The Line

by K J Southworth

  I wonder, is it possible to will your own death? Could I just close my eyes and push myself out of this body and never come back? The people in the Prison always ask themselves that question before they disappear entirely. Some manage to hold on. They won’t be beaten, they won’t let go, so they retreat inside. That was Radcliff when he got out; that was me face down in the alley three months ago. We found a place deep down that the Prison couldn’t touch and just waited it out; finding our way back, that was the real test.

  Only I won’t go there anymore.

  I’m so thirsty my head feels like it’s going to fall off. I’m fading in and out of consciousness. At some point the temperature stops rising and metal arms reach into my cell, clamping around my wrists and ankles. Pulling me onto my back, they firmly secure me to the floor as the machines appear from the walls. Once again, tubes are forced down my throat and then pulled out, wires are attached to my head and body. The whirring and beeping continues and then a needle half the length of my forearm, filled with a yellow-tinged liquid, is inserted into my stomach. The pain is excruciating and, before I can stop myself, I start laughing.

  The sound is a mixture of lunacy and despair. When I hear it, I barely understand that it’s coming from me. My face is contorting into strange and unknowable expressions and I’m counting how many I can make.

  “42!” I yell into my cell. “42 you freak!”

  I’m laughing again, heartily throwing my voice at the machines as they click and whir and beep. The injection cures my dehydration. I don’t feel ill, the headache is gone and my energy is restored. Yet again the tubes are forced down my throat, effectively shutting me up, and this time I deliberately choke on them. I bite down, hard, but they’re made of stiff materials; my jaw is no match for them. A few minutes later they retreat from my stomach and I’m left gagging.

  “That doesn’t look comfortable,” Wulff mentions from behind me. Always happy to see him, I crane my neck and smile. His gaze is always reassuring.

  “You should try it out,” I shoot back. “It’s way better than getting laid. I promise.”

  “You almost fooled me last time, Copper!” He chuckles at my ludicrous situation. “Why don’t you get up out of there? Frenzy and Jules are waiting. We don’t want to go without you.”

  “I’ll be there soon,” I answer, playing the game. “You just have to wait.”

  “You always say that.”

  “She doesn’t want you bugging her,” Frenzy pipes in. Standing at my feet, he shoots Wulff a chastising look. “Can’t you see she’s in the middle of something?”

  “It’s okay! You guys can visit anytime. Where’s Jack?”

  “You know him,” Wulff answers, “out and about. He promises he’ll be here next time.”

  “But you never know with Jack,” Jules says. Standing to my right, she examines my chains. “Hey, those are amazing! Can I borrow them sometime?”

  “They’re not mine,” I explain. “I’ve never seen you here before. Are you coming to stay?”

  “Just passing through,” she replies. “Lily sends her love.”

  “I love her too.” I sigh heavily. “She doesn’t come around as often as she used to.”

  “She and Hyde are getting ready for the breeding house.”

  “That’s right! I forgot.”

  “Do we have to talk about Lily?” Frenzy is trying not to pout and failing miserably. “I’m not going to the farewell party.”

  “You’re going,” Wulff assures him. “You’re going to kiss her on the cheek and wish her the best. After everything she and Lenny have done for you, it’s the least you can do.”

  “I don’t wanna go without Copper,” he insists.

  “She’s all tied up right now!” Wulff argues. “You don’t mind if he goes without you, do you?”

  “Not at all. Tell Lily I wish her the best.”

  “She knows,” Frenzy says, rolling his eyes at Wulff.

  “I’ll be waiting for you.” Wulff fixes Frenzy with a brotherly stare before he leaves. “Don’t make me tie you up and drag you there.”

  “Bully!” Frenzy yells after him.

  “He loves you,” I say, laughing at Frenzy’s frustration.

  “I know. Hey! Remember that dream you had?”

  “Dream…?”

  “The Oasis. Do you remember the Oasis?”

  “Maybe… It’s a little fuzzy.”

