Tom strode around the cell tapping the wall. “Sit down. I need to consider your offer.”
Without further comment Tom left the room with Felix. Sebastian folded his arms and waited. After thirty minutes Tom returned and stood in the doorway, hanging on to the door.
“What have you decided?” Sebastian said.
“I’m pleased to inform you that I’ll make you an offer.”
“You’ll not regret this.”
“I’ll leave you in the care of my associates, to iron out the contract details.” Tom stepped aside.
Joshua, Orville and Tag waddled into the cell. Orville grinned at Sebastian.
“Hello, Sebastian,” he gibbered.
Sebastian winced and backtracked to the wall as the three men filled the cell.
“I may hate El Duce, but everyone here works for him, in one way or another,” Tom said. As Sebastian slumped, his throat dry, Tom tapped Tag on his substantial shoulder. “Clean up any mess you make or you’ll answer to Felix.”
“You’ve been stupid, Sebastian, but you still have a choice to make,” Joshua said as Tom closed the door with a firm clang. “Tell us where you hid the package and we beat you to death, or don’t tell us and we beat you to a pulp. Then we give what’s left to the Doctor and you’ll tell him where the package is.”
Sebastian rubbed his jaw, as if he was considering his decision. Orville stood in the center of the group of three, the best position from which to attack the others.
Sebastian pushed at Orville: Kill them.
Orville shook his head and then elbowed Tag in the stomach, making Tag fold around the blow. As Tag’s breath blasted from his chest, Sebastian’s head screamed with a pulse of pain and he dropped to the floor.
Joshua turned to Orville, who swung a flat-handed blow to Joshua’s chin. A snap echoed around the cell while pain scythed through his own skull. Gritting his teeth, Sebastian levered himself to his feet as Tag grabbed Orville in a bear hug.
Sebastian threw out his hand to the wall to keep himself from falling to the floor again. He aimed at the opposite wall and staggered toward it, and then tripped over Joshua’s body. Sebastian fell against the wall on the other side to the fight, his shoulder crashing into the surface with a dull crack.
Tag screamed as Orville dug his hands deep into his face and the two toppled to the floor. The door was no longer blocked. As numbness spread down his arm, Sebastian put a hand to the door and shoved it open.
No one was near, so he flung himself through the door and rolled toward the balcony railing. In a fluid motion, he converted the roll into a run. His head throbbed with each pace, his world filled with flecks of red.
With his arms held wide apart and each step requiring concentration, he staggered for ten paces. Men appeared before him, blocking his way, so Sebastian slid to a halt. The world tilted from the effort of moving.
He grabbed the railing with a numb hand to stop himself from falling and turned around. Behind him, other men closed in. Any place with such a huge drop from the top balcony must have a suicide net, so Sebastian climbed onto the railing.
He tried to kneel, so he could throw himself forward, but his vision swirled. Unchecked, he fell over the side. The gray floor hurtled toward him.
Perhaps I was wrong, he thought, as grayness enveloped him.
Chapter Thirteen
A MAN LEANED TOWARD Sebastian. An off-white ceiling was behind him. Swirling patterns rippled across Sebastian’s vision.
“Are you awake?” the white-coated medic asked.
“Yes.”
“Take a word of advice, Sebastian. The next time you jump off the balcony, go headfirst. It’s messier to clean up, but we won’t have to waste time patching you up afterward.”
It took another week before his broken ankles and chipped shoulder knitted enough for the medic to release him from the hospital. He was placed in Solitary and, this time, he would be there for a month.
Apparently, the punishment for failing to kill yourself was greater than being suspected of murder. Sebastian didn’t mind.
“DO YOU HAVE ANYTHING more to add to your original statement?” Warden Sark asked.
“Yes,” Sebastian said.
Sark wheeled his head up, his glasses bobbing on his nose.
“Go on.”
“People near me die, but I’m not to blame. Important men on the outside ordered their operatives here to stop me from revealing certain information.”
