by Ben Oliver
“That went well,” Malachai says.
“Losers?” Pod asks. “I mean, there was no need for that, right?”
I walk to the next cell—it’s open. Inside is Reena. I recognize her from her curly red hair. She lies still under her blanket, and she could be sleeping, but I know that her heart is no longer beating. She must have run from Wren and then just lain down in her bed in a state of shock.
Wren did this, I tell myself. Wren aimed the trigger at her and detonated the explosive in her heart.
“Is she coming with us?” Blue asks from beside Kina.
“No, she’s going to stay here,” Kina replies in a hollow voice as she shuts the girl’s door.
The next three cells choose not to join us either—two boys and a girl who decide that they want to set off on their own.
I want to hurry this up, to get out of here. I can still picture the burning city in my mind; I can still see the insane eyes of the people who attacked me in the village, the bloodstained sheets of the dead man in the bed. I want to get to my sister and my dad and make sure they’re okay.
I move faster. We walk past Woods’s empty cell, and two more with dead inmates inside. Kina tries to stay in front of little Blue as we pass by, but he slows and leans back to catch sight of one particularly distorted corpse. His face turns ashen, and he falls silent.
The next cell houses a huge boy. He must be under eighteen, or he’d be in the Block, but the thick stubble on his face, the bulging muscles, and the bags under his eyes make him look more like he’s thirty.
“Open the door,” he demands as I stare at him through the hatch.
“Listen, something big has happened. We think there’s a war going—”
“Open. The. Door,” he orders, enunciating every word.
“Right, yeah,” I say as I close the hatch and reach for the spin lock.
“Think carefully about this,” Malachai warns.
I look down at the handle of the cell door and then up at Kina. I unlock the door and pull it open.
“Out of my way,” the big guy says as he squeezes his massive frame out into the corridor.
“I’m Luka,” I tell him. “This is—”
“Don’t care,” the boy mutters as he brushes past me and walks to the cell adjacent to his and opens it.
A skinny guy with thick-rimmed glasses and a vacant stare steps out, places a hand on the giant’s shoulder, and then stares at us.
“They with you?” he says in a strangely high-pitched voice.
“No,” the giant replies.
“Stay here,” Glasses tells us, pointing a long finger in our direction. “Do not move.” And then he does a double take, his eyes resting on Pander. He smiles and points a finger at her.
“Well,” Pander whispers, “I’m fucked.”
The two newly released inmates take over our quest to release those still locked up, only they are a lot more selective than we were.
The giant unlocks a cell three down from his, and a girl runs out.
“Thank the Final Gods, Soren, you’re alive,” she cries as she jumps into his arms. She kisses his neck, and he lowers her to the floor.
“This is not good,” Malachai whispers.
“Why not?” I ask.
“Did you ever listen at exercise? These guys knew one another on the outside—they have enemies in here.”
“But we’re not their enemies,” Akimi points out.
“Right,” I agree as I watch the group move along the corridor. “We’re not their enemies.”
“What do you think they’re going to do when they open their enemies’ cells, though?” Malachai asks.
We watch nervously as the three newly released inmates move to an open cell two down. They fall still, silent, and I know that they’re looking at the corpse of their friend, one of Wren’s victims.
The giant comes storming back toward us. “Who killed her? Which one of you killed her?” he demands.
“Listen to me,” Malachai says, stepping forward and looking up into the giant’s face. “She was already dead when we got out; a lot of people were. We had nothing to do with it.”
The giant leans down close to Malachai and speaks in a soft, calm voice. “Tell me which one of you did it, or you all die, is that understood?”
“If it wasn’t for us, you’d still be locked up in that cell, so why would we kill your friend?”
Before any of us can react, the humongous boy has hit Malachai so hard in the stomach that he’s on the floor. Malachai coughs and gasps for air, and the giant points at us.
“Sit down,” he demands, and we do as he asks. “I’ll be back to deal with you.”
