“Sorry about that.” The Australian replied.
“Don’t be, clearly whatever production line he rolled off wasn’t everything it was talked up to be.” Zachariah said, “But you, I understand you’ve got a real hate on for our genetically engineered friends?”
“What makes you say that?” Digger asked.
The words Digger had been busy scratching into the wall were framed behind his shoulder in the weak light, ‘FUCK MUTANTS’. Zachariah grinned and his perfect teeth gleamed along with his golden earrings and rings.
“Yeah, you’ll do fine.” Zachariah said.
“What if I’m totally happy where I am, mate?” Digger said, “Accommodations here aren’t much but you lot on Slayerz play pretty rough from what I recall.”
“After watching vids of that fight from earlier today something tells me you’ll be very happy to come on board. But I’m afraid I’m a very busy guy and don’t have time for a lot of negotiation.” Zachariah said.
Zachariah stepped back, holding his glowing hologram-emitter. The two Thai guards crowded the doorway with their stun cannons.
“If you’re going to be a dick about it then I’m not bloody coming!” Digger said.
Still holding the small rock he’d been using to carve letters, Digger moved his arm back and pitched it at one of the two guards. It hit them in the eye and they reeled back, crying out. The second guard raised his stun cannon but rather than charge at him Digger lunged at the cot to one side of the cramped cell. The cot’s mattress was old and thin but it helped protect Digger as he pulled it in front of him like a shield. The concussive blast from the stun cannon drove Digger into the rear wall of the cell but the mattress soaked up enough of it that he wasn’t knocked out. Digger monstered forward, slamming into the guard using the mattress and shoving him to the floor. Kicking and punching, Digger made sure the guard would stay down for at least for a few moments.
The first guard recovered and turned on Digger, one eye closed and weeping. Digger had enough time to shove the guard’s stun cannon aside and threw him into the wall. His real target was the Slayerz producer, framed by the cell door. Digger hurled himself at the smaller man in the expensive suit. Somehow, Zachariah didn’t look frightened or even surprised. Digger planned to knock him out and make a run for it down the corridor, grabbing a weapon or a transport if he could. He flung his fist at Zachariah but a few centimetres from the man’s face it was like he had hit an invisible wall.
A debilitating jolt of electricity arced painfully up Digger’s arm. The blast picked him up and heaved him across the cell, sparks flying off his body. As Digger sunk to the ground, groaning, Zachariah produced another small, glowing device with his left hand.
“Personal anti-attack forceshield, after last season the board decided we were being a little lax with our own security.” Zachariah smiled, “Guards, wrap him up and move him to the hovercraft if you could. I’ll make sure there’s a little something extra in your pay packets.”
The two guards climbed to their feet, angrily nursing their bruises. Spit ran into Digger’s beard as he struggled to move. Tremors continued to strike through his body.
“Fair go, I was only joking.” Digger said.
Both guards fired their stun cannons into Digger from point-blank range. The blasts felt like they were pounding him to mincemeat against the wall of the cell. Before Digger knew it he was cuffed, hooded, and being dragged into the corridor as something was injected into the side of his neck.
Chapter Two
Digger didn’t remember the trip to the new Slayerz facility. His injuries were treated while he was out. Semi-conscious, he was dragged down a short hallway and into another room, still hooded and cuffed. The guards tossed him to his knees, uncuffed him and then hurried out of the room before he could retaliate. Recovering quickly, Digger tore the hood off his face.
“Well, g’day there?” Digger said to an empty room.
His new cell was clean and comfortable, well-lit, like a windowless hotel room. A narrow couch sat to the right facing a vidscreen inset in one wall. There was a bed across from where Digger was kneeling and two rooms that branched off the main one, a bathroom and a small gym. Black globes inset in the ceiling watched as Digger rose unsteadily to his feet. He stumbled through the room, inspecting everything. Anything that could be nailed down was securely affixed. The gym equipment didn’t have any loose parts he could use as a weapon. He hummed to himself as he yanked at some of the pieces experimentally anyway.
