by Ryan Casey
“It will budge!” Andy said.
He punched the grating. His voice had gone shaky, uncertain. Grief-stricken.
“It has to budge!”
And as Riley looked at him, he understood. He couldn’t accept death. Because death was failure. Not just for him, but for Steve.
He couldn’t accept failing Steve, just like Riley couldn’t fail his friends; his family.
The group pulled and yanked at the grating some more. It creaked ever so slightly, just not enough.
“Gonna have to think about running,” Jordanna said.
“There’s no-fucking-where to—”
Then something snapped.
Riley fell back, the grating still in his hands.
It took him a moment to realise that the ventilation shaft was now open, that their chance of freedom was right ahead.
“Quick!” Andy shouted.
Andy scuttled into the shaft first. Then Tamara followed him, then Jordanna and then Chloë.
Riley nodded at Ivan to progress. But there was this look on Ivan’s face. This look, as the approaching Orion’s screeches got noisier, as the beast got closer.
This look of defeat.
This look of guilt.
This look of a monster, and knowledge that he was a monster.
Ivan nodded at him again. “You,” he said, his speech slurred, painful-sounding.
And Riley was about to comply. He was about to go through the shaft, into the darkness and after his friends.
Then he felt something grab his ankle and drag him back down the corridor.
CHAPTER SIX
ANDY
“We—we can’t just leave him behind.”
“He’s gone.”
“But he … he’d’ve come after us. He’d’ve helped us—”
“He’s gone.”
Andy didn’t want to be harsh to Jordanna, just realistic. Jordanna started to say something else to Andy. Then she went quiet for a few moments. Went quiet in the cramped darkness of the ventilation shaft. The others were quiet, too. Like they understood the mountain of shit they were all under. Like they understood the burden of responsibility Andy had been handed—to lead them out of this shaft, out of the Labyrinth and away from the BLZ.
“I just … I just can’t believe he’s gone,” Jordanna said.
This time, Andy didn’t respond.
Sounded like Jordanna was mulling over the truth. Facing up to reality.
Riley was gone.
And there was no going back for him.
Andy squeezed his way through the ventilation shaft. So tight that it felt like a damned python was wrapping itself around him, squeezing the life out of him. He wasn’t sure how the big guy Ivan was gonna get on. James was skinny enough, and Tamara and Chloë were pretty small too.
But Ivan. One of Mr Fletch’s experiments. A guy who Mr Fletch had clearly started converting into an Orion. He had a struggle, no doubt.
And Andy wondered. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing. If he got crushed in here, left behind, maybe that’d be the safest option. For all of them.
’Cause nobody could know for certain the extent of Mr Fletch’s experimentation.
Nobody could be sure Ivan wasn’t just gonna turn into a monster at any second.
“What about Steve?” Jordanna asked, as the others chatted among themselves further back.
Andy tried not to think too much of Steve. “I’ll find him.” Truth was, he wasn’t so confident anymore. Chances were Steve was in the Labyrinth. Probably still in there.
“Thought you didn’t give up on people?”
“Not giving up on him.”
“Looks that way—”
“Do you want to get the fuck out of here or not?”
Jordanna went quiet. Then, “Sorry. Just … just this whole thing. This whole fucking place. It’s messed up.”
“Amen to that,” James muttered.
Andy carried on moving into the darkness, towards the exit. It had to be here somewhere. Yet this all just seemed too … easy. Mr Fletch was a perfectionist. No way would he leave a weak spot in his Labyrinth’s foundations, especially during a lockdown.
Or maybe he would. Maybe he was human after all.
“I’m sorry,” Andy said. “About your friend. He seemed … he seemed a decent guy.”
“He is a decent guy,” Jordanna said. “Was a decent guy. I just … It’s hard. I mean losing anyone is hard. But you think it’d get easier. Think you’d get more used to it, I know that sounds sick, like, but it’s true. It never gets easier. Never.”
Andy thought of all the good times he’d had with Steve. Beers in the sunset on a Thai cruise. A whole damned multitude of music concerts and gigs, which Steve loved a hell of a lot more than he pretended. And even since the beginning of the end. They’d still had good times. Times of light amidst the darkness. Shared memories. Made love a shitload.
But he had to let Steve fight his own battle now. He had to trust him. ’Cause he was strong. One tough bastard, that was for sure.
He had to have faith.
Faith that one day, they’d be together again.
One day.
He held his breath as the ventilation shaft’s grip got tighter and he pushed Steve out of his mind. “It never gets easier. That’s what makes us human. When we lose that, we lose everything.”
They pushed on further through the shaft. Pushed so far and travelled for so long that Andy was convinced he’d got the wrong fucking shaft. That’d be perfect. Great way to get a bunch of people trusting you—lead ’em down the wrong route. A route barricaded by Orions. A place the group would starve until they turned on each other and, in the end, turned out no different to zombies. Just conscious.
“That a light?” James asked.
Andy didn’t see it at first. But when he lifted his head a little, squinted into the distance, he saw it clearly.
Grating.
A hatch.
An exit.
“This is it,” Andy said. “Not far now. Just hold on. Take some deep breaths and hold on ’cause it gets a little tighter.”
