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“In here,” the stocky guy tells me. “You’re going into quarantine in the back.”
“All of us together?” I ask, feeling my pulse quicken.
If their cleansing practices are anything like the Colonies, I can’t handle having Trent and Ryan in the same room seeing that. Maybe these people are bigger animals than I took them for.
“Yeah, of course. Sorry we don’t have separate rooms but your modesty will just have to survive it, princess.”
I bristle at being called princess, reminded of the first time I met Ryan when he called me the same thing. I sleep on a pile of rags on the floor like Cinder-freaking-rella. How exactly am I princess here?
We’re led down the hall to the back of the house. I hear movement inside as we go. Hurried footsteps on the floor above us, a door shutting quickly. Somewhere in a kitchen nearby a pot or pan is banged against another. I’m trying to get a count on how many people are here but I’m sure I’m not getting all of them. I wonder if this is their main house where most of the people live or if we’re being held somewhere completely isolated. Judging by the open fields around the house, I’m thinking isolated.
“Inside,” Stocky tells me, opening a door to a dark room.
I glare at him as I walk past, not flinching at walking into an unknown, unlit room. I’ve been through worse and I want him to know it. To know that I’m no princess. That I’ve got backbone for miles.
When he flicks on the light, I’m shocked. This house keeps doing that to me. These people keep doing that. It’s a library, full of books on nearly every single wall but it’s really surprise attraction is the cage. It’s built against one of the walls, the bars going nearly to the ceiling. It’s something I’m thinking they stole from a police station. Something they carefully tore down and built up back here in this house. Inside there’s a single twin bed with sheets on a real mattress and a comforter. They don’t match but I’m not judging.
I look at Stocky to find him impatiently gesturing me forward, toward the cage.
“Seriously?” I ask him in amazement. “You’re just going to lock us in there? No showers? No scrubbing? No lice shampoo?”
He scowls at me. “No, no showers. No steam treatments either. The hotel spa is closed at the moment but if the accommodations are not up to your standards I can look into getting you moved to another wing. Do you want me to see if the Presidential Suite is available? Do you need turn down service? Perhaps a shoe shine.”
I scowl right back. “I don’t know what any of that means.”
“It means this is the quarantine room, get inside,” he says gruffly. “I know there’s only one bed but we’ll bring two more mattresses down. We aren’t exactly used to having guests. I’m so sorry.”
“Okay, the sarcasm I understand.”
“Great. I’m fluent in it. Now for the last time, get in the cage or get out. My di
“Come on, Joss,” Ryan says, stepping between Stocky and I.
I follow him into the cage, feeling Trent close on my heels. They clang the metal door shut behind us and that’s that. We’re locked in. Prisoners. But for how long? And why doesn’t it feel the same? Why doesn’t it make me ill the way the Colony did? I’m more locked down here than I ever was there but it doesn’t make me stir crazy.
I’m about to ask how long our quarantine will last when Stocky gives us the rundown.
“Listen up, here’s the deal,” he says, sounding bored. “This is the quarantine area. This will be your home for the next two weeks.”
“Two weeks?” I exclaim.
Stocky holds up his hand. “Please hold all questions until the end of the tour. You are not prisoners here. If at any time you want to leave, you are free to go. I would actually prefer it if you left so give it some serious thought. If you choose to stay, you will remain in quarantine for the two week period. After that, if you do not turn into flesh eating zombies, you will be released from quarantine and brought before a council. This council will decide what to do with you. Getting through the quarantine does not guarantee you anything. In two weeks the council may decide to deport you immediately at which time you will be put right back on your little boat and sent on your way with a reminder to never come back. This is the most likely scenario, so I ask you again to consider saving both you and I a whole lot of time and hassle and leave immediately. No pressure. Speaking of pressure, through that door behind you is the bathroom. I assume you’ve seen one before. Maybe even operated a toilet or two in your day, but I don’t have high hopes. Please do not defecate on the floor. Use the toilet. I wish I didn’t have to say this, but experience has taught me otherwise.” He looks directly at me. “There is a shower with soap and hot water, clean towels, but sadly no facial masks, exfoliants or cucumber slices for your weary eyes. My sincerest apologies.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “I asked if you were going to scrub us down like the Colonies, I didn’t exactly ask for a massage.”
He pauses, sizing me up, seeming to take in my clothing and appearance in detail for the first time. “How exactly do you know what the Colony does to new members?”
I freeze, realizing my mistake. I worried insanely that Ryan and Trent would think I was a Colonist spy, that I hadn’t escaped but that I’d been a member all along. To these people that don’t know me at all, that worry doesn’t seem so insane.
“I’ve heard stories,” I tell him.
He continues to watch me silently. I stare back, desperate not to look guilty of anything but I just flat out lied so I’m feeling pretty boldly guilty at the moment.
“I’m going to eat my di
With that he’s gone, he and his entire entourage. It’s just me, Ryan and Trent in the cage in the library in the building in the wild on an island emptied of Risen.
Chapter Fourteen
“Is prison supposed to be nicer than home?” Trent asks, glancing over the book spines on the shelves.
“Didn’t you hear?” Ryan asks drolly. “It’s not a prison.”
“Awful lot of bars for ‘not a prison,’” I mutter.
“Joss, you take the bed. I don’t know if they’ll make good on the promise of other mattresses but even if they don’t Trent and I will be fine on the floor.”
“I can sleep on the floor.”
“We all can sleep on the floor,” Trent says. “No one is saying you can’t. But it’s not very chivalrous for either of us to take the bed with a girl in the mix.”
“So you’re saying we’re all equal, but I’m a girl so I get the bed?”
“Doesn’t make any sense, does it?” He shrugs. “Maybe that’s why chivalry is dead. It’s dumb.”
“It’s not dead and it’s not dumb,” Ryan protests sounding tired and a
“Can I go to the bathroom first?” I ask quietly, surprised by his sharp tone.
“Ryan, you sound exhausted. You should take a nap,” Trent suggests. He snaps his fingers like he just had a brilliant idea. “The bed! Why don’t you take it? Lie down? Joss, you don’t mind, right?”
Ryan runs his hands over his face, groaning. “Not now. Seriously so much, not now, dude.”
Trent frowns at the bed. “There’s no mint on this pillow.”
“I’m going to the bathroom,” I mumble, leaving them to work it out.
Inside the small room behind the library is a gleaming white, sterile as balls bathroom that makes me afraid to touch anything. This is familiar. This feels like the Colonies. Everything wiped down, everything in its place, the faint hint of anal retentive douchebaggery hanging in the air. And Stocky didn’t lie. There’s a shower that has steaming hot ru