Page 27 of The Quarterlands (Dark Water #4)

Chapter Eight

Alex

Sunlight crept around the side of the blinds, and then darkness. Sunlight. Darkness. Sunlight… and then a persistent knocking that finally permeated his consciousness.

“Mr Alexander? Please, are you well?”

Alex moved his head slowly, with great effort. His body ached, his tongue felt swollen, and his head was on fire.

“Who…?” The word came out more like a gasp, his thick tongue getting in the way.

The door opened and a man entered the room.

“Forgive me, Mr Alexander, but I’m worried about you.” The man was carrying a jug of water and a glass. He set them down on the nightstand, then leaned over him with a concerned frown, placing a cool hand on his head. “You are not well.” The frown deepened. “But you have no fever.”

“I’m fine.” How to explain that the malady was within the mind, not the body?

“You have not left this room in many days. You haven’t eaten or drunk anything. You are most certainly not fine.”

Alex gazed at the man, wondering who he was. He was tall and thin, and his skin was as dark as polished ebony. He seemed vaguely familiar. Had they met? Was Alex supposed to entertain him?

“I don’t have my blue pills,” Alex mumbled.

“You require medication?” the man asked. “Tell me where I can find it, and I will assist you.”

Alex blinked. “Who are you? Do you want to fuck me?” he asked blankly.

The man recoiled, as if struck. “Mr Alexander, my name is Jabir. We have been introduced, remember? I take care of Mr Tyler’s hacienda.

I am instructed to also take care of you in his absence.

Now, sit up, my friend, and drink some water.

” He helped Alex up and held a cup of cool water to his parched lips.

Alex drank, and slowly the aching in his head subsided a fraction.

“You are dehydrated, Mr Alexander,” Jabir chided mildly.

“I have brought you a tray of food also.” He opened the blinds, which made Alex’s eyes hurt, then left the room briefly, returning with a bowl of fresh fruit, cut into bite-sized pieces, and some bread and cheese, also in little chunks.

“You will feel better if you eat,” Jabir said, setting the tray on the bed.

He propped some pillows behind Alex and then stood beside him, gazing at him with what appeared to be genuine concern.

“Am I supposed to be doing something?” Alex slurred, squinting up at him. “Does Mr Tyler require anything of me?” A panicked thought gripped him. “Has he returned?”

“No, Mr Tyler has no plans to return. I spoke to him this morning. He told me I must rouse you and see that you eat, drink, and take care of yourself. He’s worried about you.”

“I’ll be okay. I was just…” What? How could he possibly explain that he’d been lying here simply ceasing to exist for however many days had passed since Tyler left? Most of the time he’d slept, but when he was awake, he’d gazed blankly at the ceiling, unable to move.

“You are very tired, I think,” Jabir said gently. “You need to rest.”

“Yes. Very tired,” he whispered. There were smartwalls here, just as there were in all Tyler’s properties. He was still being watched. He still needed his mask… but where was it? “I think I left it over there,” he murmured, pointing vaguely in the direction of the pool.

“We will fetch it later,” Jabir said with a kind smile. “For now, you will eat. Here, I will help.” He sat on the bed beside Alex and gently placed a piece of melon in his mouth. “This is how I feed my children when they are sick,” he murmured.

“You have children?” The melon felt like nectar in his mouth, a sweet explosion of juicy coolness.

“I have many children,” Jabir laughed. “We’ve been called selfish, given the situation in the world, but my wife and I both come from big families and we always wanted to have one of our own.”

He continued to feed Alex from the tray, while telling him the names and ages of his children. Alex couldn’t follow any of it, but he recognised kindness even in his current weakened state and relaxed. Jabir meant him no harm. He doubted the tall, gentle man was capable of harming anyone.

He managed to eat a little of the food, and when he’d had enough, Jabir stood.

“You must wash and dress, Mr Alexander. Take a few steps outside into the fresh air. Then you will feel better.”

Alex wasn’t sure he could stand, let alone take any steps, but Jabir helped him.

He was wearing the loose cotton robe he always pulled on after swimming, and as he stood, it fell open.

He heard Jabir stifle a gasp, and when he caught sight of himself in the mirror opposite, he understood why.

His body was covered in bruises, particularly his throat and wrists, but also his ribs and thighs.

They were of various colours – purple, yellow, red, green – some more recent than others.

