Haven Ward

by Elias Witherow

  “Get up prisoner. Warden wants to talk to you.”

  I turned over, seeing a Hazmat standing over me, I turned back on my side, “Leave me alone.”

  He poked me again, harder this time, “I said get your ass up. This isn’t a debate.”

  Wiping my eyes, I begrudgingly rose, holding out my hands to be chained.

  He shook his head, “No chains this time. Don’t think I don’t want to, it’s Warden Martin’s orders. Don’t give me a reason to, though.” I nodded, eyes glazed. We marched through the halls, passing a cluster of Dragon tribe, huddled in the corner, talking fast, scheming, their bright red tattoos symbolizing where their loyalty fell. They looked at me, nodding to me as I passed, acknowledging my status as part of their brother tribe. I had approached them yesterday, trying to get some information about what was going on outside these walls, but they ignored me. They offered nothing more than a greeting then turned their backs. I had left, feeling rejected and alone. At the very least I had expected them to talk to me. They were honorable, but their formality ended there. I wasn’t in the tribe so I wasn’t to be trusted. Only honored because of my status.

  Miserable, I plodded on, feet echoing as I walked. We crossed over into Celsius Block, a gathering of Prophets staring me down as I passed them. Their eyes were hateful and hungry. I heard a rumor that they were planning to make their move on Dragon tribe. I would sit in my cell and listen to the screams, watching the blood pool below my bed, but I would not get involved. If Dragon wasn’t going to protect me, I wasn’t going to fight for them. And if they did go to war, what would the Underdogs be doing? Would they take a side?

  I couldn’t take all these question that floated to my mind. What had Progg meant about my blood type? Why was Nadia suddenly so sympathetic? What were they planning on doing with me? Feeling like I’d never know, feeling like I was going to end up dead, a sic in my heart, without any answers to anything, we rode the elevator up to Warden Martin.

  Instead of being blinded by a burning sun, the glass room was lit only by a brilliant full moon encasing the air in a pale night glow. I stared, sucking in its beauty as the elevator came to a stop. It was so round, so cool, so calm. The ocean was dark, the reflection of the moon lighting the waves as they silently licked the shore. The stars scattered across the sky twinkled and winked at me, millions of them tossed across the great expanse.

  “Sometimes I sit up here for hours in the dark, staring out like you are now,” The Warden said, seeing me. Tonight he was wearing a long white robe lined with gold. His stick straight raven hair was tied into a ponytail, his glasses tossed on the desk. He looked tired.

  “I can see why,” I said, captivated.

  “It’s funny isn’t it,” he said, spinning his chair, “that no matter what happens, no matter what we do, the moon will still rise? It’s so,” he paused, thinking. “It’s so serene. So pure. Perfectly clean.”

  The Hazmat escorting me had taken a position by the elevator, so I walked forward, “I’m told you wanted to see me.”

  Martin stopped spinning his chair and looked at me, “Mmm. Indeed I did. And here you are! How kind it was for you to come. Really. Very sweet.”

  I couldn’t tell if he was making fun of me, “Yeah…ok.”

  He picked up his glasses, sighing dramatically, “Oh Weston. Weston. Weston. Weston. It wasn’t so long ago you were in here talking to me, was it?”

  “A little over a week, I think. I don’t know, time’s screwy here.”

  Martin smiled, “Screwy is it? Hm. I suppose so. Sometimes it flies!” He stood up and made a swooping gesture with his hand, “And other times, it drags. Do you know where they say time drags West? May I call you West? Is that…cool?”

  I didn’t say anything, starting to get a little uncomfortable.

  He smoothed out one perfectly trimmed eyebrow, his green eyes cutting into me like jagged glass, “They say time is eternity in Section 36, West. In fact they say it drags on like…like,” he snapped his fingers at the moon, “like a slug. A gross, filthy little slug.” He shivered, “Yuck.”

  I cleared my throat, that feeling of dread back, my old friend, “And uh…what does this have to do with me?”

  He pursed his lips, “With you? Nothing at all, I’m just making small talk. I felt the mood was a bit tense. I wanted to break the ice.” He pulled out a cigarette, “You don’t mind if I smoke do you? In fact, would you like one?”

