Page 20 of The Lost Zone (Dark Water #3)

D was particularly sweet to him over breakfast and slipped him an extra croissant. Perhaps she knew he’d spent the night in the cage, or perhaps she was concerned about the dark circles under his eyes. Alex thanked her, and she put a finger over her lips and shook her head.

A thought occurred to him, and he waited until she left the room and then excused himself to use the toilet and followed her. He caught up with her in the hallway. She gasped and looked at him in terror.

“Don’t. You’ll get into trouble.” It was the first time he’d heard her speak more than a few words, and she had a reedy, high-pitched voice, like a sparrow.

“Shh, it’s okay,” he said reassuringly. “Look, you’ve been very kind to me, and I wondered if you’d help me.”

She glanced anxiously over his shoulder at the dining room door. Clearly, the staff at Belvedere were as scared of F as the students.

“Do you have access to the staff room?”

“At break times, yes,” she squeaked.

“F took some photos from me. He keeps them in his locker in the staff room. Could you… Would you try to get them back for me?”

Her eyes widened in fear, and she shook her head frantically.

“Not if it’ll get you into trouble,” he said quickly. “Only if the opportunity presents itself, and you don’t get seen.”

She wasn’t wearing an ID tag, and the doctor had said that A didn’t employ indies, so D was a free woman – she might be scared, but maybe that was her disposition. What possible harm could come to her if she took the photos for him?

She pulled away and ran off down the corridor, leaving Alex unsure whether she had agreed or not. He didn’t care if she told F; he’d handle the inevitable punishment. He was more worried about whether she’d find a way to return his photos.

It was only during B’s morning ironing class that it struck him how stupid and thoughtless he’d been.

D had been kind to him, and he’d trespassed on that kindness for the sake of some photos.

Maybe he should add that to the list of who Alexander Lytton was – a selfish user, who was more concerned about getting what he wanted than the welfare of others.

He resolved to speak to D at lunch and withdraw his request, but she wasn’t there.

This was strange, as she was usually in attendance at every meal, and it made Alex fret even more.

The afternoon dragged on and by dinnertime he was exhausted.

The previous night’s lack of sleep, combined with the energetic workouts E insisted on, had taken their toll.

He ran to the dining room when the klaxon sounded, but D wasn’t there.

Alex had the sudden realisation that while she might be a free woman, that didn’t mean her living conditions were any better than if she’d been an IS.

She could lose her job because of him. Supposing she had a family to take care of?

Supposing this menial job, waiting tables at Belvedere, was all that stood between her and the Quarterlands?

He felt wretched and could almost hear Solange, Mick, and Ted chiding him for his usual lack of understanding of how other people lived.

“Looking for someone?” a voice behind him asked, and F strode into the room. The other students followed on behind, eagerly anticipating their dinner and recreation time.

“I just wondered where D was,” Alex said. ”She wasn’t at lunch, so I wondered… I hope she’s not ill?”

“Why would you care if she was? You don’t give a shit about her.”

“I do,” Alex protested, but he knew it sounded lame.

“Yeah. Right. That’d explain why you asked her to steal for you, then.”

Alex felt himself go cold, and the entire room came to a standstill as the others realised something big was happening. “Where is she?” Alex demanded. “What have you done to her?”

“Oh, don’t worry, she’s right here. I caught her looking through my locker and it didn’t take long to get the story out of her.”

F opened the dining room door and yanked D into the room. She was quivering in fear, her arms raised to ward off the blows she was clearly expecting.

“You fucking bastard.” Alex took a step forward, his fists clenched.

“I’m not the one who placed her in danger – you are. So, who’s the real bad guy here?” F taunted.

“Stop it! You’re scaring her.”

“She deserves it. She knows the rules.” F shoved her away, and D ran to a corner of the room, where she stood sobbing.

“So, were these what you wanted?” F reached into his pocket and pulled out the photos.

“Why do you want them? They’re just scummy magazine photos, except the ones of the pretty ladies.

Who are they? Some bitches you fucked?” Alex took another step forward – but stopped when F held up the photos.

“Now, I made you a nice, reasonable offer earlier, and maybe next time, you’ll learn to take me up on my kind offers. Otherwise…”

Suddenly, without warning, F ripped the photos in half.