“Not sure I can cope with any tighter, mate,” James said.
Ivan didn’t speak. But Andy could tell he was struggling.
Again, might not be such a bad thing after all.
Andy reached the grating. Readied himself to push it down, prepared for it to be just as tricky to move as the one on the inside.
But it fell down with one tiny tap.
The sound of it hitting the concrete echoed around the silent BLZ. Andy held his breath. Waited for a sign of life, a sign that someone was around here, a sign that this was some kind of trap.
But the BLZ was empty.
The run to the exit was empty.
They just had to get to the gate. Open it, just a little. Get the fuck out.
“Keep your heads up,” Andy said, as he climbed out of the shaft. Cool raindrops fell from the grey sky, the smell of an impending storm thick and rich and beautiful. He reached in, helped the others out. Got Tamara and Jordanna and Chloë out easy, told them to keep on guard, to watch themselves.
Then it came to Ivan.
Just seeing those sharp teeth gave Andy the fucking creeps. Because they were a reminder of the monsters Mr Fletch had created. And he hoped Ivan wouldn’t end up like one of them. He seemed conscious enough—human enough—right now, and that was a good thing. Course it was a good thing.
But Ivan’s future was a discussion they were gonna have to have.
At some point, they were going to have to decide what to do.
For the best.
Just not right now.
Andy and the others grabbed Ivan’s arms, pulled him out of the shaft. And although it was a struggle, they got him out. Got him out no problem.
The six of them stood.
“Feels good to breathe again,” Jordanna said, patting James’ back.
Chloë looked around, eyes darting. Creepy little kid.
Ivan reste
d his hands on his knees.
Tamara clutched her stomach. Still hadn’t said a word.
“Nice to get a rest, I know, but we’re not done yet. Far from it. If you follow me, we can make it out of here. But it ain’t gonna be easy. We’ll have to get to the gate, which is a challenge in itself. And then we’ll—”
“Is it just my dodgy eyes or is there someone by the gate?” James said.
Andy turned. Lifted his gun instinctively.
“Yeah,” Jordanna said. “Yeah there is. I see him too …”
Her voice drifted away.
Drifted out of Andy’s mind, out of his consciousness.
Because this man wasn’t just any man.
It was Steve.
Andy knew he should keep his calm. Keep his composure.
But nothing could stop him from running across the concrete, out into the open, towards the gate.
Nothing could stop the tears rolling down his cheeks as he got closer and closer to his love, to his one love. The love of his life.
He should’ve known something was wrong when he heard shouts from the group behind him.
When he heard guns reloading.
When someone shouted at him to stop, to slow down, get on the ground.
But Steve.
He had to get to Steve.
He had to …
And then he did stop.
It wasn’t a conscious decision. His legs stopped for him. Every function in his body just gave in.
Because Steve was in full view now.
Steve was right in front of him.
Naked.
Hanging from a noose by the gates.
Dead.
Andy screamed something, but he didn’t know what exactly. He just dropped to his knees. Dropped to his knees as the whole earth opened up around him, as his heart exploded out of his chest in a pool of tears on the ground.
He heard footsteps getting closer to him.
Heard Mr Fletch’s voice right beside him. “I told you never to step out of line. Why did you have to step out of line?”
And before he could fight back, before he could cave the bald fucker’s skull in for what he’d done to his love, his Steve, he felt cuffs snap around his wrists and he was dragged to his feet.
Jordanna, Tamara, Chloë, James and Ivan were cuffed to.
Steve stared on with dead eyes as flies swarmed his pale, putrid-smelling skin.
And still he looked so beautiful.
CHAPTER SEVEN
JAMES
The rainstorm powered down on the steel roof of the cabin. It was a sound James used to enjoy. Before and after society went tits up. ’Cause it meant staying inside. Staying in the comfort of his house, or his tent, or his whatever, and not having to venture a step outside into the land of the unknown, the world of unending horrors.
But sitting upright against the rear wall of this ten by ten-metre cabin, surrounded by people cuffed up—people like him—James wanted nothing more than to be back outside. Back on the road.
’Cause sometimes the worst monsters were the ones who looked you in the eye with that mad stare.
The mad stare that power-hunger brought along with it for the ride.
“It’d help if this place didn’t fucking reek,” he said.
Nobody responded. Not the pale, gaunt men chained up at the other side of this cabin. Not Jordanna, Chloë, Tamara, Ivan. Definitely not Andy. He’d not spoken a damned word since he found his boyfriend hanging there outside the gate. That scream he made when he realised what was happening. Shit, that scream would haunt James for the rest of his damned existence.
’Cause it was a sign that death wasn’t always physical. It was emotional.
And emotional death was just as common as physical death in this mad new world.
“We should’ve gone back,” Jordanna muttered. She was staring at the other side of the cabin, staring at the thick metal door that the group had been tossed through by Mr Fletch and his men.
“Not sure I agree,” James said.
Jordanna turned. “We left Riley behind. That’s why we ended up here in the first place—”
“We ended up here ’cause it’s where that nut job Fletch wanted us to end up. Ain’t no way we were getting out of this place so easily. Unfortunately for me, I know how wankers like him work.”
