L*st and Death

Early in the morning, Siron rose at the sound of some alpha calling his number, practically chased out of the dormitory. The other kidnapped captives were curious where he kept running off to on this tiny island, but Siron always dodged the question. After all, if they found out he was working in the kitchen and eating full meals while they subsisted on a single cold burrito a day, they might think he was receiving special treatment and unnecessary conflict could arise.

If I could sneak back a few chocolate bars or something, maybe. But for now, I can’t say a word.

With an armed alpha trailing behind him on an electric cart, Siron walked quickly toward the middle of the island. At the same time, he kept glancing around the island’s perimeter.

Signs of change had begun to appear chaotically. The strong wind briefly cooled the summer heat, and the once calm sea now churned with high waves. Armed alphas were rushing about all over the island, and three drones flew overhead, tracking 3547’s trail.

A ship was moored at the dock just about 500 meters from the dormitory. People were unloading cargo from the vessel into trucks, which were then driven to the back door of the cafeteria. Siron hadn’t even known the cafeteria had a back door, but he now realized it led to the food storage warehouse.

"Seeing how badly he got beaten up, must be one of the kidnapped ones."

"What’re you doing? Don’t just stand there."

Middle-aged men unloading the cargo barked at Siron, who’d been standing blankly watching them. They weren’t alphas, but their labor-hardened muscles looked formidable. Just as Siron grumbled to himself and reluctantly moved to help, a powerful force from behind shoved him in the opposite direction.

"Leave this alone and go do your job. 3543, get inside and make that Korean dish or whatever."

Siron, hopeless at physical labor, felt inward relief at the alpha’s command. Even if he had just been bowled over like a linebacker tackle and landed pathetically on the floor, it was still better than hauling crates of food off a 2.5-ton truck. Besides, this confirmed something: whatever pathetic demands Baekgyeong made, he had become a "necessary person" on this island who couldn’t be touched lightly.

Inside, Sonya was reheating leftover food from yesterday’s service and plating it up. It seemed like lunch for the men hauling cargo outside. Watching her, Siron thought of the kidnapped captives in the dormitory. Today again, they’d each be given nothing more than a cold burrito.

"Should I take out the burritos now? Might be better if they’re defrosted before distribution."

"Just one box."

"Not two?"

Sonya didn’t respond to his question. Siron’s mind drifted to the ship docked at the pier and the food being carried into storage. The medium-sized, two-story vessel was large enough to hold dozens of vehicles.

So the kidnapped people are being taken back to the mainland.

Those taken before him were leaving the island on empty stomachs, not even given a single burrito to fill them. They weren’t going back to their families, nor returning as homeless drifters. Exposed to pheromone-laced drugs and libido-enhancing narcotics, they were about to be “delivered” as etas to places that needed them.

Siron tried not to imagine the fate of the others—Joan Welch among them—but Lewis’s harrowing eyewitness account echoed relentlessly in his mind. Joan’s frightened face as she was dragged into the unknown blurred into the coded number V3011, then transformed into the raped and violated silhouette of Paco Torres... and finally, into Siron himself. Shaking his head hard, he tried to banish the future he feared might soon be his.

A sudden commotion from the sailors distracted his scattered thoughts. While they loudly exchanged stories that no one wanted to hear, the TV was showing CNM news. Books& Literature

The headlines reported on the president’s recent foreign summit, rising tech stocks, the hurricane expected to strike Helsota on the 10th, and updates on Titanus.

“The powerful hurricane Titanus, which originated in West Africa, is now heading toward the U.S. Currently passing through Panama, the hurricane is moving rapidly northward and is expected to hit Helsota State on September 10. Helsota residents are urged to take safety precautions.”

As he shredded steaming chicken breast along the grain to help Sonya, Siron kept glancing at the screen. The 10th was five days away. The wind was strong today—it was probably due to the hurricane.

