Page 11 of The Lost Zone (Dark Water #3)

Ripping open the wrapping paper, he was amazed when a large art pad and a pack of pencils dropped onto the bed. Examining them, he discovered that the art pad contained the highest-grade drawing paper, while he recognised the pencils as being the most expensive brand available.

The beautiful gift took him completely by surprise.

The last thing he’d expected, after the past few months, was a simple act of kindness.

He swallowed hard and found a lump in his throat.

He could have taken it if they’d given him a dog turd, or something useless and pointless, but instead, they’d presented him with this perfect gift.

It was as if he was… human. Not someone to break, or a body to fuck, but a real person.

He hadn’t felt that way in a very long time.

He was overcome by a sudden surge of emotion and buried his face in his pillow as great sobs wracked his body. He cried until he was exhausted, and then he went into the bathroom to wash away the evidence.

Luckily, C was a little later than usual, which gave Alex time to compose himself. His eyes were still red-rimmed, and he was sure it must be obvious he’d been crying, but C didn’t pass comment.

“Thank you for the present,” he said quietly. “It’s very much appreciated. More than you know.”

“That’s marvellous,” C beamed. “Are they what you wanted? We weren’t sure whether you’d prefer paints, but they can be messy and it is ever so white around here.”

Alex wondered who the “we” referred to, and if C had discussed the gift with the mysterious A. “It’s perfect. I love the pencils. Please, thank A for me – I’m sure he must have authorised it. I’d love to thank him in person. It feels strange to receive a gift from someone I’ve never met.”

“Well, A is a busy man. As you can appreciate, running this place does take a huge amount of time.”

“Please tell him I’d like to meet him one day to say thank you. The gift is very thoughtful, to say nothing of generous – the pencils alone are clearly very expensive.”

C patted his arm. “You’re very welcome. I hope you get some pleasure from them.”

He did. Christmas Day turned out to be as lonely as all the other days at Belvedere, but he didn’t mind because he was able to draw.

He paused only to eat a roast turkey dinner and pull a cracker with D.

He felt ridiculous perching a red paper hat on his head and reading her the silly joke that was in the cracker, which she completely failed to understand, and she soon left him alone.

He wondered if she had a family who’d be missing her today of all days.

It seemed a waste for her to be serving him when he genuinely didn’t care what day it was.

He’d have happily spent it eating toast if it meant she and the rest of the staff had the day off.

As always, he was relieved when the day was over.

He spent the next few days buried in his art.

A whole world opened up to him as he focused, obsessively, on making his pencils dance across the expanse of white paper.

He drew Belvedere’s dormitory beds flying out of the window and escaping across the clifftop towards the sea.

He sketched D’s shy smile, and made a passable stab at conveying the affable expression on C’s face.

He pencilled Belvedere’s stark white corridors and empty rooms, trying to capture their lonely blankness.

When he next saw him, he gave C a sketch he’d drawn of him, smiling owlishly as he flew above the clifftop, held up only by a pair of medibots.

“I thought you might like this. To say thank you,” Alex said shyly.

C looked taken aback. “I… This is really very good. You’re rather talented.”

Alex grinned. “I like to draw things flying.”

“It’s lovely.” C’s eyes were a little glassy. “I’ll treasure it. Thank you so much. I’m touched.” He tucked it into his pocket, looking strangely sad.

The next day, after dinner, when D handed him a little slice of cake wrapped up in a napkin, Alex took hold of her hand and pressed the picture he’d drawn of her into it. “Thank you for taking such good care of me,” he whispered, trying not to spook her.

Her eyes opened wide and her mouth formed a startled O as she looked at the drawing, which showed her in a full-length red evening dress, accompanied by a tray of food and a glass of champagne, both with little wings, flying along beside her.

She smiled, then looked worried about having smiled.

She leaned forward and pressed a furtive kiss to his cheek before rushing away.

B was always too busy to speak to him, so he left his drawing of her on her desk, under a rock he’d found in the garden.

In it, she was floating on a cloud of messy bed sheets, eating a box of chocolates, while beneath her the dormitory beds performed a little dance.

Next time she saw him she waved and called out a cheery, “Thank you so much for the picture, Mr Tyler. I love it,” as she hurried past.

