The Volunteer

by J B Cantwell

“I don’t know everything. Nobody does. My assignment was to penetrate the Burn. To find new members. Especially after the Stilts fell.”

  I stared, skeptical for several long moments, trying to decide if I could really trust him.

  No.

  I finally spoke. “I’m sorry. I think I should keep my plans to myself.”

  He frowned. “If you want my help, then …”

  “Listen, for all I know you could just be a spy who happened to figure out our code words. You help me get out of here, and I’ll tell you anything you want.”

  He huffed.

  “I’m not going to help you if you don’t tell me why.”

  “You should know why,” I said, standing up. He jumped to his feet beside me, then blocked my way back to the stairs. He took both of my hands in his.

  “Alright,” he said, giving in. “I’ll help you. What do you need?”

  “I need bodies. A a large group of people willing to fight their way out.”

  He smiled.

  “That, my friend, I can manage.”

  Chapter Seven

  Jones. Price. Wilson.

  Jones had said he was paying a debt, a big one, though he hadn’t told me what it was for. Price seemed oblivious to the danger his post put him in. He was just in it to do his time, his service to the country. He’d be out soon enough.

  But Wilson. With him there was no telling. I had a hard time believing that anyone would truly work at the Burn by choice. A few short years could ruin your life. End it, even. Though it seemed to me that maybe Wilson enjoyed his post the way some people enjoy other sickening things. Power. Torture. Even if it put his own life at risk.

  I wondered who was really in charge, too. There had to be a mastermind, someone pulling the strings in a factory full of puppets.

  Somehow, I didn’t think that person was Wilson.

  I filled my shovel and dumped it out again, looking around, sizing up my fellow workers.

  For some, escape would be impossible. They would have, like Jones had said, debts to pay, and the only way to do that was to stay plugged in and do your time on the floor.

  I had debts, myself. The only difference was that I was choosing not to pay them. There was danger in my plan. Even if a large number of us made it out, everyone’s friends and family would be at risk. The Service had proved that they were willing to take out its own soldiers. There was no reason to doubt that they’d use our loved ones as bait, or maybe even execute them for good measure, just to hurt us.

  I gritted my teeth as I attacked a pile of muck.

  I thought about Alex. And then there was my mom. She had failed me badly so many times, but I couldn’t deny that I cared about her. They were the two people in the world that mattered to me.

  My mother knew nothing, but if Alex was captured after my escape, they would surely torture him. I was willing to bet that he wouldn’t falter, though. He wouldn’t give me up.

  This thought made my chest feel constricted, like someone was squeezing my lungs with their fists, making it difficult to breathe.

  It would be hard to live without Alex. Harder to know that he would be a target of the government.

  If he was caught.

  I had to come to terms with the fact that I might end up completely on my own. But I couldn’t not do it. Someone had to fight for our lives, for our dignity. And, in the absence of virtually the whole Volunteer group, I was one of the last people standing. That person who was left, who was going to carry on the fight, was me.

  There was something about being forced to kill your own friends that made a girl edgy.

  Julia moved over next to me to work.

  I wouldn’t be alone, not completely. The Orange, Red, and even Black designates would want to bring down the system, too. Because the system was rigged, and we all knew it.

  That tight feeling in my chest released a little bit.

  “How goes your little plan?” Julia asked, a bit too loudly, I thought.

  “Oh, you mean my campaign to increase our rations?” I asked, not skipping a beat.

  “Yeah,” she said, following along. “Got any takers?”

  “A couple,” I said. “I know there will be others, though. So many people are hungry for more, you know?”

  “Well, what can I do?” she asked.

  I was surprised by her question, but I kept my eyes on my work. I thought I’d scared her away the last time we talked. But now, she was suddenly willing to help.

  I might’ve been suspicious, but I needed all the help I could get. I had to hope that the people I included weren’t going to rat me out. Because there would be benefits to those who did. A reduction in sentence would surely come to anybody with information about a breakout.

  “Well,” I finally said, “we need to find bodies. You know, people who are interested in joining the campaign. Do you know anyone?”

  “Only a few,” she said.

  I was happy to have her on board. Something I’d said must have resonated with her.

  “Maybe I should start a petition,” I said. “You know, I could get some paper and get signatures and then forward it to Jones. Or whoever it is that minds the mess hall.”

  “Hmm. I’m not sure about that idea. What if they react badly? It could get to Wilson, and then there’ll be hell to pay for anyone whose signatures are on that list.”

  “That’s true. But we’re only talking about food rations. Tell you what. Next time I get a chance, I’ll get some paper and start the petition. You don’t have to sign it if you don’t want to.”

  She continued to shovel quietly. Around us, the sound of the second trawler for our shift backed into the dock.

  “I’ll sign it,” she finally said. “Yeah, I will. I can.”

  I smiled behind my respirator.

  “Good. That sounds good. Now, we just need to get some others involved.”

  “Well, like you said. Everybody’s hungry.”

  That night, I started the petition. It was a wild and crazy plan, but I thought it just might work. Julia had already garnered me three signatures to add to hers and my own. She slipped me the folded piece of paper when she got back from the mess hall, and I opened it to see who’d signed. I didn’t know any of them.

