Chapter 1 #2
Weston lifted me before I could step onto the sand and feel that major tell under my boots, but the sound of the water is unmistakable.
I don’t know which beach it is, how far across the island we traveled underground, or where we are going now.
There are no structures on the beaches besides the occasional Voyager safe house, and a beach seems too exposed to offer a secure hiding place for so many years.
Weston stops walking and turns, swinging me around and further confusing my orientation on the land, before he starts climbing or taking stairs, his footsteps loud beneath us.
I wish I could take this fucking blindfold off.
It isn’t just his steps that are loud. The rest of the Castaways follow behind, their loud footfalls echoing over the waves, and I am thoroughly confused as to where we could possibly be. Suddenly, movement and voices erupt around us, and I try to pick up each one.
“Who’d you get?”
“Bring that over here!”
“Who’s on tonight?”
I try to take in everything, but there are too many voices to keep track of, too much commotion to manage, until my attention is drawn back to the man holding me.
“I’m going to put you down now.” Weston’s chest rumbles against me as he lowers my feet to the ground, his other arm still wrapped firmly around my waist, steadying me.
My legs wobble before straightening again, and my fingers itch to push up the blindfold, but his hand still rests on my side. I don’t want to make any sudden movements that might cause an issue. I’m in their territory, and I’m outnumbered, so I need to be smart.
“Sig!” he yells, the timbre of his call startling me.
“Cap?”
“Deal with this.” His hand falls away, and I hear his footsteps grow quieter as the same fingers from before wrap around my elbow once again.
This. Like I’m just an object to be dealt with. What an asshole.
“This way, Lennox.”
I whip my head toward the woman’s voice, wishing I could see her, and trying to keep the shock off my face.
“How do you know my name?”
She stays quiet and leads me away from wherever Weston set me down.
I repeat the question, my voice more insistent. “How do you know my name?”
“There are stairs ahead. You can hang on to me.”
I never told Weston what my name was, and all he’s ever called me was that unnecessary nickname. So how does she know it? I think back to the first time in the cave. Did Mara call for me? Did he overhear it somewhere on the island?
I extend my arms, reaching out to feel for something to grab onto, when I find her other arm outstretched in front of me.
Grasping it, I use her to steady myself as I slowly step down, counting each step as I go, noting how my boots pound on the floor.
I can’t tell, but it sounds like wood, just like the bridges and beams back at camp, the sound the same as the floor just before the steps.
She leads me on, and I work to memorize the way. Twelve steps. Flat landing. Straight for ten paces. Ten more steps. Left turn. Straight.
I repeat the pattern in my head, knowing I will need it when I escape. I can’t risk getting lost wherever we are, so memorizing the way becomes my sole focus.
A handle rattles and hinges squeak in front of me; I assume coming from the door to wherever they are going to keep me locked away.
I trip over the raised doorjamb as the woman leads me through a doorway, stopping just inside the room.
It’s quiet, the noise and conversations from above are completely gone, and I feel like we are alone.
Her fingers tug on the knot at the back of my head and the blindfold falls away.
My eyes flutter as they adjust to a different darkness and take in the surrounding room.
It feels like a box. Wooden walls edge a wooden floor, the only piece of furniture in it a small cot shoved in the corner.
A wooden panel sticks out from the wall across from the cot, hiding something behind it.
I don’t move, I only take in the room and repeat the pattern of turns and steps in my head.
“Your cot is here. There’s a washroom just behind the wall there. Feel free to get yourself cleaned up. Are you hungry?”
I miss the question, too focused on repeating the number of steps, and looking at the room that is about to be my prison.
“Lennox, are you hungry?”
My name startles me again, breaking the trance. How does she know it? Have they been watching me? Watching us? Did Fin tell them?
Fin.
There hasn’t been one glimpse or mention of him since Weston’s reference to the proposed trade back on the beach. I need to find him, to know he’s safe, but most importantly, I can’t escape without him. He can’t stay here in the hands of a monster. I won’t leave him behind.
“I know this probably seems like a lot at once, but it will all be fine,” the woman says.
Turning to face her then, I’m shocked to find she is no longer hiding her face. Kindness fills her eyes and I relax slightly before quickly throwing my guard back up.
I can’t afford to feel comfortable around any of the Castaways.
She looks down at my bound hands and steps forward, pulling a knife from her belt and sawing through the rope until it falls away. My arms pull free and I rub my wrists where the rope dug in, stretching the soreness from my muscles after being locked for so long in one position.
“I’ll have someone bring you food soon. Try to get some rest.” She steps backward out of the room and gives me a small smile before closing the door in front of her.
I run to it, grabbing the handle and twisting violently, throwing all my weight into the smooth surface but getting nowhere.
Locked. Almost instantly. I slam a fist into the dark wood and let out a frustrated grunt.
Spinning so my back presses against the door, I sink down to the floor and wrap my arms around my knees.
I’m a prisoner.
My life in Dawnlin has just turned completely upside down.
I found the healing waters, and for a moment, the same hope that brought me to this magical place filled me once again, only to be destroyed as soon as I was deemed unworthy.
Now, instead of returning to camp to help the others and tell Dane the location, I am locked in a room in the Castaway lair, with no weapons to protect myself, and no plan.
I’m at the mercy of the man who plans to manipulate me to get what he wants.
And all I can do is wait.
For what, I don’t know. I have nothing but time to sit here and think of and prepare for all the ways he will try to get the information out of me, all before he tries to convince me he is right.
I need to stay strong, not just for me and everyone back at camp, but for everyone back in our world who would be exploited if he got his hands on the waters.
A tear falls down my cheek, and I let it. There’s no one else here to see my weakness. The island may think I’m unworthy of the waters, but that doesn’t mean I can’t still protect them from him.
My eyelids droop, my eyes heavy with the weight of the day, and I let them drift closed.
I can’t make a plan if I am this exhausted.
I need sleep, but I will not accept their false hospitality.
The Castaways will not win by lulling me into a sense of security and comfort to turn me against people I love.
I won’t let the mind tricks start now.
I nestle my head on top of my knees and recite the sequence of steps until sleep takes over, my determination the only comfort that Weston will not win.