by Mark Jeffrey
She snorted. “I am going to find him. But I don’t think he’s in here.”
“Well … I was close enough. That’s what keeps you putting one foot in front of the other. But never mind about this Cone guy. Doesn’t exist.”
“Hmm. Well, I’m not convinced. There might be something to it. Anyway, how’s the wood shop?”
Card shrugged. “The Kings have mellowed out. Well, on me, anyway. Now they’re up in the collective face of a Slovak gang. Usually just at lunch though — the Slovaks are on a different work detail, so we only see them at meals.”
Just then, the Indian girl Elspeth had seen down in the arboretum walked by. She stared at James Card. “Hi,” James said. “What’s your name?”
“Ione,” the girl said shyly. “What about you?”
“James,” Card replied. “I’ve seen you around. You’re a prisoner too, right?” Ione nodded. “Are your parents here as well?” No, she mouthed. “Oh. I’m sorry to hear that.” Card exchanged a glance with Elspeth through the bars.
“Are you lost?” Elspeth asked. Ione shook her head, No. “What I mean is … usually the guards don’t let us just wander around. Do they know you’re up here?”
“Yes,” Ione said. “They let me walk back to my cell on my own. They know I’ll be good.”
“I see,” Elspeth said.
Ione turned her gaze back to Jim Card. “Really nice to meet you, James Card.”
“Both ways,” James said. “Both ways, Ione.” When she was gone, he said, “Cute kid. That must be weird, getting thrown into the slammer at that age with no parents. Think I’ll keep an eye on her.”
LATER ON, just before lights out and the horrible films began, James yelled a guard over to his cell. “Hey. So there’s a little girl down the way there. Names Ione. You know about her?” The guard nodded. “I want you to do something special for her tonight, you hear? I want you to bring her ice cream or something. Or get her a pretty dress instead these burlap sacks you make us all wear.” The guard just listened, but did not react. “Come on. I’m asking nicely. She’s just a little girl. I have no idea what you guys could want with her, why you would ruin her life like this. You really should let her go, let her leave.”
“That’s not possible,” the guard said finally. “You don’t know what you’re asking.”
“Goddammit! How much more simple can it be? You kidnapped a little girl, stole her from her childhood and her parents, and put her in some crazy prison! Not really a place for a kid! Now — just do something nice for her. Tonight. All I’m asking. Can you do that?”
The guard thought for a long moment. Elspeth wished she could read the face beneath that black helmet. But finally, he just nodded and said, “Alright.” He turned and left.
James Card called out after him, whooping with delight. “Alright? Alright! Alright! And get me a record player, while you’re at it! And jazz albums. Vinyl. Not a CD player! I like the honesty of vinyl.”
“Don’t push it,” the guard mumbled as he walked away.
The guard faded in the distance. Elspeth watched him as he stepped across a bridge that retracted behind him. She watched him all the way until he disappeared into the Panopticon.
Then the lights snapped off with a crack. The films started, distorted voices and music blaring: the nightly din that was their lot.
Elspeth sighed and went to bed.
FIVE: THE ORDER OF THE BLACK DOVE
IN THE MIDDLE of the next night, Elspeth realized that Titus had entered and left her cell by some means other than the front door.
It was the only explanation.
Gripped with the idea, and now wide awake at its implications, she started examining the walls of her cell. If there was a secret doorway, it would probably be in the back somewhere, away from the front of the cell, she reasoned. She dug her fingernails into every nook and crevice, pushing, pulling, scraping — anything to trigger a hidden door.
When she’d turned up nothing other than bloody fingertips after an hour, she sat and stared at the map of hexagons that both adorned her wall and taunted her.
Was the secret here somehow?
But no. These hexagons described a terrain unfamiliar: they did not relate to this place.
Still. She rose and examined the map, this time with her fingers. She traced a hexagon with a bee in the middle of it and realized that it was embossed slightly: it stood out from the others.
