Page 10 of The Lost Zone (Dark Water #3)

Chapter Four

Alex

He knew Belvedere well now. He’d walked down all the long corridors, looked in all the empty rooms, and explored every inch of the grounds. The only place he was unable to go was the newer building attached to the rear of the house, protected by the sophisticated security system.

He was gaining weight – Belvedere’s meals were delicious, and after every dinner D smuggled him a little snack.

He had no idea why, whether she’d taken a shine to him, or felt sorry for him, or just thought he needed fattening up.

He didn’t need the extra food but took it anyway, because her furtive manner implied that she’d risked something to give it to him.

He wasn’t sure why she thought that anyone would care, because nobody seemed remotely interested in him or what he was doing.

It was a puzzle, like everything else about Belvedere.

The place was good for him, though; he could feel himself growing stronger from the fresh sea air, good food, and regular walks.

The only person he talked to every day was Dr C, but they were brief conversations about how much weight he’d gained and how he was sleeping.

B was a frequent presence in the house, but she was always so busy she rarely had time to do more than bid him “Good day, Mr Tyler” before bustling away.

He tried to engage D in conversation once, but she was so petrified she ran away.

At first, he welcomed the peace and quiet.

The silence was a blessed relief after all the drama of recent months.

He revelled in his daily walks and quiet afternoon naps.

Most of all, he looked forward to taking his photographs from their hiding place behind the bathroom mirror and leafing through them.

He grew bold enough to smuggle them into his bed at night, tucked into the waistband of his pyjamas, and spent a long time looking at each one in turn before placing them under his pillow and falling asleep.

When he looked at the photo of Solange, he tried not to think of her body lying at the bottom of a lost zone, bloated by water.

Yet every night, as he drifted off to sleep, he had the same vision.

He saw a cloud of hair floating in the water and a pair of dead eyes, wide open, staring into the void.

Every morning, he took his precious photos back to their hiding place.

Every evening, after dinner, he went to the recreation room to read or watch the screen until bedtime.

It was a comfortable existence, but as the days passed, he became aware of a new emotion: loneliness.

He never once wished himself back at Vertex Tower, but he missed Solange’s easy laugh, Ted’s cheesy stories, Lorenzo’s bitchy gossip, and even Mick’s dirty jokes.

After two weeks, he’d nearly reached the bottom of the massive pile of magazines in the rec room.

He’d methodically made his way through them, more out of boredom than anything else.

He was just flicking through, barely paying attention, when he turned a page and found himself staring at a photo of a big blond man with piercing blue eyes.

Alex froze. The picture was small, tucked away at the bottom of the page, but the face was unexpectedly familiar.

Beneath it was the usual sensationalist nonsense: Heartbroken investigator mourns husband cut down by deranged IS! Are we seeing a dangerous new trend in violent indie crime?

The magazine was several weeks old, published a couple of weeks after Peter’s murder.

Alex tried to read it, but his gaze kept returning to the photograph of Joe.

His jaw was taut, his skin grey, and his face frozen in grief as he walked beside a lost zone with his black dog beside him.

He was wearing dark blue jeans, a maroon sweater, and a pair of tan lace-up boots.

A black leather jacket hugged the contours of his broad shoulders, accentuating his powerful build.

Even in the midst of his grief, his appearance was immaculate.

Alex suspected Joe found comfort in the daily rituals of grooming and selecting his outfits – a comfort he must need more than ever right now.

Alex glanced around the recreation room, but, as usual, he was alone.

He carefully tore the photo out of the magazine, folding it along the edges to keep it perfectly intact.

He would take it back to the dormitory later and store it in his secret stash.

He wasn’t sure why. He’d known Josiah Raine for less than an hour, and it had been a brutal, bloody hour at that, but he felt a deep connection to the man.

Joe had lost Peter, and Alex had lost Solange very soon after, both in sudden, shocking ways.

It wasn’t the same, exactly, but the events of that night had shaped both their lives.

“So, how long have you worked here?” Alex asked C the next morning, in a bid to have a conversation that lasted for more than ten seconds.

“Too long,” C chuckled as he supervised the medibot in its routine daily exam. He motioned that Alex could step off the scales.

