Page 78 of The Lost Zone (Dark Water #3)

Alex, always sharp, caught on. “Thank you, Joe,” he said softly, bending over Josiah’s right side, blocking Neil’s view.

It took a moment. Josiah almost fumbled it, but Alex’s pocket was just within reach, and he was able to deposit the microchip into it.

Alex pressed a kiss to his cheek, and Josiah smiled up at him.

“Take care, Alex,” he said softly.

“You too, Joe. You too.”

Alex returned to where Neil was waiting for him. Neil tucked the gun back in his jacket and grabbed his arm, making him wince.

“Don’t try to follow us. The door is guarded by my men and they’re under orders to kill you if necessary. I hope it isn’t, because I’d rather avoid bloodshed if possible, but I can’t have you interfering with my plans. Alex and I deserve our happy ending.”

“Yes, you do,” Josiah said encouragingly.

“One more thing…” Neil paused and glanced back at him.

“He doesn’t love you, Neil. Oh, he doesn’t love me, either.

” He gave a rueful smile. “He doesn’t love anyone.

When has he ever had the space and freedom to fall in love?

He hasn’t. He’s only ever had people wanting things from him. ”

Alex’s eyes went suddenly wide and startled, and Josiah knew he’d hit a nerve. He shot him a wry, knowing smile. “I understand,” he said gently, just to him. “And it’s okay.”

Neil looked furious. He pulled on Alex’s injured arm, making him cry out. “You’re new to the Alex Lytton Fanboy Shitshow, Raine, and you don’t have a fucking clue. This is what Alex does. He sucks you in, uses you, chews you up, and spits you out. He doesn’t love you.”

“I know, but he doesn’t love you, either.”

Neil didn’t want to hear any of this. Pushing Alex out of the door, he paused only to turn off the lights, plunging Josiah into darkness.

He knew he didn’t have much time. The second Neil dragged Alex onto that helicopter he’d be lost, because the UK only had a handful of extradition treaties with other countries these days.

He could only hope that the storm continued to rage outside, preventing take-off.

How long had he been unconscious earlier?

Reed was no doubt on his way, but it’d take him awhile to reach Canary Quarter, and the place was huge.

Searching for Josiah would take him days.

Alex didn’t have days. He might not even have hours.

He needed him to act, and fast. Drawing on his army training, he stood up as quietly as possible, so as not to draw the attention of the guards outside the door.

The chair came with him, but he was soon able to pull his arms free from it.

Then he stepped through his tied hands, so they were in front of him, still tied but at least of some use.

While Neil was talking, he’d made a mental map of the layout of the room and its contents.

The croc processing plant had a number of components, one of which was several steel panels.

He moved silently towards the closest one, taking care not to trip over anything he remembered in his path.

Finding the panel, he used the edge to saw through the rope.

It took a few minutes, and he had to stop several times to listen out for any sign his guards had been alerted by the rasping noise, but finally he managed to sever it and free his hands.

He had no weapons but that didn’t bother him. It was possible the men outside had guns, but he suspected they were more likely to have knives. Regardless, he had the element of surprise, and he loved a fight. Why else spend all those hours in the boxing ring, if not to be ready for the real thing?

Prizefighting, Rosengarten, scav ambushes – he’d been here before many times. His adrenaline spiked, but this time, the stakes were higher because Alex was in danger.

He took the remains of the rope and tied it to a piece of the factory machinery, then tested it.

Satisfied, he picked up his chair, then tiptoed silently towards the door, holding the end of the rope.

It stretched just far enough – a little short, but that wasn’t a problem.

He took a deep breath, concentrated, and then pulled on the rope, hard.

The machinery tumbled to the floor with a loud crash, and in the split-second that followed, he took the chair and hid behind the door.

Neil’s thugs weren’t slow to respond. The door was flung open and they came charging in to see what the noise was about.

Josiah used the darkness and confusion to take out a couple as they entered.

The dimness was to his advantage as his eyes had become accustomed to it.

He slammed the door shut behind them to cut out any light from the hallway outside.

He’d counted six as they came in and had taken out two already.

The rest were blundering around in the room, looking for him.