He turns to walk away but then stops and turns back toward us. His roving eyes rest on my face before tracing down my right arm until he’s staring at the trigger in my hand.
“Now, now, that’s interesting,” he says. “That’ll make things a lot easier.”
He smiles and storms away, his footsteps so loud that we hear them as though they were right beside us as he disappears with his acquaintances around the corner.
We sit in silence. Blue begins to sob beside Kina.
“Still glad you had the courage to set them free?” Malachai wheezes from his fetal position on the ground.
Kina opens her mouth to speak but can’t seem to find the right words.
“What did he mean by easier?” I whisper.
“It means he’s going to kill us when he gets back,” Malachai informs me, sitting up.
From down the corridor we hear a cell being opened, followed by begging and then screaming.
“What are they doing?” Akimi asks.
“They sold Ebb on the outside,” Pander explains. “They’re killing rival gang members: the Alts who sold Ebb in the Verts.”
We hear another cell creaking open, the high-pitched voice of the staring boy as he issues some mumbled threat. More screams follow. Blue’s crying grows louder.
“We have to help,” Pod says, pushing himself to his feet. “We have to stop them.”
Igby drags him back down. “Are you fucking insane?” he asks. “They’re fucking psychopaths.”
“I know what they are,” Pod hisses back.
“Why would you want to get in the way of killers?”
“Shut up, just shut up, all of you,” Malachai whispers as loud as he can without being heard by the giant. “Let me think!”
Malachai is quiet for ten seconds, twenty, during which time another inmate is murdered by the gang of cold-blooded killers. Her guttural screams sound almost animalistic as she fights for her life.
“Can you think faster?” Pander asks. “That little guy recognized my tattoos—they’re going to kill me first when they get back.”
Malachai stands up, pauses for a second, and then runs over to a closed cell in the opposite direction from the psychopaths. He spins the lock and opens the door.
“They’re killing your friends,” Malachai yells into the room. “Hurry.”
He then repeats this trick a few cells farther away.
I watch as the two freed inmates hold each other for a minute in the corridor—two girls of about seventeen, both impossibly beautiful, both with bright blue eyes that seem to shimmer like moonlight. They are Alts, there’s no doubt about it. They turn in the direction of the screams and run.
Malachai moves to the next cell. He turns before he unlocks it and looks at me. “I’m sorry, Luka.”
At first I’m confused, but as he opens the cell and tells the inmate inside to hurry and save his friends, I know why he’s sorry.
This is the first time I’ve ever seen Tyco Roth, but I know it’s him straightaway. He’s tall and tanned, with perfect bone structure. He’s an Alt.
As soon as I look into his eyes, I feel as though the ground is falling away beneath my feet. Now I know, for the first time, why he wants to kill me. His eyes are identical to his brother’s. They narrow now as his jaw clenches. All I can see is his brother
falling off the roof of the Black Road Vertical, flailing arms grabbing for something and finding only air.
“Oh, shit,” Akimi says from beside me.
Tyco’s eyes fix on mine, and I can see all of the pain he feels, feel the hurt he wants to inflict on me. A scream from somewhere along the corridor grabs his attention. He looks back to me one more time before heading off to join his friends in battle.
“You want to sit there all night?” Malachai asks. “Let’s move.”
“This was your plan?” Akimi asks.
“Yes, this was my plan. Now run.”
“What about the other cells?” Kina asks.
“Are you mad? If we hang around, we all die; if we run, we have a chance of living.”
Kina sighs, staring back along the corridor toward the unopened cells. “Okay, let’s go.”
We all follow Malachai, sprinting around the Loop. I know that there’s only one way out of here, and I know that we won’t all survive the tunnels, but we don’t have a choice.
We’re only thirty feet from the entrance when Tyco and the boy with the glasses tumble to the ground in front of us, fists flying, teeth bared. Other bodies litter the concrete corridor behind them—these two are the only survivors of this small-scale gang war. Tyco, huge and toned; Glasses, slight and wild.
