Arcadia (Book 1): Damn The Dead

by Phillip Tomasso

  Always was relative. She still did not plan on remaining at the Cog long. She was going to get out. Eventually, this would be nothing but a part of her past.

  Kilmer waved her over with his clipboard. He waved at Kyle.

  She did not turn around, but heard the elevator gate close. The hum of the elevator motor chugged, and she knew Kyle was on his way back up. Her mouth and throat went dry. She felt cumbersome and ill equipped to handle herself in the gloves, jacket and mask. It was clumsy.

  As she walked toward Kilmer, she saw behind the first row of mills that circled the pillar-generator, the infected. They lumbered ever forward on the belts. The meat that dangled on wire in front of them couldn’t be that irresistable. She had no idea how long they survived down here. A part of her felt sorry for them. It was a small part. Killing them seemed more humane.

  “Come with me,” Kilmer said.

  The stationary bikes were idle.

  No one walked on the first row of mills.

  Where was he taking her?

  She followed behind him. Her gloved hand was stuffed in her jacket pocket. Even with her hand inside the glove she could feel the screwdriver’s handle. If it came down to it, she’d kill him.

  There was a doorway by the back west corner of the work floor. He unlocked and pushed it open. “Inside,” he said.

  She thought about stabbing him now. It made more sense just to get it over with.

  Her intuition had not been wrong.

  Kyle had been wrong.

  There was no denying a hunger in a man’s eyes. Women picked up on that kind of thing. She figured it was an instinct they were born with.

  “What’s in there?”

  “Doesn’t matter. It’s where I told you to go.”

  Char knew her pulse was quickening. She felt her face grow hot, and knew behind the faceplate her cheeks were reddening. She grit her teeth, walked past Kilmer and into the room.

  It was his room.

  There was a bed and dresser, and another door that presumably led to either a closet or a bathroom.

  “Take off the jacket,” Kilmer said. He pulled his mask off and set it down on the dresser.

  “It’s cold in here,” she said.

  It wasn’t. It felt like a sauna. With no mask on, with the smell of sulfur all around her, the odor that stood out most was his cologne. Sweat and Old Spice. Her grandfather always wore Old Spice. The scent used to give her wonderful memories. Now those would be forever charred.

  “Take off the jacket. Now.”

  She pulled her hands out of her pockets. She took off one glove, and hid the screwdriver inside it, before she unzipped her jacket.

  “Hurry. Get that jacket off,” he said. He had on a polo shirt. He pulled it off. His undershirt was yellowed at the armpits. Chest hair protruded out of the top of the neck. He shoveled his fingers through his hair. “You know what this is. Get out of those jeans.”

  “You don’t want to do this.”

  He moved fast. In a single, fluid motion, he stepped forward and open handed her across the face. It caught her hard on the cheek and chin. It caught her off guard and her head whipped to the side from the blow.

  She dropped the glove, her weapon.

  “Shut your mouth,” he said. He grabbed her by the shoulders and yanked down on the jacket, pulling it off her. His breath stunk of coffee and fish.

  She ran her tongue over her bottom lip. The blood tasted like licking a penny.

  “The jeans,” he said.

  She fumbled with the button. Her eyes darted around the room. There was nothing she could use. She lowered the zipper.

  He was breathing heavy. He couldn’t contain his excitement.

  “Get the fucking pants off now and get on the—”

  Someone knocked at the door. Three fast, hard raps. “Mr. Kilmer, are you in there?”

  Lou punched the air. He smoothed his hair with the palm of his hand. “Ah, just a moment,” he said. Lou pointed at Char. His lip quivered as he mouthed the words, “Get dressed.”

  She zipped and buttoned her pants. She picked up her jacket, put it on, and carefully retrieved her gloves.

  Lou opened the door. “Yes?”

  It was Kyle. He peered over Lou, looking into the room. Char just stared at him. Her hair was wet with sweat. She knew her lip was still bleeding, and possibly swollen.

