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“Okay, maybe you miss a little,” he jokes.
I shake my head and huff. “Where is my family, Alexander? Why am I in here?”
“Your family’s in the blocks on forty-one, and before you try, you can’t get there.”
“The blocks?” I bark unsure what that means. I spin around the room and notice how much nicer it is than my family’s. “So four people live in two rooms sharing bunk beds and a tiny table where they eat MRE’s and I’m staying in… what is this?” I hold up a teapot in one hand and a tablet in the other. With my touch, it asks how it can help me. I throw them both at Alexander and he ducks.
The teapot clangs on the floor while the tablet slides, still asking what service it may provide. “I get the Ritz Carlton of the apocalypse. Why? The Eminent wants to play with the rat first?”
“First of all.” Alexander stands and points a finger in my direction. “My apartment was smaller than Sam’s before the Eminent decided to… favor me. And second, how do you know what your family has? Did someone tell you that?”
“I want to see my family,” I insist. “Are you packing me some things to take me to them?” I’m bargaining now, trying to imagine a scenario where we leave and go to them.
“No,” Alexander answers. He picks up the fallen items, waving them at me before he puts them back in their place. “You can throw them again if you like. Won’t change anything.” He finishes untying and removing clasps from his uniform, and opens a drawer, getting a plain white shirt from within.
“I don’t want to stay with you,” I whimper. “I’m so close to seeing them. Can we just-”
He doesn’t answer but slips through one of the doors while my head hangs. He’s changed when he returns, dressed for bed.
“Do you want something better to sleep in?” He asks pointing to the dresser. “Wear uniforms every time you step outside this door, but they’re scratchy as hell.”
I accept we aren’t leaving this room tonight, and I swallow the lump in my throat, thinking of the plan for tomorrow. A week is long enough to figure something out. Maybe if I tried, I could map this place out in that time if I had nothing else to do.
“I’ll take the couch,” Alexander says. He rips a blanket from the bed, brushing past me before he flops his large body down.
“Why am I staying here with you?” I ask. “No room at the inn?”
“This sure ain’t Bethlehem,” he yawns.
“Tomorrow?” I ask. “Maybe we could visit forty-one?”
“I’ve spoken to them,” Alexander sighs. He rubs his temple, leaning back against the couch. “I’ll get a message to Sam that you’re here, but we can’t see them without the Eminent’s approval. I don’t have access to the floor, and I don’t have friends that do. And I’m fucking tired.”
“Where will we go tomorrow?” I go to the drawer he left open and find the same shirt and pants in rows. They’ll hang off me, but he’s right about the horrible fabric, and I want to sleep in something better.
“Here,” Alexander says. “You’ll be here with me.”
I turn around, my eyes welling with rage and confusion. “Am I some fucking prize? When the Eminent said all that stuff… I thought he meant sparing me was your gift, but does he… What the fuck?”
“I’m sleeping on the couch,” he groans. “That comfy bed is waiting for you, so please get in it.”
“Do you get a concubine, too?” I mock. “Is it a reward for your honesty, or was he feeling generous after putting a hole in your friend’s head?”
Alexander winces and leans forward, his elbows on his knees, resting his face in his hands.
“Answer me,” I press, throwing my jumpsuit on the floor and yanking his large shirt over my head. I don’t care that I’m undressing in front of him, and I don’t think he wants to look my way with the vile words I’m spitting in his direction.
“Theodore may have been a coward, but he didn’t ask to go into that tunnel,” Alexander speaks into his hands. “I needed someone to help if the top hatch wouldn’t stay open. It’s my fault he’s dead.” He turns to face me, and there’s something unexpected in his eyes, something I saw in the elevator when he brought me down here. “His blood is on my hands, Rowan. You’re alive, and he’s dead. Now go the fuck to sleep.”
“Why did you help me then?” I bite out.
I know when I’ve pushed too far, but it’s usually before it gets this bad. His face reddens with the question while he looks me over. He knows the answer but won’t tell me. There’s something in the way he studies me. He’s not looking at me like a half-dressed object, but a puzzle he’s trying to figure out.
“Because I’m an idiot,” he says, but there’s no hatred in his words, only confusion.
Alexander’s my one ally in this hellhole, and I’ve made him question saving my life. He’s also told me not to trust him, so I take his response as a sign to shut my mouth.
The shirt falls to my knees so I don’t bother with pants, and I crawl into bed with every emotion sitting heavy on my heart. Alexander’s right that his friend died because of us, and my family is in danger if I don’t impress the Eminent. They’re stories below, not knowing I’m awake or alive.
