Damn this nervous energy and my whirling thoughts. I’m driving myself to insanity and I cannot stand it. I jump up and fling open the door. A huge wave of relief washes over me. It’s not locked. That’s one fear laid to rest, at least.
I’m not locked in, but there is a startled young man standing just outside. I think it is the same guy who brought me a shitty breakfast on a plastic tray.
“Is there an exercise yard?” I ask.
Some fresh air and natural light would make me feel so much better. I just know it. It is my only chance of finding any peace.
He looks a little taken aback by my question, but then he shakes his head. “No, but there is a gym?”
“Sounds great,” I smile.
He looks surprised for a moment, but then he pulls himself together.
“Cool. I’ll go see if I can find you some gym clothes.”
“Thanks.”
“No problem,” he waves as he wanders off.
I watch him disappear around the corner. Okay, so is he guarding me or not? Or was he told to lurk outside my door in case I needed anything?
Come to think of it, why doesn’t he have a radio? I cast my mind back. Actually, I don’t think I’ve seen anyone with a radio here. Is it a radio silence rule or something about the design of the bunker that blocks signals?
I sigh and go sit back on the bunk to wait. I don’t need to worry about radios. I don’t need to worry about anything. My only duties now are telling the Resistance everything I can remember about the fey and their court.
It doesn’t take long for the young guy to come back. He knocks briskly and gives me an armful of clothes, a towel, and a keycard. He also gives me directions to the gym. I thank him and head off.
It feels good to be moving, even if it is simply walking down a hallway. I shouldn’t be surprised that I’m not being treated like a prisoner. Because I’m not one. Clearly I’m just paranoid.
I’m the man that brought them a fey prince. I’m a hero. It’s all good.
My feet suddenly stop. On my right is another featureless door. This one has a small narrow window of thick glass, at eye level. Through it I can see Mabon, and now my heart is hammering.
He looks fine. His horns are gone, but otherwise he seems his normal dazzling self. He is sitting on the edge of a medical exam table, swinging his legs. He is talking, but this glass is soundproof and I can’t hear a thing.
He must be speaking English, I suddenly realise. My hand drifts up to my feathered earring. I forgot to tell them about the translator. I should probably do that.
My stomach rolls. I don’t want to, and that makes no sense at all. The whole reason I’m here is to tell the Resistance everything I know. Handing them a piece of fey tech or magic or whatever it is, has got to be priceless.
Besides, it would help Mabon. He wouldn’t have to speak English. There’d be no language barrier. And he told me on the day we met, that he finds English tiresome.
I sigh and force myself to walk away. I’ll think about it after I’ve worked out. Exercise always clears my head and makes me feel better.
I find the gym with no problem and am pleased to discover it is both well equipped and free of people. Perfect. Normally I love being around others, but at the moment I just want to be alone. Never thought I’d turn into a grumpy old man, but look at me now.
As I start with some warm-ups, it hits me that I haven’t had a proper work out since I was taken. Some sit-ups and pushups were all I was able to manage. Strangely, it seems I have got away with it. I don’t seem to have lost any definition. If anything, I’ve gained some. Which doesn’t make any sense at all.
It’s not like my sex sessions with Mabon were that frequent or energetic. Heat spreads across my cheeks. And I quickly jump onto a treadmill. Time to work out all my stress and tension. And to stop bloody thinking.
A couple of hours later, I have to stop. I’m a sweaty, panting, trembling mess. I attacked all the gym equipment as if it was personally responsible for all my problems. But I’m still stressed. Working out has solved nothing.
I stick my head under the water fountain and the cold water feels good. I shake it off and then dip my head again. This time for a long drink.
Okay. There is nothing else to do here. It’s time to head back to my bunk. They will probably want to ask more questions soon, because they did say it would take a few days.
Then I guess I will go home. And see if I still have a market stall or if my place has been given to someone on the waiting list. A heavy groan escapes me. For fuck’s sake.
At least my flat will be alright. The rent payments go out of my account automatically and I have a reasonable amount of money in there. Not that it will last long if my stall has gone. Lord, real life really sucks.
