Page 25 of The Lost Zone (Dark Water #3)

Chapter Eight

Alex

Alex slept well for the first time since the new regime had begun – so well that he almost slept through the klaxon. The first he was aware of it was when he opened his eyes to find F looking down on him.

“Aw, someone took pity on you last night,” F said, glaring at Two. “Isn’t that sweet? Now get up. You’re late.” Grabbing Alex’s arm, he hauled him bodily out of bed and propelled him to the gym.

When Alex returned to the dorm an hour and a half later, he found that his mattress had been stripped of the soiled bedding and was propped up against the wall.

“We thought we’d take it to the laundry room and ask B if we can scrub out the stain,” Two said.

“We can launder the bedding while we’re working today,” said Three.

“So you’ll have clean sheets tonight,” Five added excitedly.

Alex swallowed hard. “Thank you,” he whispered, before hurrying to the bathroom to compose himself.

“One more thing…” Two poked his head around the bathroom door. “The photos.” He held them up. “You left them in your pocket last night. I rescued them this morning in case F went through your things, but after what happened last time, I think you should find a safer hiding place for them.”

“I have one.” He showed Two the hiding place behind the bathroom mirror.

“Oh! Ingenious. Well, that should work.” Two handed him the pictures, and he tucked them away, out of sight. “You okay?” Two leaned against the sink, looking at him searchingly.

“I’m fine. Thank you for last night, and for the bedding and for not asking about the people in the photos.”

“That’s your business, Alex,” Two said quietly. “You don’t owe me an explanation, but if you ever want to talk about it, I’m here.”

They all skipped breakfast to help Alex carry the mattress to the laundry workroom. B was happy for them to use the facility to clean it, and they manhandled it into one of the big sinks and began scrubbing at it. F had done a good job of pissing all over it, leaving it thoroughly stained.

“This reminds me of growing up,” Four said, and they all turned to look at him because he so rarely spoke. “I was raised in a government work camp, and the mattresses there stank to high heaven. God knows how many had slept on them over the years.”

“What were the work camps like?” Alex asked.

Four shrugged. “We had a roof over our heads and just enough food to eat. My parents worked hard; we weren’t allowed to live as a family, but we saw each other for an hour every night.

I lived with my mother and sister in a dorm until I was ten, and then went to live with my father in the men’s dorm.

I’m glad he was there with me.” He grimaced.

“My parents told me that I had to study hard to get out of the camps – they didn’t want the same life for me that they’d endured – so I did,” Four said quietly.

“I studied every night by candlelight after they’d turned off the main lights.

” It was clearly a habit that had persisted.

Alex thought of him reading the course manual every night after class, poring over it and writing copious notes.

Clearly, Four had taken his parents’ words to heart.

It made the aloof man seem more human. Four looked surprised at having said so much; he put his head down and returned to scrubbing the mattress.

“Diligence, application, hard work – it’s the only way,” Three murmured approvingly.

“I came from a family of indentured servants and a work ethic was instilled in us at a young age. We worked for a nice family in a big house. My parents and I shared a room; it was plainly furnished but perfectly adequate for our needs. My parents raised me to always work hard and mind my P’s and Q’s, so I could be of service to others.

They insisted I do chores for the family we lived with from when I was five years old, so I could learn.

It’s stood me in good stead.” He puffed out his chest righteously.

“Where did you grow up, Five?” Alex asked. The gauche young lad seemed pleased to be included in the conversation.

“In a cube on a massive box estate. It was a dump, but at least it was dry. There were seven of us – all with different dads. Mum shagged around to feed us.” Five shrugged.

“Us kids shared a couple of mattresses on the floor. We used to run around the estate in packs causing trouble, which was fun.” He grinned.

“But when each of us turned sixteen, Mum said we had to fend for ourselves and turned us out on the street. I worked in a factory for a bit and bunked up with friends, and signed up to become an indie as soon as I was eighteen just to get away from it.”

Alex saw Two looking at him. “I’d imagine your childhood was a little different, One,” Two said softly.

“Yes.” Alex felt suddenly ashamed of the comfort of his early years.

“I probably came from the kind of family you worked for, Three, and to be honest, I resented sharing the house with so many indies. I wanted my family and my home to myself.” Three blinked, looking taken aback, and Alex hurried to explain.

“I was selfish. I didn’t understand what it was like for you.