  I looked up and noticed that Jeff was watching me from across the room. He stood up and came our way.

  “What are you two ladies up to over here?” he asked.

  Julia looked alarmed as he came closer, and I wondered why.

  “Well,” I said. “Remember our conversation up on the roof? You know, about petitioning for bigger food rations in the mess hall?”

  His eyes widened slightly, but he quickly played along. I noticed his eyes flit around the room, maybe looking for recruits.

  “Yeah,” he said. “So you’re actually doing it, eh? You know, it might be hard to get people to sign up. Nobody wants to get into trouble for complaining.”

  “I know. I thought about that.”

  “It’s the best way, though,” Julia piped up. “To keep track of who’s involved.” She looked nervously between the two of us.

  “Well, is there anything I can do to help?” Jeff asked. “What’s your plan, anyway?”

  “Well, I figure I’ll get the signatures first, and then we can set a day and time for all of us to gather in the mess hall and talk to our superiors about it.”

  “Seems easy enough,” he said. But there was a warning in his eyes, and they flitted over to Julia and back.

  Well, that looked like a problem. The two main players in my scheme seemed to not trust each other. I wondered how to play that card.

  But I didn’t even have time to think about it, because just then, Jones stomped his way in through the barracks door and made a beeline straight to me.

  “You and me, Taylor. Let’s go.”

  I stood up from the bunk, handing Julia the paper with the names on it.

  “Where we headed, boss?” I asked, grabbing a canvas shirt and a respirator.<
br />
  “Wilson’s.”

  My stomach sank.

  That was all he said.

  I followed him as he turned and led me out of the room. As soon as we went through the airlock, I tried to get him to talk to me.

  “Hey, what’s going on?” I asked.

  “Dunno. But he’s in a tizzy about something or other.”

  Down on the floor at night felt eerie. Though the conveyor belts at the Burn never stopped, and there were still people crewed up on the floor, it felt oddly quiet. Like everyone might be half asleep, just too tired to make noise.

  We walked across the floor and toward the same door Wilson had led me through that first day.

  “Hey, Jones,” I asked, slowing my pace. “Have you ever felt, I don’t know, hungry for more?”

  “More what?” he said, turning. He put his hand on my elbow to lead me onward.

  “Well, we’re starting a petition,” I said slowly.

  Careful. Careful.

  “About not getting enough grub at mess. I know we get the fancy squares and all, but we’re all still pretty hungry. I was wondering if you’d be interested in signing on with us.”

  He paused, raising one eyebrow.

  “It wouldn’t be such a big deal. We’re just setting a time and a place to gather. You know, if we stick together we might be able to accomplish something. You might even say that we could all vote our way out of this mess we’re in. If we all came together.”

  I smashed my hand against my scalp where my third chip had been inserted beneath the skin.

  “Ugh, this stupid thing. It goes haywire, you know? Sometimes I wish I didn’t … even … have … it.”

  I stared directly at him as I spoke the words, and I knew he got the message, because right then his eyes grew large and round, and he looked all around us to see if there was anyone nearby.

  “What do you mean, exactly?”

  “Just what I’m saying,” I said, and I began walking again. “If we all sign up together, maybe we can do something about this … situation we’re all in here. Fight for better working conditions. Maybe even … revolt.”

  I said the word quietly, but I knew he heard it.

  This time when he grabbed my elbow, he pulled me sharply backward.

  “You’re an idiot,” he spat. “You’re talking to me about this? What do you want from me? You know I can’t do anything like that. I need to stay in everyone’s good graces until my time is up. I have people, you know.”

  “Be quiet,” I said, turning sharply. “We’ve all got people.” We were passing by an armed guard, and I didn’t want to be overheard. “But don’t you see? This could be the end of it.”

  “The end of what? The Burn? Cause, honey, this place ain’t going nowhere.”

  I looked up at the looming towers that surrounded us. Just between the tops of them a rare clear sky shown down on us. I remembered what it had felt like to be with the Fighters in Canada. To be free and staring up into that cobalt blue sky from the thick carpet of pine on the forest floor.

  “Maybe not,” I said. “But I am.”

  We were nearly there now, to the airlock door. It would be quiet inside. The time for discussion was coming to a close.

  “I’ll let you know the date and time that we decide on to talk to the mess hall staff about needing more food.” I looked up and saw a tiny red dot flicking on and off behind a small camera mounted above the door. “If you’re hungry enough, then you can join us. With enough of us together, we might just get something done around here.”

  He didn’t need to get the door for me. It was me who grabbed the handle and walked inside.

  I shouldn’t have been so flippant. I was taking a risk, a huge risk. But I was going on the hunch that just about everybody in this place was looking for a way out. And, after all, why had I decided to trust Jeff? Julia? And now, Jones? I had no good reason to trust any of them whatsoever.

  The worst case scenario of these choices I was making was, well, death. Torture and then, eventually, death.

  But wasn’t that already my fate? If I stayed here and decided to do nothing?

  Jones was a step behind me now, making angry huffing sounds as he followed me into the hallway.

