Lockdown f-1

by Alexander Gordon Smith

  It was over in seconds. I didn't watch the dogs finish their meal, I just followed Zee as he leaped up the stairs again. Beneath us I heard a pair of blood-curdling howls gargled through wet throats, then the sound of claws on metal as the dogs once again scaled the stairwell.

  "What's the point?" I hissed breathlessly as we reached the fourth level and kept on running. "They're going to catch us."

  But Zee didn't answer. I stopped for an instant to catch my breath and stole a glance through the stairs. One dog was below, bounding up the steps with frightening speed. The other was scaling the steps at the far end of the platforms. They were boxing us in.

  Fear lending us strength, we pushed ourselves up past the fifth level to the sixth, and were about to keep climbing when I saw a sight that I didn't quite believe. Midway down the row my cell door was half open, wedged in place by a toilet seat, of all things. Standing on the platform waving frantically at us was Donovan. I felt my entire body flood with relief and we both charged toward him, but before we'd made it past more than a couple of cells the dog appeared at the far end and began hurtling our way.

  Zee kept running but I slammed to a halt and grabbed his sleeve.

  "We'll never make it, that thing's going too fast," I said, pulling him back to the staircase we'd just left. "We need to go up."

  Zee started to argue but I held up my hand.

  "Trust me."

  We reached the staircase seconds before the first dog. It thrust its giant muzzle through the stairs from the platform below, twisting the metal and almost shearing off my foot. I leaped over it as it struggled to pull its wedged jaw free, and looked back to see that the second dog was retreating to the far staircase.

  Leaping up the last couple of steps we raced down the seventh-level platform. A howl from behind us signaled that the creature was hot on our heels, and up ahead I saw the second dog emerge from the stairwell and crash down the walkway in our direction. In a matter of seconds we were both going to be Pedigree dog food.

  "What now?" Zee screamed. I stopped running and placed my hands on the railing that separated the platform from the yard seven floors below. The view made my stomach twist unpleasantly, and for a second I didn't think I could do it. But the dogs were closing in, fast. We had no choice.

  I started clambering over the railing. Zee just stared at me.

  "You can't be serious," he said.

  The dogs were ten steps away at most, bounding along the metal so fast it looked like they were flying. Zee stopped arguing, swung a leg up and threw his body over the railing so we were both standing on the other side, hovering above the drop.

  "It's only one floor," I said. "Just drop and grab."

  "I can't," he said.

  But he could. At that instant the dogs reached us, launching themselves toward the railing in a frenzy of teeth and claws. I couldn't have held on to that bar even if I wanted to, my strength giving out milliseconds before the dog's jaws snapped shut where my head had been. The second creature threw itself at Zee but he managed to let go. It soared over his head, snapping at us relentlessly as we all plummeted earthward.

  There was barely any time to react. The railing of the platform below shot toward me like a bullet. I reached out a hand and more from blind luck than anything else managed to grip the metal bar. It felt like my arm had been wrenched out of its socket but I held on tight. Zee had missed the bar but held on to the floor, his legs dangling helplessly above the void.

  The dog wasn't so lucky, hitting the ground below with a dull thud. It whimpered as it struggled to its feet, the sound of broken bones grinding against one another setting my teeth on edge. It wouldn't be long before its friend worked out where we were, so I pulled myself over the banister and reached down for Zee. Donovan appeared at my side, grabbing the boy's other hand, and together we pulled him to safety.

  "Quick," Donovan shouted, sprinting back down the platform to our cell. The door was still open, the automatic mechanism whining as it strained to slide shut. There was a howl behind us and I snapped around to see the remaining dog charge along the platform. I could swear that its face was twisted into an expression of fury at what we had done to its brother.

  We jumped into the cell, Donovan coming in last and wrestling with the toilet seat. I helped him, gripping the stained metal and pulling with all my might. The dog was gaining. We were going to be trapped inside the cell with the creature at this rate.