A floor-to-ceiling mirror composed one wall of the gym. Wearing his filthy prison uniform, Digger regarded himself in the reflection. He knotted one hand in his tangled beard. There had been no mirrors in the Thai jail and although he hadn’t realised it, it had been a while since Digger had seen his own face.
“This just won’t do.” Digger said, “I bet the bloke who wins Slayerz pulls mad roots but it’s not going to happen looking like this shit.”
An electric clipper was already waiting for Digger in the bathroom, as if someone had anticipated his need. Digger’s own eyes stared at him intensely from behind his hair. The clipper buzzed to life in his hand. He ran it carelessly into his thick beard. Chunks of knotted hair started to fall away from his face and fill the sink. He had to go over some areas several times to get them right and then he attacked the tangles of his long, dark brown hair. A nest filled the sink and more ribbons of hair drifted off the bench and fluttered to the floor.
“Yeah, there we go, that’s not too shabby. Not too bad at all.” Digger said.
Once he was done, Digger studied his appearance in the mirror. He ran one hand over what was left of his beard, still present but tight and neat. The palm of his hand came away covered in trimmings. The hair on his head was the same story, he’d shorn it so it was neatly cut, like his time in the military, but not completely gone. His bared face was dirty and bruised. Losing the excess of hair had revealed several thick scars down the right side of his face and a tattoo on the left side of his neck which read ‘C’est La Vie’ in blotchy, black letters.
After trimming his beard and hair, Digger stripped and showered. It washed off the loose hair and all the prison grunge. He felt like a new man after a long, steaming soak. One white towel wrapped around his waist, he dried off using a second towel, broad shoulders and a heavily muscled chest and arms tapering to his middle, as he wandered back into the main room. Groaning, Digger turned and collapsed onto the bed.
“Okay, I don’t know how long I’ve got until this bloody game, but I could get used to this.” Digger said to nobody, “No worries, I’ll just chill here and enjoy the facilities until kick off. Not a problem in the world.”
xXx
“Let me out, you motherfuckers! Let me out!” Digger yelled
Two weeks later, Digger was still waiting. The room was small enough that he crossed it in two long strides. He lunged, driving his shoulder into the door. Jolts of pain went through his already battered shoulder and into his body. He circled back and charged again at the door for what could have been the thousandth time. It didn’t matter how many times he hit it, it was like running into a solid wall.
“I’m going to knock your bloody teeth so far down your throat, you’re going to floss through your dickhole!” Digger yelled at the black globe in the ceiling.
The room might have been a lot nicer than Digger’s Bangkok prison cell but it was still a prison. He didn’t even see the guards who brought his food. It happened through a slot in the wall beside the door. The only time Digger saw anyone was when he managed to destroy something badly enough that the people running the complex were forced to send a tech and a couple of armed guards to repair or replace it. So far, none of the guards had slipped up so that Digger could overpower one of them. They wore black armour and face-concealing masks so it was impossible to tell one from the other or guess at how many actually worked in the complex. Torn bedding surrounded the bed and couch along with disposable containers from his food deli
veries. The exercise equipment had been rearranged as he’d tried to pull bits off to use as weapons.
Digger rammed into the door again, over and over. Eventually it felt like his arm was going to fall out of its socket and he resorted to kicking at the door instead. The sneakers he’d been supplied with scuffed the surface but didn’t do any damage.
“Can’t keep a man locked up like this, ain’t right!” Digger said, “Starting to bloody hear things in the walls!”
“Step away from the door!” A guard’s voice echoed through a speaker.
“Eat a dick!” Digger replied.
“Step away from the door, go across the room and sit on the side of the bed.” The guard said, “Do it, or we’ll fill the room with knockout gas again. It’s time for your check-up.”
Sneering, Digger crossed the room and sat down heavily on the side of his bed like a petulant child. His arms were crossed. The door slid open and two guards in black armour and masks crowded it. They kept their heavy-duty stun weapons trained on Digger as they came inside.
