The Loop

by Ben Oliver

  She’s alive, I think. That’s what matters.

  I open the cell door and step inside, crouching down beside her.

  “I’m so sorry, Wren,” I whisper. “I’m going to do everything I can to help you.”

  “You care a lot about her, don’t you?”

  Malachai’s voice comes from the doorway. I jump up, startled.

  “I mean, yeah, I guess so,” I reply. “You do too.”

  Malachai shrugs. “If she dies … that would suck, but that’s where we’re at.”

  “But you two were … are together?” I ask.

  “Luka, I was a prisoner. It didn’t really mean anything.”

  I look at the pale, unconscious girl and back to Malachai. “If you believe that, then fuck you.”

  Malachai laughs. “It was companionship in a place where there is no companionship.”

  “You don’t have to act like she meant nothing to you.”

  “What do you want me to say, Luka? That I loved her? You want me to break down and cry? Tell you that I used to imagine our future together? A house outside the city? Kids? It was never going to happen.”

  I almost scream at him, tell him he’ll never know how lucky he is, but I can see that he’s on the verge of tears.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow,” I tell him, and leave him alone with Wren.

  I walk around the Loop until I come to Woods’s empty cell. I step inside and lie down on the bed. Every muscle in my body breathes a sigh of relief, the cuts and bruises that cover me settling into a dull ache.

  I know that I can’t sleep as long as the trigger is still active, but I rest my head on the pillow anyway. Even if there was no trigger, I wouldn’t be able to sleep; too much has happened, too much is going to happen. My entire world has been flipped on its head in the space of a day.

  I realize, lying here, that I’ve spent every moment since Wren attacked me in a state of shock. It all seems so unreal now: escaping my cell, the rat tunnel, the village, Tyco. I feel my body shaking as all the chaos begins to sink in, and the more I think about it, the closer I come to a panic attack. I can feel my breaths coming out in shallow gasps, the oxygen I draw into my lungs feels weak and empty, and my heart speeds up and beats irregularly. This sensation, this feeling of impending doom, is so similar to the energy harvest.

  And then I hear a voice.

  “Hey, Luka.”

  I look up to the open door, and Kina is there. She looks anxious.

  I manage to catch my breath. “Hi,” I say, and I’m surprised that it comes out clear.

  “Can I sit with you for a while?”

  I sit up. “Yeah, of course.”

  “It’s been sort of …”

  “A weird day?” I offer.

  She laughs. “Yeah, a weird day.”

  She sits down next to me. My heart beats normally.

  “I feel as though it’s all just sinking in now,” she says.

  “I know what you mean.”

  “Everyone we’ve ever known might be dead. Hell, the last time there was a world war, humans almost destroyed the planet.”

  “All the remaining nukes were detonated in deep space,” I tell her, remembering my history lessons.

  “That was a century ago—a lot has changed since then. Do you honestly think they haven’t made more? Plus, there’s not supposed to be any biochemical weapons, and yet they’ve turned normal people into insane monsters.”

  “Who’s they? That’s what I don’t understand—who would attack the Region? There’s only one World Government.”

  “Maybe that’s just as dangerous as multiple governments,” Kina says, lying down. “No one to question what’s right or wrong.”

  “Maybe,” I agree. “But that doesn’t explain who attacked us.”

  “Some kind of rebel group? A rogue Region? Aliens from outer space? Right now, it doesn’t matter.”

  I lie down beside her. “I’m worried about my family,” I say. “Do you think Pander was right? Do you think we should have left tonight?”

  She doesn’t reply, just wipes her eyes and rests her head on my chest.

  “Luka,” she says quietly, “why did they lock you away in this place?”

  I swallow. “It’s a long story.”

  “How does it end?”

  “Murder.”

  Kina puts her hand on top of mine. We lie like this for a long time.

  “Who’s Orla?” I ask, remembering Kina’s words from the yard.