  A moment later I realized I had no idea where I was going. I had only been inside these walls that one time on my first day, and I definitely wasn’t hoping to head back toward the room where Wilson had threatened me.

  I stopped walking just as Jones caught up to me.

  “Where to?”

  “You’re an fool,” he mumbled, taking me by the elbow.

  I almost smiled. As if this were new information to me.

  I was relieved when he guided me to the end of the hallway, turning right instead of left. So, I wasn’t headed back to that interrogation room.

  At least, not that one.

  We wound through a maze of hallways, and after the first couple of turns, I stopped trying to remember the way back out. I was at their mercy. Wilson’s mercy.

  Finally, we made one last turn, and at the end of the hallway, there he was. Wilson. He stood with his arms folded across his chest, a wicked smile spread across his face. As I got closer to him, I realized it wasn’t only his eyes that were ringed red, but his teeth as well.

  How long had he been here?

  As we approached, he held out one hand, indicating that I should enter the room to his left. My gaze slid from his pulpy mouth up to his steely, silver eyes. I turned, doing as I was told.

  But that had been a mistake, because a moment later I found that I was no longer standing, but that I had been kicked to the floor. I tried to get my bearings, shaking my head with confusion. The place where his boot had met my back throbbed with pain, and I had bitten my tongue as my chin hit the ground. I rolled over, trying to defend myself. But what I saw next both surprised and worried me.

  It was the face of Jones as the door slammed, locking me in, and him out, whatever words he’d thought to say to me hanging, lost, on his lips.

  Chapter Eight

  I held up my arm, trying to deflect the next blow, but his taser had a range of ten feet, and my hopeless gesture was no match for it.

  It reached my skin, my bicep, and for the briefest of moments I thought that it might not be so bad. The feeling of the probes digging into my arm was like nothing more than a bad cramp.

  But then it spread, and soon my whole body was seizing, shaking uncontrollably. All thoughts of defending myself evaporated. Every plan I’d had, every word I’d said, all faded to black. I wanted nothing more but for the pain to end.

  But he kept his thumb on that trigger, and the seizing continued. I felt my head hit the floor again, this time by my ear, but the pain was nothing by comparison. No blow was as painful as this.

  And then, mercifully, he let the trigger go.

  I tasted blood in my mouth from when I’d first hit my chin on the floor.

  As he walked by me and crossed the room, he ripped the probes from my skin.

  I rolled over onto my stomach, and I noticed that I had been drooling on the cement floor of the room. I rested my forehead to the ground, trying to catch my breath. Then, terrified, I raised my eyes.

  Wilson was standing at the other end of the room now, his smile gone.

  “I didn’t want to do that to you, you know,” he said, and I wondered if he was the one playing to the cameras this time. “But, well, sometimes these things just have to be done. Just so you get the point about the, well, the severity of the situation.”

  The situation? My mouth moved, trying to voice those words, but they got caught in my throat, no sound escaping me.

  “Get up.”

  I remembered his other weapons, his tools. I was suddenly exhausted, and I wanted nothing more than to lie there on the floor, to close my eyes and not open them again until this nightmare was over.

  But I knew better. I knew that a man like Wilson did enjoy using pain as a means to an end.

  I
remembered how I had considered him before, how I had wondered if maybe he wanted to get out of here, too.

  Now I knew better.

  I pushed myself up to my hands and knees, then grabbed onto a chair that was nearby and pulled myself up into the seat. I slumped. Only vaguely did I wonder why this was happening. But I knew enough to understand that if I stayed on the floor, good things would not come of it.

  I laid my hands flat on the metal table, breathing hard. Wilson stayed on the other side of the room.

  “Now,” he said. “You’re going to tell me where he is.”

  My mind felt like a swirling mess inside my skull. I could barely register his words.

  Him? Who could it be?

  But I knew. Of course I knew.

  Alex.

  “Where he is?” I croaked.

  He folded his arms over his chest, the taser still firmly held in his grasp. I imagined what it would be like to take it from him, to grab it out of his hands and turn its probes onto him.

  There was time. There was always time.

  “Yes,” Wilson went on. “It seems your, ah, your boyfriend has disappeared, surprising as that may be. I would have thought that he would do anything to secure your safety. And yet, here you are. And here I am. And we both know that your safety is none of my concern.”

  He waited a moment, letting his words sink into my foggy mind.

  “Alex … escaped?” I finally asked, my voice was a whisper. But my heart let out a feeling of pure joy.

  Alex escaped.

  September 21. 2300 hours. He would be there for sure. I just needed to find a way out so I could meet him.

  Wilson moved toward the table then, and I was surprised when he pulled out a chair and sat down across from me. He put his hands on the table, their position mirroring my own.

  “So. You’re going to tell me where he is. Now.”

  I watched with relief as he tucked the taser into his belt loop. But, excited as I was at the news of Alex’s escape, I had no answer for Wilson. I knew where he would be months from now. But that was it. And I wasn’t about to give up that information. This guy could fill my whole body with electricity if he wanted to, again and again. But I would never tell him the details of my next meeting with Alex.