“It stinks in here!” One guard said.
“This one tried to block the toilet by stuffing food containers down it.” The other guard replied.
“Just wanted to test the flush, mate, worked great.” Digger said.
“Shut up, stay where you are.” The first said.
The two guards parted and a third man appeared between them. He was of a smaller build and bald, wearing a white lab coat. As he approached Digger he held a glowing, wandlike device.
“We haven’t officially met but it was my team who patched you up when we brought you here from the prison.” The doctor said, “I understand you’re trying to undo all our good work by beating yourself to pieces on the door.”
“Well ta for that, doc.” Digger said, “Where is here, exactly?”
“Afraid I’m not allowed to give that away-, that is to say, even I don’t know. I haven’t seen the outside of the complex since they shipped us here.” The doctor said, “Looks like you’ve got a few contusions on your shoulder, nothing broken. How are you-, feeling, contestant? Mentally?”
“Good as gold, doc.” Digger said, “Looking forward to getting out of here and stretching my legs. Apart from the voices in the walls I suppose one box is pretty much as good as another.”
“I wanted to ask about that night you-, were forced on the run from the Australian military. The night you killed four of your fellow soldiers.” The doctor said, “You told my boss, Mr Hawthorne, that something had gotten inside your head and made you do it? You’re on the record as having said the same thing many times in the past.”
Digger, sitting on the side of the bed, tensed. Both hands were clenched in his lap, knuckles tightening. Sensing trouble, the two guards circled around behind the man in the white lab coat and kept their stun weapons trained on the Australian.
“Can you tell me what happened? We’d be-, very interested.” The doctor said.
“Nobody’s listened in the past, they all thought I was crazy.” Digger said.
“I’m not going to think that, I’d just like to fully assess your health, physical and mental.” The doctor said.
Digger’s gaze was faraway, the glimmer of tracer rounds and explosions behind his eyes, “Bullets were flying, blasts going off everywhere. I’d been on the go for forty-eight hours, just got some sack time and the base came under attack. Don’t even know where they came from but it was chaos, and Chris-, Chris Wilson, woke me up.” He said, “He didn’t know though, while they were attacking something-, some mutant, had got inside my head. Had to take me sleeping. I could see the hand but I couldn’t stop it as it took my knife from under the pillow and opened up his throat.”
“That’s terrible.” The doctor said, “But there was gunfire, and explosions, and those didn’t wake you up?”
“What?” Digger said.
“You slept through the battle until-, Wilson, woke you?” The doctor asked.
“What of it?” Digger said.
“Just seems-, strange, is all.” The doctor said.
“I said the fucking thing had got into my head while I was sleeping, didn’t I!” Digger said, “Made me kill him, and the other three, and then run for it. I didn’t come back until the next day, didn’t even know where I was. Why are you asking? Are there going to be mutants in this year’s game?”
“I’m not allowed to talk about that, as I’m sure you realise.” The doctor said, “But I am here to give you this.”
The doctor produced a short, silvery sleeve, open like a clasp, with a rectangular screen and small, white sphere on the top. Digger automatically held out his right forearm.
“You’ve seen the show, yes? You know how this works?” The doctor said, “Once the game begins your bracelet will be linked to that of your partner. If you die it sends a signal to their kill switch and vice versa. If they are killed, the kill switch will give you enough adrenaline and drugs to let you go out-, in a blaze of glory, as it were, before the toxins kill you. The map on top will update every half hour with the positions of all contestants, including yours, as well as updates on kills, supply drops, or anything else of relevance. You can’t remove it, or attempt to remove your arm, or it will give you a debilitating shock.”
As he spoke, the doctor fit the sleeve around Digger’s outstretched forearm. It moulded itself closed without even a seam showing. Whatever it was made of, the metal was so light that after a few moments Digger could hardly feel it. The screen and white globe sat on top of Digger’s forearm.