Alex jumped forward, yelling incoherently, but Two grabbed him and held him back.

They all watched as F ripped the photos over and over again, shredding them into tiny pieces.

Then he threw them into the air, laughing as they fell like snowflakes around Alex’s head.

“Loser,” F said again, and then he grabbed D’s arm and left the room, hauling her with him.

Alex stood, frozen to the spot, struggling with his impotent rage. Two got down on his hands and knees and began recovering all the fragments.

“What’s the point?” Alex snapped. “Leave them. It’s useless.”

“They mean something to you, so it’s not useless,” Two said quietly.

Alex shook his head and strode back to the dorm, full of impotent fury.

He knew it was stupid to care so much about a few pictures, but they were all he had to remind him who he was.

He was a son, a brother, a friend, and a person – not a number.

He’d been losing himself, piece by piece, ever since he became an IS, and those photos had become his anchor. Without them, he was lost.

It was a foregone conclusion that he’d be spending another night in the cage.

“If anyone gives him so much as a pot to piss in, I’ll beat them so hard they won’t be able to move tomorrow,” F said, glaring warningly at Two.

Alex went into the crate without argument this time, curling himself up into a tight ball. Only Two came to check on him.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. Alex curled up even tighter and made no reply. “Goodnight, Alex,” Two murmured gently, and then he left.

Alex blinked. Had he imagined it, or had Two called him by his name?

How did Two even know his name? Then he remembered introducing himself on their first day, before F had cut him off.

The use of his name warmed him a fraction.

He still had a friend here. Someone who knew him, who liked and cared about him.

He wasn’t alone. It reminded him of how Solange’s friendship had kept him going through those dark days back in Vertex Tower.

He might not have her photo anymore, but he held the memory of her tight instead.

The next day, he made an effort with the ironing, and for the first time he wasn’t bottom of the group. He felt sorry for Five, who was the only one to perform worse than himself, but was relieved that he wouldn’t have to spend another night in the cage.

After dinner, in the rec room, Two called him over to the table.

“I need your help,” he told Alex. “I don’t know how all the pieces fit together.”

He pointed at the fragments of the photos, which he’d laid out on the table.

“I don’t understand,” Alex said.

“I thought we could put them back together. I have these.” Two pointed to a pot of glue and some sheets of paper. “I thought we could decide where they go first, and then, when we’re sure, we can stick them onto the paper.”

“Where the hell did you get those?”

“From B.”

“You stole them?” Alex asked anxiously. “Shit, Two, I don’t want you getting into trouble like D.”

“I didn’t steal them, I asked her for them. She didn’t have a problem giving them to me, but I am her star pupil.” Two gave a broad grin. “Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s get started.” He began sorting through the fragments on the table.

It was like doing a giant jigsaw, and before long, Three and Five came over to help as well.

Four remained on the sofa, making copious notes in his workbook, but the rest of them buried themselves in the task, slowly piecing the pictures together.

Alex was the final arbiter of which piece belonged where – he knew them so well that he could usually tell at a glance – but Three, in particular, proved adept at the task.

“You must take the corners first,” he announced. “I’ve always been very talented at doing jigsaws.” He puffed up his chest, and Alex felt a wave of fondness for him. Three might be an insufferable know-it-all, but his eagerness to please made him hard to dislike.

Five’s help was tokenistic rather than useful, and at one point, he reached over to place a fragment and brushed several pieces of an almost finished photograph to the floor with his sleeve, so they had to start all over again.

Nothing soured the good atmosphere around the table, though, and they finished the task in a good mood.

Four didn’t join in, but Alex noticed him watching, and decided that the aloof man was merely shy.

“This is your mother,” Two said as they finished piecing that photo together. “I can tell – you have her smile.”

“Yes.” Alex helped him glue the fragments onto the paper.

“She’s very pretty,” Five said.

“She’s dead.” Alex blew on the glue to dry it.

“Father and brother?” Three asked as they finished that photo a little while later.

“Yes.”

“Why are they in a magazine?” Five asked, frowning. “Are you famous?”

“No. We were in the news some time ago, that’s all. Nothing special or important.”