Page 29 of Taken By the Convicts
“What about Jayce?” Zev asked.
“Jayce already went above.”
“To do what?”
“What he does best,” Ivan replied, intentionally being obscure. “We all need to earn food credits. Crusher, can you secure another sonic rifle and hunt for us? There’s a huge freezer in the storage room. If we can stockpile some meat, that would give us an advantage if we ever had to hunker down for a while.”
The conversation had stopped. Was Reece communicating using his own version of sign language? She wished she could reattach his cords, but that was beyond her skills and soft tissue nanites wouldn’t be able to work around too much scar tissue if the injury was old, as she suspected.
“What’s the problem now?” Ivan snapped. He was losing patience with Reece.
“Leave him alone,” she called through the door.
“Quiet, doctor,” Ivan said, his tone more stringent. “Or would you like to lose the privilege you’ve gained so far?”
Privilege? The clothing. For some reason, she’d thought Jayce had been the one who’d left the clothing for her. She should have known better. Jayce might be the one in charge of securing assets, but he had no desire to waste them on her, not without gaining something in exchange, and she wasn’t giving him what he wanted. Ivan was no better; he would make her rely on him for every scrap he gave her down here, like a damn dog.
Melina’s head flashed back to Namir until a slight knock at the door pulled her out of her dark memories. “You’re not going to leave me locked in here all day, are you? I told you I won’t leave the bunker.”
“It’s me. Zev. Ivan’s gone. Reece too.”
Melina sank to the floor. “He’s never going to let me out of here, is he?”
“In time, I’m sure.”
“Could you at least let me use the bathroom?”
“Ivan said Jayce would take care of you when he returned. The lock is only coded to them. Sorry, I can’t help you.”
It didn’t sound like Ivan trusted anyone, except Jayce.
“Would you let me out if you could?”
“Of course,” Zev said, his tone rather light and friendly. She needed that. Forget being starved and thirsty, Ivan had created a prison within a prison for her. Already, she felt so incredibly isolated.
“How do you know Reece?” she asked, wishing he were here. Even if he couldn’t talk to her through the door, just knowing he was out there would make her feel safe. At least she had Zev to talk to.
“I met him a few days after arriving,” Zev answered, his voice easy-going. She heard him sit down on the floor, as if he planned to stay with her, keep her company. He didn’t have to do that.
“I had a bed in general housing. I wasn’t sleeping well. You have to sleep with an eye open if you know what I mean.”
She did, but not here. In the med-center, she’d had an office door with an access panel, but that meant the guards could still enter. And any prisoner they gave access to. The guards here traded favors, which meant she couldn’t trust them to protect her. She had no defense when she left her office to treat patients.
“Was Reece one of your roommates?”
“No. I heard a few of the guys talking about where the best place was to ambush the dumb guy—their words, not mine—and cutting off his arm for access to the greenhouse.”
“That’s awful,” she said as she glanced at the tattoo on her wrist, something she generally avoided. The atrocity had been burned into her flesh and bones and infused with serilium giving the tattoo the subtle yellow glow. Tattoos offended the goddesses. Her people would never accept her back home if she ever escaped here. Escape. . . She couldn’t even get out of the damn room, let alone the bunker or planet.
Every prisoner here bore a similar tatt that granted them access to select areas. In her case, her tatt allowed her to enter all areas of the med-center and Section A of the greenhouse. Not the commissary, though. Thorne had the guards bring her meals to the med-center, where he’d kept her trapped, similar to how Ivan intended to trap her here.
“What did you do?” she asked.
“I followed them. When they got Reece alone, I attacked when they ambushed him. That’s when I gained Reece as an ally. Though it took me a while to figure out his real name. He doesn’t read or write.”
“A friend would have taught him how to read.”
“I tried. He refuses to learn.”