“Fascinating stuff, thanks, doc.” Digger said, “Now that it’s over do I get a lollipop?”
“I’m sure that can be arranged. And I’ll get you a sling for that shoulder so you keep it in shape for the game.” The doctor said.
When the doctor turned away for a moment, Digger struck. He hit the bald man around the middle and spun him so he could use him as a human shield. He wrapped the sleeve on his arm around the doctor’s throat. Digger laughed, shoving the small man toward the door. Both guards trained their weapons on Digger and the doctor but didn’t fire.
“Drop them, drop them or I’ll break his bloody neck!” Digger said, “Not important enough for one of those personal forceshields, ey, mate?”
“I should really find a new job, this just pays so well.” The doctor said, “Mr Dundee, I’ve treated a lot of contestants on this show. I’m sure if you were sincere about trying to escape you would have made your move before I put your sleeve on, not after. As it is, the drugs that will kill you could be remotely triggered if you escaped. You just want to show us what you’re made of-, well, why not wait until you can show the whole world?”
Digger laughed, “You’ve got me there, mate.” He said.
Digger loosened his grip but didn’t let go. The doctor sighed and nodded at the two guards.
“Do it.” He said.
Both guards unleashed with their stun weapons, the concussive blasts echoing around the room. Digger and the doctor were blown backwards, over the bed and into the wall. The two broke apart and tumbled loosely to the ground. Groaning, Digger tried to crawl back to his knees.
“Fair go, it was only a joke.” Digger said.
One of the guards hit Digger with a stun blast again, sending him flipping into the doorframe by the gym. The other guard helped the doctor back to his feet. The smaller man looked shaky, tremors running through his body, but he reached into his bag and passed Digger a sling.
“Please keep the shoulder still and stop throwing yourself into trouble, Mr Dundee.” The doctor said, “I believe the most recent promos should have updated to your vidscreen. You should check them out when you have a chance, to see what you’ll be up against.”
The guards dragged the doctor back out into the hallway, door hissing closed. Outside Digger’s room, a mostly featureless hallway stretched in both directions. Single, solid doors were spaced out, each a good distance apart. Vents for gas dispersal and small sentry guns dotted the
ceiling on the off-chance a contestant actually got loose. The guards helped the doctor stand until he had recovered from the stun blasts. Giving the guards a thin smile, he adjusted his coat and wiped drool from one corner of his mouth.
“Thank you, now, more patients to see.” The doctor said.
The holding rooms were deliberately set far apart so none of the contestants could hear each other or communicate. Before they reached the next door though, the doctor remembered what Digger had said about hearing voices in the walls. He paused. One guard checked a screen by the door which showed a feed from inside the room and took a step back.
“Holy shit.” The guard said.
The two guards kept their weapons trained on the door as it opened. Compared to Digger’s room, the other cell was spotless. Still, the guards looked nervous. Two paper cups that had been screwed up into small balls suddenly dropped to the carpet from where, moments before, they seemed to have been orbiting one another in midair. The doctor smiled as he entered while the contestant looked up guiltily, as if they’d been caught doing something they weren’t supposed to. Eyes looked very wide against his very dark skin.
“How are you feeling today, contestant?” The doctor said.
Sitting cross-legged on the floor between the couch and the vidscreen, the boy didn’t get up and didn’t answer. The same guilty expression remained on his face. With skinny arms, shoulders and chest, he looked terribly young. Far too young to actually be competing in the Slayerz arena, but it wasn’t the doctor’s job to decide that. The doctor produced another metal sleeve from his bag.
“I’ve got something for you, do you know how this works?” The doctor said.
xXx
Back in his own room, Digger crawled onto the side of his bed. He wrapped the sling around his neck and let his right arm dangle in it. His body was still trembling from the stun blasts. Taking a little while to recover, Digger then pulled himself into a position where he could watch the screen from his torn bed.
Kill Switch: Final Season Page 2