Without thinking, she pressed, and heard the concrete sound of stone sliding neatly on stone.
Thank God for the films, she thought, knowing that the sound had been masked. Warm blood leapt in her chest. She couldn’t see what had changed, not at first: the darkness covered whatever had happened. She felt along the wall to the back of the cell and found that the right corner had folded inward.
A dark passage lay open before her. She didn’t hesitate, even though she could not see. She entered.
Her fingers were her eyes. She used them to feel along the cold, wet rough-hewn rock walls, while her other hand clutched out in front of her.
I should go back, Elspeth thought. There’s nothing down here but rats and dead bodies and drip drip drip. I should get a light and come back.
But curiosity compelled her.
Still.
Had Titus meant for her to find this tunnel? Had that been the very point of his little visit?
Or better yet: was Titus actually one of her mysterious wardens? Had he been a plant? Was he, at this very moment, watching her progress through some hidden camera deep in the bowels of the Panopticon?
The thick darkness offered no answers.
All she knew was that she was free of her cell, by God, free. There was the possibility that this wasn’t a ruse, that the guards did not know about this tunnel. Either they did, and she was supposed to find it — or they didn’t, and she had one over on them.
The latter thought made her grin. She clung to it. Bastards. Take that!
Just when she thought the darkness would suffocate her, she saw a faint light sloping downward ahead. She felt her way along the sopping wet wall and slouched towards it.
She could now make out the vague outlines of her own form in the darkness.
Voices.
Not loud, just a conversation in low tones.
“Stop,” came a voice nearby. Too near. Her spirits fell, but she obeyed.
Footsteps approached from behind. Elspeth was surprised when a young girl of ten or so stepped in front her at a safe distance, pointing a gun.
Ione. It was the Indian prisoner girl.
“Ione. What are you doing with that gun? Please don’t point that at me.”
But her parental and commanding tone did not cause Ione to waver in the slightest. Her body was young, but her eyes … Elspeth could see now that they were confident, deep, rich with subtle texture. They were not a child’s eyes: they were old eyes.
This as a very different Ione than the one she had observed earlier in the prison, the one James Card had spoken with.
My God. What have they done to you in here? Elspeth thought.
“I found a hidden door in my cell so I —”
“Shut up. Move. That way, towards the light.”
Shut up? This ‘child’ Ione was surprisingly brazen.
Elspeth did as she was told, hands up. She emerged in an open area with several connecting tunnels, all carved roughly through the rock. Several other kids of varying ages were here: Elspeth counted eight. They all jumped up in alarm.
“Don’t worry. I got her covered,” said Ione, emerging behind her. “Found her in the tunnels.”
“Who’s this?” said another girl. All of them, Elspeth breathed. Old eyes. Thousand-yard stare. None of them really children in some way.
“Jesus! Did you check and —”
“Yes, of course I did! Nobody was with her, nobody following behind. I tracked her for awhile.” This seemed to calm everyone somewhat.
“We should wait for David,” somebod
y else said. Murmur of assent.
SHE DIDN’T have to wait long.
From one of the adjoining tunnels came a small party of men and women. Some wore their burlap prison clothes; others wore something like military fatigues with sharp black boots.
When they saw Elspeth, all of them immediately looked nervous. All except for one. He was a man with kind looking face, a sort of everyman, the stable pillar of some small town or village somewhere. This man did not looked scared when he spied Elspeth.
Instead, he smiled and held out his hand with a quizzical expression.
“Hello. My name is David. Do I know you …?”
“I’m looking for Sebastian Cone,” Elspeth said.
Eyes stared at her intently, fearful, silent. There was not so much as a murmur.
“Hi. Let me try this again. My name is Elspeth Lune. I’m a doctor, by the way, if anyone is ill. I’m looking for Sebastian Cone. I want to escape. I hear Mr. Cone can help.”
There was laughter at this last bit. It was not derisive — not as if the thought of Cone helping someone was in some way ridiculous. It was more like Elspeth had misunderstood something — or misused a word.
