Page 32 of The Lost Zone (Dark Water #3)

Chapter Ten

Alex

Alex thought about Two’s words, but he couldn’t bring himself to agree with his friend’s view of his situation. Learning how to be the perfect servant might have worked for Two, but Alex had a mission to accomplish, and he didn’t see how embracing his servitude could possibly help with that.

There was some good news the following day when F walked into the dorm and, with a scowl on his face that defied them to question him, packed up the white crate and removed it from the room.

“Oh, thank God,” Five exclaimed. “No more nights in that thing.”

“I hope this doesn’t mean he has something worse in mind,” Four murmured anxiously.

“I don’t think so,” Two responded. “I rather suspect that F’s reign of terror might be over.”

Alex glanced at him curiously. “What makes you say that?”

“He didn’t have his stick in his belt,” Two said. “Didn’t you notice?”

Alex hadn’t, but it was welcome news. “Maybe A has returned,” he suggested. “Maybe C told him what’s been going on in his absence, and he brought F to heel.”

“Ah – you think this is your doing. You think your ceaseless badgering of the good doctor has finally paid off.” Two grinned at him.

“It’s possible.”

Two laughed. “Oh, Alex, you really haven’t been an indie for very long if you think you have that much power.”

Whatever the reason, F’s behaviour changed overnight. He was still a loud and glowering presence, but there were no more threats, no further ill treatment of the indies, and no physical violence. Also, much to Alex’s surprise, he stopped demanding his daily blow jobs.

The next time Alex saw C, he decided to prove Two wrong by asking him about the change.

“I take it A is back, then,” he said as C instructed the medibot to weigh and measure him, analysing the results in his nanopad. He’d put on all the weight he’d lost, and the daily gym sessions and good food had both served to greatly improve his health.

“Hmm?” C asked absently.

“Did you speak to the boss about F? Because that situation is much better now.”

“Is it? Oh, good.” C stared owlishly at his screen through his glasses.

Alex felt short-changed. “Can I meet him?” he asked suddenly. “Can I meet A? I want to talk to him about what I’m learning here, and what my houder wants from me.”

C glanced at him, and for a moment his usually vague blue eyes seemed suddenly sharp. “You’re not ready to meet A yet,” he said firmly.

“Why not?”

“Trust me.” C smiled at him. “You’re not ready. You’ll know when you are.”

It was a strange answer, but C wouldn’t be drawn further.

Alex mulled it over for the next few days.

He could have understood it if A was too busy, but what on earth did Alex have to do, learn, or understand in order to be judged “ready”?

It was bizarre, but perhaps no more bizarre than many other aspects of Belvedere.

The course progressed, and although Alex was sure he was being taught nothing useful, he did enjoy the learning process.

It seemed the first two weeks had been a basic refresher, because now their classes became more specialised.

Each of the indies was given individual assessments of their skills by B, starting with sewing, which Alex didn’t have a clue about.

“Does my houder really need me to know this?” he asked her.

“We turn out polished indentured servants here,” she said firmly. “You might be attending your houder at an event and find he needs a button sewn onto his suit jacket.”

“Highly unlikely,” Alex murmured. “For so many reasons.”

The next day, his culinary skills were assessed and found equally wanting.

“Did your mother teach you nothing?” Two asked, surveying the mess he’d made in the kitchen.

“She taught me how to make an entrance,” Alex retorted, which made Two burst out laughing.

Alex loved making the dignified, elegant Two laugh.

His shoulders would start shaking as he tried to suppress it, then he’d snort, and finally, he’d give in and laugh openly, clutching his stomach and hooting loudly, with tears running down his cheeks.

It was such a delightful sight that it became Alex’s goal every day to make Two laugh.

He also flunked ironing and packing suitcases (was that even a thing?

Didn’t people just throw their clothes in and have done with it?), waiting tables and every single other aspect of what in his head he called “butlery”, although he had no idea if that was actually a word.

As the days passed, he became more and more convinced that there had been some kind of mistake.

There was no way Tyler had sent him here for this. It was absurd.

On the whole, though, he tried not to think about Tyler. The atmosphere was lighter now that F wasn’t oppressing them so much. B was a kind, patient woman and a good teacher, and Alex enjoyed the company of his fellow indies. Life was actually good – for now.

