Page 28 of The Lost Zone (Dark Water #3)

“The best place to start is with the sun salutation,” Two instructed, guiding him into a stretch.

Holding Alex’s arm, he adjusted his position.

“That’s good. Now move like this into the next pose.

When you’ve learned them, they become fluid, one continuous motion.

Here.” Standing behind Alex, he placed his hand on his abdomen.

“Breathe slowly and deeply, like me,” he said.

Alex took a deep, calming breath. “That’s it.

Now, move like this…” He guided Alex into a different position, then another, lowering him down onto the mat.

Alex tried to remember to breathe and hold position at the same time and ended up doing neither, collapsing onto the mat with a laugh. Two sat down beside him, laughing too. Alex glanced at him, feeling strangely happy, and then, without even knowing why, he leaned over and kissed Two on the lips.

Two’s lips were firm and gentle – but they said no, not yes. Alex drew back, confused.

“Ah,” Two said regretfully. “That was very nice, but no, thank you, Alex.”

“Why not?” Alex asked, feeling flustered and confused.

“Because for you, sex is transactional. Blow jobs to keep F off my back, wielding your sexual ‘superpower’ to keep your houder’s guests entertained, and now offering me sex in return for kindness.”

“That’s not what I’m doing,” Alex protested.

“Isn’t it?” Two raised an eyebrow. “Not that I’m not flattered, sweetheart, because you are the most exquisite creature I’ve ever laid eyes on, but you’re not for me. I don’t think it does you any good, either. What happened to you, Alex, to make you think of sex in this way?”

“Nothing.” Alex shrugged.

“Was it your houder’s demands on you?” Two probed. Alex shifted uncomfortably. “Ah, no. It started before then. How far back does it go?”

“It doesn’t matter.” Alex looked away. The music still played in the background, the familiar stirring chords echoing around the gym. “Where did you get the soundtrack from?” Alex asked.

“B very kindly signed me in to the speaker system. I simply scrolled through to find something I wanted to do my yoga practice to.” Two shrugged. “I like classical music; it energises and yet soothes me at the same time – and you’re changing the subject.”

“Maybe it’s not a very interesting subject.”

“Not many people would say that about sex.” Two nudged him conspiratorially, and Alex shot him a grudging smile.

“You know, I lost my virginity to a tall, swarthy stranger who swept me off my feet when I was fifteen years old.” He smiled at the memory.

“We had sex in one of the lost rooms in the Quarter I grew up in – I was up to my knees in stinking cold water, but I’ll never forget the feeling of his warm hands on my skin.

Stealing furtive kisses in the dark, snatching moments, hiding, trying not to be seen.

The fear, the excitement, the anticipation of discovery. ”

“What happened? Did he break your heart?”

Two chuckled. “No – I wasn’t in love with him. It was dirty and raw. He was big, strong, and rough, and I was young, scared, and thrilled. He overwhelmed me, but I loved every second of it. It’s possible it set a pattern,” he said wryly. “What set your pattern, Alex?”

“I was seventeen when I lost my virginity,” Alex said, staring into space. “People think I slept around at boarding school, but I didn’t. Nobody there liked me enough to want to sleep with me, frankly.”

“So, who took you on your first sexual journey?” Two prompted.

A sudden rush of images and sensations, an ache in his knees, a sense of exhilaration and heroism, combined with revulsion…

“It wasn’t like that.” Alex got up. “I don’t think I can be bothered with yoga anymore. It’s not my thing. I’m going for a walk.” He pulled on his shoes and left the gym.

He wasn’t thinking as he set off walking, but his feet took him to his old spot out on the clifftop. He sat with his legs hanging over the edge, gazing out at the cold grey sea below.

Who are you?

He wasn’t sure he wanted to look deep enough into his own soul to find out.

He didn’t know how long he’d been there, but he was suddenly aware of someone sitting down beside him.

“I’m sorry,” Two said softly. “I fear that I’ve been very impertinent.”

“How the hell did you come to talk that way?” Alex demanded. “Does everyone from your Quarter talk like they’re in some Pre-R black-and-white movie?”

Two laughed. “No. I grew up sounding quite different, but I didn’t want to be that skinny little boy from the Quarterlands when I became an IS.

I wanted to leave that kid behind and become someone else.

They used to show those old movies at the hotel where I worked, and I loved the elegance of that era and copied how they walked and sounded. I’m a fraud,” he laughed.

“There are worse things to be,” Alex muttered.

“And I caused you pain, which wasn’t my intention. Please forgive me.”

“There’s nothing to forgive. I should be the one saying sorry – I shouldn’t have kissed you.”

“And I should have been kinder. You’re not used to being refused. Your pride was hurt.”

“Well…” Alex paused. “Sex has often been a way of escape for me. I like to lose myself in it, to not have to be me for a while. So, it wasn’t entirely transactional.”

“No, I can see that, and to be fair, that wasn’t entirely why I refused you.” Two patted his knee.

“Why then?” Alex glanced at him curiously.

“No offence, but you’re not my type.”

“Really? What is your type, then?” Alex asked, taken aback.

“Well, the handsome fella in that photo of yours ticks a lot of the boxes.” Two grinned.

Alex removed the pictures from his pocket, smoothed out the one of Joe, and gazed at it. “For me, too,” he murmured.

