Furnace 3 - Death Sentence

by Alexander Gordon Smith

  Together we ran, not caring where we were going or who saw us so long as we got away from that room, from that phone. But we couldn’t run fast enough to escape the voice, a soulless whisper that seeped from the receiver and followed us down the corridor, which was both silent and deafening, which held no words but which transmitted images of relentless fury, and which all of us understood.

  I am coming for you.

  RISING

  The further we got from the room, the less terrifying the voice became, although it had carved its message into our heads like a chisel on a gravestone. Our pace slowed, the unnameable dread replaced by a much more realistic fear – of being caught in the corridors by a blacksuit. That first might have scared the life out of me, but the second would mean instant death.

  Even in our panic we had managed to take the right path, bolting up the passageway that led towards the solitary cells. I could see the plastic slats of the infirmary up ahead, and we all kept our hushed whispers to ourselves until the curtained door was well behind us.

  ‘That didn’t just happen, did it?’ asked Zee, his voice little more than a rasping breath. ‘I mean, it was a group hallucination or something, right? I saw a programme about it once, people imagining the same stuff and thinking it was real.’

  ‘It was real,’ answered Simon, his head constantly swaying back and forth as he checked the path ahead and the corridor behind. ‘I’ve heard that phone go off a few times now, always the same thing, like there’s a vice around my mind. Alex felt it too, didn’t you?’

  ‘Yeah,’ I answered, thinking of the time I’d heard the phone before, the pain in my head unbearable yet my body unable to move away. ‘I wasn’t standing right next to it then, though.’

  The end of the passageway was approaching, the T-junction visible up ahead. We slowed to a crawl, tiptoeing in case there was anything waiting for us. I couldn’t hear any voices or growls, though, and when we poked our heads round the corner there was nobody in sight in either direction.

  Something was glinting on the floor to my right, and it took me a moment to recognise the hatches of solitary confinement. My throat seemed to swell at the thought of being down there, back before they started carving me up, back before the nectar was pumped into me, back before I knew the truth about Furnace.

  Back when Donovan was still alive.

  It seemed like months ago – years, even. But how long had it been? Days maybe? Weeks, at most. I had no idea how long I’d been unconscious during the procedure, how much time the warden had stolen from me while he turned me into another of his blacksuit monsters.

  ‘Who was it?’ asked Zee, his voice louder now, more urgent. ‘Who was on the other end of that phone?’

  ‘Furnace,’ Simon and I said, and even though we’d spoken it together the word was barely audible, as if we were worried that by saying his name we’d magic him into existence. Hell, maybe we would. I’d seen weirder things here.

  ‘Furnace? You mean the guy who built this place?’ Zee went on. ‘But how’d he get in our heads like that? My ears are bleeding, for Christ’s sake. Yours too. That isn’t right.’

  ‘Yeah, tell me about it,’ said Simon, leading the way down the left-hand tunnel. It seemed to stretch into nothing but shadow, even my bionic eyes unable to make out what occupied the darkness. ‘There ain’t nothing right about that man. You ask me, let’s just forget it until we get out of here.’

  ‘But he said he was coming for us –’ Zee started, the rest of his protest cut short as Simon grabbed him and pushed him up against the wall.

  ‘I said let’s forget it,’ he spat. ‘We got enough to think about just staying alive in here without his mind games messing us up some more. Okay?’

  ‘Okay! Jesus, chill, man,’ said Zee, his voice choked. Simon let him go and carried on walking, Zee’s scowl shifting from his back to my face. ‘What did I say?’

  ‘Simon’s right,’ I said. ‘It’s not worth thinking about. We gotta give everything we have to finding a way out. If Furnace comes then we’ll just have to kick his ass the same way we kicked the warden’s.’

  I thought Zee had answered, then I realised the noise hadn’t come from him. There were shouts drifting up the passageway behind us, the familiar thunder of blacksuit boots punctuated by the savage barks of their hideous skinless dogs. They were onto us.