  “She was my sister. I was put away because I killed the man who forced her to …” Kina begins before trailing off. Her voice is emotionless and yet somehow full of pain. “She got caught up selling Ebb for one of the Alt gangs. He got her hooked on the stuff and … They had this scheme where they’d advertise their girls as home help or house cleaners. Rich Alts would pay fifty Coin for one hour with young Naturals like Orla. I confronted her pimp; he tried to choke me to death. I stuck a knife in his neck, and they sent me to the Loop.”

  I don’t know what to say, how to tell her that I understand, that I don’t think of her as a murderer, so I say nothing; I just put my arm around her and hold her.

  After a while, Kina falls asleep. I move the trigger from my rigid right hand into my left and can barely suppress a scream as I open out the fingers of my now-free hand.

  I think about what Kina told me, think about why I’m in here, about how we’ll do anything to protect our families. I think about Tyco and how his need to see me dead is fueled by the same thing that made me take the blame for my sister’s crime—and the same thing that made Kina kill her sister’s pimp.

  I don’t sleep, just look out the small window in the back wall as the sky darkens and the stars come out.

  Kina wakes after what must be about three hours. We hear the others getting up and ready to go.

  As we walk out of Woods’s cell together, Malachai gives me a grin and a wink, and I feel a mixture of embarrassment and anger.

  “Right, let’s see what Pod and Igby have managed to do with that door,” Malachai says.

  “Wait,” I say. “First, I have to give Tyco another chance.”

  Malachai laughs as if I’ve told a great joke, and then he stops, the smile falling off his face immediately. “You’re not serious?”

  “I’ve thought about it all night. I can’t let him die without him knowing the truth.”

  “Truth? What truth? Who cares about truth? The guy is out of his mind. Luka, no one would blame you if you just walked away,” Malachai pleads, but I barely hear him.

  I remind myself of why I want to do this crazy thing; I remind myself he hates me because of his love for his brother. I think of my love for my own family, and I think of Kina’s bravery and integrity when she chose to let the others out of their cells. And look how well that turned out! a voice inside my head screams. I ignore it.

  I walk to Tyco’s cell and look back to see that the rest of the group has gathered behind me. I open the hatch.

  The Alt lies on his bed, hands crossed behind his head, staring up at the ceiling. He looks content, peaceful.

  “Are you here to kill me?” he asks.

  I shake my head. “No.”

  “You should be,” he replies, a smile spreading across his lips. “If you don’t kill me, I’ll kill you.”

  “You need to listen to me, Tyco,” I say, trying to sound calm but unable to rid my voice of the tremble that gives me away. “I am going to let you out of here because if I don’t, you’ll die. I don’t have to do it, I could leave you in there to rot, but I won’t. No one else is coming for you, do you understand that? There’s a war outside, and we’re not on the top of anyone’s evacuation list. I know you want to kill me, I know what happened to your brother, and—”

  At this, Tyco is on his feet. He storms over to the hatch and pushes his arm through, grabbing me by the throat. I feel immediate pressure in my head and pain where his thumb is digging into my windpipe.

  Over the pounding of b
lood in my ears, I hear the voice of Happy blaring out of the speakers.

  “Infiltration. Lockdown in five seconds … four … three …”

  I see the determined look in Tyco’s wide, staring eyes, and for a moment, I’m sure he won’t let go in time, that the hatch will come down and for the second time in less than forty-eight hours I’ll have a severed arm to deal with, but as the countdown hits one, he lets go and pulls his arm back inside just as the hatch snaps shut with the ferocious force that cut Wren’s arm clean off.

  I fall to the floor and gasp air through my bruised windpipe. Pod and Igby run over to me, each of them grabbing me by a shoulder.

  I take a deep breath and feel anger sweep over me. I throw open the hatch again and look in at Tyco pacing the floor of his cell.

  “You’re a moron, you know that?” I yell. “If you had one brain cell in that head of yours, you would’ve been smart enough to act nice until I let you out, and then you could’ve killed me right out here.”

  “Listen to me, Luka: I’m going to kill you. One way or another, I’m going to kill you.”