“I will help you to wash,” Jabir said softly, holding his arm as he walked him across the room to the bathroom.

It felt good to stand beneath the warm spray, even if he did need Jabir to support him as if he were an infant.

His new friend washed him, then gently dried him and guided him back to the bedroom.

He dressed Alex in a pair of soft linen trousers and a tee-shirt, both of which hung off him, then slid his feet into a pair of sandals.

“Come. I’ve prepared the courtyard. You can sit, and we will talk,” Jabir said, helping him to stand again.

It took all Alex’s strength to walk the short distance along the hallway to the beautiful courtyard.

It was a hot day, but one side of the courtyard was shady and cool.

Jabir assisted him to a sun lounger and helped him onto it.

Then he sat in front of him, placed a towel on his knees, and took his feet into his lap.

“Allow me, Mr Alexander. My wife says I give the best foot rubs in all of Spain.” Jabir’s teeth were bright white against his dark face as he grinned.

Alex had no strength to protest. He lay back and allowed Jabir to rub his feet gently with an oil that smelled of rose blossom.

He closed his eyes and felt tears running down his face.

How strange it felt to cry without the accompanying mellow high of croc.

Why was he crying anyway? He hadn’t wept for a very long time, so why now?

They weren’t sobs, though. His eyes simply seemed to be excreting tears under their own volition.

He was barely inhabiting his body now; it seemed to be doing its own thing.

Jabir was polite enough to pretend not to notice as the tears fell copiously down his cheeks, on and on and on.

Why was it always so much worse when people were kind than when they were mean?

“I think you have been through some very trying times,” Jabir murmured, which Alex thought was an understatement. “And now, you must rest, sit in the sun, swim in the pool, and eat all the lovely fresh food I will bring for you. Soon you will feel well again, Mr Alexander.”

“Please call me Alex,” he whispered.

But Jabir shook his head. “I cannot do that, sir.”

Alex couldn’t be bothered to protest. He sat back and allowed the other man’s strong hands to gently but firmly massage his feet back into existence.

The next few days passed in much the same way.

Jabir would help him to wash and dress, feed him like a child, then assist him to the courtyard to sit while he massaged his feet – and then his hands, and finally his head and shoulders, his strong fingers working magic on the tight knots in Alex’s muscles.

Each day he relaxed a little more, and became a little stronger.

Jabir wore a little gold cross around his neck, and sometimes, when he took a break from his duties to drink a cup of the strong coffee he favoured, he read his bible.

Alex wondered what comfort he drew from it.

His own experience of religion had been the fire and brimstone kind, but Jabir seemed to worship a different god .

“Do you pray, Mr Alexander?” Jabir asked him one day.

“No. My father was religious, and we were brought up in the church, but now… I have no faith.” Alex shrugged. “My father is a Floodite,” he added, gazing at the glorious blue sky, completely devoid of clouds. “An Arkian?” he clarified, seeing Jabir’s look of blank incomprehension.

“I have heard of them.” Jabir’s mouth settled into a disapproving line. “I do not care for their views. I worship a loving, forgiving deity. I do not believe he punishes innocent children by sending floods to drown them and cast them from their homes.”

“I don’t think my father really believed that, either, but his father loved all that thunderbolt-and-lightning stuff – my grandfather enjoyed the idea of a vengeful god. My dad was kinder than that, at heart.”

Jabir was a peaceful presence to have around.

Under his gentle ministrations Alex soon started feeling better, physically at least. Mentally, he knew he was spent.

He had no energy or drive. He knew he should be plotting how to stay one step ahead of Tyler, figuring out his next move, and planning for Tyler’s return.

He should be scoping out his new home, observing the security, maybe even contemplating escape, but he couldn’t.

It was all he could do to dress himself each day and sit by the pool.

There was a continuous fuzzy sound in his head and the smallest activity exhausted him. He was burned out.

One day, a short round woman walked through the courtyard, holding the hand of a young boy. She smiled at Alex and made a little bow.

“Mr Alexander, sir, I am Jabir’s wife, Maura. Mr Tyler has kindly allowed us to bring our little ones to teach them how to swim. I thought to start with Razin.” She gestured at the small boy. Alex smiled at the child, who immediately stepped shyly behind his mother.

He lay back on the lounger and watched as Maura helped Razin into the pool. The kid seemed thrilled to be splashing around in the water with his mother.