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Read Chapter 3
Weyland woke up in a luxurious guest room compared to his previous lodgings with Frank and Lukala. There was a cot, a window with a beautiful view of a cement wall, and a television that he assumed could play porno.
First thing was first. He needed to break the window. Not to escape, but because breaking things is fun. Unfortunately, breaking the window revealed that it was just for show, and the concrete behind it was an impenetrable wall.
The door clicked open and in walked the masked leader from before, followed by the most vexing woman Weyland had ever seen. She was giving Weyland an unashamed hard-on, which no one could see due to its small size and disfiguration from the spear wound. The only way to know was by the little spurts of blood staining his pants.
“Jesus Christ, Abel. Can you give him something for that?” The woman’s voice was like music to Weyland’s ears, making him lightheaded along with the loss of blood.
Abel, the lead guard, gritted his teeth and approached Weyland to address the bloody spurt. He was met with a “hi-yah!” and a karate chop as slow as molasses. Abel tried to block it, but the chop was as deceptive as a slow pitch and he missed the block. This filled Weyland with a false sense of confidence.
Incorrectly feeling the tides shift in his favor, Weyland sat back on the cot with bravado. “Now that we know who the better man is, what can you do for me?”
The woman, Belle, as she would later introduce herself as, was intrigued by his powerful word choice although he meant to say “what can I do for you?” he simply messed up.
“My name is Belle,” (told you), “and we’d like you to give us some answers.”
“10. Foxes. The Duke of Earl. Nevada. 12,” he spouted.
“What the fuck is he saying?” said Abel.
“He’s giving us answers,” Belle responded, somehow having an immediate understanding of Weyland.
She stepped up to Weyland and pressed the toe of her high-heeled shoe into his crotch. “Let’s cut the cute act. What are you doing here?”
The deep pain in his crotch let him know that whoever this woman was, she meant business, and had great taste in shoes. He needed to give them real answers.
“I was taken here by a crew of soldiers after a village burned down. I was a soldier once-”
“I know how you got here, smartass. I want to know why you’re on this island.”
Weyland took a drag off of an imaginary cigarette. “Who wants to know?”
She wasn’t having any more of it.
“Put him in the cell with his two friends.”
Weyland tried to think of which two friends they were talking about, but then he realized that he didn’t have any. She must have meant Frank and Lukala, and wherever they were was the last place that he wanted to be.
He blurted, “I was in a plane crash. I was the only survivor because that’s what I do. I survive. I didn’t want to be here, but now I am, so let’s get off this island together.”
Abel chuckled to himself. Belle wasn’t much of a laugher.
“We’re not trying to get off this island, you idiot. We’re taking it over.”
At that moment an assistant walked in and handed Belle a folder, which had several labels crossed off and must have been used many times. It’s like, get some new folders. Jeez.
She pulled an envelope with type printed on it. Someone had accidentally only ordered envelopes instead of printer paper, so they printed everything on those. No one knew how to do it except this one guy, Stephen. Stephen felt proud every time someone printed something, and took offense to it when people made jokes about how stupid it was. The jokes weren’t directed at him, but you know how it is.
She read over the envelope and spoke to no one in particular. “A plane did crash near the island. This isn’t good,” Bell then addressed Abel, “have some plane wreckage wash ashore 1,000 miles North. We don’t want anyone snooping around here. See if those villagers will pass as plane passengers. We’ll load their bodies into the wreckage and no one will suspect a thing.”
Watching her talk, Weyland realized that she was the type of woman he wanted to marry. She knew how to get things done. She could do his laundry and cook for him since he didn’t know how to do either.
“I want to help,” he said.
“You won’t be of any help,” she said to Weyland, and then to Abel, “We need a liaison to the two others we captured. Someone they trust.”
“They trust me. I’ve become their friend. I can help.” Weyland still wanted to kill Frank, so he figured this situation could be a win-win. Belle considered it, not once looking to Abel for direction. Abel could care less. Weyland looked harmless with all his injuries and unfit body, but he did find it odd that the man was still able to stand.
With a twirl and a snap, Belle left with Abel quickly following suit. Weyland used the opportunity of being alone to pile the broken glass by the door as a trap.
Frank and Lukala were kept in the same type of holding cell but there’s was a dingy affair, much worse than Weyland’s lodging. Cold, hard, and damp with puddles of blood from Frank. Weyland and Frank had more in common than they knew, with their high tolerance for damage and most people considering them incorrigible.
Other than a lump on the back of his head, Lukala was fine, although he did have a headache. It hardly felt like something to complain about, but he mentioned it out loud anyway. The tension was palpable, and was only broken by a fart that neither man wanted to take credit for. It smelled like blood so it was probably Frank’s.
They felt so hopeless that no thought of escape had come up, but if it had, Lukala may have got up and noticed that the guard didn’t lock the door. It was a tricky door and the guard hadn’t been sure if it had locked or not, but he didn’t want to test it in front of his boss. He was super embarrassed about not being able to get it right.
Abel came into the room and told them that he’d be taking them to their friend, and that they’d better cooperate. They asked which friend and then listed every friend they knew. Frank was slowing down, but didn’t want to look less popular than Lukala so he started making up names.
With a stiff jab, Able told them it was Weyland. They begged him not to take them to Weyland. It seemed like reverse psychology so he brought them to him immediately.
Lukala dragged Frank along on a furniture dolly, at first being careful not to harm his father, but that got really annoying, so he gave up and Frank hit his head several times.
Unbeknownst to Belle, they were ignorant to the power of their own island.