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The Dog Hole

Chapter 2: Gamble

"We should get there at around sundown. Seems like a wasted trip hauling one rabbit up to the dog hole."

This Gamble guy had no idea how to read the room. Bebe had no interest in carrying the other half of a conversation with him. She usually didn't mind talking. Her conversation with the doctor was informative since she had known very little about Base LORI. However, being called cotton tail had sullened her mood. Happily, Gamble was willing to do all of the work in order to keep some kind of exchange going.

"I guess it's worth the fuel," he continued. "I see looooots of familiar faces there year after year. 147 could use some new blood. Last time I brought someone new up there was," he thought, "three years back?"

"The resident staff are nice I take it?" If he was determined to talk, Bebe was going to at least keep the conversation on topics she actually cared about.

"Depends on what you mean by 'nice'. No one'll bother you none if that's what your worried about. If you're talking friendliness," Gamble gave himself a moment to think of a way to say it. "I can't rightly say. There's always an aire of coldness towards newcomers. Still, once you science types find something to talk about, things usually work out. What division are you apart of again?"

"Culinary."

"Huh?"

"I'm a cook," she clarified.

"Cook?" Gamble asked as if unfamiliar with the term. "147 already has a cook."

"I'm a second cook."

"Ohhhhh. You're a kitchen hand. There's a difference."

Bebe began to regret her decision to engage this guy. Something told her he wouldn't be able to help insulting her in someway. She could chop, bake, and flambe with the best of them, and she'd still probably be lunch lady Bebe in this guy's eyes. "I hope being a 'kitchen hand' doesn't change anything."

"I should hope not. Folks don't take to change well out here, cottontail. As long as you do what you're told and the food comes out the kitchen tasting like it should, I'm sure it'll be fine. Say, where are you from exactly? Most rabbits around here are white with the short kind of ears. Not dark brown with ears hanging down their backs."

"France," Bebe lied, jokingly.

"I knew it. You french girls are a bit uppity, aren't ya?"

She didn't know whether to be amused or not by his comment simply because he sounded so serious.

"Can I ask you something?" he posed, not waiting for her to actually respond. "Why come out here? Especially just to cook when you're from the land that invented it?"

"Room and board, solid pay; what's not to like about that?"

"I hear ya." Gamble let a second pass before speaking again. "And it's nice not to be around all of that fighting, huh?"

This caused Bebe to pause as she caught Gamble's glance in his rear-view mirror. It was possibly the most astute observation he'd ever make about her. That was precisely why she was there. It seemed that, as long as the grass underfoot was green, there was no escaping the terrors of war.

Sundown would come mercifully quickly as it usually did that close to the poles at that time of year. Gamble was never short on words, but it wasn't too long before a dark spot on the horizon started to take shape in the form of their destination. Several flags representing different parts of the globe stood stiff atop poles just outside of the entrance of her new home. By now, the weather had picked up slightly, whipping thick gusts of powder at the side of the tracker.

"Might want to bundle up. The short walk from this here truck to the front door can feel like a marathon." Before taking his own advice, Gamble grabbed his radio and sent a brief message inside announcing their arrival.

Bebe believed him and quickly zipped up and pulled her ski-mask over her head. Respect the cold. There wasn't a single pamphlet, guidebook, or orientation video that didn't utter these words at least once. One could lose a nose out here in under a minute. She trudged behind Gamble, watching in amazement as his footprints nearly disappeared as soon as he stepped out of them. She watched him crank the door lever of the front door, which creaked open to let them in.

Bebe's back and shoulders were covered in snow. Fortunately, this was the place to brush herself clean as it was a buffer zone between where she'd come from and the true indoors. In the dim light, she shook her bag free of snow as well before the door in front of the two of them started to budge and creak open.

She expected whoever did it to join them and promptly introduce him or herself. Instead, their host just stood in the doorway, bathed in a deep darkness from behind while blocking the way in. Bebe was unnerved. In the figures left hand was something long, rigid, and appeared to be held like a weapon.

"Well? You gonna let us in?"

The figure stepped to the side, and Gamble happily entered. Bebe was still unsure of things but, after witnessing the back of Gamble's head go uncaved in, she too risked stepping through the threshold.

"Why is it always so dark here?" Gamble asked.

"Saves energy." replied the dark, slow voice that Bebe had now attached to a male identity.

She still had no clue who he was or what he looked like and took a step back when the shadow of the large figure began to raise his occupied hand. A powerful light cut on within it, revealing his face.

"The lights will return to us shortly. Lyan is down in the main power room now. In the mean time." He held the flashlight out to Bebe who nervously took it. "I am Cane. I'm the director."