  “You’ll need to remember, Copper. It’s important.”

  “I’ll try,” I promise.

  The section of floor that I’ve been secured to begins to rise. Once it reaches a certain height, it folds twice. I am now sitting in the chair. Looking around the cell, I search for my friends, but they’re already gone. I hate their brief visits. They make it impossible to give up.

  The chair starts moving. I might be going to the courtyard or the place I call the tearoom. It’s where prisoners are allowed to talk but they’re still strapped to chairs. Being there reminded me of the afternoons that my mom would take me to visit her sister. They would sit around drinking tea, sitting for hours and hours while they talked—hence my nickname for that room. Of course, in the tearoom you get an electric shock if you stop talking. You’ll even get a shock if you aren’t talking at a certain volume. I met an elderly woman there who recognized me from B Sector. She asked how Jack was doing. Other than my horribly sore throat, that was a comparatively good experience.

  But my guess is that the Prison isn’t going to go easy on me. To my horror, I feel the familiar slice of pain in my heart.

  I’d slit my own wrists right now if I had a razor; I’d use my own nails to rip my arteries out of my arms. The chair is taking me down a long, straight corridor. Pictures of the place I nicknamed the field flash in my brain. I can already see the people in my head, lined up on metal tables like slabs of meat; drugged if they’re lucky, crying if they’re not, waiting to be harvested.

  It was in the field that I was impregnated and gave birth. I used to wake up from a drug-induced sleep and my belly would be that much bigger. The people lying next to me, a small boy to my left and a middle-aged man to my right, were being taken apart one organ at a time. One day I looked over at the boy and his eyes were missing. Another day I watched as the machines opened up the man’s chest and took out his heart. And then it was my turn. I went into labour and the Prison cut the baby out. She was squalling at the top of her lungs. The machines swaddled her, placed her in a metal box and took her away. The next time I opened my eyes I was back in my cell, hoping beyond hope that I would never go there again.

  The chair moves drearily on. Struggling against my restraints, desperately wriggling and squirming, I scream in frustration. On instinct, I use my psychic talent to look inside the locking mechanism. I see how it all fits together but there aren’t any keyholes. There’s no way to unlock these bastards from the outside. Panicked and miserable I focus on the small, metal parts, willing them to unfasten.

  All at once, something fantastically strange happens—the band around my left wrist pops open.

  Astonished, I raise my hand to my face and stare at it. How the hell? Warily I stare at the band around my right wrist. Concentrating, I look inside and examine how it works. It’s the same mechanism, the same metal parts. And when I concentrate, giving one of them a small push, my right wrist is suddenly free.

  It isn’t a mistake—I’m opening them with my mind.

  But there isn’t time to think about what I’ve done. My ankles are still locked in.

  “C’mon, c’mon, c’mon, c’mon, c’mon,” I plead anxiously under my breath. Sitting back, I close my eyes and take a tour through the bands around my ankles. The left one pops off first and then the right.

  It’s time to get the hell out of here.

  Opening my eyes, I curse under my breath when I realize I’m already inside the field. It’s a giant warehouse, maybe three stories high. The chair is moving along a catwalk near the ceiling. Below us, rows upon rows of p
eople are lying, unmoving, on metal slabs. Their low moans and agonized whimpering tear me to pieces. My heart rends. I can block out the torture, I can take my own pain, but I can’t watch what happens to the others. I can’t watch them break; I can’t watch how their bodies hold on to life long after their spirit has vanished. Lost in anguish, I uselessly fall out of the chair. It continues along its way; down a long ramp, along another catwalk, down another ramp. It doesn’t realize that it no longer has a passenger.

  Overwhelmed with my own helplessness, I shakily get to my feet. I can’t block out the quiet crying. The people know better than to make any loud sounds. The machines aren’t far away and they don’t like unnecessary noise.

