Forged in the Dawn

by Gavin Zanker

  Old Bill was on his feet, jabbing his finger and arguing incoherently. He banged the table and kicked a chair across the floor at his tormentors. One of the guards stationed around the room stepped forward to intervene, but was stopped by the pug-faced officer beside him.

  The gang stood and spread out around the distressed man, laughing as they continued to fling food and plastic cutlery. Aiden hated bullies, and the scene made him irrationally angry. He knew better than to intervene though.

  Old Bill grew more and more agitated, eventually smashing his fist down on a table and charging at one of the troublemakers. Immediately a piercing whistle sounded out and multiple guards rushed in. The gang members left the canteen laughing as the old man was handcuffed.

  ‘Come on, Bill. It’s solitary for you,’ the guard said. ‘You know what happens when you assault people. This is your third strike this week.’ Bill tried to argue, but his protests came out as agitated babbling. ‘Yes it is,’ the guard continued. ‘A few days ago you threw a bottle of your own piss at Larry, remember? And then yesterday you tried to smother your cell mate in his sleep.’

  The old man was lead out of the canteen, shoulders hunched over as he mumbled to himself. Aiden met his eyes briefly, and he felt a jolt of sympathy for the old man. Being in this place so long had clearly affected his sanity, making him an easy target for prisoners to harass when they grew bored. Catching the thought, Aiden put it out of his mind. There was no place for sympathy in a place like this.

  A guard stopped next to Aiden. ‘What are you staring at, inmate? Did you not hear the buzzer? Get going or I’ll throw you in solitary with the old kook.’

  Aiden stood and carried his tray to the mess shelf, then headed out into the corridor. It was yard time soon and he was looking forward to finally getting outside to stretch his legs.

  AIDEN STEPPED OUT into the chill air of the yard and gazed up at the silhouetted city built in to the canyon above. Not much could be made out from here, just a jigsaw of walkways and the dark undersides of buildings which clung to the canyon walls. He shivered under the shadow of the city as the orange jump-suited prisoners spread out across the yard, heading for the spots where patches of sunlight filtered down. Most gathered in groups, showing off their gang markings as they strutted around like peacocks. Because of the lack of real ink inside the prison, it was common practice to burn the markings into the skin of new recruits instead.

  A prisoner shouldered Aiden aside, grunting as he passed. Aiden needed to find a way out of this place. It was killing him being stuck down here, wasting his time with these animals instead of out searching for Kate. Even if he somehow managed to escape the facility though, the prison was built at the bottom of the canyon. A natural prison itself.

  He sighed and broke in to a jog, following the high chain-link fence that surrounded the yard. It was refreshing to get his blood pumping again, but he found his time spent locked up inside a cell for the last few months had sapped his endurance.

  Stopping to catch his breath, he leaned against the rust-flecked fence. Looking out he saw the construction site not far away, set against one of the canyon walls. Scaffolding poles had been piled up, and a thick steel cable hung down from somewhere out of view in the city above. Rumours were circulating about a new work detail there, but nothing had been mentioned to the prisoners.

  Aiden had not been here long enough to be assigned a work detail yet. He heard some of the more trusted prisoners were taken up to the surface under guard to work the fields, or clear debris from the old railway. Having avoided as much trouble as he could so far, he hoped he would be trusted up on the surface and not stuck in the bowels of the prison, sweating out his days in the kitchens or laundry. Anything that might give him a chance to escape.

  ‘Hey, punk!’ someone shouted, pulling Aiden from his thoughts.

  He turned to see a shirtless man approaching. The outline of a dragon with wings spread was burned across his chest, the skin still bright red. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and the muscles in his arms flexed as he balled his fists. Another steroid junkie.

  The man stopped in front of Aiden. ‘You’re in my spot,’ he said, one of his eyelids twitching. ‘So I think you’d better move.’

  Aiden glanced past the man to see a group watching in amusement not far away. ‘Not interested,’ he said, before turning his back.

  ‘Hey, I’m talking to you! Move out of my spot, or I’ll squeeze your head through that fence.’