“Did I say something funny?” I’m so not in a joking mood.
“Doctor Lune,” said David, as if the name meant something to him that he couldn’t quite place yet. “I see you’ve found your way into our tunnels. Might I ask: how did you manage that?”
“Someone used them to come to my cell,” Elspeth said. “Titus. Do you guys know a Titus?”
David thought for a moment, and consulted the others with his gaze. Then he turned and shook his head. “No. Can’t say that we do. He used the tunnels you say?”
Elspeth nodded. “Pretty sure he did. I didn’t catch him red-handed or anything. But I don’t see how else he could have gotten into my cell.”
“Hmm,” David said. “Well, he’s not one of us. And that is troubling.”
“Who are you?”
“Us? Well. We’re prisoners. Just like you. Aren’t we now?”
“Prisoners?”
“Yep. Brought here against our will.”
“So … what, you found these tunnels? Or you made them?”
“Found them,” came a new voice behind her. A large, bearish man that reminded her of Little John from the Robin Hood tales stood there. “Sorry Doctor Lune, I’m going to have to frisk you. Nothing fresh, mind you … just need to be sure you’ve no weapons.” He did so, and was polite as one could be in doing such a thing. “She’s clean,” he announced afterward.
Ione lowered her gun, but not her steely gaze.
Elspeth looked around at the company with a calm eye. There were twenty in total — men and women, all of multiple races. Those not directly involved in the questioning of Elspeth already hovered around fires, cooking food, it appeared.
“So what did I stumble upon here? A secret prisoner meeting?”
“Well,” David said, scratching his stubble. He flashed her an admiring gaze, looking her up and down. He liked her, Elspeth could tell. She always knew when a man liked her. “You seem like a good sort. And I figure we have no choice but to take a chance and trust you, now that you’re here.” Ione hissed a warning, but David ignored her. “We’re called the Order of the Black Dove. We’re working on an escape. And these tunnels are our way out. Or they will be. We sneak out of our cells at night, and meet here as often as we can.”
“The bad prisoners,” Elspeth said doubtfully. “You all.”
“Yep. That’s us,” David said with a tight grin, folding his arms nervously.
“So what are you doing?”
“We have several digs going on,” David explained. “We have exploratory tunnels going in several directions … but we’re not really sure which way is the right way to dig, so we have not had much success yet. But we’re pursuing a number of other options.”
“Like what?”
David looked nervously at Ione. “We only just met, Elspeth. None of the other prisoners know about us and we’d like to keep it that way. So let’s see how that settles in first and then take it from there, shall we?”
“Right. Of course,” Elspeth said.
OVER THE NEXT week, Elspeth spent most of her night time in the tunnels that criss-crossed the outer hull of the Prison — and with the Order of the Black Dove.
For some reason that should could not name, she did not share information about the tunnels or the Order with James Card. It just didn’t feel like a good idea. In the mornings when he asked where she had been when he had called out to her in the dark from his next door cell, she gave him excuses: she told him she was tired and had passed out, that sort of thing.
But James Card wasn’t a fool. He knew something was up. He could sense it.
Jesus. It felt like she was cheating on him.
When Elspeth expressed surprise to David that the guards in the Panopticon had not discovered the tunnels for themselves, David simply shrugged and said that they were evidently arrogant: utterly sure that they actually could see everything from their central location.
“And the Prison is old,” David said cryptically. “Older than those in the Panopticon know — or even guess at.”
“What makes you say that?” Elspeth asked.
“Patience, Ellie,” David said with a smile. “Soon. Soon we’ll —”
“Um.” Elspeth cleared her throat. “Please don’t call me that. Ellie, I mean. Only one person calls me that, and that was my husband.” Only Oscar.
“Oh,” David said, looking startled. “I’m sorry.”
“You couldn’t have known,” Elspeth said. “Not to worry.”
