Kyle's forward momentum was strong enough to nearly bring him to his knees, which he barely prevented by hanging onto the door handle. The room beyond was dark and he knew from experience that it would take a moment or two before his eyes got used to the gloom. Instead of waiting for this, he slammed a flat hand against the wall just inside the door and managed to hit the light switch.
The potential thug turned out to be no thug at all. Stan was cowering in the corner between the bunk and the back wall, his eyes wide, his face bruised and battered.
"Stan?" Kyle was a little surprised to find him hiding in here.
The other man, breathing hard, took a moment to recover before blinking rapidly and briefly glancing past Kyle, apparently expecting others. "You alone?" he asked hoarsely. He had bruises around his neck as well.
"Yeah," Kyle agreed and straightened up. "What are you ..." He stopped himself, aware that he was about to ask a monumentally stupid question.
"... doing here?" Stan finished and carefully peeled himself out of the corner. A sarcastic smirk graced his lips while the tension visibly decreased. "What do you think?"
"Yeah, stupid question," Kyle agreed and grimaced. "Man, I'm sorry."
"Yeah, well ... this is jail, after all," Stan said and sank down on the edge of the bunk. When his rear made contact with it, he grimaced.
"Doesn't mean you have to take crap like that," Kyle countered a little sadly. "Look, man, I think you should get the hell out of here. Go to dome 3. The guys and I are living the life there. Danny's completely protected. So's Billy. The gardeners aren't as bad as they seem to be."
Stan scrubbed a hand over his face, his eyes roaming over the room without seeing it. "How do I know I can trust you?" he finally asked and focused on Kyle again.
Kyle spread out his hands and raised his shoulders a little. "Who can you trust in a place like this?" he countered.
"Yeah, you could have a point there," Stan agreed and let out a light sigh. "I'll think about it," he added and eyed Kyle suspiciously. "Where are you off to? Dome 3 is in the opposite direction."
"I need to check something in dome 1. Got a few ideas roaming around my head right now that I need to verify before I allow them to fester," Kyle said and sent a quick look behind him. From what he could tell, the corridor beyond was clear. "So ... who are these new guys?"
Stan sneered and looked away. "Same ape-like SOBs as the moron twins. Only now there are five of them," he said while a shudder rippled through him. He looked up again, facing Kyle once more. "You really think I'd be safe in dome 3?"
Kyle nodded. "No doubt about it. These guys took to us immediately. And we to them." He smirked. "Danny's feeling at home there. Go find Stella, tell her I sent you. If you run into Mike, do the same. Mike's a big guy with grey hair and leather clothing."
The way Stan glanced at the door told Kyle that the man wasn't going anywhere anytime soon. "Yeah, maybe later," he muttered.
Kyle considered the situation while listening to their surroundings. "Tell you what. I'm gonna go do what I need to do in dome 1 and I'll come back this way. If you're still here, we can go back together. There's strength in numbers, after all," he suggested.
Gratitude filled the other man's eyes at his words. "Sounds like a plan," Stan agreed. "I'll just ... stay here."
"Good idea," Kyle said and turned back to the door. Then he stopped and glanced back at the battered man. "Might be an idea to barricade the door," he suggested. "Just in case."
Stan nodded. "I was planning to," he agreed ruefully and rose slowly to his feet again.
"See you soon," Kyle said and stepped outside, pulling the door shut behind him. He listened to his surroundings for a moment, both heard and felt the chair being pushed under the door handle, and then started walking again. He hoped that Stan would remain safe until he got back. Of the three remaining Lost Boys, he liked Stan the best. Jack and Andy ... well, they could just take a long walk off a short pier for all he cared; which of course left Bark, whom he hadn't seen anywhere.
"When the hell did I become the savior of the underdog?" he muttered under his breath and lengthened his stride toward the far side of the dome.