  “I forgot I was supposed to get a new zombie count for the warden. I was wondering if you had the nu—am I interrupting something?”

  “No. Not at all. She, ah, McKinney was just—what did you need?” Kilmer said.

  “Latest zombie count. I know the mayor’s kid brought two down yesterday.”

  “Four.”

  “Four? I thought it was two,” Kyle said.

  “Two at a time. Four total,” Kilmer said.

  “Should we do a walk-around? Get an accurate head count for Hermann? You know how them engineers are. He likes to have all the numbers in front of him so he can do all his math shit.” Kyle laughed, but his eyes never stopped staring at Charlene.

  She wanted to cry, and thought she might if he didn’t look away soon.

  “McKinney, we all set here?” Kilmer said. “Why don’t you get back to work? First bike on the end. I’ll be keeping my eye on you.”

  His authoritative voice trembled. He knew it. She knew it. They knew that Kyle caught it as well.

  She walked out of the room, went directly toward the bike she’d been instructed to use. The infected on the mills along the end seemed to watch her as she passed. Was it possible that the milky and clouded-over eyeballs of the infected were filled with pity?

  She climbed onto the bike and started pedaling.

  She never looked up.

  She never looked up until the other prisoners started showing up and were assigned bikes and mills.

  She hoped Ross was next to her.

  He wasn’t.

  Gonzales was. She knew that Kilmer put Gonzales there as a threat. The gangbanger didn’t bother her, but Kilmer didn’t know that.

  “Thank you for the granola bar,” she said, after a while. “I appreciate it.”

  “It was my way of thanking you first,” he said.

  That was it. Seventeen words only. The bond was there. Formed. It might not be unbreakable, but it was more than they’d had before.

  When Kyle returned to escort them back up for dinner, Char was thankful. Although she was still upset, she knew that part of her belly ache came from hunger. She never thought she’d find herself looking forward to an M.R.E. In truth they weren’t all that terrible. Some of it just tasted like flavored cardboard, but right now, even cardboard with a little salt and pepper sounded like a gourmet meal.

  She climbed off her bike.

  Kilmer dropped a heavy hand on her shoulder. “Not you.”

  She shuddered and knew that if she was forced to stay, the punishment would be worse.

  “Lou,” Kyle said, “can I see you for a second?”

  “Keep riding,” Kilmer said.

  Char sat on the bike seat and placed her feet on the pedals.

  She watched Kyle and Lou walk toward each other. They closed the distance fast. Kyle placed a hand on Lou’s shoulder. Char could not see Kyle’s eyes, but knew he was looking at her while he talked with the foreman.

  After a moment, Lou turned around. “McKinney, go on. It’s dinner time.”

  Char was apprehensive. She cautiously got off the bike again. Kyle waved her toward him. “Let’s go, McKinney. Step to it.”

  She walked toward them.

  Lou stared at her the entire time.

  She wished her breath would fog up her faceplate. She did not think she could handle seeing him anymore, not ever again.

  Kyle led her to the elevator shaft.

  “What happened?” she said, when they had begun ascending.

  “Told him you already missed your two meals,” Kyle said.

  “Thank you.”

  Kyle nodded
. “I’m sorry I didn’t listen earlier. Are you all right?”

  “I’m looking forward to my shower tonight,” she said. She felt dirty. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to scrub away the filth. It was inside her. There was no way that she knew of to clean it.

  “Don’t tell anyone, but I’ll give you a few extra minutes in there tonight. Okay?”

  “Thank you, sir,” she said.

  “Not a word. Got it?”

  “Mum.” She said, and twisted an imaginary key in front of her faceplate and tossed the imaginary key over her shoulder.

  # # #

  Char tore into the M.R.E.

  Ross sat next to her with his elbows up on the table, his hands in front of his mouth. He whispered, “I was surprised to see you this morning.”

  She ate the cheese tortellini with a thin plastic spork. “I had trouble with the screws on the vent.”

