CHAPTER 6
Dick unwillingly let Harrison help him out of the plane and onto the dirt. He was led over to a big SUV and put into the back. He noticed that a wire screen separated the passenger compartment from the front seats. After a ten minute drive on a dirt road, he saw a brightly lit compound on the horizon. It was surrounded by a chain-link fence topped by razor wire and lit up as bright as day. A cluster of small wooden buildings sat in the middle of the area, surrounded by nothing but dirt. The SUV drove up to a guardhouse and, after a brief greeting from Harrison, they drove in. The buildings looked like barracks to Dick, except for a central two-story building with a small shed next to it.
"That's the administration building," Hamilton said. "That's where the classrooms are and my offices. After orientation, you'll be placed with a group in a bunkhouse." He pointed toward a long, low building. "That's the dining hall and kitchen." He gestured toward a group of nicer buildings, recently painted. "Those are staff quarters. You aren't allowed over there and you'll get punished if you're found there without staff permission."
"Yes sir," Dick mumbled, visually mapping the compound's layout and memorizing it.
The SUV stopped at the small shed next to the house. Hamilton got out first, followed by Harrison, who let Dick out of the car. "Harrison will begin your orientation. Things will go easier for you here if you just follow orders, Dick. Remember that." With that, Hamilton climbed the stairs to the administration building and disappeared through the double doors.
"C'mon, kid," Harrison said, grabbing Dick's cuffed arms. "Here's where you'll be spending the next couple of days." He led Dick over toward the shed, which turned out to be a small, windowless cottage with a single door. "Take your shoes off and give 'em to me," Harrison said. Puzzled, Dick obeyed and handed the shoes to the man, who tossed them toward the SUV. "This is the segregation house. This is where we put students who don't obey orders. And everybody stays here during orientation." He opened the door and pushed the boy inside, flicking on a light switch after Dick stumbled in.
The room was barren, with a single recessed bulb illuminating it. The floor was concrete, sloped down to a drain in the center. The only furniture consisted of a mattress with a blanket folded on it. Dick looked around and realized that there were no windows and no bathroom. No heat, either, and they'd taken him in his pajamas, only letting him wear shoes at Alfred's insistence. Remembering his role as a spoiled rich kid, Dick sneered at the mattress. "With all the money you're charging my guardian for my stay here, you'd think you could spring for some furniture. And where is the bathroom? And my stuff? And when are you going to take these stupid handcuffs off?"
Harrison stepped inside and closed the door behind him. He said nothing but pulled his leather belt from his pants and held it coiled in one hand. "You earn privileges here by following the rules and not talking back," Harrison said, approaching the boy. "Privileges include food," he said, snapping the belt against the palm of his other hand. "And water." *snap!* "And sanitation." *snap!* "And clothing." He uncoiled the belt and the blows began.
Dick was torn between the survival skills Batman had taught him and the need to maintain his cover. Dick Grayson, spoiled rich kid, simply didn't have Robin's defensive capability. But Dick Grayson, former star of Haly's circus, still could dodge and weave. Trouble was, the walls were featureless, there was nothing to grab onto with his cuffed hands and he had no weapons. His eyes narrowed and he dodged, escaping the first strike with the belt. To Harrison's increasing frustration, Dick danced out of his way, executing flips and somersaults to keep him just an inch or two out of danger. Dick couldn't suppress the grin on his face as he..Robin!...avoided yet another murderous bad guy.
Harrison must have caught the grin, because his face became thunderous. Dick noticed, too late, that unlike most evil-doers, Harrison didn't get sloppy when he was furious. He got cold instead, and methodical. As Dick kept dodging, he discovered that he was being herded into a corner of the room. Every attempt he made to get around or over Harrison was met with a blow.