***
Dome 1
The first thing Kyle noticed when he stepped into dome 1 was the stink of fear and hopelessness. He made his way between the tents and lean-tos, every step he took careful, while he tried to recall if this smell had been there at his arrival. He didn't think so, but after having been here for ... He stopped dead in his tracks, a frown furrowing his brow. He had lost track of how long he'd been here already. A few weeks? A month? Two? He tried to count backwards, tried to determine in some way how many days he'd been here, but couldn't.
"You're back!"
Somewhat startled, he glanced around and caught sight of that woman he and Vinnie had run into on their first day here. Maya, wasn't it? She stood there, a few steps away from him, her expression one of surprise and something else he couldn't identify. "Yeah, I guess I am," he agreed. "And you're still here."
She snorted. "Where else would I be? Don't think I'm stupid enough to go gallivanting around them dark domes." She stepped closer, eying him up and down for a moment then sent a look past him. "Where's your big ape?"
Kyle wondered what she wanted. Although she had cared enough to help them out the first time they had met her, he wasn't too sure she really was the caring kind and that raised the question of why exactly she would approach him now. "He's dead," he said evenly. "Got into a fight he couldn't handle."
"Stupid brute," she muttered and spat on the floor in front of his feet. "You should have stayed here."
"Yeah, and if we had, I would be dead now," Kyle countered and smirked at her when she gave him a startled look. "I would have taken a space-walk if I had to be surrounded by this funk all the time," he added and made a sweeping gesture with one hand. "This place reeks of hopelessness."
"'Cause there ain't no hope here," she snarled. "You think you can go back home? You think anybody is going to save you?" She barked out a joyless laugh. "Keep dreaming, bucko. You're here to stay. Might as well get used to it."
"Not likely," Kyle growled and pushed past her, leaving her standing there. He had no interest in what she thought. She had been wrong about everything, so why should she be right about that?
The first thing on his agenda was to find out if there was a communications station and if so, whether or not it worked. It took him awhile, but eventually he located a door behind a pile of trash. The door had a half-covered symbol on it and when he leaned in and wiped the muck off it, it turned out to be a com-station sign. He moved the junk blocking the door and wrestled it open. Inside was what he was looking for, covered in dust and the first cobwebs he'd seen in this place. "Weird," he muttered and stepped up to the control board, waving floating strands of cobweb out of the way. He pushed a few buttons, tried a few dials, but none of them worked. "Oh, come on," he grumbled, then hunkered down and eyed the metal sheet covering the base of the station. Then he sighed. "Who am I kidding? I couldn't fix a toaster if I knew how."
So, the com-station existed, but it was dead. That meant he would have to find a tech-head to help him out. "Daniel?" he asked himself and pursed his lips. He wasn't too sure about that. Daniel might be a graduate from MIT, but that didn't necessarily mean that he knew how to fix something like this. But Bark was a tech-head, wasn't he? "Sure as hell hope he hasn't been eaten," he muttered and stepped back outside. He closed the door and repositioned the junk in front of it. So far, nobody had taken the station apart, which gave him hope that it could be repaired. If the door was open and the station easily accessible, he believed that someone might try and loot it for wires and stuff, and that would make his hope of getting in touch with someone Earth-side a pipedream.
His contemplations were interrupted by a swooshing sound and he realized a new batch of inmates had arrived. Stepping away from the now halfway hidden com-station, h
e watched as the doors to the arrival area opened further along the rim of the dome and the first newbies came through; both men and women this time, even though the two women didn't look like they took shit from anyone. One had a hand-long scar disfiguring one side of her face and she looked about ready to jump down anybody's throat. The other one was huge, both in height and circumference, and the look in her eyes was cold and distant.
Kyle arched an eyebrow, letting his gaze skim over the others until it hitched on someone standing on the other side of the airlock, watching wearily as the new prisoners filed into the dome. Kyle's jaw dropped. That man standing there was none other than Pete the Albino.
***
It was a vengeful dream-come-true, but Kyle was rational on many levels and offing someone he found offensive just because he found them offensive ... that just wasn't high on his list of things to do. Kyle liked answers. He liked asking for them and he liked getting them. Answers, if they were truth, were so helpful, so enlightening, and some kind of higher power had provided an opportunity for him here, which he thought he'd never get.