He even drew A. He had no idea what the mysterious boss of Belvedere looked like, so he drew him as a huge blank figure, his giant wings wrapped protectively around Belvedere.

Every single detail of A’s beautiful wings was sketched to perfection, in stark contrast to the empty void of his body.

The picture somehow managed to be both benign and sinister at the same time.

Alex gave the sketch to C. “Please give this to A for me – as a thank you for the pencils,” he said, feeling suddenly shy.

He spent all his days drawing now, barely pausing to eat.

He didn’t touch the magazines or watch the screen anymore, so engrossed was he in his art.

He captured the world around him, and the world of his imagination, combining them as one with his usual loving attention to detail.

One day, many days later, he looked up from his pad and realised that, for the first time in a long time, he was happy.

That changed without warning. Waking in confusion to a loud klaxon blaring in his ear, he saw that it was still dark outside and the clock on his bedside table said it was 5.

30a.m. Panicked, he wondered if it was a fire drill.

Then the door was suddenly flung open and a man he’d never seen before marched into the room.

“Get up,” the stranger yelled. He was about six feet tall, his thick brown hair plastered to his head with gel. Blearily, Alex noticed the thin black stick hanging from his belt. “I’m F. It’s time for your gym session.”

“Gym?” Alex blinked, confused. “I don’t go to the gym.”

“You do now, princess. Up, up, up.” F picked up one side of Alex’s mattress and tipped him onto the floor. “Clothes.” F threw a pair of sweatpants and a tee-shirt onto the bed. “Get dressed now. Quickly.”

Alex scrambled to obey, finding that the klaxon only stopped when he was fully clothed.

F ushered him straight to the gym. A woman he’d also never seen before was waiting for him.

She had blonde hair, scraped back into a tight, unforgiving ponytail, and thin, veiny hands.

She was as humourless as Mason had been as she went through the usual tedious gym routines.

“Any questions?” she barked when she was done.

“Yeah – what letter of the alphabet do you go by?” he drawled.

“I’m E. Don’t fuck with me,” she warned.

“Oh, trust me, fucking you doesn’t appeal,” he retorted facetiously. Her nostrils flaring, she ordered him onto the treadmill immediately. He was in poor condition, and she didn’t hold back in telling him so.

“You’ll spend every morning in the gym from five-thirty-five to seven a.m. from now on,” she barked. “Don’t be late.”

“Yes, sir ,” he muttered under his breath. For that, she increased the incline on the treadmill so he was running uphill, and he was soon too breathless to say anything.

During the mind-numbing tedium of exercise, he remembered the photos under his pillow. He hadn’t had time to return them to their usual hiding place behind the bathroom mirror. He fretted about them as he ran, hoping they were safe.

F returned at seven to escort him back to the dormitory.

“You have five minutes to get washed and shaved. Hurry up! We’re on a timetable here,” the man snapped, following him into the bathroom.

Alex stripped off quickly, looking forward to a nice hot shower to wash away the sweat, but as he stepped under the warm water, F reached in and turned it cold. Alex yelped.

“E said you were rude to her. Actions have consequences,” F said with a smirk.

“Fine,” Alex snarled as the cold water bit into his skin.

He didn’t spend long under the spray and emerged less than a minute later with his towel wrapped around his waist to find that F hadn’t moved.

“You still here? You must like the view,” Alex said, removing the towel insolently and taking a step towards him. “Is this what you wanted to see?”

F’s gaze travelled up and down Alex’s body slowly, lascivious and predatory, and Alex felt a shiver that had nothing to do with the cold shower.

He wished he hadn’t challenged F – he didn’t like the reaction.

F grinned, clearly enjoying Alex’s discomfort.

He wrapped the towel around his body and turned away.

“What the hell is going on?” he asked as he dried himself. “Where’s Dr C? Why has everything changed?”

“That’s none of your concern.”

“Where’s my ID tag?” he asked, looking around for Tyler’s fancy gold necklace.

“You won’t be wearing that again until it’s time to leave.” F grabbed his arm and pushed him back into the dormitory, where a set of plain white overalls was laid out on the bed. “Get dressed – quickly.”