Finally, the man had him cornered against the painted brick walls of the room, in the corner farthest from the door and escape. "Think you're smart, dontcha?" Harrison, at least six feet two, loomed over a shrinking boy wonder. "You're rich, privileged...You got it all, huh? Well, you don't anymore. Your family put you here and you'll stay till we say you can go!" Down came the belt and Dick couldn't avoid it, but neither could he hide the defiance that shone from his eyes.
He kept that defiance in his heart and blessed Batman's rigorous training in pain control. When the beating was inevitable, you rolled with each blow as much as you could and tried to minimize damage. He took it and cried out artistically each time he was struck to keep Harrison from increasing the force he used. Dick Grayson, spoiled rich brat, was soft. Robin, the boy wonder, was hard as steel, he reminded himself.
Harrison left, whistling, forty five minutes later, convinced that he'd cowed the newest student of Hamilton School. Batman's young overconfident partner thought that Harrison might just be right. Harrison locked the door behind him and the light went out, leaving the boy in pitch darkness. Dick Grayson, curled up and sobbing, only half-faking, waited till long after the man had left before he tried to move. From his corner, he crawled painfully over to where he thought the mattress might be. His pajamas were shredded and the cement floor, crumbling in spots, left bits of gravel adhering to the torn skin on his knees and legs. He felt at his puffy lower lip. It had finally stopped bleeding, although his cheek and jaw were still numb from Harrison's last, open-handed blow.
He found the bed and wrapped the blanket around himself. It was none too clean, but at least it covered him. He huddled into a little ball to conserve body heat and began to focus on the mental techniques Batman had taught him, for pain relief, for clear thinking, and most of all to control his fear .
He was on this one alone, by choice. What would Batman do? He'd try to escape, that's what. Dick creaked his way to his feet and limped his way along the wall of the room. He guided himself by running a hand along the wall at his side. The door had to be here somewhere...ah! There it was. He tried the knob. Locked. Anything to pick it with? He sighed. The picks were in his shoes; damn, these guys were good! He felt along the side for the hinges and found that they were on the outside of the door. He couldn't take them apart to get the door open either. Nothing on the door was going to give way, everything was solid and the door itself was steel, recessed into a steel frame. Where did all this cold air come from? Maybe there was a vent he could climb through. Dick looked up into the darkness. No good. At least, not until morning. Nothing to do but rest till then. He found the mattress again and drew the blanket around himself again.
Dick shivered through the night and wondered, not for the first time, whether he'd been an idiot to set this whole thing up. Well, it was too late now. No sense crying over what he couldn't change; gotta look forward. He began to wonder just how long he was going to be stuck in here. He realized that his bladder was full. Great. No bathroom. But wasn't going to piss in his mattress...Oh. That's what the drain was for. Great accommodations these guys offered.
He crept his way out of his makeshift bed and felt around until he found the grating. Before he used it, though, he tested it to see if it would come loose and make a weapon. Darn! No such luck, it was fastened down. He did his business and moved carefully back to the mattress to wait for morning.
He must have fallen asleep, because he dreamed that he was in his bed at Wayne Manor and Alfred was serving him a breakfast of Belgian waffles with whipped cream and strawberries. He could almost taste them when he heard a loud bell ring somewhere outside, and the sound of a hundred kids running. He rubbed his eyes and supposed it was morning, except that the darkness in the room was unbroken. No, wait...there was a crack of light where the door was and more toward the ceiling. As the sun rose, he saw there were brick openings near the roofline, four of them, two on each end. And each opening was about the size of a brick itself. No good. He was stuck here until they deigned to release him.
The sound of kids died away and the smell of food cooking came through in the cold breeze. His stomach was soon growling and worse, he was thirsty. The hunger didn't matter, he could live a week without food. But water was a more important thing...No, they wouldn't kill him. They had to keep him alive. He represented revenue for the school, from Bruce and from the Court. If he died on their watch, there might be an investigation. No...they might call him a 'runaway'. Was that what had happened to all the missing kids? Were they really buried out in the desert somewhere? He pulled his blanket more tightly around himself and huddled into it.