Lockdown f-1

by Alexander Gordon Smith

  "Something to spark up with," he said.

  "Nicely done," I muttered weakly as he stuffed the fuse into his overalls.

  We didn't have many run-ins with Gary for those few days. Every now and then we'd see him in the yard and he'd track us with his insect eyes, and four days after the fight he came over as we were sitting in the trough room.

  "Better not be going anywhere without me," he said, leaning over the table.

  "As soon as we know when it's happening we'll tell you," I replied. "You've got my word."

  He just stared at me for a few seconds until I thought my blood was curdling, then he walked off. He threw another comment at us over his shoulder as he went, one loud enough for most people to hear.

  "I'll kill you if you try and leave without me."

  "He's going to ruin it for all of us," said Zee when Gary had left the room. "Half the hall must have heard that."

  If they had, they showed no sign of understanding it. For most, the idea of escape from Furnace was so unthinkable, so impossible, that they'd probably have dismissed it even if there was a hole in the wall and a staircase marked "To Freedom."

  "Relax, Zee," I said. "There's only a few more days."

  THERE WERE EIGHT, to be correct. Eight days of fear that everything would go horribly wrong. Eight days of panic that we'd be caught, tortured, then executed in the most violent ways possible. But also eight days of hope that we'd actually manage to break free of our prison, that we'd be able to see sunshine once again.

  For the next week it was the hope that carried us. Even though I was exhausted, and never fully recovered from my beating, it was the smell of fresh air that kept me going. So many times I thought I couldn't go on, couldn't handle the stress of smuggling out any more gloves or secreting them behind the panels in Room Two. But just when things seemed at their bleakest I'd recall something from up top-birdsong, the feel of the grass on my bare feet, the sight of the sea bounded only by the horizon-and the hope would be like fuel, urging me on.

  It was the same for the rest of them. Where there should have been tired faces there were always smiles, jokes instead of tears, bravery when we should have all been cowering in our cells. We pushed ourselves to the limit. By day two we'd smuggled another fifteen gloves into the tunnel. By day five it was thirty-three. By day seven the pile was fifty-one deep and more than big enough to blast us out of here.

  Day eight found Donovan and me back in Room Two, stripped and dragging our gas-filled overalls across the rough floor to the rift. We were relieved to see the rest of our stash still in place. A couple had deflated slightly, but it looked like they were all fit to go boom.

  "You start slotting them in," Donovan shouted above the roar of the river. I could swear the sound was louder now, like it knew we were coming for it. "I'll get the fuse sorted."

  He rummaged through the gloves until he found the one full of lighter fluid. Giving it a shake for good measure, he opened it up and pulled out the string, which reeked of fuel. Tying the strands together, he laid one end by the balloons then walked backward and unwound the rest, the fuse snaking for several meters until it disappeared behind a massive chunk of rock.

  "That should be enough," he said, his head popping out from the stone. "The explosion will probably set off another cave-in and kill us all anyway."

  "Better that than any more time in the cell," I replied, struggling to squeeze another glove into the packed rift. "Especially with your farts."

  Donovan laughed as he made his way back over. He looked at the bulging crack in the ground, then at the twenty or so gloves we still had left in his overalls.

  "Spares?"

  "Looks like it," I said, grimacing as I tried to stand up. "You want to just scatter them around?"

  Donovan scratched his chin, then shook his head.

  "No, I got a plan." He picked up his overalls. "Let's get back to the tunnel."

  "The tunnel?" I asked, but he just grinned at me and set off across the cavern. I followed, my limbs screaming at me with every step, and arrived at the passageway to see Donovan wedging the remaining gloves into the crevices in the ceiling. He wasn't having much luck in the dark, as they kept dropping to the floor with a wet slap.

  "I'm sure there's a good reason for this," I whispered. The equipment room was dead ahead; deserted, but you never knew when the blacksuit was going to return. Donovan managed to cram a couple of gloves into a particularly big crack above his head, then turned to me.

