by Aaron Hodges
He shuddered again as the trembling spread to his whole body. It wasn’t even the thought of injury that had him frozen – he’d been hurt countless times sparring at his Taekwondo Dojang – it was the thought of those few moments falling, of tumbling through the air, helpless to save himself.
“Chris!” He swung around as a voice shouted from the across the field. Sam had stopped in the middle of the running track and stood watching him. Their eyes met, and Chris saw the urgency there as he called again. “Climb!”
Before Chris could reply, Sam set off once more, leaving him alone with the doctor and the tower.
Except Chris no longer felt quite so alone. Another glance around the field, and he saw Ashley give a little wave, even caught what might have been the slightest of nods from Liz. He swallowed, their encouragement swelling in his chest. For a second, the terror seemed to recede, and he stepped up to the wall and took a firm grip of the first hold.
Hand over hand, Chris hauled himself up as the doctor watched on from below. The first ten feet were relatively easy, but as he went higher, Chris’s terror came creeping back. Nearing halfway, he made the mistake of glancing down. Twenty feet of open air opened up beneath him, and he gripped his holds tighter, pulling himself tight against the wall.
He stayed frozen there for a long while, eyes squeezed shut, listening to the sounds of movement coming from around the field. He imagined Sam and Ashley and Liz watching him, heard their silent encouragement, but so far off the ground, the thought no longer held the same power. With each passing moment his terror grew, fed by the gulf beneath him, his imagination already playing out the fall that would see him tumble helplessly to the earth.
“Are you done, candidate?” the doctor called from below.
Candidate.
The word rung in Chris’s mind, reminding him of what these people thought of him. He and the other prisoners were just numbers to these doctors, failed examples of humanity that served no purpose but to die in whatever horrible experiments they had in mind. Anger flared in Chris’s chest, burning at the terror, and gritting his teeth, Chris started upwards once more.
Towards the top, the handholds became smaller and more sparse, forcing Chris to study his path carefully. His arms were burning from the exertion, but his rage gave him strength, and he continued up, clinging to the tiny holds like his life depended on it.
By the last ten feet, the holds were barely large enough for two fingers to hold. His whole body trembling and his breath coming in raged gasps, Chris forced himself onwards. He refused to look down, knowing it would only serve to feed the terror still nibbling at his insides, though eventually would need to if he was to climb back down.
Straining his leg to reach a better foothold, a sudden cramp tore through his calf. Crying out, Chris almost lost his holds from the shock of the pain. His leg spasmed and he stretched it out, struggling to keep his grip with just three points of contact for support. Slowly the pain dwindled, and taking a breath, Chris found a new foothold and continued.
When he finally reached the top, Chris experienced a moment of panic as his hand reached up and found only empty air. It took him several seconds of fumbling blinding around above his head before he caught the lip of the wall. A wave of relief swept over him, and using both hands, he pulled himself up and levered himself onto the top of the tower.
His heart pounding in his ears, Chris sucked in a breath and looked around. The tower rose above the walls of the facility, and from his vantage point he could see beyond the training field to the lands beyond their prison.
A heavy fog had swept in with the afternoon, obscuring much of his view, but Chris could still see enough to feel the harsh fingers of despair clawing at his throat. Above the white clinging to the barren earth, towering mountains rose around the facility, their jagged peaks capped with snow.
Wherever they had been brought, it was a long way from civilization. Even if they managed to escape their prison, where would they go? In such a remote landscape, it would not take long for the elements to claim them. Even if they somehow survived the cold, they would soon starve in the barren land.
“Excellent work,” the doctor’s voice carried up to Chris, slicing through his despair.
He felt a strong urge to hurl himself from the tower and crash down on the man. From the such a height, the impact would probably kill them both. It might have been worth it, but just the thought had Chris gripping the stone beneath him tighter.
“Down you come then,” his overseer continued, returning his attention to the e-tablet the doctors seemed to carry everywhere with them.
Chris swallowed. The way down was going to be even worse. He would have to be continuously looking down in search of the next hold. There would be no ignoring the open air beneath him. Feeling the fear returning, he looked around the field. The eyes of his friends were turned in his direction, and he recalled Ashley’s words from back in their cell.
We are in this together now. We’re family, you and I. All of us.
Nodding to each of them, Chris tightened his grip on the wall and levered himself over the edge. The climb down seemed to take an age, and even in last ten feet Chris dared not release the wall for fear of his body crumpling on impact with the ground.
When he finally stepped down onto the field, his legs were shaking so badly they almost gave way beneath him. He stumbled a step before recovering, then straightened and faced the doctor.
“So, doc, what’s next?”
15
Liz lay in the darkness, eyes open, staring into empty space. Somewhere above was the concrete ceiling, but in the pitch-black she imagined it was the sky that stretched overhead, infinite in its expanse. Only there were no stars, no moon or drifting satellites, and in her heart, she could not convince herself of the illusion.
In her heart, she remained trapped, locked away within the soulless walls of the facility.