“Are you an IS?” Alex asked, removing his tee-shirt, familiar with the routine. “I haven’t seen an ID tag on you, or on B or D, and I can’t see a chip.” He gestured at C’s wrist.

“Good lord, no.” The medibot performed an exam of Alex’s heartbeat. “None of us are.”

“That’s unusual, isn’t it?” Alex frowned.

“A won’t have any servants working for him. It’s one of his rules. He’s a man of very definite views.” C chuckled.

“What’s his reason for it?”

“I’m not sure,” C mused. “We do train indentured servants here – maybe he wants to keep that delineation clear for everyone.”

“He sounds a bit elitist,” Alex commented snidely. “What’s in the modern extension at the back of the house?” he asked, pushing his luck.

C looked startled. “Oh, you’ve been there, have you? It’s where A lives, and where all the admin is done. There’s a lot of paperwork involved in running this place.”

“I’ve noticed that B is always rushing around, which seems weird as there aren’t any students except me, and the course hasn’t even started yet.”

The medibot finished tracking his heart, and C motioned that he could put his shirt back on. “There’s a lot of prep required for when the course begins, so B has plenty to do. She’ll be teaching many of the classes.”

“And you?” Alex challenged. “I’m your only patient, and you only spend a few minutes with me each day. What do you do with the rest of your time?”

“Oh, I have plenty to keep me busy.” C gave an evasive smile.

“I was thinking maybe you could stay longer today. Have breakfast with me. We could talk.” Alex hoped he didn’t sound too pathetic.

“I’d love to, but I can’t,” C said apologetically. “You’re lonely?” His pale blue eyes were kind.

“A little. I haven’t talked to anyone in weeks.”

“Well, the course will start soon, and then you’ll have no time to mope.” C patted his knee encouragingly. “Now, there’s one thing I wanted to mention to you. It’s Christmas soon. Is there anything you’d like?”

“You mean like a party?” Alex raised a sardonic eyebrow.

“I was thinking more of a present. Maybe a movie you’d like to see?”

“Can I write a letter home?” Alex asked hopefully. He wanted to let Charles know he was alive, if nothing else.

“Sadly, no. Your houder has forbidden contact with your family.”

“Can I have something to draw with, then?” Alex asked. C looked at him curiously. “I’m bored,” Alex explained. “I’d love to be creative again. I miss it.” He hadn’t realised how much until now. His fingers itched to be drawing once more.

“I’ll see what I can do.” C patted him on the shoulder and left.

It was his first Christmas as an IS. His first Christmas away from his family.

His mother had loved Christmas and had always spoilt them with lots of presents.

The house had been decorated everywhere with fairy lights, tinsel, and sprigs of holly.

Dozens of toy elves adorned all the staircases, and there was always a massive tree in the hall.

Looking back, he could see that Isobel had been making up for her own childhood in the appalling conditions of the government work camps, where she’d been born.

She’d always been enchanted by the idea of the perfect family Christmas and had drawn everyone into her world, making it a magical time for them.

All that had changed after her death; they hadn’t celebrated the first Christmas without her.

Charles had still been in the hospital, so they’d visited him, but nobody had even pretended to make the best of it.

In fact, Alex had hated the entire season since his mother’s death and wished nobody would celebrate it so he could avoid it altogether.

He woke on Christmas Day without any expectation of there being a present, let alone what he’d asked for.

He was used to Tyler’s mind games and refused to allow himself to be hopeful.

He was, therefore, surprised to see a bulky parcel lying on the chair next to his bed.

The wrapping paper was bright red and there was an envelope taped to it.

He opened the envelope first, to find a generic card with MERRY CHRISTMAS written on it in big red letters over a picture of a robin in the snow.

A little green elf hat hovered excitedly over the I .

Inside, it read: Merry Christmas, Mr Tyler!

From all of us at Belvedere. It was signed, too – there was a big round B , a backward-slanting D , a friendly C with two small dots inside to create a smiling face…

and a firm, decisive A , written with a stylish flourish.

Alex found the card perplexing, but he put it on his bedside table all the same. At least the bright red cheeriness broke up the endless expanse of white that he was starting to find oppressive.