  “I don’t want to bring it up, but Kilmer—”

  “He didn’t touch me. Almost,” she said. “Kyle came back.”

  Ross nodded. “Now what?” he said.

  “Now, let me eat. I’m starving,” she said. She knew that Frank and Chris listened to what they said, but guessed they had no idea what they were talking about. It was better that way. They had never really gotten around to how long each of them was sentenced, and honestly, she didn’t care. Not at this point.

  Gonzales Morales and his men got up from their table. They walked toward Char and the people seated at hers.

  The man stopped by her, holding his tray in lowered hands. “Take my granola bar. Save it for later.”

  She reached for it, looking up at him. “Thank you,” she said.

  They filed away, emptied the M.R.E. bags and wrappers into the trash and set down their trays.

  “What just happened?” Frank said.

  “He’s not such a bad guy,” Char said. He was though, and she knew it. He reminded her a lot of Antonio Velasquez. Gonzales was a dangerous man, and fearing him made sense. Keeping one’s distance was best. All she’d ensured was a connection. It was there now. Once again offering her a granola bar proved the connection was soundly established.

  They stood up with their trays. “Few more hours down there,” Chris said, “and showers. I love shower day.”

  “Only time I can take a quick shit without anyone watching me,” Frank said.

  “That’s never stopped you,” Chris said.

  “Didn’t say it did. Just nice to have a little privacy, is all.”

  Char touched Ross’s wrist. He stopped as the others left the table.

  “I just want to say thank you, and goodbye.”

  “You’re still going to try this? It’s foolish, McKinney. Foolish and reckless. If you don’t get caught, you could die,” he said.

  “I’ll remember you.”

  Chapter 35

  Kyle Newstead stood by the locker room doorway with Char, while another guard walked four men with wet hair back to their cells. A third guard was inside the locker room as the next four men cleaned up.

  Char stood shoulder to shoulder with Kyle. She knew he was going to try to talk to her. She just wanted silence. A lot was on her mind. The time was essential to prepare mentally. She would need to move fast, every action flawless. Kyle had promised her a little extra time.

  He had promised it to her because he knew that Kilmer had tried to rape her, because he felt guilty for not being there to protect her.

  She started to cry.

  The tears were real, but she wanted them. She didn’t think she needed to remind Kyle about the extra time to shower, but it couldn’t hurt to show him that she was still upset.

  He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, clearly uncomfortable. If they had been having drinks at the Bent Elbow, he’d console her. He had no idea how to interact with a woman in the Cog. He was a decent enough guy. She did not feel guilty taking advantage of that fact. He might get some static once her escape was realized, but she didn’t think anyone would be too harsh on him. Maybe she’d be doing him a favor, and he’d wind up with a new job up top. It’s hard to believe anyone would choose to work down here voluntarily, except for maybe George Hermann, the warden.

  “Sounds like they’re using all of the hot water,” Kyle said.

  Here comes the uncomfortable and awkward small talk. She didn’t reply, but sniffled and ran her forearm under her nose.

  “It’s never really hot, though. You’re missing lukewarm water, at the most,” he said.

  It seemed like time had stopped moving. She just wanted her turn in the locker room. “I feel so dirty. I just feel …”

  More tears came. They were a little forced this time, a little fake. She didn’t want to over act this, but she wanted Kyle as sympathetic and understanding as possible before she was given her time in the locker room.

  The next four men came out talking, their hair wet.

  “Enough chit chat,” Kyle said, his tone of voice gruff and commanding. Char saw who this man was, and gruff and commanding was not any part of his true colors.

  The guard came out next. “Clear in there,” he said.

  Kyle nodded at the man, and turned to Char. “You’re up. A few extra minutes to get yourself together, okay? Don’t make me regret this.”

  “Thank you,” she said.

  # # #

  Char McKinney entered the locker room, walking slow, knowing Kyle watched her every step with sympathetic eyes.