Before Kyle could form any real plan, he started forward. The new prisoners had dispersed and big Mama - as he had already mentally dubbed the oversized female - had already found someone to be angry with. But Kyle had no sense for anyone other than the pasty-faced man he had thought of as a friend.
"Pete." To himself it sounded like an exclamation full of retained fury, but Pete's response was not exactly what Kyle had expected.
The worried expression on Pete's face was replaced with one of happiness. "Holy fuck, Kyle. I can't believe ..." He stopped dead, his smile faltering a little. "Man, I am so sorry. I am so, so sorry. You; being here; this was so not supposed to happen," he added.
Kyle eyed him closely. One part of him wanted to drive a fist into his face and see if he bled red or white. The other - fortunately the dominant one right now - wanted to take advantage of the situation and find out as much as he could. There was time enough to deal with Pete's betrayal later. "Never mind. I'm alive and getting by. That's all that matters," he said and draped an arm around Pete's shoulders. "Let's get away from here. Lots of bad seeds in this place," he added and guided Pete away from the arrival area.
Once they were moving, he released Pete and drove both hands into his jeans pockets to keep them still. He was itching to strangle the other man right now. "So, what the hell did you do to land yourself in LPC?"
Pete looked downtrodden at that question. He hugged himself while they walked, kept glancing around nervously, and Kyle couldn't help relish his fear. "Oh, everything pretty much went to hell," Pete said with a tired sigh, then glanced at Kyle. "They found out it was me. Must have been some DNA testing or some crap like that. Didn't take them long to find me either. I tried to leave town, but ... well, there aren't that many places a guy can hide these days." He eyed Kyle gratefully. "Man, I'm just so relieved that I ran into you here. I was scared stiff of what would happen once I got up here."
Kyle smiled and wondered if it looked as phony as it felt. "I'll bet," he agreed and eyed Pete closely.
Pete countered the look with a skittish, nervous one. "How do you do it? I mean ... you got up here all alone, had to face this without any backup? If you hadn't turned up, I don't know what I would have done."
"I had help," Kyle admitted. "But you don't need to worry anymore. I know the ropes. I can teach you how to get by here." Then he suddenly stopped short and stared at Pete, who stopped too. "So, they know I'm innocent?" Pete merely nodded. "So ... I'm getting pardoned?"
"I ... don't know. They didn't discuss that with me. At all," Pete countered a little hesitantly.
For a long moment, Kyle just stood and stared at him, not sure how to respond to that. Nobody had ever been released from LPC; not that he knew of. And how would that even happen? According to public knowledge, there was no way, no how that anybody got off LPC alive. "Shit," he muttered. He couldn't keep his disappointment to himself right now. "Aw, you gotta be fucking kidding me," he added angrily.
"I'm sorry, man. I can totally understand your frustration. I ... man, I should have just stepped forward before. I'm a coward. I shouldn't have let you take the fall in the first place," Pete rambled, looking like a walking apology.
It was funny how easily he could see through Pete's deception right now. Back home, it had never crossed his mind that this spineless slug of a man would have set him up. Then again, Pete hadn't really set him up, had he? He had just jumped at an opportunity Kyle had offered him. But that didn't make it any easier to forgive; especially considering that Pete had actually brutally raped and murdered that girl. "Yeah, yeah, whatever," he grumbled and started walking again. If anyone knew if something like this had ever happened before, it would have to be Stella. He needed to talk to her before he made any snap judgments. "We need to pick someone up on the way. The next dome's a bit tough and we gotta get through that to get to safety."
Pete nodded, eager to be forgiven, eager for Kyle to swallow the raw bullshit he fed him. But Kyle knew where this could go and he was not interested in repeating former mistakes. First he needed to find out what Pete knew and then he could figure out what to do with him. Until then, he had to keep up the charade.