With a sigh Sark leaned forward and waved to his guards, who slipped out of the room. Frowning, Sark tapped a few times on his console.
“Who do you have information about?”
“I worked for El Duce in New Vancouver.”
Sark consulted his monitor. “You were on Absolem five months ago, so your information is out of date and you won’t know anything that’ll give any current gang leader problems.”
“I was nearly killed, twice, so someone thinks I know something important.”
“That’s a good point. What’s your proposal?”
“I want to leave my past behind me and start again, so I’ll tell you everything I know.”
Muttering to himself, Sark tapped out a few instructions.
“The only place I can send you while I consider your case is to Level Zero.” Sark waited until Sebastian nodded. “Down there you’ll be with the worst inmates, but the rules are the same as elsewhere.”
“You’ll protect me, of course?”
“I won’t need to. The gangs don’t control Level Zero, so every man – or what passes for a man – fights only to protect his own worthless hide.” Sark paused with a finger above his console. “Everything else is up to you.”
“I’ll take your offer.”
Sark tapped a key. “In that case, you’ve been zeroed.”
A GUARD MARCHED SEBASTIAN away from the office building and on to an elevator. Sebastian’s stomach lurched as the elevator hurtled downward. Then the doors opened to reveal the entrance to another glass block.
While Sebastian maintained a fixed, harmless grin, the guard shepherded him into his new home that had been designed like Level One. The only tangible difference was that the glow from the low voltage lamps lit the Circle in a sickly yellow light, as opposed to the sickly white light in Level One.
The numbing light didn’t fill Sebastian with optimism. He slipped into his new cell, again identical to his Level One cell. His cellmate even slept on the bottom cot. Quietly, Sebastian levered himself onto the top cot, which made his cellmate stir.
The lean old man walked to the sink and poured himself a drink. Then he turned to Sebastian.
“Good evening, Sebastian,” the man said. His voice was silky, each vowel enunciated. He stepped into a shaft of light from the cell door, the yellow gleam framing his hooded eyes. “Let me introduce myself. They call me the Doctor.”
“How did you get into my cell?” Sebastian asked with a gulp. Joshua had told him about this man.
The Doctor sipped his water. “I believe you’re in my cell.”
“Then why did they put me in here with you?” Sebastian waited, not that he expected an answer. “Why do they call you the Doctor?”
The Doctor grinned. Rows of white teeth gleamed. “They all ask that, but the answer is obvious.”
“It’s because you’re a doctor?”
The Doctor chuckled, making Sebastian’s skin grow prickly and clammy.
“Actually, I’m a surgeon, although as I didn’t use anesthesia, my patients were never grateful afterward.”
The Doctor was gaunt and at least thirty years older than Sebastian. The green eyes that twinkled in the half-light were the only youthful thing about him. Sebastian rolled from his cot and strode to the sink. There, he poured himself some water.
“Are you hoping I’ll be your next patient?”
The Doctor rubbed his smooth scalp. “You will be after a few chats when we’ll know each other better. We’ll have more fun, then.”
“Listen, Doctor. I don’t like games. I’m in here for murder and I survived in Level One, but three people died. If you try anything, you’ll be next, so get on my good side and you’ll start by telling me your real name.”
Sebastian squeezed harder for emphasis and the Doctor wrapped a scrawny hand around Sebastian’s closing grip. Then Sebastian’s hand became numb. Sweat burst out on his brow as he tried to make his hand keep hold of the Doctor’s neck.
Bit by bit, his hand was forced back and then down to his side. The Doctor released his grip and blood rushed into Sebastian’s hand amid waves of pinpricks.
“Please don’t attack me again,” the Doctor said with a smile. He returned to his cot. “I find such behavior uncivilized.”
Sebastian flexed his hand while the Doctor sat down. When feeling returned to his fingers, he climbed onto his cot.
“I won’t make that mistake again.”
