Cages

by Chris Pasley

  The kid was right, I was stupid.

  Jeremy Emmet had been fourteen years old. A good kid from all reports, but as I heard one teacher say over the bug in the registrar's office, you never know which kids've got the Devil inside. After school let out one day, all the students filed away to their respective intramurals and after-schools, all except Jeremy Emmet, who didn't show up for his tennis team practice.

  It's difficult to know exactly what happened then, but scuttlebutt said Jeremy wandered into the girl's locker room, which had been emptied only moments before as the intramurals got underway. I found it difficult to take a lot of this at face value; unless the kids I heard it from actually saw the videos of Jeremy's last lonely walk there's no way they could actually know. They could have overheard the teachers, I guess. But anyway, they say that he turned on the cold water to full and stood under the showers, still clutching his red vinyl bookbag in one hand.

  Why go to the girl's showers? The common belief seems the most credible. As the parasites devoured his brain, Jeremy's mind wandered in between fantasy and reality, and frankly, it was one place what was left of his teenage psyche really wanted to go. He stayed there, trembling under the water for twenty minutes, until the alarm sounded in light of his disappearance. He paid the flashing red lights and howling siren no mind, but simply stood there, head lightly banging against the ceramic tile wall. Four girls ran back to the locker room to get their clothes - in spite of orders to not do exactly that.

  They saw him and shrieked. He stirred at that sound - maybe another expression of his teen brain at work? Actual girls in the locker room? In any case he raised his arm and slammed his left hand into the tile, pushing himself away from the wall. The tile shattered under the force. He turned and raised his head.

  The one girl who survived said that he was at least in stage two. His eyes were crimson, bloodshot to an extreme degree. That was the first stage. But he also had sharp bony spines clawing from his arms and face, cruel and bloody rakes. The first girl he was on instantly, severing her torso from her bottom half in a neat twist, his mouth stretched wide enough to break his own jaw as he sank his teeth into her side. She was still screaming. The second girl turned to run, only to find herself stabbed in the back with his forearm spikes. The last two girls made it out of the locker room, but when the fourth girl looked back she was alone, and the Beast was loping out of the bloody mist that had been her friend.

  She would have died the same way if Mr. Wilson hadn't intervened. He was on his way back to his office from the teacher's lounge when the alarm went off and he saw the Beast that had been Jeremy Emmet, now stage four, with the scaly skin and claw-like hands, about to kill his fourth victim. He emptied his sidearm revolver at Jeremy as the girl ran past. In spite of his training, Wilson had hit only once, a flesh wound to the thigh. But that had been enough to make the Beast settle on a different prey.

  Wilson ran, but he wasn't thinking straight. He made a beeline for the one place he thought of as safe: his office. The security detail arrived only seconds after, but Wilson was already being eviscerated by Jeremy. The two-man security team had been able to do nothing except hit the emergency seal on Wilson's door. Jeremy, sensing instantly that he was trapped, jumped all the way to stage seven and began clawing at the doors. Stage seven has wings and backward-bent legs. One guard named Biff, displaying uncommon valor and calm, neatly pulled back the door's murder hole slit and peppered the inside of Wilson's office with as many rounds as he could. He then reloaded, and did it again.

  Jeremy was dead, but unfortunately, Wilson wasn't. Conyers had ended it himself with a double-barrelled shotgun.

  How did I get all this information? Well, as long as you weren't close personal friends with Jeremy or the three murdered girls, it was good gossip. And everyone I met at dinner seemed to want to break my Beast cherry, the taciturn lunch giving way to a more relaxed atmosphere that came from the knowledge that your time was your own for the rest of the day.

  Now I had the perfect way to ingratiate myself with my roomates. In a week's time we'd be as thick as Beasts in a barrow. Odd, I never thought about what that expression meant until now.

  It wasn't easy finding out which guard was Biff. They didn't wear name tags and I suspected "Biff" was a nickname anyway. They were careful not to let us get too close and would back away if we were coming towards them, or raise their MP5s if they were pinned. Their expression told the whole story: I will shoot you, kid, and you won't be the first one. I had been hoping to get a look at their mysterious gear packs, black Kevlar with a cloth tube holding a samurai short sword, hoping that there would be some identification there, but none of the guards fell for my various distractions. They were constantly on alert.