  I slam the hatch shut again and yell out in frustration.

  “Offer still stands,” Malachai says. “We can walk away.”

  I consider it, I really consider it. I sigh and open the hatch.

  “You again,” Tyco mutters. He’s sitting on the edge of his bed now, face red with rage.

  “You ready to be reasonable?”

  “Why should I be? You killed my brother.”

  His words echo into the corridor, and I can feel the rest of the freed inmates’ shock transferring telepathically between them. Malachai whistles a high, descending note. I ignore him.

  “Tyco, you need to listen to me—if you don’t listen and understand, you’re not going to get out of this cell.”

  “Why should I listen to a liar?” he asks.

  “I’m not lying, Tyco. I didn’t kill your brother.”

  Tyco gets to his feet, walks to the hatch, and stares at me. “Don’t talk about him. Don’t you ever talk about him again, murderer.”

  “Tyco, we’re leaving this place today, with or without you. It’s your choice.”

  “Open the door, coward. See what happens.”

  I turn to Kina, and she shrugs. I try Malachai, who steps forward and takes my place at the hatch.

  “Hey, tough guy,” he says, “will you settle for giving my boy here a head start into the war zone? That way you get out of this cell and the option to murder him is still there for you to cash in at a later date?”

  “What do you mean?” Tyco asks.

  Malachai turns to Kina and says under his breath, “Not the smartest, is he?” before turning back to Tyco. “What I mean is, we let you out, we get out of here, and you give us one day to get away from you, like hide-and-seek. Did you ever play hide-and-seek when you were a kid? It’s like that, except with murder. After that day is up, you’re free to do all the killing you want.”

  Tyco is silent for a long time. “Fine,” he says eventually. “I’ll give him a day, but only because he didn’t let me die in here.”

  “Good,” Malachai says. “For the record I was all for leaving without you.”

  “What?”

  “I’m unlocking the door now,” Malachai says, reaching down for the handle. “Just be cool.” I feel my heart skip as the lock creaks and the door swings open.

  Tyco steps out into the corridor. The boy is so big that it’s hard to believe he’s not yet eighteen. He stares right at me, and I can tell that he’s fighting every cell in his body begging him to brush aside the crowd of inmates and tear my head from my shoulders.

  “Well,” Malachai says, clapping his hands together, “this is nice and awkward. No point in wasting any more time.”

  We walk around to Igby’s cell. I try to fight against my instinct to keep both eyes on Tyco, but it’s hard.

  We find Pod on his knees wrapping two wires together while Igby wrenches a piece of metal out of the back of his screen. Together they have dismantled three light fixtures, two screens, the 360-degree projector, and the radio from the staff room. A string of wires leads from a light fixture into Igby’s cell and is crudely hooked up to the back of his semi-dismantled screen.

  “All right,” he says, standing up and dusting off his jumpsuit. “Firstly, none of this makes any fucking sense. Half the working electronics in this place should have been taken out by whatever took out the rest of the power.”

  “No,” I say. “The emergency features run off a battery that’s in a bunker—”

  “Yes, I know all about the battery and the emergency electronics, but there are some things—the microphones, some sensors—that aren’t connected to the bunker. It’s as if whoever cut the power has chosen what will work and what won’t work.”

  “So, what does that mean?” Akimi asks.

  “No fucking idea,” Igby replies cheerily. “Anyway, it should just be a case of …”

  He trails off and exits his cell as we all watch, fascinated by his ingenuity.

  Igby presses a few commands on his—somehow working—screen, and a second later Happy’s voice stutters. “Inmate 9-9-9-9, Inmate 9-9-9-9, everything, everything, everything is as it should should be.” And then the back wall opens up, revealing the exercise yard beyond.

  “Easy,” Igby says with a smile.

  “That was impressive,” Akimi says, staring out into the open space.

  “Not bad,” Malachai mutters as he ducks under the opening door.

  Everyone follows him until we’re all standing on the hard concrete, feeling the cold air on our faces.