  Swearing under my breath I doubled my speed, the ache in my legs now nothing to do with my imagination. I was growing weaker, like a car running out of fuel. I could feel the nectar’s power ebbing in my blood.

  ‘You remember which way?’ Simon yelled from up ahead. The shadows had parted as though we’d chased them off, revealing another split.

  I pictured the blueprint. ‘Left,’ I shouted back. ‘Head left and then you should see the door to the elevator.’

  Simon reached the end of the tunnel, vanishing to the left. I was right behind him, running so fast round the corner that it was all I could do to duck in time as a shotgun went off in front of my face.

  The lead shot missed me, but the plume of fire that followed it from the barrel scored a direct hit. I spun round and collapsed on my back, momentum causing me to skid across the smooth floor into the legs of the blacksuit. He came down on top of me like a tree, his elbow catching me in the gut and knocking the wind from my lungs. The guard was shouting something but my eardrums had been pummelled again, his voice swallowed up by a dull, continuous chiming.

  The gun went off again, but I don’t think the suit was aiming at anything. I could see arms around his neck, one small and one massive as Simon fought to get the upper hand. I gasped for some air, then lashed out at the suit’s face. I don’t know what I was trying to do but something obviously worked as the man slid from my chest and crumpled to the floor. Simon’s grip was relentless around the guard’s throat until I snatched his hand and pulled it away.

  ‘What are you doing?’ he asked. ‘Gotta finish him off.’

  ‘He’s one of us,’ I wheezed, pushing myself up. ‘Simon, he’s a kid like us. We can’t kill them, not if we can help it. Maybe they can be saved.’

  The guard groaned and Simon wrapped his giant hand around his throat again.

  ‘You really think that when he comes round he’s gonna be on our side, see the error of his ways?’ Simon hissed, pressing down with all his strength. I saw the look in his eyes, silver slits screwed shut with hatred, and this time I didn’t try to stop him. ‘Nah, he’s gone. They’re all gone. You and me, we were lucky, maybe a couple of others might remember who they were. But I’m not going to send a questionnaire round to find out who while the rest skin me alive. They’ve all got the warden’s poison in them, and they’re all killers.’

  He spoke some more, mumbles lost beneath grunts, as if by talking he could distract himself from what he was doing. The guard juddered, an engine stalling, then he was still – one last bloody breath bubbling up from his lips. Simon rocked back on his knees, then used the wall to help him up.

  ‘Did he give you a chance to prove yourself before he pulled that trigger?’ he asked me, not waiting for a reply before turning and walking away. ‘Nothing gonna stand in my way – not now we’re so close.’

  The voices behind us were getting closer, too, and I looked back in time to see Zee reel away from the corner, stumble past me and then bolt after Simon.

  ‘They’re right there,’ he shouted over his shoulder. ‘Jesus, Alex, they’re right on us.’

  I didn’t wait to find out if he was exaggerating, almost tripping on the dead guard as I legged it. Simon had already reached the end of the corridor, pushing open a heavy steel door and vanishing into a pool of bright light beyond. Zee was in after him, looking back over my shoulder with about the widest eyes I’d ever seen.

  ‘Run!’ he screamed, the word lost behind the crack of a gunshot. I felt the pellets slam into my back; it was like being stung by a hundred bees at once. The impact pushed me forward but I kept my feet, literally throwing myself int
o the room. I rolled awkwardly, catching a glimpse of the view through the door as Simon slammed it shut – a corridor roiling with dark suits and glistening dogs, their silver eyes like the crest of a tsunami crashing and spitting towards us. Then it vanished behind a plate of steel, Simon bending the lock round to jam it in place.

  ‘Grab that desk!’ he yelled, the urgency of his words propelling me to my feet again. I saw a metal desk and a chair, presumably a guard post where the blacksuit had been sitting before he heard us approach. By the time I’d grabbed it the door was being pounded from the outside, bulges appearing in the metal as the suits unleashed their full strength. I remembered how I’d punched my way through the river-tunnel hatch. It wouldn’t hold for long.