  From the stories I had been told, Biff was a white guy with brown hair. That narrowed it down to five guards, but I was stuck there for a day or two. There were employee profiles in the registrar's office, but getting in there was impossible. I listened to my registrar bug as much as possible, but as no new kids had come in since me, Conyers had moved back to the Principal's office, away from my prying ears. I made a note to do something about that, but my more immediate task was locating Biff.

  On Wednesday I joined the Banner Society, which was in charge of making all the homecoming and announcement banners. They were impressed by my Photoshop abilities, though how anyone did anything on the antiquated Macs they used was beyond me. Once I actually joined something, the guards came by our dorm less frequently in the afternoons.

  By Thursday, my roommates still barely talked to me, but that was fine. I learned the shy kid's name was Ben.

  On Friday I discovered the identity of the elusive Biff.

  It was crude and direct, not my style at all, but I was getting desperate. I only had a short window to impress my roomies, and stubbornly mysterious Biff could foul it all up by staying anonymous. I had to make sure I caught each of the white, brown-haired guards on solo patrol in a hallway (this wouldn't work if a guard heard me do it twice). I also had to do it in between classes, so that the crush of teens would hide me when I actually found my target. I merely waited until the guard was at the end of the hall, about to turn a corner, and yelled "hey Biff!"

  Of course there were serious flaws in my plan here. Any guard might turn to look on hearing a loud noise, but I tried to keep the name at a level that matched the general hall noise, so that only someone who was used to keying in to the word "Biff" would pick it out of the static. I got a reaction on the third try. The guard's ears perked up and he turned, searching for who he knew who could be calling for him. Then he shook his head and walked on.

  I had been working on the second step on and off for the entire first week, but locating Biff's identity made it tons easier. I followed him as he walked as much as I could betwen classes and after. He had a patrol pattern that circumnavigated the first floor social studies wing, cut through the courtyard and culminated in a check-in at the security desk near the Registrar's office. A seperate point of interest was that every single patrol route hit that desk at some point, and I filed that info away for later shenanigans.

  One last visit to the Banner Society and I was ready.

  "Come with me," I said firmly as the dorm door opened, my three roomies shuffling in. "We've only got ten minutes."

  They resisted at first, but their own curiosity won them over. Remi, Dave and Ben followed me back to the social studies hall, where a few clubs were just getting out of their after-school meetings, milling around in the hall. One of my more sizable banners blanketed the left side of the hall, proclaiming "Homecoming Dance! Only three weeks left!" Remi shrugged his shoulders, clearly annoyed by what seemed to be a waste of time. Dave seemed interested, but confused. Only Ben noticed me checking my watch and reaching my hand up to the wall, where a thin string dangled from the cieling. I smiled as his eyes followed the string along the hallway to terminate at the banner.

  Biff turned the corner at the far end of the hall. He
walked as he always did, with a confident swagger, winking at the girls as he walked past. He looked at the banner and smiled, maybe remembering an especially good homecoming dance in his own childhood, but kept his patrol pace steady. As the guards went he seemed by far the most human. I felt sorry for him, but I had to do what I had to do.

  I pulled the string, hard.

  The string pulled a pin loose that sent two rocks harvested from the school track tumbling down. I had printed the banner twice as long as I needed it and folded it over on itself, so that the two rocks unfurled the first image printed and landed on the floor with a loud bang.

  Biff whirled at the loud noise and gasped, throwing himself backwards away from the wall and bringing his MP5 to bear. He opened fire into the banner, spraying bullets in uncontrolled bursts, yelling at the top of his lungs. He ended his attack by unsheathing his short sword and spinning a devastating cut at the wall. The blade tumbled to the floor and he staggered back to the opposite wall, staring in confusion at what he was seeing.

  A seven foot tall printout of the Beast scanned from what was left of my Damph the Beasthunter comic drifted to the floor, now punched through with dozens of holes and sheared at the neck by Biff's sword slice. I could see his head turn in confusion as he read the words painted in stencil beneath the banner.

  Jeremy says hi.