  ‘I doubt it. Not even all those steroids you’re on would give you the strength to crush bone.’ Aiden sighed and turned, his gaze drawn to the bulging vein on the man’s neck. ‘You should head back to your friends and find another mark. I’m not interested in playing your game.’

  Confusion played across the man’s face, unsure how to deal with Aiden’s reaction to the confrontation. Aiden knew the pattern that followed. He would figure he as being insulted him and fall back on aggression. Aiden prepared for the inevitable fight, resting on the balls of his feet.

  A scream sounded out from above. Everyone glanced up as a shadow fell in to the yard. A sickening thud followed as something impacted the centre of the yard.

  Then silence.

  Whistles blew as guards ran forward, pushing the stunned prisoners aside. Their confrontation forgotten, Aiden brushed past the steroid junkie to get a closer look.

  The force of the body hitting the concrete had sent blood and viscera in all directions. Aiden glanced down at a nearby disembodied arm, still gently rolling with momentum. It was wrapped in the orange sleeve of a prison jumpsuit. It looked like whoever fell had landed on an unlucky prisoner.

  It was not uncommon for people to look for an easy way out these days, and throwing yourself into the canyon would definitely do it. Judging from the screaming on the way down though, it seemed obvious the person had not jumped over the edge voluntarily.

  Gazing up at the maze of walkways and buildings above, Aiden felt the sheer mass of metal looming overhead, pushing down against him and making his stomach flip. He cast his eyes down at the solid floor, tensing the muscles in his abdomen until the unsteady feeling receded.

  As the shock passed, the yard quickly turned in to a flurry of activity. A guard appeared beside Aiden, shoving him while blowing a whistle. Everyone was being shepherded back inside, away from the grisly scene in the yard. The excited chattering and blood-flecked jumpsuits of the prisoners around him left him with a muted feeling of unreality as he made his way back to his cell.

  CHAPTER 2

  EVEN AFTER ALMOST a year, Aiden could still remember the sensation of Kate’s auburn hair falling across his chest, the scent of her pale skin as she would bury her face into his shoulder. She was the foundation upon which his world was built, and without her he had no roots. Without her he was incomplete.

  Her panicked voice called out his name from somewhere in the distance. He sprinted through the trees, panic overtaking him as he searched for her. The sound of her voice slowly faded as he crashed through the undergrowth, until he was left standing alone with only silence surrounding him.

  ‘Aiden?’

  Aiden snapped back to the present, realising the man sat behind the desk had asked him a question. ‘What did you say?’

  ‘I asked how you were getting on. You’ve been here...’ the man pushed his small, round glasses up his nose and peered at some papers on his desk. ‘Just over two months now. So how are finding things?’

  ‘Fine,’ Aiden said with a frown. ‘As fine as anyone can be when they’re a prisoner in this place.’

  Aiden glanced around the cramped office. Filing cabinets, a flimsy metal desk, and the same harsh fluorescent strip lighting throughout the prison. The name plate on the desk read, ‘Dr. E. Munkh.’ Aiden had met with the doctor on a handful of occasions now, and with each meeting he found himself disliking the fidgety man more and more.

  ‘It must have been difficult seeing that poor fellow die in the yard yesterday,’ the doctor
said. ‘I heard it was quite a gruesome sight.’

  ‘That’s the world these days,’ Aiden said. ‘One big horror show. I’ve seen worse things out there.’

  ‘Right, yes,’ Munkh said glancing down at some papers on his desk. ‘It says your conviction here was for some pretty violent stuff. But it seems to me that you have your head screwed on right. You don’t seem the type to get caught up in all of that immature gang nonsense that goes on around here.’

  Munkh looked at Aiden expectantly. Aiden stared back blankly. He had no intention of giving this man anything unless he was forced.

  ‘Do you wish to talk about your crimes? I know many inmates show reluctance in speaking about their past.’ Dr Munkh’s gaze flicked to the dented filing cabinet by the door. ‘However I believe you show enough self awareness to understand that discussion can be beneficial. To process the feelings, so to speak. Yes?’