Chapter 5
Home sweet home
It wasn't until the call from Officer Sweetwater came in that Jonathan Whitmore, III, even considered the possibility that Kyle was innocent. The officer was a jovial type of man, round-faced, smiling, and apologetic.
"Mr. Whitmore, sir," he said, his image wavering just a little bit. The connection to the police station wasn't the most stable.
Jonathan eyed the display for a moment while barely preventing himself from sighing. "What is it, Officer?" he asked. "I am a busy man."
"I know, sir. And I apologize for the inconvenience, but I was asked to contact you at the earliest opportunity. There has been a development in your son's case."
Jonathan frowned and leaned back in his office chair, the imitation leather creaking lightly. He briefly reminded himself to let his secretary know that the upholstery had to be oiled again. "What case? I thought that was all over and done with. He did the crime and now he's doing the time. What more could there possibly be?"
"The girl's parents demanded an autopsy with all the bells and whistles, sir, which is why it has taken so long to get the results," Sweetwater said. "Turns out the perpetrator isn't your son. They found semen. DNA suggests someone else."
All of a sudden the jovial Officer had Jonathan's undivided attention. "Excuse me?" he demanded, still too surprised to be angry about this.
"The man has been involved in illegal drug dealing and, it would seem, also other attacks similar to this one. But since he has never before killed anyone, and has evaded capture ..."
"Are you telling me that my son, my only heir, has been sentenced to life imprisonment in LPC because your cops screwed up?" Jonathan cut him off, the first sparks of anger driving him to abuse his station.
Sweetwater stalled, stammered for a second and then cleared his throat. "Uh ... well ... as it would seem ... sir ... yes."
"Yes?" Jonathan tipped his chair forward and rose. "YES?!?!" he roared at the display and watched with some satisfaction when Sweetwater recoiled from his anger. "What in the name of creation do you mean, yes? I demand to speak to your superior!" He slashed a hand through the holographic display. "Scratch that! I will speak to the Governing Council about this. Rest assured. You have not heard the last of this!" That said, he stabbed the off button and the holographic display disintegrated, cutting Officer Sweetwater off.
For a moment, Jonathan just stood there and stared at the spot where the image had just hovered and then he pushed his chair back out of the way and strode around his huge desk toward the double mahogany doors leading out into the front office.
"Marie!" he barked the second the doors started to part when he approached them.
"Yes, Mr.
Whitmore, sir," she countered evenly and got to her feet.
"Get me ... whatever the hell his name is. The head of the Governing Council," Jonathan snapped. "Get him to this fucking office at once. And I don't care if he's having dinner with the fucking gods up in heaven. He has some explaining to do."
Marie nodded. "Yes, sir. Right away, sir," she agreed. "And his name is Steven Sanders."
For a moment Jonathan stared at her, his pulse racing, his mind swirling with feelings of betrayal and righteous anger. Then he simmered down and once again had to remind himself that he had hired this woman because his temper tantrums didn't work on her at all. He drew in a deep breath and held it for a moment, then nodded once. "Thank you, Marie," he said quietly, turned around and strode back into his office while he heard Marie place the call a no-nonsense don't-mess-with-me tone.
A man of fifty-nine, Jonathan knew that he looked older than his years and most of the time felt it too. He stopped short halfway to his desk when he caught sight of his reflection in the mirror behind the bar and for a moment he just stood there and stared at himself. A receding hairline and the sprinkles of grey in his otherwise curly dark hair could be dealt with in an instant, but he preferred the distinguished look this gave him. His eyes, a steely grey, were cold and hard and the furrows in his skin, too deep for his age, lent him a sense of superiority he felt befitting of his station in life. But a lot of those furrows had deepened in recent months.
He still recalled his joy - measured as it had been - when Alice had informed him that not only was she pregnant, she was expecting a son. And the first four years of his life, Kyle had been a joy. But then Alice had died, tragically, and the boy had become a constant reminder of the woman and the loss that Jonathan had struggled with ever since. He was not an emotional man, never had been, but losing Alice - his complete opposite and therefore the thing that balanced him - had broken something in him.
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