  ‘There,’ Simon directed, helping me upend the heavy table and lay it against the door. It rattled and trembled from the force being directed against it, like a picket fence in the path of a hurricane. We scanned the room looking for anything else we could use as a barricade, but it was empty.

  Except for one thing.

  ‘The elevator,’ Zee said, pointing at the wire gates that sealed off one wall. Beyond was a platform, much smaller than the main elevator that went to the surface, but easily big enough for the three of us.

  We ran to it, the thunder of the guards as they tried to break down the door almost matching the wail of the siren. Simon grabbed one of the gates while I took the handle of the other and together we wrenched them open. By the time we had closed them behind us the door to the tunnel was almost off its hinges, two sets of hooked canine teeth bared through the widening gap.

  ‘Get us out of here!’ I yelled, seeing a control panel behind Simon’s shoulder. He spun round, slamming a fist against the topmost of two buttons. The elevator started to rise, agonisingly slowly. Through the mesh I saw the outer door finally succumb, crushing the desk under it as the guards poured into the room. For a second the elevator floor was alive with sparks as the suits fired their weapons, then we passed from view and the onslaught stopped.

  None of us spoke, waiting for the suits to flick a switch that would bring the elevator down, or to rip out the plug and leave us stranded here, waiting for them to come and get us. But the lift just carried on rising, pulling us up towards the lowest levels of gen pop.

  ‘You okay?’ asked Zee. I wondered what he meant, then remembered the wound in my back. It didn’t hurt so much as itch like crazy, but the fact there was any feeling there at all meant the nectar was running out. I wondered what would happen when the last of it was used up. Would the wounds I’d sustained be healed by then, or would they end up killing me anyway?

  ‘I’m fine,’ I said when I realised Zee was waiting for an answer. ‘Just a scratch.’

  ‘Yeah, shotgun blast to the back, just a scratch,’ he said, although there was no humour in his voice. ‘Want me to take a look?’

  I shook my head. Better nobody examined it, then maybe I could pretend it would be okay. I turned to the wire gates, my eyes giving light to the rock that passed us by. It hadn’t looked it on the map, but gen pop was obviously pretty far above the prison’s underbelly. That distance was good, helped me breathe a little easier. I hadn’t seen any other way up, the warden and his suits would have to wait for us to get out before calling the car back down. And if we could somehow lock it in place …

  I heard the gears struggle as the elevator slowed, the entire cabin shaking in protest. Then a room began to fall into view as we gradually drew level with it. There was a blacksuit sitting in a chair with his back to us, and he obviously hadn’t been paying attention to events below. Simon and I pulled open the gates before he could turn, running at him like twin juggernauts.

  ‘This siren is getting on my –’ was as far as he got before Simon had rammed the suit’s head into the desk he was working at. I threw the unconscious guard to the floor, then hauled him into the elevator.

  ‘Help me with this,’ Simon said, pulling the metal table from the wall. Zee and I both grabbed the other end and we slid it towards the lift, leaving it half in and half out of the gates. With any luck, when the elevator went down it wouldn’t get far.

  Only when it was wedged tight did we let ourselves relax, leaning against each other as we surveyed the new room. Like the warden’s quarters, it was full of monitors, rows and rows of them covering one entire wall. Beneath them was a bank of electronic equipment dotted with switches and buttons. I saw a few words stencilled onto the metal – ARMED RESPONSE and CELL RELEASE – and felt my heart lift.

  ‘You know what this place is, don’t you?’ I said quietly, my heart thumping in the back of my mouth.

  ‘What?’ asked Zee, nervously glancing at the motionless suit behind us.

  ‘It’s a control room,’ I replied. ‘And we, my friends, are finally in control.’

  NERVE CENTRE

  The first thing I did was pull the blueprint from my pocket, smoothing it across the floor so I could check where we were. The control room lay alone at the top of the lower elevator shaft, linked by a short passage to the main prison. I glanced around, noticing a huge door embedded in one wall, at least seven or eight electrical locks securing it to the rock. If we could get through there, and past the one at the end of the corridor, then we’d be back in gen pop.

  Back in our cells, I thought, snorting a humourless laugh. Back where we started. Great.