He crept up behind one of them and took him out silently by wrapping his big arms around the man’s neck and choking him, then lowering him to the floor – and that was when his luck ran out.

Two more men ran into the room and hit the light switch, exposing his position.

He blinked, trying desperately to adjust to the sudden bright light.

His vision cleared and he found five men advancing on him cautiously.

One against five. He was happy with those odds.

Only one of his assailants had a gun, which he recognised as his own.

Guns were expensive commodities, and even in the Quarterlands they weren’t common, which confirmed his suspicion that they only had the one gun between them. They all had knives, though.

The one with the gun held it up, grinning. “Grant said we could kill you if you tried to escape. It’ll be a pleasure.”

Josiah used the chair as a makeshift shield, holding it in front of him.

He wouldn’t survive a direct hit, but if a bullet hit the chair, he stood a chance.

“You’re Duke’s men, aren’t you? Grant’s stolen Duke’s money and gone rogue.

He won’t thank you for letting him go. Why don’t you call Duke and find out? ”

The men glanced at each other uneasily, confirming his suspicion that Duke wasn’t a pleasant man to work for.

“I’m not making it up. Grant has double-crossed your boss. What’s the betting Duke takes it out on you if he can’t get his hands on Grant?”

He wasn’t seriously expecting them to call Duke.

He only wanted that second of doubt, of indecision, and when it came, he took his moment.

He slammed the chair into the man with the gun, whacking him hard across the arm, sending the weapon flying.

He thumped the man twice, taking him down, then went for the gun.

He’d only gone a few paces when he felt a sharp pain in his shoulder and knew he’d been knifed.

The gun had disappeared under the factory machinery, so it was out of play.

He turned, feeling warm blood running down his arm.

“Oh, that was stupid,” he told them, grinning as he felt the adrenaline take over.

The fighting mist descended, time slowed, and now he was in the zone. He loved this feeling. He knew he was invincible as he charged towards the men. He took one out, stealing the knife from his hand as the thug went down. Now there were three.

“Fancy your chances?” he asked one of them casually, and then, without signalling his intent, he charged one of the others, stabbing his arm and sending the man’s knife flying. “Then there were two… that’s a shame, as I’m enjoying this.” He smirked.

When he was in the zone, it was as if he was watching from afar, able to see every move, calculate every action and reaction, and always stay two steps ahead.

He feinted left, then came back hard and punched out the man directly in front of him, who went down with a satisfying crunch. Then there was only one left.

The thug wetted his lips with his tongue, circling him, knife at the ready.

Josiah could see he was playing for time, hoping some of his comrades would recover enough to return to the fray.

Josiah wasn’t about to let that happen. He simply charged towards him, grabbed his knife arm and headbutted him at the same time.

The man slipped to the floor, screaming and clutching his broken nose, while Josiah took his knife and tucked it into his pocket.

His way clear, he ran across the room and searched under the machinery for his gun, then sprinted for the door. Some of the men he’d taken down were stirring – he held the gun on them.

“You really should make that call to Duke,” he advised, and then he left, slamming the door shut behind him.

There was a key in the lock, which he turned, locking them all in.

He found his abandoned holopad lying on the floor outside and grabbed it, then made a run for the exit, calling Reed on the way.

“Where the hell are you? We’ve been searching the Canary Quarter for ages, but there’s no sign of you,” Reed snapped.

“I’ve been locked up inside a croc factory. Long story. I’m in the tallest tower – Cabot territory. Meet me outside.”

It was pitch black when he reached the exit, and the weather was still atrocious, wind and rain battering Canary Quarter with the occasional ominous boom of thunder in the distance.

All around were the lights of various watercraft, bobbing in the darkness.

It would be impossible to spot Reed in the driving rain.

Then, suddenly, an AV appeared from nowhere out of the gloom, its lights heading straight for him.

It wasn’t just any AV, either; it floated inches above the water, sleekly covering the distance in half the time.

It was shiny, silver, and elegant, with the Tyler Tech logo on the front and Destiny engraved beneath it.

For the first time in his life, Josiah felt a grudging appreciation for a vehicle.