"That's it. It's done."

Stepping back, my weight slumped into a seat supplied by Nadim. Wiping the sweat from my forehead with a forearm, I reaffirmed my distaste for surgery. Extracting a shank from Lucas' thigh without rupturing the artery gave me flashbacks to my surgical rotation. It was nothing like watching open heart surgery or the painstaking process of pulling bullets out of street kids, but it reminded me that I wasn't cut out for this kind of medicine.

"Take a break, Alice. He'll be better after some rest. We all will."

"I'm okay. I need to wash the blood and sweat away. An infection now wouldn't be good."

No anesthesia, no sanitized rooms, gloves, precise instruments, or even a sewing needle. It was bloody and brutal, and Alice remained perfectly professional throughout it all. Entirely unlike Specs, who turned pale from the blood. Zoey wouldn't even come near to help hold Lucas down. I wasn't exactly in tip-top shape either with my recent run-in with a shank.

There was always a clear difference between knowledge and talent. Some people were born for medicine. God knows I tried to please my family, but he also knows I wasn't made for it.

Alice is going to make an excellent healer.

How does Zeke know? Good intuition, maybe, but lacking empathy. It was clear that he only intervened to steal more points for himself. Sure, the gun was effective, but we could have turned the tide much sooner with his help.

If the Dwarves had guns, why were they using swords and shanks? Why send Lucas with Alice to rescue the prisoners? Did Zeke know Lucas would have volunteered for the role anyway?

Each question led to more questions, and only one person seemed to have the answers.

"Has anyone seen Zeke?"

I looked around for a response. Lucas groaned weakly.

"...asshole."

Specs removed his head from his arms and pointed to the closed door. At the same time, Zoey rolled into the room on a desk chair like a lazy lab tech. She was eating a bag of potato chips.

If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.

"This is some quality Television. Come look at this."

Zoey jerked her head and wheeled herself out of view. I debated staying seated, but answers felt more pressing than rest.

"No one fall asleep just yet, I'm afraid of concussions. Get some normal rest and find something to eat."

"What about the people in cages?"

Honestly? They were kind of low on my priorities.

"We'll share food, but I don't feel comfortable letting them out just yet."

Nadim nodded his head but didn't move. I didn't blame him. No prisoners were injured thanks to Lucas' heroics, but they weren't all that kind as we carried him away either.

Trudging into the monitor room, I saw the screens Zoey was watching. They were six old box televisions with blurry black-and-white pictures of what they were capturing. Most showed static images or unmoving bodies, but two showed movement. The first was directed to watch the cages. Judging from the movement and arm gestures, the prisoners seemed to be arguing. There was no sound, but I thought I could hear the warble of their conversation reach me through the walls.

On the last camera was a live feed of Zeke in the officer's quarters.

"Hah! Look, he's doing it again."

Zeke was rearranging the furniture in the room. He turned the desk ninety degrees to the side to face the stone wall and then did it again to face the back wall. He seemed unsatisfied because he moved it back to the original position.

"What a weirdo. I mean, I knew before, but now I can honestly say he's mental."

"Does he know we're watching?"

Zoey drawled before popping a chip in her mouth.

"Nope. Took me a while to turn the camera on, actually. It was worth the headache. I mean, this shit is like Duck Dynasty, or maybe Survivor."

"What's he doing there? Is he writing in something?"

"Every time he moves the desk."

Something about this was off. What Zeke was doing reminded me of when my father set off the car alarm in the garage while he swiped valuables around the house to fuel his gambling habit. Zeke is clearly hiding something by acting crazy. A camera in the corner of the room should be pretty obvious, so if we assume he's putting on a show for us, then what's most important is what we're not seeing.

"Let me pose a hypothetical. Do you think you can grab that book if I distract him?"

Zoey looked up at me like I was her new bestie.

"I knew I liked you. Hell yeah! You think we can blackmail him?"

"He'll never admit what's on his mind. The best way to get answers is to see what he's writing."

She swiveled in her chair, nodding a few times. We both watched Zeke somersault the desk and land in a wooden chair. He pumped his fist like a kid who had been practicing for a while. Then he calmly returned to writing.

Zoey and I shared a look.

"I'll get the book if he sets it down. How do you plan on distracting him?"

"I'll think of something. Say..."

The grainy picture made it challenging to make anything out. Though, I could've sworn Zeke looked cleaner than when I last saw him.

"AAAH!"

A shrill scream interrupted my musing.