Prince in the Tower

by Stephan Morse

  Tal continued, “You will listen when I give orders. It’s simple. Failure to listen will result in punishment.”

  I remembered things growing dimmer. My heartbeat was too loud and being trapped with no form of escape was sending me into a panic spiral. The larger man was too dangerous to risk escaping by. Not after how he’d handled me before.

  Escape. Flee. Will return to den.

  The voice was back. Its words slammed across my dimming consciousness. The pounding grew worse, inner heat had started to grow. I yelped, whimpered, and finally did what any logical creature would in the face of so much pressure.

  I passed out.

  I woke in the prison cell, screaming and clawing at the walls in order to escape. Heavy bricks had grown heated. Someone outside the door shouted at me. Vibrations poured through every ounce of the wall as my rage sought an outlet.

  Physically I was in solitary at Atlas Island. I knew that much. But at the same time I was a young boy trapped in a room with the much taller and scarier Tal. Alone in a new world. Bereft of the people I’d known.

  He wasn’t going to push me around again. I’d grown stronger to make sure. I’d spent years learning every trick he could offer me and more. He couldn’t fight me anymore in this small space. I’d beat him once before. I’d beat him and left that home. I’d established myself as the stronger male.

  “Get back!” I shouted. “Go away! Or I’ll gobble you up! You’re too weak, old man!”

  The walls were designed to hold wolves and their reinforcements held despite my efforts. Soon I passed out, only vaguely aware of the damage I’d caused about me.

  My past resumed from where it’d left off. The childish person I was had been moved to a dark room. The ground beneath me was warm and soft. Much softer than the hard floors of my abandoned train yard.

  “The runt’s half wild.” Tal’s slurred words came through a nearby wall. He and another figure whispered to each other.

  “No kidding. He might as well have been birthed from a rock. I mean, he’s not stupid. Kid learned please, speaks perfect English, and has a haircut. The worst ones don’t have haircuts.”

  I knew the voice. It made it through my muddled thoughts as belonging to Daniel’s father. My body stilled to make listening easier. Their words were muffled by the thudding of my heartbeat and the punching bags outside.

  “I didn’t expect him to just pass out.” The older man almost sounded bashful.

  “Did you give him the full drill sergeant experience? Because that nearly sent me screaming for the hills in boot. Even Hunter training was secondary to those terrors.”

  Drill Sergeant? Was it a title? Like a Legionnaire? It sounded important and worthy of respect.

  “I might have,” Tal responded.

  “Jesus, Tal, he’s not the same species you are. Not by a long shot. Your boy might be able to fit into the mold, but this kid’s, well you said it—half wild.”

  I held my breath while listening, afraid to move and alert them to my wakened status.

  Daniel’s father grumbled then huffed. I was surprised they were so well behaved, given their barely disguised hostility before. He asked, “You sure you can look after him?”

  “Yes,” Tal said with certainty. “I’ve raised one boy, no reason I can’t raise another.”

  A muffled snort of amusement came from the wall’s other side.

  “Your boy is boxing against kids almost twice his age, and winning. That’s hardly raising a child by standard methods.”

  “My runt’s got talent. Wouldn’t be fair to overly restrain him.”

  “It’s not unfair to him, just the other kids who don’t know any better.”

  “Once he’s old enough I’ll be putting Roy into the interracial competitions, he’ll thrive there.”

  “And this other one? You gonna try to make a fighter of him?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Kid’s got spunk, and strength. Bet he’d give Roy a run for his money in a few years.”

  “I doubt it.”

  “If you say so. Look, I only dropped by because you wanted to talk this out. I’ll try to be available but it’s hard.”

  “I know.”

  “And I only brought the boy to you because I’d rather this than losing him in foster care. If anyone would understand his condition it’s you and your son. But—”

  The words were cut off as Tal spoke again. His words slow but clearer than normal. “I’m not so addled I’ve forgotten how things work. I know you risk much allowing me and my boy to live. If taking in a stray is the price, I’ll accept it.”

  “Good.”

  “I’m surprised you even thought to bring him here.”

  There was a long pause and a heavy sigh from Daniel’s father. He said, “We’ve had our differences, Roy.”

  “That we have, Crumfield.”

  “You’re law abiding, no past history worth noting, clean. Therefore I’ll see past all the Hunter History and keep civil.”

  “And me and my boy appreciate it.” Tal was hard to understand through the wall, past the dim vibrations.

  “That’s what it’s really about, right? The kids. We’d do anything to keep them safe and happy. That’s why I let this wild child slide. My little man likes him. What else can I do?” Daniel’s father asked. “I can’t let him down. But I’ll be watching, and may the Gods have mercy if I’ve made the wrong choice.”

  “You would have killed a child?”

  “I’d think twice, but Born Hunters wouldn’t. They’ve got the drive that I don’t. You think Roy’s a handful? Wait until Daniel’s nature starts kicking in. His mom left journals. She went from stalking boys to stalking the wolves next door in about a week.”

  “She was worth respect.”