  ‘I don’t need you to help “process my feelings,”’ Aiden said mockingly. ‘My crimes were more than justified, and done for the right reasons. The only reason I’m here now is because I found myself on the wrong side of someone with money. Money he earned from trading slaves, incidentally.’

  ‘I see. So this was personal? You know, anger can be a very destructive force.’

  Aiden scowled. ‘Don’t presume to know my intentions, doctor. My reasons were my own. And I’m paying for my actions now. In more ways than you realise.’

  The doctor leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers. ‘You seem to have a problem with authority, Aiden. You know, your time here would go much more smoothly if you just cooperated.’

  The statement was met with a heavy silence, and the sound of the insects banging around inside the light above suddenly took on a louder volume. Aiden lifted his chin and exhaled slowly. He was tired of the arrogant little man already.

  ‘Are we done here?’ Aiden asked.

  ‘We’re done when I say we’re done.’ Dr Munkh closed the folder on his desk. ‘Tell me, what happened there?’ Munkh pointed around his face, referring to Aiden’s bruising and black eye.

  ‘I slipped in the shower.’

  ‘Well I don’t believe that for a second,’ the doctor said, reaching into his drawer and pulled out a sheet of paper. ‘Let’s fill out an incident report. Tell me what really happened and I can help you.’ He picked up his pen and stared expectantly across the desk at Aiden. ‘There’s no need to protect anyone. We can have the offender punished, make sure they don’t bother you again.’

  Aiden laughed and shook his head. ‘You can write whatever you like on that form, but I already told you. I slipped in the shower.’

  Munkh pursed his lips and tapped his pen on the desk. ‘Okay, let’s try another approach then.’ He crumpled the paper and threw it in the nearby bin. ‘My friend Peter runs a Dawnist support group meeting once a week.’

  ‘The Church group? I’m not a religious person.’

  ‘That’s okay. Maybe you can learn a few things while you’re there.’

  ‘What, like how to ignore rational thought in favour of superstition?’

  ‘Your attendance will be mandatory,’ the doctor said, seemingly ignoring Aiden’s comment. ‘We’ll see if Peter can help break down some of those walls. Be in the C Wing recreation room tomorrow at two.’

  Aiden rubbed his face. So now he had to go sit in a circle and listen to someone drone on about prayer and forgiveness. At least the other prisoners only hurt him physically.

  ‘So we’re done?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes, you may leave now.’ Munkh waved his hand dismissively as he scribbled something on some paper. ‘I’ll see you again in a few weeks to see how you’re getting on. Hopefully you’ll be a bit more cooperative then.’

  AS AIDEN ENTERED the recreation room, the smell of mould and old furniture was overpowering. A barred window set high up the wall did little to light the room. Someone clicked a switch and a fluorescent strip light flickered to life overhead, illuminating a circle of battered metal chairs arranged in the centre of the room.

  Aiden took a seat in the circle as others slowly filed in behind him and did the same. One of the chairs gave way, and the seated prisoner sprawled to the floor awkwardly. He heaved himself up with a grunt and kicked the bent chair at the cinder block wall.

  ‘Now, Barker,’ someone said as they entered the room. ‘Do I need to call a guard in here again? I doubt they would be pleased to hear about another outburst.’

  Barker took a deep breath, his gut straining against his jumpsuit. ‘No, no need for that, Pete. Everything is just driving me up the wall today.’

  ‘Right, well go grab another seat from over there then,’ Peter said, pointing at the stacked chairs against the far wall, ‘and come join us in the circle.’

  Peter, it turned out, was a short, balding man much like the doctor. He carried a worn briefcase and had a habit of blinking too much, drawing attention to the mismatched lenses in his glasses which were taped together at the bridge. As the last few prisoners trickled in and filled the seats, Peter looked around at the group with a pitiable smile and began.

  ‘Hello guys. I see we have some new faces here today. That’s good isn’t it? Let’s make them all feel welcome.’

  ‘Welcome,’ the circle chorused together in a monotone.

  Aiden cringed at the forced familiarity. He studied the seated group. Twenty or so prisoners, half smiling like morons while the other half looking bored enough to try and eat the chairs they sat on.