“In that case shall I tell you a bedtime story to help you sleep?”
“I’d prefer it if you didn’t. It’s been a long day.”
“I’ll make the story a short one, then. A patient once came to me with what he called a splitting headache. I cured him.”
Sebastian didn’t respond, but the Doctor then told him about his cure. Afterward, he rolled over and snored in a series of steady wheezes while Sebastian lay awake on his back. Every time he closed his eyes, the image of the Doctor’s cure for headaches swam into view.
Chapter Fourteen
FOR TEN DAYS SEBASTIAN endured the steady routine of penal colony life. Level Zero might contain the worst dregs of humanity, but as far as Sebastian could tell, they weren’t a threat to him.
The guards’ presence was higher than in Level One at meal times and Association, and whenever the Zeroers left their cells they kept their distance from others. Despite keeping his guard up, there were no signs of organized brutality.
No gangs prowled the balconies. Instead, sad figures shuffled in circles through the pallid light, lost in their own private hells. Most welcome was the silence. There wasn’t the constant cacophony that filled Level One, as the Zeroers were too downbeat.
Unfortunately, Sebastian couldn’t block out the Doctor’s nightly tales of torture of which he had an endless supply. If he was trying to find Sebastian’s own worst fear, he’d failed as Sebastian didn’t like the sound of any of the Doctor’s treatments.
Sebastian didn’t push the Doctor to stop talking, as he didn’t know when he’d have to fend off a physical attack. Instead, to deflect the Doctor from his litany of abuse, he fished for information.
“Why are you after me?” he asked.
“What makes you think I want to harm you?”
“Don’t play games,” Sebastian snapped.
“Games are all I have.”
Sebastian climbed off his cot and sat in a chair facing the Doctor, who was sprawled on his cot.
“You’re eager to tell me about your crimes, so why not tell me the rest?”
The Doctor stroked his scalp and teased the small white tufts of hair at the sides.
“You stole something, a data shard, I believe. El Duce wants it back.”
“Then we have an impasse. You won’t kill me, because I’m the only one who knows where it is, and I won’t tell you where I’ve hidden it, because that information is the only thing keeping me alive.”
“That’s a dilemma for sure.”
“Having you torture me could work, but I doubt you’ll have enough time before the guards save me, so we need to strike a deal: my life for the shard.”
The Doctor sat up. “El Duce isn’t interested in a trade. You’ve annoyed too many people.”
“Why? I was only a delivery boy.”
“You stole important property from an important person, so I must punish you.”
Sebastian shook a fist. “What’s so important about the shard, anyhow? What information is so crucial that El Duce can’t get what he needs elsewhere?”
The Doctor set green eyes on him that were almost as piercing as El Duce’s.
“Maybe the shard itself is the important thing. It could be a new form of data storage, perhaps.”
“A revolutionary storage device doesn’t sound like something a gang leader would be interested in.”
“I’ve heard of shard lattices designed with perfectly aligned atomic structures encoded at the quantum level. After a given number of atomic cycles, they re-align. Such a device can have many uses.”
The Doctor leaned toward Sebastian, his eyes boring deep into his, making Sebastian check his optic display, which showed 329.7. So he had about twenty weeks before he found out what that re-alignment entailed.
The next day, during Association, Sebastian took up his usual position in the center of the Circle. Only a few guards lounged on the top balcony. As he sat cross-legged, bathed in the yellow light, a group of Zeroers shuffled toward him.
“Hello, gentlemen,” he said.
A painfully haggard individual faced him. His orange uniform billowed out from his chest.
“I’m Zorban and I’m a nurse,” he said. “I’m here to help you.”
“I’m in good health, thanks.”
Zorban shuffled so close that his bad breath washed over Sebastian.
“I’ve heard you suffer from digestive problems and you’re not as regular as you’d like. I can help.”