  “Yeah, until this job got her killed. But I can’t let that taint everything. Your—” Daniel’s father paused and I could feel his head shake, even though he was in another room. There was a swig of liquid splashing followed by a gasp. “It doesn’t matter, I guess. If you’ll excuse me, I need to reassure the little man that his friend is still alive and figure out what’s left for homework.”

  Tal nodded once. I didn’t even question being able to feel them move despite a lack of eyesight. It simply was how things had always been. Tal said, “My runt is waiting as well.”

  “Are you still staying up all night training? I remember you never stopped, even during boot camp. You would be up, all night, working. I think it’s the only thing that prevented us from stabbing you. Once we realized you were doing twice as much work as us…” Daniel’s father trailed off. I struggled to mix past memories with current ones in order to recall his name, but couldn’t. We’d never been close.

  “Discipline is a constant battle,” Tal said.

  “All right, I’ll see myself out. Keep me informed about your boarder.”

  “If I see fit.”

  Daniel’s dad snorted again and both men stepped into the hall.

  Tal, the larger one, opened the door to where I’d been put. A sliver of light spilled in, nearly blinding me. Slowly Tal’s face came into focus. His face was softer than it had been. Our eyes met over the room’s distance and through my crossed arms. I didn’t waver, instead searching for any sign of aggression from his stance.

  “It’s been suggested”—he took great pains to sound clear. I could see the hint of misshapen teeth below the ridge line of his bottom lip—“I was too harsh. Tonight you should rest if you can. Tomorrow we’ll eat, and start over.”

  He waited for me to say something. I didn’t. Eventually he gave up and closed the door.

  Looking back on my past, with adult eyes, it was easy to understand what was happening. The harshness exhibited by Tal had been a product of his attempts at self-control. Everything he did, the firmness of action and word, was designed to keep a rigid lock on himself.

  But as a child, I didn’t understand. He seemed more like a prison guard than a father.

  I sat,
huddled on the bed rewinding everything through my mind. Picking apart words, tones, the pauses between words, anything for a clue on what to expect. During my thoughts all the noises from below departed. One set of footsteps after another. A door slammed and bells jingled multiple times until finally one set of sounds remained. Sharp repetitive motions from downstairs prevented true silence from overtaking the room.

  Thump. Thump. Whoosh.

  “Again!” came the older man’s voice.

  Thump. Thump. Whoosh.

  “Again!”

  On they went through the night. I remembered Daniel’s dad asking if they trained at night. Their actions below were preparation for something, but at a young age I didn’t know what. Eventually I lost consciousness, still in the bed and rolled in layers of blankets.

  Morning startled me. Light filtered through weak blinds. Noises such as metal dragging across tile kept me twitching. The scraping sound made my skin crawl. Porcelain bowls slammed down with a clank. Spoons curled at the inner edges of thick material, scooping up tiny porous bits of grain.

  I didn’t know what any of those things were, then, and each noise, each feeling, sent me into a frightened panic. I dove from the top of where I’d been resting to the far side, looking around in dawn’s light for a place to escape to.

  I braved the unfamiliar noises for a window. The latch took too long to figure out, so I stood with my face against glass, trying to see if I could get away and home to my refuge.

  There were so many cars. Those objects had nearly hit me multiple times before. They made loud blaring noises, sounding like angry birds. This place was far more crowded than my train yard.

  The door opened behind me with a groan. I turned to see the boy from before. The one Tal called runt, and I’d later learn to be Roy. He’d been up most of the night hitting something, and had still managed to wake up before me.

  “Breakfast is ready,” he said.

  My head cocked to one side and tried to puzzle through his tone. It wasn’t friendly, kind, luring, or mean. It didn’t set off any alarm bells. He sounded tired and acted as if my existence was irrelevant. Roy, who was almost a teen, closed the door and walked away.

  A few minutes later I braved that side of the room and tried the doorknob. This was the first one I’d ever run into. It didn’t pull like the restaurant’s front door. I couldn’t just push it out of the way like the broken doors at the train yard. Eventually I figured out how to turn it and was so delighted I forgot my fear for a moment.

  Tal stood at the bottom of a flight of stairs. His hands were large but deftly unknotting laces on a pair of shoes. He glanced to where I stood.

  “Come on down, boy,” Tal said.

  I didn’t move. Tal’s face grew agitated, then calm, then angry again. I watched him rein in multiple times before a deep breath issued and control was established.

  “There’s food for you,” he said.

  That had me down the stairs in moments, but wasn’t enough to risk venturing within arm’s reach of the larger man. I skirted him and dashed into the next room where a small table sat in a crowded but orderly kitchen.

  Roy didn’t care one ounce and shoved a plate into my hands and gestured toward the table. He didn’t say anything else and returned to the stove. Judging by the bustle and setup, younger men did the cooking.

  I started picking at the food with my hands.

  “You know what a fork is, boy?” Tal asked.

  I shook my head and picked at the meal. It sounded important so I paid attention to every movement. It was a bit of effort, considering how hungry I felt.

  Tal’s face twisted around the eyes but didn’t match the pull at his lips. He came off as annoyed and pitying at the same time.

  “Eat then, whatever way’s comfortable. We’ll work on the rest later.”