  Even Remi laughed. My roomies were jumping and giving me high-fives, and the other kids, slowly getting over their shock at the abrupt gunfire, soon joined in. Some went closer to the banner for a better look, but Biff jumped to his feet, brandishing his MP5. "Get away! All of you, stay away from me!"

  I grinned madly as Remi hugged me, pointing at me, declaring that this SOB had some balls. Dave punched me in the shoulder and Ben grinned, clinging on Dave’s arm triumphantly. These kids had so few opportunities to strike back that anyone who managed it and stayed alive in the process would be declared a Cage Hero.

  Complete success.

  Of course, I wasn't going to get out of it without catching some heat.

  Within half an hour of Biff discharging his weapon Remi, Dave, Ben and I were rounded up and put in the Principal's Office lobby by two dour guards (not Biff) and left alone, presumably to stew in our own guilt.

  "Ever been in here before?" I asked Ben. He looked small and getting smaller, hunched over in his seat, hugging his knees.

  Ben shook his head, clearly terrified.

  I turned to Remi and Dave. "Either of you?"

  Dave nodded. "Yeah. Got in a fight once. Well, started a fight. Basically Conyers yells at you and you get more homework, or you get some solitary. Remi used to just about live here. But..I dunno, Sam. This is a bit beyond."

  "Freaking brilliant is what it was, Sam, and no matter what that moron says in there, don't you forget it," Remi declared poking his finger in my direction. "You can bet that punk guard won't forget Jeremy Emmet now. Inspiring, that's what you are, Sam."

  I shrugged, the pleasure of flattery silently blooming. I turned to the silent kid to my left. "Don't worry, Ben. You won't be punished. It's all me. You had nothing to do with it."

  "Screw that," Remi said, rising to his feet. "It's all or nothing. None of us talks. If we all get off, we all get off. If we don't, we do our time together."

  Inside I was gloating. Perfect, this could not be more perfect. Remi would do anything for me now, and he was the alpha dog. Outside I just shook my head. "It's no good, Remi. They'll have me on camera hanging the banner. Hell, they're probably listening in on this right now. But thanks anyway, man."

  The door to Principal Conyers's office unsealed, four seperate deadbolts sliding open. The door opened outward and Conyers stepped through. "You," he said, pointing at me. "In here. Now."

  I stood, made a show of yawning and walked toward Conyers. He stood in the doorway as if to block me, but then moved aside. "I'm going for some coffee," he announced, and shoved me into the office. The sticky bug I had palmed jolted out of my hand and onto the floor. Crap! Conyers nodded inside, closing the door. "It's not me you need to be speaking to."

  On the other side of the desk sat a very uncomfortable-looking Biff. He wasn't wearing his body armor, just his black fatigues. His helmet was gone. The only weapon he seemed to have on him was a pistol he clutched on top of the desk. "Your name's Sam, right?"

  I nodded. My mind was on the sticky bug on the floor. If Conyers came back in, no way he would miss it. I had to find a way to scoop it up and stick it under the desk where it belonged.

  "Sit down, Sam, please." Biff gestured to the chair on the other side of the desk. His face was shiny with sweat.

  I lowered myself down onto the chair. The bug was nine inches away from my shoe. I could crush it, but it was my last sticky bug. I had to make it work, unless I could retrieve the other from the Reigistrar's office.

  "I knew Jeremy Emmet. Did you know that?"

  I turned my attention back to Biff. He wasn't yelling. In fact, he didn't seem angry at all. Just...sad.

  "I was in Quarantine with his sister." Biff tapped the butt of the gun on the desk absently. "He never knew it, but I tried to keep an eye on him and some of the other kids whose families I knew one way or another."

  My foot edged closer to the bug as I slumped down in the chair, glaring at Biff. What would Remi say? "I guess pumping three clips into him is your way of keeping an eye on him, huh?"

  There was a hint of anger as Biff looked up at me then, but it quickly faded. "I knew your brother too. Bet you didn't know that."

  My foot stopped its inching journey as Biff got my full attention. "You knew James?"