  "What if we have to leave in a hurry?" he asked. "The guards'll be on our tail like rats after cheese. If we demolish this tunnel after we've got through, then we'll have all the time in the world to blow the floor and get into the river."

  "Makes sense," I replied, nodding. I picked up a couple of gloves and looked for suitable holes in the ceiling, stretching up with considerable pain to fit them all in. By the time we'd finished, the top of the tunnel looked like the underside of a mutant cow-all bulging udders and no legs.

  "Moo," I said, as Donovan unwound the last of the fuse, jamming it between a glove and the wall, then running it down and out into the cavern. There wasn't much string left, but hopefully enough to give us a bit of distance before the tunnel collapsed. He tucked the lighter flint under the end of the fuse so he'd easily find it again.

  "So," he said, climbing back into his overalls and rubbing his hands on the material to get rid of the pungent smell of lighter fluid. "We're done."

  "Finished," I added. "All we've got to do now is get everybody here without anyone seeing us, blow a hole in a solid rock floor, and jump into a raging underground river."

  "Easy," he added, laughing quietly. I couldn't really see his expression in the dark, but he suddenly fell silent, and I could sense an intense gaze in my direction.

  "You don't just wanna go now?" he asked. I stared into the shadows where his face was.

  "And leave the others?"

  "We might never get another chance," he went on. "What if something happens?"

  "Donovan," I said gently. "I know you don't mean that. You risked everything to save me the other day. I know you're not the kind of guy to abandon his friends. I know it."

  "What did I tell you when you first got here, Alex? You don't have friends in Furnace."

  "Yeah, right," I said. "Play the hard man all you like, but I know you're not going anywhere without Zee and Toby."

  There was a moment of silence, then Donovan laughed.

  "Jeez, look what you've done to me. You've turned me into a sentimental old fool!"

  "Come on," I said, leading the way back to the wooden boards. We'd left the tunnel so many times it was almost automatic now, and we returned to the chipping room without incident. It was only when we'd started hacking at the walls with our picks that Donovan winked at me.

  "So… tomorrow then?" he asked.

  I rested my pick over my shoulder and nodded.

  "Tomorrow."

  THE LAST NIGHT

  AFTER HARD LABOR WE showered and ate, then retreated back to our cell. Toby and Zee were already there, chatting excitedly about something or other when we strolled through the door. Their heads jerked up, their faces creased with anxiety.

  "So?" asked Zee, drawing the word out.

  "Guards caught us," Donovan answered. "They destroyed the gloves, sealed off the room, and took Alex and me through the door. They turned us into monsters, and now we're back to eat you."

  He threw himself at the two smaller boys and they jumped back to avoid him.

  "What's got into him?" Zee asked as Donovan fell onto the bottom bunk, giggling. "Did he inhale some gas or something?"

  "I'm not sure," I answered, pushing Donovan out of the way and sitting on the foot of the bed. But I did know: he was drunk on hope, on excitement. We all were. "Everything went to plan, though. It's all ready to go. Tomorrow's the day."

  "Tomorrow?" Toby said, turning pale. Zee grabbed his shoulders and shook him.

  "Don't cave now, Toby old boy,"
he said gleefully. "Too late to back out."

  "I just didn't expect it to be so soon," he replied as the color slowly returned to his face. "Are you sure we're ready?"

  "Nope," I said. "You're welcome to wait here for a couple of years, but I'm going now, ready or not."

  "And me," said Zee, adding a soft little whoop as he punched the air.

  "So what are you gonna do when you're out?" asked Donovan. "First thing I'm gonna do is grab the biggest burger I can find, all relish and onions and bacon and-oh mamma, my mouth is dripping."

  "I just want the air," I said. "Give me a beach and a sea breeze and the sound of seagulls and I'll be the happiest man on earth."

  Zee budged me over and sat down.

  "I'm going to head home, sleep in a proper bed for once," he said dreamily.

  "And wait for the police to arrive?" I asked. "Come on, Zee, as soon as we're out of here, they're going to be looking for us. If we go home, they're just going to cart us straight back here, and straight into the hole."

  Zee's face fell, as did Toby's.