The hurricane’s path northward to Helsota took shape as a hazy image in his mind. Titanus was currently over Panama, which sat between the Pacific and the Caribbean. If the strange wind sweeping the island was part of Titanus's advance, then this island wasn’t far from Panama.

As the news moved on to drought conditions in California, the men began talking about the recent disappearance of a middleman.

"I heard it’ll be hard to procure more homeless folks from Vargas City for a while. But is one missing guy really gonna cause problems in transport?"

"It will. That guy was the one connecting the homeless to the public shelters."

"Any idea why he vanished? Doesn’t seem like he just ran off."

"No clue. Must’ve made enemies somewhere. He always gave off a bad vibe."

Eavesdropping with sharpened ears, Siron pieced it together. These sailors weren’t just delivering food—they also transported the homeless to and from the island. They were participants in Hybris’s human trafficking operation, though they seemed more like outsourced collaborators than core members.

There was no way to gauge just how many people were involved in this trafficking enterprise. Siron recalled the disgusting pinkish face of the man who tried to rape him—like a boiled sausage.

Joseph Miller. That bastard’s the one who disappeared?

One kick from Siron had knocked him out cold. The back of his head hit the wall hard—he’d definitely suffered a concussion. Yet Siron had received no punishment from the alphas. There was no way Lewis had covered for him. If he had, Siron wouldn’t have been kidnapped here in the first place. Something must’ve happened to Lewis.

Thinking about Lewis, a hollowness gnawed at him. Cold wind blew through his empty chest as he tore the chicken with increasing fervor. Sonya, who had been quietly helping beside him, suddenly stood and walked toward the sailors’ table like she’d made up her mind.

"Have you heard anything about Inigo?"

The oldest-looking man shrugged at her question. For the first time, a desperate light crossed Sonya’s usually emotionless face.

"You didn’t check?"

"I did. But first, Sonya, there’s something you gotta do."

He laughed and tossed a folder at her from his bag.

"It’s a list of suggested food items to order. Use it for the next purchase."

"Thirty sacks of cornmeal? No way. You know how much work that takes to prep?"

"Sonya. Do you know how much work it takes to track down Inigo? Let’s help each other out, yeah?"

He mimicked her tone as he grinned. Forcing unnecessary purchases during delivery like this meant one thing for sure—he was skimming profit from the middle. Sonya reluctantly followed his instructions and submitted the order.

The older man lit a cigarette and said,

"Your son’s been active in Belzoras, I hear. He’s a key player in the syndicate’s money laundering network. Supposed to be handling a fair bit of cash."

Sonya’s face lit up—then quickly fell again.

"He doesn’t... want to find me?"

"Well. You racked up a mountain of debt turning Inigo into an alpha. Maybe he hasn’t made enough money to come looking for his poor ol’ mom yet."

From their conversation, Siron could piece together her situation easily enough. Sonya had gone into heavy debt to turn her son into an alpha—and in return, had been dragged to this island.

Once the men finished eating, they left the cafeteria. Siron hurried through the dishes, then quickly prepared Baekgyeong’s lunch. As usual, he drew a sperm whale with ketchup on the egg roll, and placed a bay leaf engraved with his name atop the sauerkraut soup masquerading as kimchijjigae.

After finishing preparations for the alphas’ meals with Sonya, he slipped into the storage room.

Time passed tediously. Siron kept his ears trained on the outside, waiting for someone to call his number. But even after the alphas had eaten lunch, no one came. Hours later, a short alpha appeared alongside another.

The short one stared directly at the Korean meal Siron had set out—egg roll, soup, white rice, and sausage. He peered at the ketchup drawing on the egg roll and asked,

"What’s this drawing? A whale?"

"Ah... yes. Yes, a whale. I like whales. Haha."

Siron gave an awkward smile and quickly slid the bottom tray of the serving cart into place, hiding Baekgyeong’s food beneath the top tray.

The short alpha, watching Siron’s fidgeting closely, curled his lips into a crooked smile and pointed his gun toward the door.

"To the lab. Move."

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