  But when all seemed lost the toilet seat popped free, sending Donovan and me flying backward onto the bed. The cell door slid home, bolts securing it in place, and the dog crashed into the bars. They bent alarmingly, but they held. The creature thrashed against the metal for a few seconds before the siren cut through the prison again. It stood outside the cell, fixing us all with a silver glare like it was remembering our faces. Then it howled and fled back to the staircase.

  I'M NOT ASHAMED to say that I spent the next few minutes crying my eyes out. Zee did too. We sat huddled on the bottom bunk sobbing helplessly, our exhausted bodies and fear-stricken minds unable to do anything else.

  As soon as the dogs had vanished back inside the vault door-the injured one barely able to drag itself over the threshold-Donovan started shouting at me, telling me how utterly stupid I had been to start a fight I couldn't win. But after a couple of insults he stopped, staring at us both like we were a couple of upset toddlers, his expression half frustration and half pity. Eventually he just shook his head and climbed onto his bunk.

  I wept solidly until I felt like I'd cried out my very soul, until it seemed as if there was nothing left inside me. Then I lay back on the bed, staring into space and trying to forget that I even existed. I don't know whether it was minutes or hours later that I finally remembered my manners.

  "Thanks," I breathed, little more than a whisper. "Thanks for saving our lives."

  The bed creaked as Donovan shifted his weight above me, and I heard a grunt that might have been an acknowledgment. There was a gentle cough from my side and I turned to see Zee looking at me expectantly.

  "Oh, yeah, thanks to you too," I said, recalling the events in the trough room, events that seemed like they belonged in another lifetime. "You saved my ass, Zee."

  "You owe me one, big-time," was his reply. But his mouth was bent up in what I thought was probably a smile. "Big-time."

  "At least we made it," I said. "We survived."

  I was surprised to hear Donovan laughing, a chuckle that was entirely devoid of humor.

  "You made it, yeah, but for how long?" he asked. "Those dogs don't forget a face, especially when you leave one of them with broken legs. And as for the Skulls…"

  He didn't need to finish. I knew that as soon as I got out of my cell they would be coming after me. I mean, we'd just got one of their number killed. I was truly Skull Fodder now. Part of me started wishing that the dogs had eaten all of the gang members from the canteen, but the thought made me feel sick.

  "Do you see now?" Donovan continued. "This place isn't a joke. It's not some film or book or computer game where you get infinite lives. You foul up out there, then you die. It's as simple as that. And you two fouled up today, big-time." He echoed Zee's accent. "Big-time."

  "What happened to the other Skulls?" I asked, trying to change the subject. "The ones from the trough room."

  "Holed up someplace, probably trembling in their little bandannas. Guards'll flush 'em out in a minute."

  "What about us, will we get punished?" asked Zee. I suddenly pictured what Donovan had said about solitary confinement, tried not to think about going mad in a lightless pit at the bottom of the world.

  "Maybe, maybe not," he replied. "You never know what's gonna happen in this place. Could end up in the hole, could just be left alone. Could be taken tonight. All a mystery till it happens."

  The siren pierced my skull as once again the vault door opened. This time two blacksuits strode out, armed with shotguns, and made their way toward the canteen. They passed the pool
of dark liquid that was all that remained of the Skull, then vanished through the wall. Less than a minute later the three remaining Skulls emerged from the trough room, hands clasped above their heads, one of the shotguns pointed at their backs as they marched toward the stairs. They disappeared from view, but I heard one of the blacksuits shout out a cell number followed by the muffled sound of a door opening.

  It happened twice more, then the thunderous sound of the blacksuits' boots began to get louder as they made their way along our platform. I pressed myself back against the far wall, but there was nowhere to go and I was helpless as the two grinning faces appeared at the bars.

  "Always the fresh meat," said one. "New kids, think they can cause trouble."

  I tried to apologize, but my mouth was so dry I couldn't make my tongue work. One of the blacksuits ran his hands along the bars, curved inward from the weight of the dog.

  "Open F11," he boomed. The cell door moved a few centimeters before the buckled bars jammed against their casings. The man grabbed hold of the door and pulled, the muscles beneath his suit straining so hard that I thought the fabric would rip. With the sound of screeching metal the solid bars relented, snapping back into place and allowing the door to slide open. The men didn't enter, they just pointed at Zee.