“How’s that?”
James thought about answering. He thought back to his life before. Flashes of his dad, his brother. The way they looked down their noses at him. At his musical career.
But the jealousy that glimmered in their eyes.
The undeniable look of, “Fuck. Why didn’t I do something with my life?” that permeated their every conversation with him.
“It doesn’t matter,” James said.
And Jordanna didn’t pry. She didn’t push him for more information. ’Cause that’s how things worked now. People respected each other’s past, each other’s privacy.
Everyone had demons. Skeletons in their closet. James had a fair few more than most, he’d wager.
The beauty of the world now was that you didn’t have to reveal them if you didn’t want to.
And everyone respected that.
“We’ve been in here for three days,” someone said.
James looked opposite. A bald guy in a dress suit. Ginger beard; cracked, dry lips. Bags under his eyes. “How’d you end up here?”
The guy next to him—a beefier guy with grey hair wearing a red shirt—shrugged. “Out on the road doin’ our thing. Then them dick’eds come flyin’ outta nowhere. Split us up. Throw some of us in ’ere. God knows what they’ve done wit’ rest of ’em.”
James had an idea. By this point, he’d seen enough of Fletch’s fucked up “Orion” experiments to know what the guy did with spare humans.
But that forced a question.
If this group in the cabin weren’t subject to that same fate, then what lay ahead for them?
They’d fought back. Defected. Tried to escape.
James’ skin crawled at the thought of a fate worse than becoming one of those monsters.
“Fuck’s up with Quasimodo over there anyway?” the greying guy asked.
James didn’t know who he was referring to at first. Then, when he followed his gaze, he saw him looking right at the dude called Ivan. The guy with the mass-off teeth who they’d bumped into back at the Preston docks.
Those teeth. Not as many of them as the Orions, but as frigging sharp as the Orions.
Ivan stayed still. Quiet. He looked at the guy in the dress suit. Stared into his eyes. There was an intensity there. An intensity that James wouldn’t want to be on the end of, not for anything.
“He’s alive,” James said. “’N that’s all that matters anymore. Now we gonna try gettin outta this place or what?”
The bald guy sniggered. “No use. Tried every fuckin’ trick in the book. We’re not menna get out of this place.”
James looked at the cuffs on Jordanna’s wrists beside them. Chained onto a metal pipe, as was everyone else on this side of the room. “Don’t hate on me if I don’t take yer word for it.”
James pulled at the metal pipe. Seemed solid. Sturdy. But it wasn’t invincible. Couldn’t be. Especially not with six of ’em tied up to it.
“All of us on this side, we’re gonna pull on my count of five. Alright?”
A few half-hearted, defeated shrugs.
James loosened the muscles in his arms. “Hey,” he said. “Hey, you look over ’ere. You look right at me.”
Ivan turned. Tamara turned. Chloë turned. Andy and Jordanna stared into space. Three outta five wasn’t all that bad.
“Fair enough being mopey and all that. I get that, I really do. But I don’t wanna die in here. I’d rather get out of this place, if I’m honest. Or die trying. But yeah, dying isn’t a first option.”
Jordanna turned. Looked at James. A little more faith in her eyes.
“So we’re gonna try pulling on this pipe. Might take a f
ew yanks—might take a shitloada yanks—but we’re tough. Made it this far ’cause we’re tough. So we’re gonna try. Okay? Andy?”
Andy kept on staring into space. Still entranced by grief. Consumed with loss.
“Andy,” James said, making a conscious effort to lower his voice. “I’m sorry, man. I really am. I can’t pretend to know what it’s like to lose someone that close. Only thing I cared about before all this shit went down was—was my border terrier. But I know it hurts. I know you wanna give up. But we can’t. Not here.”
Andy blinked a few times. Signs of consciousness returned; signs that he was drifting back to reality, back to the importance of them pulling together—literally.
“You saved my friends,” James said. “Got to thank you for that. But the job’s not done. Not yet.”
And then Andy turned.
Looked right across the cabin at James.
James thought for a moment that Andy was going to explode. Unleash a mad fit of grief and rage and leave the others to try pulling extra weight.
But instead, he nodded.
“On your count.”
James was still for a moment. On your count. He looked at these five people all staring at him with hope. Staring at him with trust.
A feeling he wasn’t familiar with.
A feeling he’d craved all his life.
A feeling only his Ollie—his border terrier—had shown him.
He cleared his throat. Nodded. “On my count.”
“You ain’t gonna do it,” the suited guy opposite said. He had this cynical smirk on his face. The look of a man who’d already accepted his death; made peace with it.
A look James couldn’t allow to creep across his face.
“You keep your gob shut or we might just leave you in here.”
James looked back at Jordanna. Looked at Chloë, Tamara, Ivan, Andy.
They all looked back at him.
“On my count,” he said.
“Five.”
He tensed his fists.
“Four.”
Took a deep breath.
“Three.”
Bit his lip.
“Two—”
The metal door opposite swung open.
Light clawed through the cabin.
Mr Fletch was standing in the rain. Armed guards stood behind him.
Mr Fletch looked at the prisoners, each and every one of them, and he smiled.