I saw very little of the real world. I suppose my parents protected me from it. ”

“Belvedere must be something of a shock for you, then,” Four said.

“Not really,” Alex murmured. “I was sent to a succession of increasingly strict boarding schools, so I’m used to sharing chilly dorms and being woken up at dawn to do mindless exercise.” He grinned.

“That sounds almost as bad as the work camps,” Four said. “But I guess I had my family.”

“Well, I had my big brother,” Alex said.

“He looked out for me until he left. My mother was raised in a work camp.” He glanced at Four.

“She never talked about it.” He wished he’d asked more now, but she’d always glossed over anything difficult or sad – she’d wanted everyone to be happy, positive, and upbeat at all times.

“Shit, F’s piss smells bad,” Five exclaimed as he scrubbed the mattress. “I hate that bastard. He’s just like the overseer in the indie dorm where I work.”

“And like the bullies at school,” Alex said.

“You should keep quiet and not do anything to antagonise him,” Three told them sternly. “Neither Four nor I have had any trouble with him. He’s just doing his job.”

“I can’t keep quiet,” Alex seethed. “I never could around bullies. I know it makes things worse, but I can’t help myself. I just kick off.”

Two raised an eyebrow. “Maybe, when you’ve been a servant for longer, you’ll learn how to…”

“Suffer in dignified silence, like you?” Alex snapped. “I don’t think I want to learn that!”

“I was going to say master your feelings to make life easier for yourself,” Two murmured mildly.

“Where did you grow up, Two?” Five asked.

“In the Quarterlands,” Two replied. Everyone paused for a moment to glance at him. He looked at their stunned faces and smiled. “Nothing more needs to be said.”

They finished with the mattress and set it out to air. Then they went straight to their first class, which was polishing shoes. It made a change from the relentless ironing, and Alex found, much to his surprise, that he enjoyed it.

“A good task well done,” Three said approvingly, glancing at Alex’s work when they broke for lunch.

“It’s like painting,” Alex said. Three looked at him curiously. “I studied art in my spare time at university – I enjoy painting. It relaxes me,” Alex explained. “Polishing shoes makes me feel the same.”

“If you could find some value in the act of service itself, beyond what gives you pleasure or displeasure, maybe it would help you adapt to your situation,” Two said pointedly. Alex rolled his eyes affectionately and walked away.

“Thank God it’s lunchtime. I’m starving,” Five said, as they walked into the dining room. They’d all missed breakfast so lunch smelled particularly good.

“Not you.” F brought his stick down to block the doorway when Two tried to walk through. “You don’t have time for lunch. The dorm was a mess when I inspected it – go and clean it up.”

“We left it perfectly clean,” Alex protested.

“Well, I say it’s dirty.”

“Why does Two have to tidy it?”

“Doesn’t Two do all the dirty work in your group?” F asked with a malicious smile. “Like offering up his bed to people who should sleep on the floor? Two is clearly the martyr of the group, so he should enjoy tidying the dorm instead of eating lunch. Now,” he barked at Two.

“This is—” Alex began hotly, but Two shook his head warningly.

“It’s fine. F makes a good point,” he said, with his usual wry good humour. He turned to go, and F helped him on his way with a shove that almost sent him flying, before following him menacingly back to the dorm.

E oversaw lunch instead, patrolling the room to ensure there was no talking.

Alex sat down at the table fuming, and when E’s back was turned, he wrapped a couple of rolls in a napkin and shoved them in his pocket.

D appeared at the end of the meal to clear away the dishes, but she was like a frightened rabbit and refused to make eye contact.

He tried to mouth “I’m sorry” at her, but she turned her back and hurried away.

She didn’t offer him any furtive special treats either, and he felt a pang of guilt.

Two joined them in the workroom for the afternoon session, having missed lunch entirely.

“You okay?” Alex asked as they waited for B to arrive.

“I’m fine.” Two sighed. “The lovely F had turned the dorm upside down. It took me an hour to make all the beds again and tidy up.”

“You must be starving. Here – sorry it’s not much – it’s the best I could do.

” Alex shoved the rolls at Two, just as B and F entered the room.

Two took them gratefully and shoved them into his pocket before they were seen.

He made an excuse to use the bathroom half an hour later and shot Alex a little wink on his way out, and a surreptitious thumbs-up sign on his way back in.