by K M Lovold
Now that the lake had filtered through Ian’s skewed thoughts, he could see it. A large, glistening lake. It was beautiful. Ian ached to go there, to be back in—
“Done. We only have so much time, so you need to listen up. Listen closely. Get what I’m saying to sink into that brain of yours.” Jack poked his temple. “And most of all, do not forget to never speak of any of this, or any of your returning memories when we’re outside this cave. Only here, in this place, can we speak freely. If it’s thoroughly important, you can always write something on paper. Which is why I say you should take to writing.” Jack motioned writing in midair with his fingers. “Become a writer in your spare time. That ways if ya ever have to write something on paper for me, it won’t seem out of the ordinary you grabbing pencil and paper. Once I’ve read it, I’ll dispose of it someway or another.
Ian nodded. “True. OK, I’ll become a writer, so it doesn’t seem odd me writing you notes if needed.”
“Good.” Jack stood and strolled to the large window. “Now, here’s the way of things up here. You were sentenced to death down on Earth. They injected ya with what ya thought was a lethal injection. But it ain’t. It works like it, yes, no one would ever know you ain’t dead. Once your… death… has happened, you’re wheeled out of there before you turn cold, to a hidden spot in the prison. Once there, they do a little work on ya and get you on the spacecraft immediately.”
“They do a little work on me? What kind of work? And how do you know all this?”
“I’ve been around. I’ve gotten to know a couple keepers who know more than most. They trust me; I trust them. They fill me in on things they’ve learned being in their position.” Jack tapped his fingertips together in front of him. “And that little bit of work I said they do to ya after they put ya to death is measure every inch of your body—every inch. And then they duplicate ya.”
“Duplicate me?”
“Yeah. You’ve been duplicated down on Earth. And the duplicated Ian was sent to the morgue. It was what your family laid eyes on when they said their goodbyes to ya, and it was what was put in a coffin or cremated or whatever.”
“Really?” Ian leaned his head back on the wall. “This is astounding.”
“Once you’re duplicated, you—the real, undead you—is loaded onto the spacecraft and sent up here to Reathran, to live out the rest of your prison sentence.” Jack dropped his hands to his sides. “From what the keepers have told me, the men on Earth who started this godforsaken program, they don’t see no need to dispose of a perfectly strong, healthy human being, just because they committed an ungodly crime. Not when they can use us for years and years and years up here on Reathran to accomplish what they’d never have a regular ole innocent human do. Especially not them. It’s too dangerous what we do here, the chemicals we’re surrounded by, memroth in its raw state.”
Ian motioned for Jack to keep talking. “What else? Tell me everything. Since we only have so much time, I want to hear it all.”
“It’s a journey here to Reathran. According to the keepers, takes seven to ten days. Along the way, you’re injected with a heavy dose of a chemical. Actually, they replace most of your blood with it. It’s called… Teta-foxin, or something like that. And you can live off of it!” Jack stared off for a moment. “And let me tell you, it’s a doozy—it’s what removes your memory. It’s the most brilliant thing ever.”
Jack shook his head. “From what the keepers have told me, this drug has a way of attaching to your brain, and if you’re guilty, it attaches magnificently. To your crime memories and nothing else. It’s what gives the keepers control over you.” Again, Jack tapped his head with his finger.
“How does that drug give keepers control of us?”
“Not too sure about that. I’ve asked that question, and I’ve been told it’s something about the electromagnetic field. The drug responds to magnetics, and the keepers can use the bands to turn the magnetics directly around them up and down—not sure if this is the way of it or not—but it’s what I’ve been told. Hard to make sense of it though.” Jack pounded his fist on his forehead. “Besides that, they insert a device in ya, not sure where, which allows them to listen to ya. It’s a microphone-type thing, from what I’ve been told. They do this for the sole purpose of discovering innocents. That and just because they like to find reasons to punish us—cussing, talking bad about them, things like that. I don’t know how frequently they listen to us, if it’s continuous or not—I don’t think it is—but it’s enough.”