  "You, come with us."

  "Me?" he asked, his voice barely audible. Zee looked at me as if I could help. I swallowed hard then stood up, hands held out in submission.

  "It's me you want," I said slowly. "I started it."

  "Well, look at Mr. Noble," said the blacksuit who had bent the door. "Don't kiss ass, kid. You're in the right cell, he's not. It's a breach of lockdown rules. Now get over here, Hatcher."

  Zee reluctantly stood and walked toward the cell door. The men raised their evil-looking weapons and ushered him outside.

  "I'm so sorry, Zee," I said, but he was already walking off. I had a sudden flashback to Toby, lying dead on the floor of a stranger's house, his life taken because of my stupidity, my greed. I couldn't believe it was happening again.

  "Close F11."

  The cell door rumbled shut and I gripped the bars, trying to see what was happening. Zee was marched to the stairs, vanishing as he was led down to his fate.

  "Where are they taking him?" I asked Donovan. "What are they going to do to him? It's my fault all this happened, not his."

  The answer came a second later when I heard a shot sound out across the prison, echoing off the stone walls and piercing my heart. I sank down to my knees, trying to force time to reverse, trying to undo what I'd made happen.

  But then the noise came again, not a shot but the crack of metal on metal.

  "Open D24," came a voice, and the sound continued, the noise of a cell door opening. I rested my forehead against the cold bars, offering a prayer of thanks to anything that was listening. I heard the door close, followed a short while later by the siren as the men in black retreated.

  "He's okay," I muttered. "We're okay."

  But Donovan simply laughed that chilling laugh.

  "No, Alex. You're dead, you just don't know it yet."

  THE WARDEN'S WARNING

  WHEN I WOKE UP the next morning I actually thought I was on fire. Every single fiber in my body was in agony. I had pains in every muscle, pains in muscles I didn't know existed, pains in muscles in places I didn't even know I had. My head was drumming some sort of ancient tribal dance, my throat felt like I'd swallowed a cheese grater, and my eyes were watering as if I was wearing contact lenses soaked in vinegar. I uttered what must have been a pretty pathetic groan, then tried to swing my useless legs out of bed.

  "Kill me now," I whispered. My spine sounded like a bowl of Rice Krispies as I stood, all snaps, crackles, and pops, but after hobbling round the cell a couple of times like an old man I felt the pain start to subside. On my second round I saw Donovan leaning up in bed looking at me sympathetically.

  "First time anybody does chipping they ache the morning after," he mumbled through a yawn. "But I can't imagine how you feel after chipping, fighting, and trying to escape the dogs."

  "I feel like every nerve in my body is being pricked with a redhot needle," I replied, making Donovan wince. "I feel like someone has skinned me alive and is now toasting my internal organs with a blowtorch." He actually turned a little pale at that one. "I feel like I've been bathed in acid-"

  "Okay, enough," he interrupted, holding up a hand. "I'm about to eat breakfast."

  We chatted while we waited for the morning siren to sound, which it did as I was using the toilet, leading to a number of "pardon you" jokes from Donovan. I didn't know why we were both in such good spirits, considering the events of the previous day. Being locked up does strange things to your state of mind, I guess. You're so relieved to have made it through each day and night that the simple act of waking up makes you euphoric-even when you do feel like you've just wrestled an elephant.

  Our moods soon changed when the cells opened. We traipsed down to the yard with sour faces, each marked with a hint of fear, scanning the crowds for any sign of attack. I spotted a number of painted bandannas-lifeless black eyes daubed above lifeless gray faces-but aside from a handful of scowls aimed in my direction they seemed to ignore me. I kept my arms tensed by my sides, ready to lash out, just in case.