  "He was just getting in as I was getting out, but he was like you. Liked to be the center of attention." Biff ejected the pistol's clip and started emptying the bullets onto the desk. "The other guards think I'm soft. They're right I guess. They're all...ex military. Real ROTC hard-asses. But I'm just...Biff. Do you want to know why I became a Quarantine guard?"

  "Okay," I said, my foot finally touching the sticky bug.

  "When I was in Quarantine, we had thirty-seven Beast incidents. I saw nine of them personally." Biff set the gun down and began loading the clip back up. "The first time was the worst - first time for anything always is - but it was the fourth time that really got me. I was in Trig class when I noticed my buddy, Chaz, had his head on his desk. He was breathing real heavy, too, like he was crying. I was this close," he held his fingers an inch apart "this close to going over to him to see what was wrong. Unfortunately for her, Kerry Hew got there first." Biff closed his eyes for a moment, sighing deeply. I took the moment to firmly kick the bug off the floor and onto the side of my shoe.

  "Kerry was his girlfriend. They'd been going out for two or three months... well, he took her apart. You know what it's like from the stories, don't you? We all screamed and huddled in the corner, as far away as we could get from Chaz. The worst part... he was still in the early stages. I mean more or less he still looked like Chaz, even as he chewed through her bones. We watched him change, more slowly than normal, thank god. A pair of scaled wings had unfurled just as the guard team burst through the door hatch." Biff smiled then, shaking his head, his voice full of awe. "They were amazing. One man leapt through the air, shooting an M16. Chaz slashed at him with his claws and tore bloody strips through his body armor. But while he was distracted the second one pulled his blade and cut clean through Chaz's neck, where the final bone hadn't yet hardened. The body flailed for a moment, but then Chaz fell."

  Biff rubbed his eyes. "God, we cheered then, cheered like crazy. We were just so happy to be alive, you know? And though he had been one of my closest friends, I was just glad that Chaz wasn't that thing anymore. But what happened next...The first guard stood, looking down at his injuries. It's isn't true, you know, about the biting. We call them the Bitten, but a scratch does the same thing. He turned to his partner and there, right in front of all of us, his partner shot him down dead.

  "I'll never forget what he said.
He turned to us, still flecked with his friend's blood and said, 'we're doing this for you. Never forget what he did for you.' And I knew that I wanted to be that man. So that next time...next time maybe Kerry Hew would live, you know?"

  I crossed my legs, sliding the foot with the sticky bug under the desk. "Are you sure you weren't just doing it for the cool uniform?"

  Biff frowned then. I can't recall having seen a sadder face. "Jeremy was my first. The first Beast I killed. Back in the barracks all the other guys were slapping me on the back, laughing, buying me drinks from the commissary. I tried to enjoy it, tried to feel like a hero, but all I could think of was that I had killed Jessica Emmet's little brother. I put my gun to my head, like this." He took the empty gun and held it to his temple. My foot stopped moving. "I couldn't do it. But I thought I should. Sometimes think maybe I still should." He lowered the gun slowly, sliding the clip back in. "I just want to know, Sam. Why? Why did you do it? You didn't even know Jeremy."

  I crossed my arms, but my Remi-like shell was cracking. "I just wanted to impress my roommates. They're...still very angry about what happened."

  Biff nodded. "They should be." He stood then, sliding his gun back in his holster. "I'm going to go back out there now. I have patrol until ten o'clock. And no matter what you do, if a there's a Beast, I'm there for you, the way those two guards were there for me. But I just wanted you to know today....you broke my heart all over again."

  I kicked the underside of the desk and stood. My foot came away bug-free. "I'm sorry, sir," I said.

  He shook his head. "No, you're not." He unlatched the office door and pushed it open. There, standing together were Remi, Dave and Ben, arms crossed, sitting under a hastily scribbled declaration in wide felt Magic Marker. They were all grinning, even Ben (mostly) and Remi shot Biff the bird, and pointed up at their graffiti.

  Fuck you, Biff.

  "This is fantastic," Remi said as we walked back to our dorm, still buzzed from the day's mischief. He grabbed all our necks in a painful bear hug and laughed crazily. "This is just the beginning, ain't it, Sammy? We're gonna give this place hell. The Principal, the teachers, the janitors, and especially the guards –”