“He must mean a lot to you,” Two observed. “And I can see why. He’s precisely my type, so you have good taste.”

“I barely know him,” Alex said softly. “I only met him once.”

“Then why is his photo so important to you?”

“It wasn’t the kind of meeting you can ever forget.”

Two was silent, the only sound the sea crashing on the rocks below.

“I escaped from my houder once,” Alex told him. “His name is George Tyler – he’s a famous businessman, so you might have heard of him.”

“Indeed I have.”

“He hated me and treated me badly, so I escaped, and for just over one whole week I was free. I was cold, dirty, hungry, and terrified, but I was free. I skulked around in the bushes, hiding, because I knew my houder would come looking for me, and then…” He paused.

He couldn’t tell this story as it happened.

He couldn’t risk anyone knowing what Joe did for escaped indentured servants.

Two was patient, silently encouraging him, so Alex decided to tell him what he could, amending the story slightly.

“I met him in a coffee shop. His name is Josiah – Joe – and he was buying drinks for himself and his husband, Peter. I was alone and scared, and I watched them – I had nothing else to do. They were so much fun and they clearly loved each other. I barely spoke to them, but I could see that.”

“What happened to make such an impact on you that you keep his photo?” Two asked.

Alex stared out across the sea. “They went back to their car, but… uh, someone followed them. I saw this tramp open the car door and stab Peter, completely out of the blue. Maybe he was trying to steal the car. I don’t know.

It all happened so quickly. I ran over and tried to pull the tramp away.

Joe and I fought him together, and eventually, he dropped the knife and ran off, but it was too late for Peter.

He died in Joe’s arms. I called for an ambulance, but I couldn’t stay because I was an escaped indie.

So, I ran away, leaving Joe behind in the rain with Peter’s body. ” Alex realised he was shaking.

Two wrapped a warm arm around his shoulders, which helped. “Oh, darling. What a nightmare. You poor, dear thing. I can see now why you keep Joe’s photo.”

“But I don’t know him. It was just one terrible moment that’ll stay with me forever. I think about him a lot and wonder how he is. I wish I could talk to him, or help him somehow.”

“He has his own path to travel, and you have yours,” Two soothed, squeezing his shoulder. “You have your own grief to contend with, I think.”

“Yes.” Alex gazed at the photo of Solange, studying her wistful face. “This is Solange, my best friend.”

“She’s a beautiful girl.”

“Yes.” Alex traced his fingers over the photo. “She keeps me alive.”

“How so?”

Alex hesitated, then answered honestly. “Before the course began, when I was here all alone, I used to come here every day and decide whether to throw myself off this clifftop.” Two took a sharp intake of breath.

Alex turned to glance at him. “I think of this place as Solange’s spot, because I always chose to live – and it was because of her. ”

“The thought of seeing her again?”

“No. She’s dead. She was the one who helped me escape, and she paid for it with her life; my houder killed her.”

Two went very still. “What happened?”

“Tyler captured me and beat me so hard for trying to escape that I nearly died.”

“I’ve seen the scars on your back, and I wondered how you came by them,” Two murmured.

“He put them there. She tried to stop him, so he hit her, and she fell and cracked her head and died. He wrapped her body in a rug and threw her into the water like she was nothing to hide his crime. She was a lovely, funny, warm person, but her life didn’t matter because to him she was just some Quarterlands whore he’d bought to entertain his guests. ”

“Alex, this is terrible,” Two exclaimed. “Did you report him to the authorities?”

“Do you really think he’d let me do that? He kept me imprisoned at all times – and then he sent me here.” Alex turned to Two. “That’s how she keeps me alive. Solange Alajika was my friend; I’ll do whatever it takes to obtain justice for her.”

Two removed his arm from around Alex’s shoulders and pulled away from him. “Alex, why are you telling me this?” he asked quietly.

“Because your houder gives you far more freedom than mine, and I don’t know whether I’ll ever get out of here, or what state I’ll be in when I do.

Maybe, somehow, they’ll squeeze all hope of getting justice for Solange out of me and turn me into the good little indie that Tyler wants me to be, so I’ll never speak out against him.

You can, though,” he said urgently, gripping Two’s arm.

“When you return home, you can go to an investigation agency and tell them what happened to Solange. Go to Joe. His full name is Josiah Raine. They said on the news that he’s an investigator at some agency called Inquisitus.

Tell him. He’ll listen, I know he will.”

Two stared at him for a long time. “Do you always use the people who are kind to you?” he asked eventually. “I saw what happened to D, and now you’re trying to use me, too. Is that what you do, Alex? Is that who you are?”

“No.” Alex shook his head vehemently. “I’m just desperate! I swore I’d get justice for Solange, but how can I help her when I’m locked up in here, or in one of Tyler’s mansions?”

“I have no evidence,” Two protested. “If I went to an IA with this, they’d laugh me out of the room. Even if they took me seriously, do you really think Mr Tyler would allow me to make such accusations with impunity? Think, Alex – would he really?”

“I don’t know, but someone has to stop him.”

Two shook his head. “I’m a servant, Alex.

I know my place – and I suggest you learn yours.

There will always be people like George Tyler in the world, and we are powerless to resist.” He scrambled to his feet and looked down on Alex.

“The strong always exploit the weak. All the weak can do is learn the skills necessary to survive. Give in and embrace your servitude, Alex – it’s the only way. ”