  I remember being amongst the bodies. Waiting. That’s all you can do when you’re down there. You go crazy being so close to people but not being allowed to talk. Then you hear that familiar whirring noise. You lie as still as you possibly can, even though you haven’t moved for ages, and hope they aren’t coming for you. They tear the others to pieces and you’re thankful.

  You’re a worthless coward.

  Looking down I realize that the tips of my boots are hanging over the edge of the catwalk. There’s no railing. I could just fall away and disappear. I feel light as a feather right now, as though I could step off and just float down. How beautiful that would be. The mere thought calms me, cradles me… frees me.

  “You’re not going to jump, are you?” a desperately calm and familiar voice asks.

  I don’t turn around. It’s just another hallucination. “Jack… Why would I do a silly thing like that?”

  “Then step away, Copper. Reach out behind you so I can take your hand.”

  “Reach out behind me so that you can take my hand... What good would that do?” I serenely rock back and forth, keeping my hands at my sides. His voice is making my chest ache. How is that possible? “I used to fantasize about you guys coming to rescue me. It was impossible, but I thought you might find a way.”

  “Reach back, Copper.”

  “One day I knew you weren’t coming. I couldn’t even find a way out of my cell or out of my chains. How were you supposed to find your way inside?”

  “Just reach back.” He’s growing tense now. “What have you got to lose?”

  “Nothing, I suppose.” So why am I leaning forward instead of reaching back?

  “Don’t you fucking dare!” he yells.

  His words echo down the warehouse and the machines whir to life. They heard him; the machines bloody heard him.

  Or is this a trick? This place...nothing is as it seems. He’s not behind me. How could he be?

  But hope is flickering painfully in my chest. Hesitantly, my body curling around the small flame that his fear kindled, I reach out behind me. His warm hand grabs mine and pulls me roughly away from the edge of the catwalk. Jerked back to reality, I stare into Jack’s relieved face.

  I manage a half-crazed grin. “What took you so long?”

  He doesn’t answer. Concern flashes over his face as he straps a harness around my torso. Tying a rope through a metal ring, he secures my body to his. Risking a glance around the warehouse, his body suddenly tenses.

  “Fuck me.”

  “Not what you were expecting?” I ask. I examine his care-worn face, terrified that he isn’t real. “Please, get me the hell out of here.”

  “I’ve got her,” he says into the microphone pinned inside his jacket, “standby for signal three.”

  Jack presses a button on a small black box. The rope pulls us up towards a hole that’s been punched through the ceiling. Placing a protective hand on my head, Jack continues to stare down at the people, grimacing at a machine surgically removing a young woman’s kidneys.

  We’re whisked to the floor above the field, into an empty metal corridor. Jack puts his feet on the solid ground. Untying us both from the winch that pulled us up, he grabs the small engine. He shoves it into a bag and slings the rope like a bandolier around his torso.

  “Through there,” he orders, pointing at an open duct.

  I don’t ask any questions but I’m not sure this is real. I might be strapped to a metal slab and hallucinating, for all I know. After all, who can open chains with their mind? None of this makes any sense, but I’m not going to fight. It’s better than reality. I’m going to enjoy it while I can.

  Jack moves in and starts climbing. My boots slip for a second but I manage to keep my footing. Shimmying up this small, narrow space is wonderful. It feels like the old days and I savour it for as long as my mind will let me. Jack leads me through countless passages. Everywhere we go I can feel the people in their cells. I have to tune them out and order them to stop talking to me. One woman leaps at her wall, screaming. She knows we’re in here.

  Jack reaches the end of the duct and hops out. Turning around, he grabs my hand and pulls me out into the night. I don’t want to question Jack’s plans, but I’m starting to get a weird feeling. Why would my hallucination take me to the roof?