  ‘Let me introduce myself for the new members. My name is Peter, and I make the trip down here once a week to lead this little group.’ He beamed around at the circle, a smile showing too much gum. ‘So, who would like to start by telling us a bit about themselves?’

  Peter looked around expectantly but the room remained silent. Most sat with eyes downcast, or busied themselves flicking pieces of imaginary fluff from their jumpsuits.

  ‘How about you, my son?’ Peter said, catching Aiden’s eye. ‘Why don’t you tell us your name?’

  ‘I’m Aiden, and I’m not your son.’

  ‘Ah, I meant no offence,’ Peter said. ‘It is just the Dawnist way to embrace your neighbour as a part of your family. It’s natural if you think about it. After all, are we not all human beings sharing our experiences in the new Dawn?’

  ‘I’m not a Dawnist,’ Aiden said bluntly. ‘I don’t share your beliefs. I’m here because Munkh decided I had to attend.’

  ‘Ah, the good doctor,’ Peter said, his chest swelling. ‘An upstanding man and fellow Dawnist. Do you know why he referred you to my group, Aiden?’

  ‘I think I pissed him off.’

  A few people sniggered at the comment, probably the ones who were here for the same reason. Peter called for quiet, then returned his attention to Aiden.

  ‘Many people enjoy this session,’ Peter said with a frown. ‘So please don’t bring your negativity in here with you. We have enough trouble with the Syndicate gangs hassling us for our beliefs, not to mention Sergeant Wilkins constantly throwing half of our members in solitary for every perceived offence.’

  ‘No kidding,’ Barker said. ‘Last week I saw him drag Donnie off to solitary for reciting the prayer in the canteen. He runs this place like-’

  ‘A prison?’ someone said.

  ‘Well yeah,’ Barker said over the laughter of the group. ‘But he doesn’t need to be such a muppet about it, does he?’

  ‘I think we’re getting off track a bit here,’ Peter said. ‘Let me tell you why I think Doctor Munkh has recommended so many new members recently. After the tragedy in the yard a few days ago, he must have decided some of you would benefit from a safe place to discuss your feelings.’

  Excited whispering spread around the circle at the mention of the jumper. Days dragged inside the prison, so any drama became the subject of conversation for a good while.

  A broad shouldered man with shoulder length dreadlocks spoke up from his seat. ‘I dunno about you fo
ols, but I ain’t never seen a man instantly turn in to a pizza before.’ He clapped his hands together and made a flatulent sound with his lips.

  ‘Glad they don’t serve pizza at the canteen,’ someone said, causing more laughter.

  ‘Two men died!’ Peter barked. ‘This is not a matter to make fun of! How would you like people laughing at your death?’

  Dreadlocks spoke again. ‘If I went out like that, exploding so you fools had to pick bits of my corpse out of your hair for the next week, I’d be laughing all the way to the next life.’

  ‘You bloody would and all, wouldn’t you,’ Barker said, his gut rippling as he laughed.

  ‘All right, settle down.’ Peter blinked rapidly from behind his mismatched glasses, his discomfort showing as he waited for the laughter to subside. ‘Let’s get back on track. You mentioned the next life, Hulio. Have you embraced the teachings of Dawnism?’

  ‘A man has to believe in something,’ Hulio said, shrugging as he ran a hand over his dreadlocks.

  ‘This makes me happy to hear,’ Peter said, his smile returning. ‘Have you been a part of the Church for long?’

  ‘I ain’t part of it in any official-like capacity.’

  ‘Well, we can fix that can’t we?’ Peter clapped his hands excitedly. ‘See me after group and we’ll get you set up with the paperwork to become an official member.’ Peter turned to address the rest of the group. ‘Same goes for anyone else interested in joining us on the path of light.’

  Aiden rolled his eyes. ‘I didn’t realise this group was a recruitment drive.’ He hated proselyting, and resented being forced to listen to people impress their beliefs on to others.

  ‘While this group is funded by the Dawnist Church, Aiden, the primary goal of these sessions is to support those in less fortunate circumstances, to help guide them on to the right path in the new Dawn.’