  As soon as she rounded the corner, she changed gears. She ran to a shower stall and turned on the water. She went for the small cabinet, pulled herself up onto it, and used fingers on both hands to remove screws in the vent.

  She set the vent cover down and crawled into the shaft. It was a tight fit. She wanted to try to replace the vent cover but would have had to back in. There would have been no room to turn around after, and she didn’t want to back her way out of the prison. She knew if the vent cover was replaced, they would still realize had happened. No one was going to think she simply vanished. So replacing the cover didn’t matter, and wouldn’t really buy her much extra time.

  The galvanized steel around her was thin. She had to crawl forward slowly. Every time her booted toe tapped the sheet metal it sounded like thunder. Ross told her he wasn’t positive what was around below the air duct, but that he’d heard it was a large dry goods and weapons storage facility. If that was true, she hoped it was an unmanned facility. Otherwise, even with normal prison noise, a deaf man would know someone was scurrying around in the ducts.

  She passed over mesh grill vents now and then. There was no light below. She figured she was over, or well past the storage area depending on how big it actually was. She knew she had maybe two, three more minutes before Kyle started yelling into the locker room for her to hurry up.

  She hurried up all right. At this point, time was of the essence, and she felt like it was also her enemy, working against her.

  She’d noticed the continued incline, though. It was slight, but it was apparent. That was a good thing.

  Unnatural fears filled her. The duct was so dark. She couldn’t turn around and look, but felt like something was back there, closing in on her.

  An infected?

  Kilmer?

  She could not gauge how far she’d have traveled inside the duct. It felt like miles and miles; it was more like yards and yards.

  She couldn’t hear the shower running. It either meant she’d put some distance between herself and the locker room, or they’d discovered that she was missing.

  She crawled faster. Her imagination now running her brain.

  It was all irrational, but she was sure that the warden had set infected loose in the ducts.

  She heard the sheet metal buckle and snap back into shape behind her.

  They were coming.

  Something was coming for her.

  She was done being cautious, and moved on hands and knees. Her knees slid on the metal. Her palms gave her traction.
r />   The one thing she noticed was that there had been no off chutes. Whoever was coming after her would never have to stop and wonder which way she had gone. There was just the one direction.

  That brought up another concern.

  There would only be one exit.

  The duct continued to lead her upwards, only the incline was becoming more and more obvious. She worried that at some point she might just hit a forty-five or ninety degree angle and be royally screwed.

  She crawled as fast possible. It wasn’t easy. The space was cramped. The darkness was terrifying. She moved her arms and legs, knowing that whoever was behind her was closing the gap. She felt like she couldn’t gain any momentum, that she did more slipping. The traction was terrible.

  She breathed in nothing but sulfur. It was as if she was crawling over a spoiled egg storage area.

  Char fell flat. A charlie-horse gripped her thigh. Dragging herself forward with her hands, and one leg, she cringed at the pain. She dropped her head, unable to continue. It was a great effort. She’d almost. . .

  She heard it. Ahead of her. There was no mistaking the sound.

  Behind her, the sheet metal banged.

  The river was close.

  She couldn’t give up. Not now. Not being this close.

  Char lifted her head and got onto all fours. The muscle in her leg spasmed. She ignored it. She pushed forward. Forward. There was no stopping. Not now. No giving up. Not ever.

  She wished she could see something, anything, but there was some kind of light.

  It wasn’t far ahead.

  She tried to ignore whoever was coming up behind her, tried to block out the fact they seemed to be getting closer, and closer.

  The incline was steeper now, but the sound of the rushing water louder.

  She braced her feet on the sides of the duct. It was an awkward angle, but it kept her from slipping backwards.

  She scooted forward; climbing toward what she hoped was the end of the duct.

  Escape was always the plan, but now that she felt so close actually to getting away, doubt filled her. She knew she needed to fight that. It could get her caught, or killed. Ignoring the doubt and remaining positive and confident was imperative.