me."
"What do you want?"
"Would you like to go to a very nice party?" the man asked. "I have transportation to take us there. We will be back before dawn. It is a party the likes of which I am sure you have never seen. Very rich people. Very powerful people. A beautiful girl such as yourself, you would do well to meet such people. You have a special look. I like that."
"I don't want to party," Kirsten said, her voice less strong than she would have liked. But she could feel reality starting to slip away, as if she were watching what was going on in this dirty room like a bystander. It was beyond the realm of her reality.