“Master Bruce’s instructions were perfectly clear,” Alfred says, avoiding the question as he descends toward her.“I don’t want to be hearing...this,” Barbara replies in a singsong voice, leaning on the walkway’s railing and staring at the dark depths of the cave. It seemed bigger to her when she was younger.“Master Bruce trusts you,” Alfred insists, nonplussed. He joins her in admiring the view. Barbara wrinkles her nose at the damp smell. Sometimes she misses this place, but not the smell.“He. “I don’t believe you.” “I didn’t! I swear!” Now, Monica really wasn’t looking good. Her eyes had a slightly hysterical look. Houlihan whipped open his cell phone. He went to the file containing pictures, and showed a picture of her license plate, and also other cars parked on the street. “What night was this? Where were you?” Busted. Monica knew. Somehow, he knew. “Who told you?” She raged. “Who the fuck told you? “That’s a secret, Monica. I told you, you needed to behave. This is strike one.. .More days passed until they reached a wide plain at the morning'stwilight. Hushed whispers and the sounds of horses' snorts and whinniesbroke through the still air. As the sun rose, the men had formed widelong lines as they faced a tall city that sat embedded in the tallmountain that backed up to the plain. The boy had been given his ownhorse...someone yielded his father's sorrel to him in deference to thedeparted hero. He shook; more from the morning chill but also in dreadof the unknown as. His flip flop flew off his foot. A good 440 runner and sprinter, he had speed but with no shoes and no knowledge of where he was, he was handicapped. Being the cocky god like creature he thought he was, he was not afraid. He had always won. The truck couldn’t drive through the yards and no one could catch him on foot. He crossed the street and started running cross country through yards, thinking they couldn’t catch him in the grass. He easily hurdled hedges and low fences loping along like.