“Why have the keepers told you so much about this? It seems unsafe for them to do so,” Ian asked.
“’Cause I’m in line to be a keeper myself.” Jack stood, puffing his chest out. “All these keepers here, they’re prisoners, too. Been here longer than I have. It’d be a promotion for me, offered to only a select few who have shown their trust and loyalty.”
“But if they saw what you’re doing now…” Ian squeezed his eyes shut. “Be careful, Jack. I don’t want you getting wiped off the face of this planet because of what you’re doing.”
“I’ve been hoping for something like this to happen. Hoping and praying for many years, and all the while I’ve been a good and studious prisoner, making my way up and up. I want to get out of here, and the more I know, the more power I have, the better chance I have. And since you’re innocent, the more you know, the more power we’ll have together. Working together.”
Ian stood and strode to the window, staring at the thin train track on the rocky ground below where they stood in their secure room, not very unlike the train tracks he remembered on Earth. “Well, what else,” he asked. “What else should I know?”
Jack sat on the stool again, looking grim. “The memroth is loaded with radioactive material and we’re in contact with it continuously, touching it, handling it, breathing it in. It’s slowly destroying us.”
“But if it’s actually radioactive, you’d never be able to last up here for as long as you have.” Ian held his hands loosely behind his back. “You’d be dead by now.”
Jack gaped at Ian. “And how’d you know that?”
Ian looked away, pondering for a moment. “I guess I don’t know, but for some reason, I’m certain that if it was truly radioactive, it would cause all sorts of physical problems, and you’d eventually die. You wouldn’t last thirty years, you just wouldn’t.”
Jack rubbed his chin, staring at Ian thoughtfully. “That’s true. But I don’t know it based on my memories. I know it from the keepers. It all goes back to that chemical injected into us. Makes us stronger, tougher, makes our skin thicker, rougher. The radioactivity affects us at a much smaller rate than regular humans with normal blood running through their veins. We can mine memroth for fifty, seventy years, or longer, before it finally takes us out. That’s why we’re up here, that’s why they send us no-good criminals up here to do this job.”
Ian sat again. “Extraordinary.”
“And that’s not all.” Jack now strode to the window. “Once we deliver the cleaned memroth to the drop-off zone, it gets transported to a spot not far from here—the demolition site—where other prisoners, the worst of the worst, the ones that always want to put up a fight, no matter how much they’re controlled, smash them. That part of the process shoots even more radioactivity into the atmosphere.” As dramatic as always, he made the motion with his hands.
“From what I’ve been told,” he went on, “this is very dangerous for the entire atmosphere. And during this crushing process is where the parts of the memroth that are defective are discovered and weeded out. Those pieces are extremely risky. They’re loaded on the train that’s comin’ and taken to a spot nearly on the other side of the planet and disposed of. And that spot—the disposal site—has been getting loaded with the most dangerous memroth rejects. After so many years, the site could be on the verge of exploding and destroying this entire planet, as well as others in our galaxy. I’ve been told Earth itself might not escape harm if that happens. It’s dangerous. It needs
to be stopped.”
Ian coughed suddenly, his breath catching, the new facts skewing his mind with a fuzzy sense that he somehow already knew this. “And you say this memroth goes to Earth?”
“Yup.” Jack put his hands on his hips. “It’s going there, and it’s being liquidized then crystalized and used to power that world. Not sure if everyone is using it, but it’s beginning, so’s I’ve been told. Prisoners have been up here digging memroth for ’bout fifty years now. Back when the gem was discovered, they knew it was valuable, but they didn’t have the know-how or the technology to actually be able to use it. It’s all taken time. Lots of time. But now they can do it.”
A rumbling sounded from down below, and Jack’s eyes darted to the window. “Train’s comin’. But yes, over the last ten years, they’ve finally gotten the process down to a tee, and it’s being tested now. They’re getting there. Actual humans are using it to power their homes, their cars. And eventually it’ll be everywhere. And it has the power to, over time, destroy people’s lives on Earth, or Earth itself, completely.”