  “All right,” I say. “I guess we climb?”

  “I’ve done this hundreds of times,” Malachai says, stepping forward. “All you need to do is wedge yourself in the corner, like this.”

  Malachai presses a foot against the dividing wall and a forearm against the right angle of the outside cell wall and begins spider-crawling up toward the roof.

  “I’m not sure if I can do that,” Blue mutters.

  “Hey, this is great when there’s no drones threatening you,” Malachai grunts as he works himself higher and higher.

  Akimi steps forward next and copies Malachai’s climbing style.

  Malachai reaches the top, spins around on his stomach, and reaches down to pull Akimi up the final few feet.

  Tyco goes next, racing up the wall with ease. Then Igby leads Pod to the corner and places his hands and feet onto the correct places.

  “It’s not so bad,” Pod says. “The wall is rough; there’s grip.”

  Igby follows close behind his friend, and then Pander shoots up the wall with no difficulty at all.

  I step forward next, taking one last look around this prison, this hell that I have been trapped in for so long. I smile as I give the middle finger to the yard, the pillar, the drones, and the cells. “Fuck you,” I whisper. And then I climb.

  It takes longer for me to climb the wall. I have to use the wrist of my left hand to ensure the trigger stays firmly in my grasp, but I make it to the top, where Pod and Akimi drag me up to safety, and then I turn to watch Kina. She tells Blue that she’ll go first to show him how easy it is.

  She begins to climb, and Blue watches, staring at the summit.

  I help Kina up, and we all turn to watch Blue struggling slowly up the walls.

  “You can do it, Blue,” Akimi calls.

  “You’ve got this,” Pod adds.

  Blue begins to climb, his feet slipping as he struggles to maintain grip. He is breathing heavily, sweat matting the hair at his temples, but he begins to make progress. He is about twenty feet up the wall when he stops and looks at us, his eyes glaring with fear.

  “Did you hear that?” he asks.

  “Hear what?” Pander asks.

  Then the sound comes again, and this time we all hear it. A voice screaming out from inside the corridors of the Loop.

  “Wait for me. Wait!”

&nb
sp; “Mable,” Blue says quietly, and then he screams it. “Mable!”

  A second later, I realize what Blue has realized: Mable thinks we’re going through the rat tunnels; she doesn’t know that we changed plans to climb the walls.

  Blue begins to descend the wall as quickly as he can.

  “Shit!” I hiss.

  “What’s happening?” Pander asks.

  “Take this,” I tell Kina, holding out the trigger. She carefully grips it, and I throw myself over the ledge, getting my hands and feet in place as quickly as I can.

  “Mable, wait!” I hear Blue screaming below me. I look down and see that he is almost at ground level. He drops, feet thumping down onto the concrete, and sprints through the open door and into Igby’s cell, screaming after the girl as he goes.

  “Blue!” I yell, but he’s gone.

  I climb down, faster and faster, my hands and feet barely maintaining grip as I go. I make it to the last ten feet and then drop down, the shock of the fall sending pain through my ankles, but I ignore it and sprint after the boy.

  I can hear his voice calling after Mable from somewhere along the long, curving corridor, and I run as fast as I can after him.

  I finally catch sight of him as he crosses the threshold onto the Dark Train platform.

  “Blue, stop!” I call, but as I gain on him, I see him jump down onto the tracks and sprint into the darkness.

  There’s no time to think of the danger as I follow him onto the tracks and into the tunnel.

  I can just make out his shape in the gloom of the tunnel—he’s almost close enough to grab, but then Mable’s agonized screams echo out, filling the subway with horror.

  “No!” Blue cries, and moves faster into the darkness.

  Mable screams again, and this time the sound of the hissing, screeching rats is intertwined with her voice.

  “No! No! Mable, no!” Blue screams.

  Now I’m close enough to grab him—my fingers close around the material of his jumpsuit, and he falls to the ground. “It’s too late, Blue,” I tell him, holding him tight. “She’s gone.”