We all stop, frozen by the scene that’s playing out in front of us. Tyco gets the better of the smaller boy and wraps his big hands around his neck. He chokes him while beating his skull against the concrete.
When Tyco is done murdering the boy, he gets to his feet. He is not breathing heavily—his MOR system is replenishing his oxygen levels at incredible speeds. He points a finger at me.
“I told you I was going to kill you one day,” he says.
“Tyco, listen—” I try.
“Quiet,” he says. The calm in his voice is eerie.
“Come on, Tyco. Can’t you just let us go?” Malachai asks.
Tyco looks at him, emotionless, and Malachai falls silent too. “I want you all to get inside that cell,” he says, pointing to the nearest empty room. “I need time to think about just how I’m going to do this.”
“And if we refuse?” Pander asks.
“Then I’ll kill you all.”
“There’s eight of us,” Pander points out.
“Eight Regulars,” Tyco says, his voice still so tranquil. “One blind, one deaf, a little boy. The rest of you don’t pose much of a threat. Do as I say, and only Luka dies.”
I don’t give them time to consider anything else. I step into the cell, and one by one they follow me inside.
“I’ll be seeing you soon, Luka Kane,” Tyco says, and then slams the door shut.
“Well, this just keeps getting better.” Malachai sighs, running a hand through his thick hair.
“Everyone turn around; I have to pee,” Pander says, pulling apart the Velcro of her jumpsuit as she moves to the toilet.
“Whoa, wait until we’re looking away,” Malachai says.
“Why?” Pander asks, tapping a finger against one of her hearing aids as if it’s faulty. “In case you see a nipple? Everyone has nipples, Malachai. Get over it.”
Everyone turns and faces the door.
“Can you have a conversation or something?” Pander says from behind us. “It’s kind of hard to go in dead silence.”
“Uh, so, everyone having a great day?” Akimi tries, causing Malachai to burst out laughing.
“Oh, yeah,” he says. “Hasn’t it just been an absolute dream?”
“Hey, it’s better than your average day in the Loop,” Igby says, casting a sidelong glance along the group. His receding hair is disheveled after everything that’s happened.
“True,” Pod says, nodding in agreement. “I’d take this over another hundred days of the same old routine.” He cracks the knuckles of his enormous hands and then feels for the wall for support.
“Maybe a little less death next time,” Igby suggests, and then adds an exasperated “Fuck!” for good measure.
“Woods had the right idea: Run while you’ve got the chance. Open the cells; let’s all be heroes,” Malachai mutters, mimicking Kina’s voice.
I’m half listening to the conversation that’s going on around me but mostly thinking about what happens when Tyco is done deciding how he wants to kill me. Maybe I’d have been safer outside, in the war. My hands are shaking, and I feel light-headed.
“Finished,” Pander says, flushing the toilet and joining the end of the line as we still face the wall. “So, Tyco’s going to kill us, huh?”
“He’s only going to kill me,” I say, my voice catching in my throat.
“If you believe that, you’re a chump,” Igby says.
“He doesn’t care what happens to you guys,” I say, “as long he gets to end my life.”
“Why does he want to kill you?” Malachai asks, as if it’s only just occurring to him, his piercing eyes examining mine.
I don’t reply, just look down at my feet.
“Hey, why are we all still facing the wall?” Kina asks.
We all look at one another and shrug.
Akimi leans against the wall with the screen, Pander, Blue, and Kina sit on the floor, I stand by the sink with Pod and Igby, and Malachai sits on the edge of the toilet.
We all face one another, saying nothing, listening to the silence, and probably all wondering the same thing: How long until Tyco comes back?
I watch Blue as he fidgets with his hands and then rubs at his eyes. I can see him getting more and more agitated.
“This is your fault,” he whispers, getting to his feet, his irises moving to the corners of his eyes to look at me.
“What?” I say, unsure that I heard him right.
“He … he wants to kill you, and now he’s going to kill all of us,” he says, his voice still quiet, still apprehensive.