Sebastian recalled the Doctor’s treatment for bowel problems. With a wince he turned to find more nurses stood behind him. Before they could trap him, he lowered a shoulder and barged the two unhealthiest-looking ones aside.
He took two paces before a heavy hand clamped down on his shoulder. His knees buckled and he staggered, but he managed to take another step. An arm wrapped around his neck from behind.
“I’m not going anywhere. Just let me go.”
“You’ll feel much better after your treatment. I know I did.”
He was turned around to face Zorban. The nurses formed a dense orange pack around him and held their hands out, indicating a route to a ground floor cell. With no alternative Sebastian complied.
At the door Sebastian pushed Zorban aside and strode into the cell. The Doctor, the only occupant, was hunched in the corner. He straightened up and fingered a length of rubber tubing.
“Thank you for coming, Sebastian,” he said. “This won’t take long.”
The nurses entered the cell and slammed the door shut behind them, so before they could grab him Sebastian strode forward and stood beside a cot.
“Are you ready to discuss terms?” Sebastian asked.
The Doctor wound the tubing into the sink and ran soap along its length. He licked his lips. Then he leaned toward a side table and with his thumb and forefinger picked up a nail that was about as long as his middle finger.
“Do you realize that through the ages, people have expended huge amounts of time devising elaborate ways to inflict pain on each other? It was wasted effort, as they never realized how effective a length of rubber tubing and one rusty nail can be.”
“How did you get hold of a nail and a tube in here?”
The Doctor grinned. “I’d worry less about where they came from and more about where they’re going.”
Sebastian’s throat constricted. “What about the deal?”
The Doctor drew the tube through his hands. “A deal may be possible later, but for now I’ve been told to test your resolve.”
Without preliminaries Sebastian formed a command and pushed at the Doctor: Kill your nurses.
Pain lanced into Sebastian’s skull from the strength of the order. The world tilted. He spun and fell on the cot, as his body became numb. He heard the Doctor whip out the tube. Then screaming rippled around him.
In the confusion, he heard a sickening crack of bone and a body landed on him. He forced himself to raise an arm and push the s
till body aside. He focused on the Doctor, who jabbed two fingers deep into another nurse’s throat.
Sebastian rose up and lurched toward the Doctor, but slipped on a sticky, dark pool that was spreading out from under another body. He gulped back nausea, but an elbow crunched into his chest, shattering what little remained of his focus.
Another body fell against his back, pushing him toward the wall. With too many people crammed into too small a space and with no way to avoid falling, he cracked his head on the wall.
New pain washed over him. The cool wall pressed against his cheek. He wanted to lean against the coolness forever, but a boot kicked him in the back. Sebastian lashed out with his fist, making contact with something soft and yielding.
He turned around and blinked rapidly to clear his vision, but the effort was wasted as blurred shapes surrounded him. He closed his eyes and steadied himself for a berserk attack. Then he lashed out again, but arms wrapped around his chest and dragged him into the center of the cell.
With a cry, Sebastian opened his eyes. Zorban was facing him and foul breath washed over him, adding to his nausea. The Doctor lay at his feet, his neck bent at a sharp angle. He’d taken out three nurses, but left three more.
Sebastian tried to raise his arms, but Zorban pinned them to his sides. The world hurtled back and forth, from clarity to darkness.
“All right, I’ll tell you everything,” Sebastian said, the words echoing in his mind.
A dangerous throb in his temples warned him to act quickly, before he lost consciousness. Zorban threw him toward another nurse. New arms wrapped around his chest and pinned his hands behind his back. Now Sebastian faced Zorban, who raised his fist, his manic eyes glinting.
“Go on.”
Sebastian gulped and tried to clear his mouth of cloying liquid. He ran his tongue over his teeth and tasted blood.
“I want a deal. I’ll tell you what you want to know, if you leave me alone.”
As Zorban’s fellow nurses chuckled, Zorban delivered a short-arm jab to Sebastian’s cheek. Pain flared behind his eyes, but he kept his vision.
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