****
Earth, years earlier
Ian’s shoulders were tight and his hands clammy as they drove up the winding road that lead to Battlecreek Maximum Security Prison. He had been here before, with Malaki, when they were plotting years earlier. They’d both agreed that as soon as one in The Circle died and a new one was brought in, they wanted a new prison that Ian would go to once everything was set in motion. That’s why they’d convinced Charles Price the prison Stanton worked at was not producing good prisoners. It was all a cover up to get him to agree to pull out of that prison.
Malaki and Ian had personally chosen Battlecreek Prison. The prison was relatively new—twenty years—and Ian decided he’d prefer serving his year or so deep in the mountains of Virginia. Even though he knew he’d be in solitary confinement, there was bound to be some sparse moments outdoors. The mountains would be good for him.
When they introduced their idea to Price, he was quick to agree.
A new prison meant new prisoners, new guards, new prison workers, none of who knew Ian. Not that the prison workers ever saw those in The Circle, but some of the higher-up guards did see them from time to time, coming and going. Ian and Malaki couldn’t take that chance.
In the middle of the Virginian mountains, Malaki slowed the van to a stop and got out. He marched to the other side and opened Ian’s door. “Let’s do this.”
Ian jumped out and Malaki put handcuffs and chains on his wrists, around his waist, and on his ankles, then Ian shuffled back into the van.
Malaki started driving again. “Once I drop you off, this’ll be it. I’ll get a few discreet messages to you here and there.” Malaki twisted around and stared at Ian. “I’ll be waiting for that first reply, my friend. All right? I’ll be waiting with great anticipation.”
“And I’ll be overwhelmed with joy to send it to you.” Ian gave him a shaky smile.
In a matter of minutes, the dark prison loomed before them against the pink and orange sky. The closer they got to the entrance, the more Ian’s nerves dissipated. It was the getting here that’d been so difficult and nerve-racking. Now that he’d arrived, thoughts of Anthony fell into his mind, and determination rose within him. His jaw was set, his gaze alert. He was doing what he was meant to do.
Malaki slowed at the entrance and pressed some buttons—the passcode. After a few seconds, the gates opened, and they drove through.
The next couple hours went by in a blur. While being processed, Ian was kept in one holding cell and then another, until he was finally brought to his cell in solitary confinement. The door slammed and locked behind him. The windowless room was white with a thin mattress atop a concrete bench, a steel toilet with a sink attached to it. A folded blanket lay on top of the mattress.
He sat on his new bed, his elbows on his knees, burying his face in his hands.
He was here. He was Ian Knockshine, and he was on death row at Battlecreek Maximum Security Prison, slotted to die.
He would get to that flag, and he would get what he needed from that disposal site. Somehow. Once his memories returned and he broke free from the control of the guards, he’d become the divergent on Reathran he and Malaki always planned for him to be.
He’d get those vital samples that would expose the world to the truth of Reathran, the truth of D.R.O.P., and the truth of what death row meant for prisoners in D.R.O.P. He’d uncover the truth of the prisoners living on Reathran, the truth of the guards, the truth of the threat Reathran was to those on Earth, but more than anything else, the truth of memroth, and the extraordinary and unprecedented danger it posed to Earth.
He knew what he needed to do once he got there. He and Malaki had studied everything about the prison on Reathran, every square inch of it; he knew where everything was. He knew where the flag was.
And he would remember. His memories would return. And when he had what he needed, he’d board his spacecraft, and deliver the truth.
****
Reathran
“What am I supposed to do? This is huge. What should I do with this information?” Ian paced, raking his fingers through his hair.
“What do you mean?” Jack leaned forward, one eyebrow lifted. “There isn’t really anything you can do. Not now anyway. But hopefully soon.”
“But when? How?” Ian stopped and gaped at him.
“When your memory comes back.” Jack’s eyes widened, his face solemn. “Here ya are, my friend—an innocent prisoner—and that’s all that matters right now. It’s not a coincidence you landed in my cell. Your memories will return, and at that time, I believe we’ll know what to do.”
Ian squeezed his eyes shut and took a calming breath. “Jack, what was your crime?”