“Hey, you didn’t want to leave your cell a few hours ago. You were going to die in there anyway,” I remind him.
“But I don’t want to die,” he says, tears forming in his eyes.
I sigh. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”
“Sorry doesn’t matter now,” Blue says, and then he bursts into tears. “Sorry doesn’t matter now.”
“Blue, calm down,” Malachai says.
Blue begins to hyperventilate, huffing in air and blowing it out. “I’m going to die in here, I’m going to die, and then what? Then nothing! There’s nothing next. Do you know what I did to get locked up? I was a drug mule. That means I moved drugs around different countries. I was nine years old! I didn’t even know what drugs were! I didn’t even know they were in my bag! How is that fair? I thought I was on vacation with my foster family … I thought … I thought …”
Blue slumps back to the floor, breathing so heavily I’m sure he’ll pass out. He holds his head in his hands and cries quietly. A somber silence falls back over the room.
“I stole five hundred thousand Coin worth of high-end cars,” Igby says, breaking all the unwritten 2 a.m. club rules at once.
“Five hundred thousand Coin?” Akimi repeats, her sharp features softening as she nods, impressed.
“Mm-hmm.” Igby nods. “I started off with Eon 14s and shitty Chauffeur Sunrises, but I got greedy, started cloning the vocal signatures of Volta Category 7 and 8 owners and delivering them to some dodgy fucking people. They’d transfer encrypted Coin into a fake company, and I’d pay into fifteen different accounts set up as employees. All the accounts belonged to me. Eventually, when the gangsters got busted, the Marshals followed the money straight to me. I had bought my parents a home in the city, but it got seized along with everything else we owned. I have no idea what happened to my family. They locked me up in here within about two hours of the arrest.”
“The Volta 8 is my favorite car,” I tell Igby.
“Cool, if we somehow get out of here, I’ll fucking steal you one.”
This line gets a few laughs. Pod speaks next.
“I
lived in the homeless village around the West Sanctum Vertical. Five of us in a two-room shack. Without insurance, which my family could never afford, the cost to fix the genetic defect that caused my blindness is four hundred and thirty-nine Coin per eye. I’ve been shot at over eighty times while scavenging in the junk barges; I’ve survived hypothermia, pneumonia, and Drygate flu. I repaired and sold the old technology that the Alts threw out. By the time they threw me in the Loop—three strikes of stealing government property, can you believe that? They consider taking the junk that others have thrown away stealing—anyway, by then I’d managed to save two hundred and seven Coin. I wanted my sight, but the money was to get out of the slums. I wanted to go to college and become a teacher. Because of the system, because of the way the world is set up to let the rich thrive and the poor flounder, they took everything I had, everything I’d saved, and now I have nothing.”
Igby lays a hand on his friend’s massive shoulder and looks over to Malachai. I look over to Malachai too, expecting to hear his own tale of woe.
The Natural looks up at us, realizing that all eyes are on him. “What is this, group therapy?” he snaps, getting up and walking over to the bed, where he lies down and crosses his hands behind his head.
“When I was six,” Akimi says, smiling to herself, “I peed in my sister’s bed because she kept ignoring me to hang out with her friends.”
The sudden change in tone causes us all—even Malachai—to laugh.
“Why would you do that?” Kina asks.
“I wanted our mom to think she’d peed the bed; I wanted her to get in trouble,” Akimi explains. “I was six years old; there wasn’t a lot of logic going on. The major flaw in my plan was my sister was seventeen.”
This makes us laugh even harder. Blue lifts his head and wipes the tears from his eyes. “My brother saved up from his job at the sky-farms and bought himself a LucidVision,” he tells us. “He wouldn’t let me have a go. I was so jealous that he got to have all these great adventure dreams, and I begged him to let me try, but he kept saying no. So, one day, while he was at work, I found his password scratched on the inside of the headset. I logged in and changed the settings from porno scenarios to horror. He woke up completely naked, screaming his head off.”
This makes us laugh so hard most of us have tears in our eyes.