  "So what do we do then?" asked the new kid, sliding down the wall and drawing his knees up to his face. "I've got nowhere else to go."

  "We're all kids, Toby," I replied. "None of us do. We just have to stick together. We'll be okay."

  "Long as I get my burger," added Donovan, smacking his lips.

  "What about this place?" asked Zee. "I mean, do we tell anyone about it? About what goes on here?"

  "Yeah," I offered. "We have to. We can file an anonymous report to the police or something."

  "Like they'll ever believe it," said Donovan.

  "We have to try," I added. "What about everyone else here? We've got to do something to help."

  "Feel free," the big guy said. "You go off and be heroes while I sit and eat my burger."

  "Enough about the burger!" I yelled, laughing. "There's more out there than fast food. Come on, D, we'll be free, we can have anything we like."

  "Free?" came a voice from the door. I snapped my head around so hard I thought I'd broken my neck. Standing there was Jimmy, the beanpole kid that Zee, Monty, and I had ridden down to Furnace with in the elevator. He was even skinnier now, his overalls hanging off him like a tattered shroud on a skeleton.

  I'd hardly seen him at all since that first day, he'd been hanging out with a group of kids that kept themselves to themselves. He'd walked past my cell a few times, but never stopped to say hi. I guess he'd never heard us talking about escaping before. I mentally kicked myself. Anyone could have been outside, even the guards.

  "Where are you going?" he went on. "You getting out of here?"

  "Nowhere."

  "No," Donovan and I said in tandem.

  "Just dreaming," added Zee. "Talking about what we'd do if we ever got out. You know, you must have done it."

  Jimmy stared at us like he could see right through our lies.

  "Everyone knows you guys have been acting weird," he said. "Rumor is you know a way out and you're not saying. Figured you'd tell me though. We got here together, we can leave together."

  "Ain't no way out, kid," said Donovan, getting up from the bed and walking up to him. "Got your head screwed on all wrong. Now scram."

  Jimmy kept staring at me. One more, I thought. Surely one more person wouldn't hurt. But it was one more person to spill the beans, one more to ruin everything. It wasn't worth the risk.

  "Sorry, Jimmy," I said eventually. "Donovan's right, we're not going anywhere. There is no way out of Furnace, remember."

  "Now scram," Donovan repeated. This time he planted his hands on Jimmy's chest and sent him stumbling backward. The boy hit the railings but his eyes never left mine.

  "Last chance," he said. "Take me with you."

  I just turned away. We all did. And when we looked back at the platform it was deserted.

  WE SPENT THE next couple of hours panicking. What did Jimmy mean when he said everyone knew we were acting weird? And what rumor? If the inmates were starting to suspect something, it meant the guards might be too, and if that was the case, then it was all over.

  But there had been no alarms, no blacksuits at the door, no dogs chasing us from our cells. If the warden even suspected we were planning to make a break for it, then the chances were we'd already be dead.

  We voted on what to do about Gary. Zee and Toby figured we should just not tell him, make a run for it and hope he didn't figure out what we were doing. Donovan and I thought it was probably best to let him know. We'd made a deal, after all, and the Skull had let me keep my life. Besides, he was big and strong and he might just come in handy if things got tough. The vote was a tie but Donovan only had to put a little pressure on Toby to make him change his mind. Physical pressure, that was, in the form of a Chinese burn.

  Nobody else was willing to deliver the news, however, so I ended up traipsing down the stairs. The Skulls were nowhere in sight, and I made my way to the gym. From the howling inside I didn't really want to go in, but when I told the two sentries on duty I had some important news for Gary, they let me pass.

  Inside was a bloodbath, a Skull and a Fifty-niner going to work on each other with unrestrained fury. Gary was watching, but when he saw me he jumped off his bench and walked over.

  "Something to tell me, little man?" he sneered. He wiped his hand across his face, his swollen knuckles leaving a trail of blood on his lips.

  "Tomorrow," I said. "During hard labor. We're all going in the chipping room. Get in there too. You'll see when we make our move, just follow us."