  The only other door in the room was marked with a lightning bolt, and from the plan I could see it was just a giant junction box for the prison’s electricity supply.

  ‘Man, this is sweet.’ Simon was hunched over the control panel beneath the monitors, studying the various buttons and dials. He reached out with his normal-sized hand, flicking a large red switch. At first I thought I’d gone deaf, rubbing a finger in my ear. Then I realised he’d turned off the siren.

  ‘Finally,’ said Zee, his voice much louder than it needed to be. He put his hands together as if he was praying. ‘Praise the Lord, I can hear again.’

  ‘This computer gives us power over every damned thing,’ said Simon through a smile that stretched from ear to ear. ‘We totally own this place now.’

  The sound of crunching metal made us all jump and we wheeled round to see the elevator start to descend. The table rattled but it didn’t move, and when the cabin’s ceiling reached floor level it ground to a halt, the gears screaming as they fought to drag it down.

  ‘Reckon it will hold?’ I asked, watching as the table started to buckle, the weight of the elevator bending the heavy steel like it was rubber.

  ‘You really want us to answer that?’ Zee replied. A crack appeared in the centre of the table where the elevator ceiling met the control-room floor, slowly spreading across the surface with a squeal that could have shattered glass. ‘Anyone got any other bright ideas?’

  ‘We should run, get back into gen pop,’ suggested Simon. ‘If we cut everyone loose from their cells first then the suits’ll have more than they can handle.’

  It made sense, but if we bolted to the prison now, leaving the path behind us open, then the warden would have no trouble rounding us up. A few hundred rowdy prisoners wasn’t enough when the guards they were up against had guns and mutant dogs. No, we had to stop the elevator.

  I spotted the lightning bolt on the door beside us and pulled it open. Inside, stretching from ceiling to floor, were dozens of cables – each thicker than my new arms.

  ‘Ain’t no way out through there, Alex,’ said Zee.

  ‘Hang on a minute,’ I replied, studying the white letters stencilled onto each cable. The sound of grinding metal was getting louder, the table was going to snap clean in half any second now. ‘Anyone know anything about electricity?’

  Simon and Zee were at my shoulders in seconds, but both were shaking their heads. Zee raised a hand and swung it from left to right, pointing at several of the cables.

  ‘We did something like this back in school,’ he said, chewing his lips. ‘One of these probably feeds the lift. I
f we can find the right one …’

  ‘No kidding, Sherlock,’ I said with a little more sarcasm than I intended. ‘Any idea which one the right one might be?’

  The only answer I got was the crunch of the table as it finally surrendered. The scream of gears became the clattering hum of the elevator descending. The ride up, though it had seemed to take forever, had probably lasted only twenty seconds at most, which meant we had less than a minute before the room was full of blacksuits.

  ‘That one,’ said Zee, pointing at a cable marked EV132.2. I looked at him, then at it, then back at him.

  ‘Seriously? How do you know?’

  ‘Duh, it says “EV” on it,’ he replied, equally sarcastic. ‘D’you think that might mean Ele-Vator?’

  A distant thump meant the object of our discussion had reached its destination. I could picture them climbing on board now, herding the dogs in before cramming as many suits as possible around them. It didn’t matter if Zee was right or not, we had to do something. Taking a deep breath I reached through the door and wrapped my hands around the black plastic cable. Both Zee and Simon took a step back, and even though they were behind me I knew they were shaking their heads again.

  ‘Alex, that isn’t the best idea you’ve had all day,’ said Simon. ‘That’s gotta be thousands of volts.’

  ‘It isn’t the volts that kill you,’ said Zee. ‘It’s all about amps. But Simon’s right, what the hell are you doing?’

  I ignored them, pulling on the wire with everything I had. It was pretty well connected, but I had the devil’s strength in me and no cable was going to last long. Out of sight behind the wall something began to come loose, sparks flying from the top of the door. They burned my skin, but I didn’t let go. The elevator was on its way back up, and I didn’t need a degree in engineering to know that the sound of straining gears meant it was full.