“Maybe that’s the secret – living in the moment,” he said to Two as they prepared for bed one evening.

“I mean, I know that, one day, this will come to an end and I’ll be sent back to Tyler, but for now…

I’m actually happy. Isn’t it weird how relative happiness is?

If you’d sent me to do this two years ago, I’d have found it tedious beyond belief.

Now, after life with Tyler, it’s a welcome relief. ”

“How did you end up with this awful houder of yours?” Two asked.

Alex shrugged. “It’s a long story.” It also wasn’t one he wanted to tell. He had a suspicion that his new friend would take a dim view of his past misdeeds.

“I understand.” Two patted his arm gently. “My apologies for being intrusive.”

“You have nothing to apologise for. If anyone should apologise, it’s me.

” Alex sat down on the side of Two’s bed.

The dorm was quiet. Four was already in bed asleep, and Five and Three were still watching the screen in the rec room.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said all week, and I realise how wrong it was of me to ask you to approach an IA on my behalf.

I’m an idiot. I look at Solange’s picture every night, and I know that’s what she’d say to me, if she was here. ”

“I appreciate the apology, but… maybe a more fitting tribute to Solange would be if you resolved not to make the same mistake again?” Two said softly.

Alex glanced at him, one eyebrow raised.

“You put people at risk, Alex. First D, by asking her to find your photos, and then me. Fair enough if those people are in positions of power and strength; it’s not unreasonable for you to ask.

But D is clearly a vulnerable person, and I’m an indentured servant, just like you.

Perhaps you could resolve not to make potentially dangerous requests of others who are in no better circumstances than yourself? ”

Alex nodded thoughtfully. “I’ll do better. For Solange.”

“And what about for you?” Two placed a hand gently over his.

“What can you do for yourself? You’re right – you will be sent back to this appalling houder who has terrorised and prostituted you.

Can you find a way of coping? He’s already beaten you badly, and next time, you might go the way of poor Solange, and that makes me so sad.

” Two’s warm brown eyes were full of compassion.

“I don’t know. I just seem to bring out something dark inside him – a twisted, bitter rage. I don’t think he’ll stop until he’s destroyed me.”

“That all sounds very personal. What on earth can you have done to make him hate you so?”

Alex gazed at him miserably. His secrecy about his past was no basis for a friendship, but if he told Two, he might lose that friendship altogether. In the end, he decided to trust the other indie with his story and hope for the best.

Leaning in, speaking quietly and quickly, he told him everything – about his mother’s death, his own stupid behaviour, the theft, the trial, the trickery.

He left nothing out, telling it as honestly as he could, including the many instances where he’d behaved badly.

There was a kind of catharsis in it – like being in the confessional.

“Your houder went to all those lengths to have his revenge on you?” Two asked when he’d finished, looking shocked and bemused.

“Yes. I hope it’s because he truly loved my mother, and not because he hates the Lyttons so much.”

“Maybe it’s a combination of the two.” Two drew his hand away and sat back, and Alex could tell that something had changed between them. His friend was distant and chilly, not his usual warm self.

“Perhaps I shouldn’t have told you,” he muttered. “I know I don’t come out of this story well, but please believe me when I say that I’m ashamed of myself and what I did.”

“As you should be,” was all Two said, in a curt tone. “Now, it’s late, and I need my beauty sleep.”

Alex returned reluctantly to his own bed. It was as he’d feared; he could feel Two’s disapproval in the new, frosty silence between them.

The next day was Sunday, so there was no F patrolling the dorm, harrying them to get ready.

Alex’s first thought was whether he could recapture some of his camaraderie with Two, but he turned to find Two’s bed empty, the sheets crisply pulled up and the bed perfectly made, as if Two hadn’t even slept in it.

Alex gazed at it despondently, but he couldn’t blame his friend. Alex was a mess of a man, and Two was nothing if not fastidious – it would hardly be surprising if that trait extended to the company he kept.

He was about to get up when he saw a folded piece of paper on his bedside table. He reached for it, frowning.

Dear One (Alex had to smile at the minor pun) , I’ve been unable to think about anything except your story all night. Please meet me at Solange’s spot when you wake up. I feel much more needs to be said. Two.