  He looked at me, and for the first time I actually saw a hint of emotion. To my surprise, it resembled anxiety, there for a second then gone.

  "What if I'm put somewhere else?" he asked. "You're not going without me."

  "Doesn't matter," I replied. "They don't check. Just get in there, Room Three. Stay close. And don't tell a soul, okay?"

  He didn't move, just stood there with his dark eyes fixed on mine. Then he turned and walked off, climbing back on his bench and watching the fight as if nothing had happened. The Skull in the ring was on the floor, the Fifty-niner stomping on his chest, and I made my way from the gym as quickly as I could to escape the sound of snapping ribs.

  Back upstairs we went through the last few details of the plan, with Toby posted outside to make sure there were no more eavesdroppers. There wasn't really much left to say, however, and after a period of silence Zee and Toby decided to head back to their cells for some rest. Neither Donovan nor I could face the thought of dinner, so we just lay on our bunks and waited for lights-out.

  "You know what it means if we fail, don't you?" he asked.

  "Yeah, we die."

  "In the most horrible way possible," he added. "Truly in the most horrible way possible."

  "I'm not sure if it really matters though," I said quietly. Donovan protested but I just carried on. "I mean, even if everything goes wrong and we end up in the hole, or worse, we still managed to beat Furnace."

  "How's that?"

  "Well, we figured a way out. We actually found a way of escaping. It doesn't matter if we make it or not, we still beat the system. Right now, Donovan, right now we're free."

  "I don't really get you," he said. "But I hear what you're saying. We'll be legends, man, whatever happens."

  He didn't really understand, but then neither did I. It was just a feeling, a weight lifted from my chest. Furnace's walls seemed a little bit weaker, the air a little bit lighter, the space a little bit bigger. It was still the same place but it didn't have the same power. We'd found a way to break it before it had found a way to break us.

  At least that's what I thought when the cells locked and the prison went dark. Everything changed when I woke up some time later, deafened by the siren and bathed in a pool of blood-red light.

  TAKEN

  I SAT BOLT UPRIGHT in bed, my head spinning. It was the blood watch, here for another harvest. I couldn't believe it, they couldn't be, not tonight.

>   The crimson light made the entire prison shimmer like I was seeing it through a heat haze, as if the fires of hell were burning right beneath us. I stretched my neck and looked down into the yard as the vault door swung open, unleashing a series of screams and wheezes that could only come from the gas masks.

  "Alex," came Donovan's voice from above me, laced with fear. "Just don't move, okay? For once, just stay in bed and keep your head down."

  I lowered myself back and pulled the sheets over my head. Donovan was right, just stay quiet, stay hidden and they'd pass right by. There was a series of wet cries as the wheezers split up, each heading for a different flight of steps. I pictured them jerking and convulsing as they made their way along the platforms, their piggy eyes picking out victims to be devoured.

  There was a scream, distant. It was on the far side of the prison. The first wheezer had chosen. A second cry followed, like a dying bird, from below us. Two down, three to go. Another shriek, followed by a chorus of pleas from the chosen inmate. A fourth, this time way above, the sound echoing down the prison walls in case any of us missed it the first time around. Only one wheezer left. One more victim.

  "Not us," I prayed, so softly I couldn't even hear myself. My breath hit the sheet over my mouth, the air stale and warm. "Please, God, just one more night. Not us."

  A scream, so close it could have been from inside my bed. I curled up even more tightly into my sheets. Stay quiet, stay hidden, they'll go away, they'll just go away.

  I heard another scream, but it wasn't from the gas mask. It was a cry of rage, of anger, of despair. It was Donovan. I pulled the sheets off my head and sat up to see the monster standing right outside the cell, all rust and stitches and glass eyes, all leather and syringes and dried blood. It had one hand in its pocket, and pulled it free with a sucking sound.

  "No!" screamed Donovan. "NoNoNoNoNo!"

  Its soiled hand struck the bars of the cell, marking out a crude X on the metal. Then it slung back its twitching head and screeched, the sound quickly mimicked by its twisted siblings.