  For some reason, things this morning were a little different from the day before. Two blacksuits stood by the elevator, beneath the massive screen, and were herding us in front of it like cattle. I almost made a mooing sound, but it was more from fear than from an attempt at humor. I managed to keep my mouth shut as we reached the courtyard and moved to the back of the group. It took a few minutes for everybody to make it down the stairs, but eventually every inmate in the prison was shuffling nervously beneath the flickering screen. It felt like we were waiting for our execution.

  One of the blacksuits raised his shotgun in the air and fired a single shot. Behind the deafening report I heard the ammunition pinging off bars above my head, and hoped that everybody was on the ground floor. Anyone left upstairs could have some ugly holes in them. The yard instantly fell quiet, the prisoners clamping their mouths shut to avoid drawing attention to themselves.

  "Looks like you've made quite an impression," Donovan risked whispering in my ear. I hoped this didn't have anything to do with the previous day's events, but judging by the way people were staring at me I knew it was a pretty pointless wish.

  Eventually the screen exploded into static, a fizzing snowstorm that settled into a fuzzy image of a dark figure. The man was sitting in the shadows, but a single slice of light illuminated a flash of teeth and a crooked nose that I knew belonged to the warden. He sat forward and suddenly his whole face came into view. Unlike when he was standing in front of me, I was able to look into his eyes. But I wished I hadn't. They were like black pools inside his head, vortices that seemed to suck me in. It was like staring into an abyss. I thought I could see planets in those eyes, galaxies of stars. I saw madness and chaos, I saw eternity. I saw my own death.

  Then I blinked, and they were just eyes. Dark, yes, but normal. I realized I was drenched with sweat. It sat on my skin like a damp towel and I shivered in its grip. The entire room was cowering before the image of the warden, who resembled a giant staring down at his prey from the vast monitor.

  "Obedience is the difference between life, death, and the other varieties of existence on offer here in Furnace," the image spoke, the voice amplified through hidden speakers to a volume that made the ground vibrate. It was the same thing he had said on the day I arrived, and I don't know why but I felt like he was speaking to me personally. After everything that had happened, I guess he probably was.

  "Yesterday was a disgrace. Fighting in the canteen, a flagrant breach of lockdown rules, and one of my dogs had to be relieved of its pitiful existence because of two broken legs."

  I felt a sudden and surprising pang of guilt that the dog had been put down. They were monsters, but the whimper it made as it tr
ied to stand up after the fall was still fresh in my mind.

  "I know who was responsible, and so do you. But you are a colony of pests, you no longer have individual personalities. A crime committed by a few is a crime committed by you all, and therefore you are all subject to reprisal." There was an audible groan in the yard. "So today, the trough room is out of bounds. No meals, no water. If you animals want to fight over your food, then you don't deserve to eat."

  He smiled, and for a moment I felt myself sucked back into the pits of his eyes. It was like the world around me was unpeeling, dropping away, leaving blackness and madness in its place. I wrenched my head down, my stomach churning the same way it does on a roller coaster.

  "For the moment I'll forget about yesterday's other incident," the warden went on, sitting back so that his face was once again shrouded in shadow. "But pay heed. Any more infractions, any more fights, and the perpetrator will go to the hole for a week." This time there were actual shouts of distress from inside the crowd of inmates. "And a week down there is as good as the electric chair. I hope I make myself clear."

  The screen fizzed again, then the static gave way to the rotating list of names for work duty. But nobody was paying attention. Something was building up from the center of the crowd, a wave of tension that threatened to break at any minute. It was cut short by another warning shot from the same guard, who stepped menacingly toward the unhappy inmates and aimed his smoking weapon at the nearest prisoner.

  "You heard the boss," he growled. "Shut up and get to work. If you ask me, you all got off lightly."

  Somehow the prisoners managed to batten down their tempers, and one by one they drifted off toward their stations. I was dismayed to see that Donovan and I were chippers again. My body didn't feel up to lifting a pretzel, let alone a pickax, and the thought of being in a room full of people who hated me, all armed with mining equipment, didn't really make me feel any better. There wasn't even going to be any breakfast. I felt like my stomach had been surgically removed, leaving a gaping hole in my torso, and the thought of a day without food or water-even the gunk they served up here-was frightening.