She could still feel the boy watching her, begging for help, for an end to the torture. A shudder ran through her as she remembered the way Halt had looked at her, the piercing grey of his eyes as he weighed her worth. It had been so close, a different toss of the coin, and he might have chosen her…
Biting back a sob, Liz closed her eyes, though it made no difference in the dark. She had wanted to go to him; only Ashley had stopped her. Instead, she had stood in silence, hand in hand with the girl from the city, as William slid towards death.
Liz shivered, a scream building in her throat. She bit it back, and drew the thin blanket closer around her. Goosebumps pricked her skin as she rolled onto her side. Her body ached and a constant thudding came from her temples. The doctors had subjected them to eight hours of relentless exercise, until the sun had finally dipped below the towering walls. By then, her body had been little more than a series of bruises. A measly meal of broiled stew in their cell had followed, though in truth it was better than most of what she’d scavenged in Sacramento. Then the lights had clanked off, plunging them into the darkness.
“You okay, Liz?” Ashley whispered from below.
Liz suppressed a shudder.
Am I okay? She turned the question over in her mind, wondering whether she would ever be okay again. At the thought, a yearning rose within her, a need for companionship, for comfort.
“I’m alive,” she replied, then: “What about you?”
Out on the field, Ashley had barely moved while William lay writhing in the dirt. Her face had remained impassive; the only sign anything was amiss her iron-like grip around Liz’s hand. Afterwards, Ashley had moved through the drills and tasks set by the doctors with an eerie calm, as though her mind were far away, detached from the horror of her situation.
There was a long pause before Ashley answered. “I’m alive too.” Her breath quickened. “That’s saying a lot.”
“How long…how long have you and Sam been here?”
Another pause. “Weeks, a month. I’ve lost count of the days.”
“And…and you
’ve seen things like that, like today with William?”
Below, Ashley gave a sharp snort. “That, and more.” She shifted in the bed, causing the bunk to rock.
Liz shivered, thinking of the icy glances that had passed between Ashley and Sam, as well as the others. “What about the two in the other group, Richard and Jasmine?”
“What about them?” Ashley’s response was abrupt, her voice sharp.
“You know them,” Liz whispered, aware she was treading on dangerous ground. “Who are they?”
“You’ll find out soon enough, Liz. Best you not worry about it.”
Liz swallowed. Ashley’s reply brooked no argument, and an uneasy silence fell between them. For a while, Liz lay still, staring into space, wondering at Ashley’s words. Below, Sam gave a snort and rolled in his bed. Liz stifled a groan as a rumble came from the boy’s chest and he started to snore.
“The boys don’t seem to be having any trouble sleeping,” she muttered, hoping Ashley was still awake.
“You know what boys are like,” came Ashley’s reply. Liz could almost hear the girl smiling. “Emotional capacity of a brick and all…” Her voice faded for a moment. “Sam…he closes it off I think, buries it deep. It comes out in other ways though, like how he reacted to Chris when you arrived.”
“And you?” Liz couldn’t help but dig deeper. Through the heat and torture, the agonizing exercises and the hard-faced stares of the doctors, Ashley had not missed a beat. She had smiled through each new challenge, as though privy to some secret joke, moving with that same fluid grace Liz had noted when she’d first seen her.
When Ashley did not answer, Liz pressed on. “You looked so calm, even when…” She trailed off as William’s agonized face reappeared in her mind.
“I was?” Ashley sounded surprised. Sheets rustled in the darkness. “I wasn’t. Inside I was screaming, but I’ve learned when to keep things to myself, when not to draw attention. Even before this place, it was a skill I’d mastered.”
Liz sat up at that. “What do you mean?”
Quiet laughter came from below. “I’ve had a lot of practice, Liz. My parents worked for the government.”
An icy hand slid its way down Liz’s throat and wrapped its fingers around her heart. Her breath stuttered, the cold steel pressing against her throat. She grasped at the covers, tearing at the cheap fabric.
Below, Ashley was still talking. “They worked in media relations, of all things. No one important, nothing to do with the President and his people. Just a couple of analysts in a tiny department of our fine administration.” Her last sentence rang with sarcasm. “But even two lowly analysts quickly discovered there’s no such thing as free speech these days. Especially for those close to power. They had to learn to wear masks, to hide their true beliefs about the goings-on of the government. By the time my older sister and I came along, they had become masters at it. So I guess you could say, I learned from the best.”
“Why would they stay?” Liz tried to keep the emotion from her voice, but the question came out harsh, accusing.
“Why?” Ashley paused, as though considering the question. “For my sister and me, I guess. To give us a better life. They may not have agreed with everything the government did, but they knew leaving was not really an option. Their careers would have been destroyed. They didn’t want to raise their daughters on the streets.”
“Yes, it’s not much of a life,” Liz all but growled.
Ashley fell silent, and for a long while it seemed she would not reply. Guilt welled in Liz’s chest, but she pushed it down.
“Didn’t really matter in the end, did it? They sacrificed their beliefs, their integrity, so we could live, but it didn’t make any difference. They were found out for doing something wrong, I guess. Must have been, because here I am.”
