Page 12 of The Lost Zone (Dark Water #3)

Running over to the bed the minute F left the room, Alex checked frantically for the photos…

but they were gone. He looked under the bed in case they’d been flung there by F’s manhandling earlier, but there was no sign of them.

Ducking back into the bathroom, hoping beyond all reason they’d magically found their way back to their hiding place behind the mirror, he searched for them there frantically, but there was no sign of them.

His towel fell to the floor in all the frenetic activity and he roared in impotent rage, kicking it across the bathroom floor.

He needed those photos. He had to have the picture of Solange to remind him of his purpose, and his father and Charles because they were the only two people alive in this world that he loved.

He must have the photo of his mother, so he could remember her face and her smile, and remind himself that he had once been loved…

and he needed to see Joe, too, because they were connected, and he wanted to feel close to him.

He had to get the photographs back. He could survive whatever horrors the new regime at Belvedere subjected him to if he only had his photos.

He returned to the dormitory and pulled his clothes on just in time before F returned, carrying a large white crate – the kind you might keep a big dog in. F placed it in the centre of the room.

“What’s that for?” Alex asked.

F gave another of those ugly smirks. “I’m sure you’ll find out soon enough.”

They were interrupted by a sudden knock on the door, and then it was cautiously pushed open. A little group of men stood there, peering in.

“Is this the right room?” the first one asked uncertainly. He was in his early fifties, with short white hair cut close to his head and warm brown eyes. “We’re looking for the advanced IS training course. The lady downstairs directed us here.”

“This is it. Get your arses in here,” F ordered.

The four men scuttled into the room. In addition to the white-haired man, there was a thin man in his thirties with warm brown skin and a dark moustache, a fat, bald man with a cheerful smile, and a skinny ginger-haired lad who looked no more than twenty and wore a permanently anxious expression on his hangdog face.

“Hello, nice to meet you,” the first man said, walking towards Alex. He had the kind of open, amiable features that were impossible to dislike.

“Hi. Um, I mean… welcome.” Alex wasn’t sure what was happening, but it seemed that he had company – which must mean the course was finally going to start. He held out his hand. “I’m Alex Ly… I mean, Alex Ty—” he began, but he was cut off as F grabbed his arm and pulled him away.

“Not anymore you’re not,” F barked. “Nobody here has a name, or a past, or an opinion. You.” He hauled Alex across the room.

“You’re One.” F positioned him in front of his bed.

“This is where you’ll stand for inspection at seven-fifteen every morning, and from now on, the only name you’ll answer to is One. Got it?”

Alex couldn’t help himself. Just like when he was a kid at school, he was unable to stay quiet when being bullied. “Technically, that’s not a name, it’s a number,” he drawled. “What is it with you people? First it’s alphabet soup, and now it’s number games?”

F raised his stick, and Alex flinched, awaiting the blow. It didn’t come. F stood over him, grinning at his subservient pose, and somehow that was even worse than if he’d been hit.

“You’re One. Got it?” F repeated.

“Yes,” Alex muttered, “got it.”

“Good. You.” F turned to the white-haired man and pointed at the bed next to Alex’s. “You’re Two. Understood?”

Two shot Alex a startled look. “Yes, sir,” he said. F’s stick made a sharp cracking sound as it slammed onto his arm. Two gave a yelp of pain.

“I’m F. You’ll address me as F at all times – not ‘sir’, or ‘you bastard’, or anything else you feel inclined to call me.

” F grinned. “We’re very strict about naming protocols here.

I’m F, that piece of shit over there is One, you’re Two, and you…

” He turned and pointed at the fat man, the moustached man, and the young lad in turn. “You’re Three, Four, and Five. Got it?”

“Yes, F,” the men replied nervously in unison.

“Good.” F glanced at his watch. “Get into position for morning roll-call.” He clicked his fingers, and the men scrambled into position in front of their beds. Alex glanced at Two, who was rubbing his arm, looking shocked.

“You okay?” he whispered. Two shot him a befuddled look but managed a little nod.

“From now on, every single second of your day is accounted for,” F said, strolling up and down in front of them.

“You will keep to your timetable at all times, you will work hard, and you will obey the rules. Idleness, disobedience, and disrespect will be punished. You will do as you’re told, quickly and without argument, or suffer the consequences.

” F surveyed the room. “While you’re here, you have no identities of your own.

You will forget your names, your pasts, and why you were sent here.

The only thing that concerns you from now on is to learn the lessons we’ll teach, and learn them well. ”

“Uh… how long is the course expected to last, F?” Two asked meekly.

Alex winced, expecting another violent outburst, but F merely shot him a look and continued pacing.

“There are no time limits at Belvedere,” he announced.

“You’ll leave when we’re satisfied you’ve learned everything your houders have paid us to teach you.

” He crouched down, took a large bag from the cage, and upended it on the table.

Five identical ID necklaces made of pliable white plastic tumbled out.

“You’re all numbers now,” he said, picking up one of the necklaces. “Faceless. Blank. Empty.”

He strode over to Alex with the necklace dangling in his hand. There was a steel tag attached to it with Belvedere engraved on it in plain, blunt lettering.

“Forget about your pasts and everything in them. We will shape you, teach you, and mould you into perfect servants. From now until the day we release you, you’re ours.” He fastened the ID necklace around Alex’s neck and stood back with a grim smile. “You belong to Belvedere now.”