  I nodded and my eyes glued on the two males. This food was even better than the hamburgers. The material was yellow, fluffy, and clumped. Streaks of orange littered between the groups creating goo that stuck to my fingers.

  And so my first meal with the Forges passed, me an unmannered heathen, Tal trying not to be angry, and Roy giving off an air of disciplined indifference.

  If only I’d known then, what I knew now. Like so much in my life, hindsight made remembering hurt.

  Noises poured forth. Everything rang from what could only be a blown eardrum. Moments ago the ground had been shaking from a violent earthquake. I could see hairline fractures forming across the top of my cell. The metal surface they’d called a mirror bent crosswise. Bedding had been shredded. Everything was displaced as my mind rewound through the latest set of memories.

  The world felt new again. The raw sensations from my younger self lingered. I held still, feeling the dense nature of metal versus a more porous brick. Gouges were missing from the cell’s lining. Steel rebar poked out like shattered bones from the wall.

  I shook my head and snorted in frustration. My body rumbled. The lights were too bright. I’d been fitfully sleeping. Something blared on the speakers and I struggled to pay attention.

  “Attention, all inmates, you are to stand in the yellow circle identified at the rear of your cell and await further instructions.”

  The rear of my cell? Looking around didn’t bring clarity, only recognition of the whirlwind mess that had engulfed my room. Sheets were charred at the ends and scorch marks decorated the walls. A series of small explosions could have gone off and created less damage.

  “Attention, all inmates,” it started again.

  My forehead scrunched with effort, trying to disengage myself from the past. I wanted to be free of the childish past. I had survived this far. I wasn’t a small, hungry, scared boy learning about unfamiliar surroundings.

  Only, in a way, I still was all those things. This jail was familiar but new. My hunger had only grown. I must have eaten food but didn’t know how long solitary confinement had gone on for.

  “...stand in the yellow circle...”

  Following directions was within my abilities. I shuffled toward the destination which lay buried under destroyed objects. One arm felt hot. My shoulder blades itched. I wanted to grow to the larger version of myself and escape. Something dangerous was nearby but hung out of sight. I could sense currents moving deep underwater, immense and agitated. It moved like my tail did when annoyed, only bigger.

  I shook my head repeatedly. A clammy feeling crawled over my skin. Both lungs gasped for air, each breath more labored than the last.

  Everything shook again, worse than the prior occurrence jolting me out of the past. Both hands covered my head and I ducked to the ground. Heat in the room spiked along with the feeling of suffocation and annoying lethargy. I felt heavily sedated again, but couldn’t be.

  Need to escape. Need fresh air. Need to eat.

  “And await further instructions,” came the message’s repeat.

  The room stopped vibrating. My stomach felt bloated and the hungry feeling numbed and faded, leaving a disturbing absence in its wake. I still felt heated but as things stayed quiet even that drifted off, leaving me huffing and struggling to control my breathing.

  I couldn’t afford to transform here, not with the risk of Hunters. Whatever danger there was must have abated. Again the warning message looped. I lay, curled on the ground, recovering.

  Someone knocked loudly on the door before shouting, “Inmate one, three, seven, four, four, please step back. Any attempt to escape will be met with a lethal response.”

  Right, because I felt mentally and emotionally equipped for a jailbreak. Instead of shouting back my first response, I settled for “okay” and tried to at least sit.

  One guard opened the door with his hand tightly clutching his firearm, ready to shoot. Two more stood behind him with clear lines of sight. They shifted uneasily.

  “Confirmed,” he spoke into a shoulder piece. “One, three, seven, four, four, is alive and appears unharmed. Room’s a mess, though. Put him down for a contraband check.
”

  Garbled words bounced through the equipment.

  “You able to stand?” the guard asked.

  I didn’t nod and slowly climbed to my feet. The guards trailed my every move with their guns.

  “I’ve got a pair of arm and leg restraints, once they’re on we’ll holster, sound fair?” he said.

  Cue the indifferent shrug. What was I going to do, hold out for a better deal? Bullets hurt and getting shot wasn’t on my list of desires.

  I turned around slowly. They clinked everything into place and allowed me to sit. One guard left and the other two stayed for some reason.

  My eyebrow raise was question enough. One guard shrugged. “Orders said to secure you,” he said. They were Western Sector guards but it was likely Warden Bennett wanted to talk.

  It felt worth confirming. “Warden’s orders?” I questioned.

  “You got it. He signs the paychecks. We dance his tune.”

  Neither one gave me dirty glares or sideways glances. They were really treating this like a job. Maybe they were messed up from the big shake earlier but they didn’t let it cause hostility.

  Then again, I didn’t put up a lot of argument either. I would be willing to bet people like Spike might mouth off. Attitude garnered attitude in response.

  “You get earthquakes often out here?” I asked.

  “No,” the other guard responded. His jaw set firmly to one side.

  Both guards remained near the door, leaving me the interior. They alternated between my figure and the walls. More than once I could see them looking at my hands, likely the fingernails for any sign of what had dug grooves in the walls.

  “They assigned you a psyche yet?” one asked. He sounded a bit more soft-spoken than the other guard.

  I blinked.

  “He hasn’t had a sentence come down yet,” the gruffer man answered for me.