Jack fell back against the window of the room and dropped his chin to his chest.
Ian remained silent, giving Jack a moment to sort his thoughts.
“I raped a young woman.” Jack’s voice trembled. “And when it was over, fear gripped me that she would turn me in, so to silence her, I killed her.” Jack looked up at Ian, his dark eyes glistening. “I was a vile human being on Earth, Ian. A vile human being. Only thought of myself. Nobody else.”
“But why? What made you that way?”
“As far as I can remember, my dad.” Jack’s chest heaved out as he took a deep breath. “I have some memories of him beating me, my mom, my brother. I don’t have many memories of it, but I have strong emotions associated with what he did to us. How he made me feel. The anger he stirred up inside me will not soon be forgotten. I believe he was a drunk, and he abused us physically and with his words.”
He shook his head. “Not saying my dad made me do what I did ’cause he didn’t—I made my own vile choice—but I was an oppressed, angry young man. I didn’t know how to deal with it.” He turned his back on Ian, staring out the window. “I didn’t know how messed up I was. I let my feelings and urges and anger get in the way of rational thought. I admit my crime, I deserve what I got, I deserve to be on Reathran. Or dead.” His voice cracked.
Ian swallowed. “The fact you know that, and can admit it, is a good thing, Jack. It shows you’ve come a long way.”
“Don’t say I’m better ’cause I know I ain’t.” Jack’s voice grew stronger. “I know what I did. I took the life of a beautiful young woman just because I wanted what I wanted when I wanted it. There’s no excuse. I deserve to burn in hell. The fact I’ve been on Reathran as long as I have is only a reminder of where I’m going, and I suffer more having had thirty-some years to dwell on it.”
Ian approached Jack. “I don’t know about that—”
Jack spun on him. “Don’t tell me I’m forgiven just ’cause I admit my guilt!”
Ian took a couple steps backwards. “I wasn’t going to.”
Jack heaved a sigh. “Sorry. I’m sorry. It’s just every time I talk about what I did, I lose it. I know what I did, and I’ve said my prayers to whoever’s listenin
’ that I’m sorry.”
“Well, then there’s nothing left to talk about.” Ian stared at the train sitting down below. “Show me what we’re going to do with this train. What’s next?”
Jack cleared his throat and licked his lips. “We’re gonna get the train outta here with all that rejected memroth.” He pointed to the window.
Ian nodded, observing the train. The first car was slim and enclosed and the next four cars were loaded with crushed up, hazardous memroth. After that, another few enclosed cars. “What’s in those other cars at the end of the train?”
“They just help the train run. No keeper ever drives the train, ya know? It’s all powered by the computers and the memroth and whatnot. Apparently, those cars are needed to help it go.” He stared at the train, his eyebrows furrowed, then returned to the computer and tapped a few more buttons. “Don’t know how it all works, but it does.”
I don’t know how it all works, Ian, but it does. And it will for you, you’ll see. The words echoed in Ian’s mind, and he glanced around the room as if looking for the voice, for answers. “What?”
“Whaddaya mean what?” Jack stared at him. “I just said it all works.”
“No.” Ian gripped his forehead. “I’m sure a memory just fell into my head. Someone told me that very thing at some time, and I don’t know who, or what they meant.”
“Told ya what?” A blank look filled Jack’s face.
“That everything will work, somehow, for me. That it just will.” Ian blew out his cheeks, then released. “I’m sure someone told me that before. I heard a man’s voice in my head that is very familiar to me, but I don’t know who it was.”
Jack put his hands on Ian’s shoulders. “Your memory is comin’ back, I tell ya. It’s comin’ back. Just hang in there and pay attention, you’ll see it all come back to ya before ya know it.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Nikolina dug very close to where Jack and the new man were. After all these months, she still hadn’t met him. He wasn’t actually new anymore, and she could have met him on multiple occasions, but she always hesitated. He seemed different, maybe innocent, and she wanted to hold on to that, afraid if she talked to him, she’d discover he was a murderer like the rest of them.