  Jack pulls out two helmets, complete with small air tanks hanging down the back. I let him put one over my head. It makes a beeping noise as it fits over my neck and seals tight. The air turns on immediately and I suck it in gratefully. A little confused, I watch Jack do the same to himself. He takes out a black tarp. Hooking a metal carabiner to the metal ring on his harness, he pulls me towards him and secures me to him. Next thing I know he loops a long leather belt through our harnesses. Buckling it tightly around our chests, he straps us firmly together.

  he orders through our helmets’ com systems.

  Pushing the black tarp into my hands, he wraps me into it. I do as he says but I’m not moving as quickly as I could. Any second now this is all going to melt away. I’ll find myself in the field, praying for death.

  Jack picks me up and carries me to the edge of the roof.

  How many stories up are we? I don’t really want to look but I can’t help it. I see the public lights along the sidewalk and my stomach lurches: there’s a truck parked on the side and it looks like somebody’s toy.

  Jack says into his microphone. He waits impatiently for the response. A few moments later, all the lights for a few blocks turn off.

  I whisper.

  Jack whispers back.

  He heaves us over the side of the building.

  My stomach jumps into my mouth; I manage to swallow my scream. Wrapping my body around Jack’s, I cling to him for strength. The fall feels so real, is it possible that this is happening? It’s so dark below us I can’t see the ground. Every moment I am expecting to either wake up screaming or hear the sickening crunch of my helmet splitting open.

  But then I’m immersed in a cold gel. I can’t move, without the helmet I wouldn’t be able to breathe. We’ve landed in what Criminals call the gelatin: a crazy, jell-o like substance that will break the fall of almost anything travelling at terminal velocity. The interesting thing about the gelatin is that if you’re not travelling fast enough you’ll bounce right off of it. It’s also incredibly cold and, if your skin touches it, you eventually fall asleep.

  I sigh softly.

  Jack replies.

  29

  It was a trick. Nothing is real. Nobody came to rescue me. I’m lying on a metal slab, staring at the field’s dull ceiling, praying for death. A woman whimpers pathetically to my left. Shattered, I listen to her ragged breathing. A machine ripped out her kidneys but her body refuses to give up. I keep asking Luck to let her go, but her suffering continues. Sweet sky, why can’t she die?

  If I could reach out for her I would, but my hands are bolted down. Despite my parched throat, I manage to speak. “You’ll be all right.”

  My voice causes others to shift on their slabs. Lifting their heads, they search for the source of the words. A moment later,
the machines whir to life. Deep down I know I should be terrified, but I don’t have the energy for fear anymore. Finally, I make the decision I should have made the first time I was here—it’s time to take myself out of this equation.

  “You’ll be all right,” I repeat, and the machines rush towards me. “Let go. Let yourself go.”

  “I-I-I c-c-c-can’t,” the woman replies, “I-I-I…”

  “You can,” I assert. “You’re not alone. The Origins are waiting.”

  A hulking robotic arm hovers over me. In one fluid movement, it reaches into my throat and removes my vocal chords. Choking on blood, I feel hot tears flowing down my cheeks.

  You’re not alone, I repeat in my mind. Turning my head towards her I will her to look at me.

  I’m here with you, she replies, her face calm. Her familiar, peaceful eyes meet mine and I freeze.

  Mom…?

  Jolting awake, I scream inside the gelatin. Heart in my throat, blood pumping furiously through my veins, I struggle against my cold prison.

  I cry.

  Jack whispers. His steady voice fills my head.

  I accuse. Despite my cold cell, I’m burning up.

  Jack says. His reassuring voice reaches inside of me.

  Little by little, I start to calm down. Just outside our opaque womb, a red light turns on and I realize that I’m not hallucinating. The crew came for me; Jack infiltrated the Prison.

  I’m home.

  I stop breathing entirely. Even if I could move, I wouldn’t. I’ve reached a place where my reality is more difficult to believe than my hallucinations. Body still wrapped around Jack, I finally let myself hold him. I am adrift in the depths of my muddled emotions and I need him to be my anchor. My saviour’s arms tighten around me. Afraid he’s going to slip away, I squeeze as hard as I can.