Liz’s anger dwindled with Ashley’s words. It was not the girl’s fault she’d been born into wealth, while Liz had been condemned to the poverty-stricken countryside. Even so, she could not quite set aside the emotion, could not quite let it go.
“Sorry,” she offered at last, her tone still harsh. “It’s just, for as long as I can remember, the government has been the enemy. Even as a child, they were the people who came and took our food, the landowners who held our lives in the palm of their hands. Then, when I was older, after my parents…after they passed…” She shook her head, angry images flashing through her mind.
“I understand,” Ashley’s whisper came from below. “But none of that matters now, does it? Whoever our parents were, whatever we’ve been through, we’ve arrived in the same place. We’re both trapped in the same nightmare. You’ll learn that, soon enough.”
“It gets worse?” Liz spoke the words without emotion. Her energy was spent, and she could hardly bring herself to care about whatever fresh trials the morning might bring.
“Only if you’re human,” Ashley replied.
The words rang with finality and Liz sensed the conversation had come to an end. Shivering, she hugged the covers tight around her. Suddenly she longed to be wrapped in another’s arms, to be touched by another human. An image of her mother drifted into her thoughts, a warm smile on her lips, eyes dancing with humor.
Biting back a cry, Liz buried her head in the pillow, anxious to hide her sorrow. As she cried, another thought rose, a question that demanded an answer. One she should have asked. Silently, she cursed her selfish grief.
“Ashley,” she breathed. “What happened to your sister?”
Silence clung to the darkness, and long minutes passed, until Liz was sure the girl had already fallen asleep.
“She’s dead.” The answer came just as Liz was preparing to give up.
Sobs came from below, carrying with them the pain of loss.
“I’m sorry,” Liz whispered, the words hollow, even to her.
Ashley did not reply, and Liz lay back on her bed, listening as Ashley’s crying faded away.
It was a long time before sleep found Liz.
16
Liz stumbled as she entered the room, the sudden, brilliant light blinding her. Stars danced across her vision as behind her, the door slammed closed. She jumped at the sound, and almost tripped, before managing to right herself. Straightening, she blinked again and finally took in her surroundings.
Overhead, fluorescent bulbs lined the ceiling, filling the room with their distant whine. Otherwise, the room was unlike anything she’d seen so far. Three walls were covered by white padding, while the third shone with silver glass, its surface reflecting her tangled hair. She shivered, seeing the exhaustion in her eyes, the bruises marking her cheeks.
For three days, the doctors had taken them to the outdoor field and driven them through an endless series of tests and exercises. Unused to the strain, Liz had quickly learned that failure meant pain. She had been forced to dig deep within herself, to stores of strength she hadn’t known she possessed, in order to survive. But now things had changed again.
She took another step into the room, the soft floor yielding beneath her feet. Turning from what she guessed was a one-way mirror, she faced the boy standing in the center of the room. His long blond hair hung in dirty clumps around his face, where purple bruises matched Liz’s own. He bit his lip, his eyes flickering around the room, uncertainty writ in his every gesture. Behind him was another door, its surface padded like the one through which she had entered.
Joshua, she thought, recalling his name from their first day on the training field.
He looked at her as she thought his name. “What’s going on?” he croaked.
Liz shrugged and shook her head. “I don’t know, Joshua.”
They had not spoken since that first day. Ashley and Sam had been insistent, refusing to even acknowledge the other group of inmates. Somehow, Liz did not think their rule applied now.
Before either of them could speak further, a loud squeal interrupted them. Liz winced, the hairs on her neck standing up as a crackling voice followed.
“Welcome,” the voice began, coming from somewhere in the ceiling. “Congratulations on surviving this far. As you know, only the strongest are needed for the final stages of our experiment.”
Liz crossed her arms and turned to face the mirror. Raising an eyebrow, she rolled her eyes so those behind could see. She was sick of listening to these people, sick of them acting like they owned her. Collar or no, she refused to be treated like an animal any longer, to bend to their will.
The voice ignored her display of insolence and continued: “Unfortunately, time constraints require us to press on. This phase of the project must be completed by week’s end. That means omitting the standard rest period for new subjects such as yourselves.”
“Hardly seems fair,” Liz muttered under her breath, flashing a quick grin at Joshua.
Joshua shrugged and cast another uncertain look at the glass. They stood in silence, waiting for the voice to continue. “Regretfully, we must cull our population of candidates for our next phase. Only the strongest would survive the final process regardless, and we do not have the resources to waste on failed specimens. Thus, only the best will survive today.”
Liz shuddered at the casual way the voice described ending their lives. She recalled the faces lining the corridor outside their cell. Some of them might have been as young as thirteen. Their whole lives were ahead of them. And these people wished to snuff them out, to slaughter them like they were no more than field mice beneath their boots.
Joshua seemed a little younger than her, maybe seventeen years old. He was a little taller too, and bulkier, with the broad shoulders of a swimmer. His amber eyes were watching her now, his fear shining out like a beacon.
“Only one of you will leave that room alive. You must decide for yourselves whether you possess the will to live. To the victor, goes life.”