“Elspeth, then,” he said. “Are you … still married? I mean is … your husband still with us?”
“Oh Jesus,” she said. “I just said was, didn’t I? It’s starting. I’m starting to think of him as gone for good, and I can’t give up! No.” She cried for a moment, and then said, “No. He’s alive still. He’s just missing. I was trying to find him when … when this all happened to me. Great timing, right?” She laughed.
“Timing is usually not great with these sorts of things,” David replied. Then his gaze softened. “Ah. Look. Elspeth. Knowing you’re married and all … and just as friends … would you like to have dinner with me? I mean, tomorrow night?”
“What — here? In the tunnels?”
“Well … it would be a nice dinner. And yes in the tunnels. We have ways of getting some of the good food now and then from the guards. You might appreciate it if for no reason other than that.”
“So this is not a date, then, right?” Elspeth said with a small smile.
“Nope. Honest. Just two friends.”
Elspeth smiled. “Okay then. Friends, then. Having dinner. Then yes.”
THE NEXT NIGHT, Elspeth was led by one of the other members of the Order through the labyrinth of tunnels to a small cavern that was isolated from the rest of the tunnel complex. There, David sat a candle-lit table with two chairs and a veritable feast on it. He rose as she entered.
“Ah! Elspeth!” He beamed. “So glad you could make it to the best restaurant this side of the prison!” She laughed. God, the food smelled so good! She hadn’t realized how famished she was until this moment.
David scampered around the table and pulled out the seat for her. “I was even able to find a chair that should be just right for your height … here you go!” She sat and found he was right: it put her at perfect table level. So many times, she found herself hunching over as she ate a meal in a restaurant. She found herself grateful — and impressed with this little touch — despite herself.
“I call this place The Cavern,” he said, pouring wine for both of them. “It’s an exclusive place — not everyone in the Glass Prison or even the Order of the Black Dove gets an invite here.”
“Yeah about that … the Black Dove. What does that stand for? Who came up with that goofy name?”
David feigned hurt. “Ohhhh. You wound
me, Elspeth.” He grabbed his heart. “I came up with it.”
She laughed. “You did?”
“Yeah. I wanted something that sounded … you know. Mysterious. I mean, this prison has lots of gangs with their own bad-sounding names. I thought we should have one also.”
“But you’re not a gang. You have children in the Order, for crying out loud.”
David shrugged. “Still. This is a prison, even for the children. It’s a hard life for everyone, even them. I think they’ve earned the right to a bad-ass name. It makes them feel protected, like they’re a part of something also.”
“Can’t argue with you there. Listen. Can we eat? I am dying to …”
“Yes! By all means! We have steak here, and stuffing there, and pumpkin pie over here and …”
“Oh my God,” she said, her mouth already full of steak. “I have not had meat in weeks …”
She didn’t say another word for a full fifteen minutes. David kept the wine flowing, and she didn’t care one bit that a man watched her with amusement as she gorged herself.
FEELING QUITE a bit better in all sorts of ways, Elspeth became a lot more talkative.
“So you have guns,” she said. “There are enough of you to storm the Panopticon. I don’t know how many guards there are, but they don’t look like that many. Why don’t you try to escape by force?”
David laughed aloud heartily.
“What? What’s so funny about that?”
When he finally stopped laughing, he said: “Those guns you think we have are actually made of soap and painted with shoe polish. They’re not real guns at all.”
Not …?
“No. We carved them. We’ve gotten quite good at making ones that look pretty real. You could call it practical art.”
“Wow,” Elspeth said. “You could have fooled me.”
“We did fool you.” They both laughed. “But no, we’re not attacking the Panopticon armed with soap guns. Although … we do have plenty of knives: daggers. Shivs, and even makeshift short swords. Still. All that wouldn’t be nearly enough against the armory of weapons they’ve got in the Panopticon.” He pause for a moment and said: “So. Out there, in the real world, you’re a rich doctor. All this must have been quite a shock … taken some getting used to.”