  I was about to say no, but what the hell, “Sure.” He strode over to me and placed one on my lips. I was beginning to sweat. I didn’t like being close to this maniac. He pulled out a diamond studded lighter and lit the tip. I inhaled. Exhale.

  He lit his own, going back to his desk, “You know for all my talk about filth, I sure do love a good smoke don’t you West?” he threw me a wink, “Even though these tiny bastards are the epitome of…of filth.”

  I took another drag, welcoming the buzz. The way today had gone, I needed it.

  “Do you have a secret?” Martin asked suddenly, flicking his barely smoked cig at me. I jumped, surprised, and looked at him. His face had grown darker than the night sky. I started to sweat harder.

  “E-excuse me?”

  He began pacing, “Do you have…a secret?”

  “No. Sir.”

  He snorted, a high pitched whine, “Ha! You’re either a fantastic liar or someone else is! All these stories I hear, I can’t make heads or tails of it! Maybe you could help me out.”

  I swallowed, “I’ll do what I can.”

  “You see,” he was pacing still, “A little birdie flew up here and told me this…this fascinating story…about how a little boy killed one of my inmates! Can you imagine that? A child committing murder? It’s cause enough to shiver! In fact when I heard the news, I actually shivered!”

  Oh no.

  “So I’m just trying to clear this up,” Martin said, stopping in front of me, squatting down to my level, “I need to know who’s killing my prisoners. You want to shed any light on this? Wow me with your adolescent mind, West.”

  My shirt was sticking to my back, slick and damp, “I… I’m not sure I know anything about the matter, if I did though I’d certainly share it with you.”

  He smiled and brushed one of my stray hairs behind my ear, “I know you would. I know. I’m a trusting man. But here’s the thing,” he looked sad, “this is always so hard to say but, I think you’re fucking lying.”

  I was breathing fast, seeing the insanity dancing around the corners of his eyes, “I just got here Warden, I’m not looking to cause any trouble. In fact I’d like to-”

  He shushed me, placing a finger to my lips, “Shh shh shhhh. Hush now. I’m not taking any action. To tell you the truth I don’t care about the dead inmate. He was disgusting. He…was an abomination to humanity. I didn’t think twice when I heard the news. But, but, but,” he said, standing again, looking down at me, untying his ponytail, his black hair spilling out onto his white robe, “I don’t care for people who lie to me. And someone is lying to me.”

  “I’m telling the truth sir,” I said, the words seeming to swell in my mouth.

  He flicked a finger at me, “You may be. It was just a rumor I heard. Rumors are like an infection. They can spread and hurt people who never deserved it. It’s terrible, just terrible.”

  “I’m not lying to you.”

  He spread his arms to the sky, “You need to stop repeating yourself. I understood you the first time. You don’t need to repeat yourself. Unless you think I’m an idiot and you need to tell me everything twice?” He shot a look my way.

  “N-no of course not,” I babbled. This was a dangerous conversation. I felt a low burn in my stomach that I realized was anger. Had Nark rat me out?!

  “Well that’s good. Because I’m not. I’m a very smart man in fact. Now Weston…how am I supposed to know if you’re not infected with lies?”

  “Y-you can’t sir. You’re just going to have to trust me, I guess,” I said slowly,
choosing my words.

  “And why would I do that?”

  “Have I given you a reason not to?”

  He suddenly clapped his hands, laughing, “Oh well played kiddo, well played indeed.” He winked at me again, making me feel extremely nervous, “You’re smart. You have a way with words. Which makes me suspect you even more. But since there’s no proof I guess I’ll let you go for now. Consider this my one warning and I’m only giving it to you because I like you. Don’t cross me again. You understand me?”

  I nodded, heart hammering.

  “Good. Now get out of my sight. You’re dirty hair is disgusting me.”

  As I was led back to my cell, I finally breathed. That had been too close. I thought for sure he had me. I gulped, my saliva tasting like acid. Then my brow creased. Anger rose in my throat.

  Nark was fucking dead.

  Chapter 9

  Anger. It seized me. It was a torrent of seething hot white that filled and raged in my blood stream. It made my head spin and pulse. I could feel it throbbing as I stormed down the dank corridors of Fahrenheit. I was trembling as an uncontrollable monster lurked inside of me. Fire quelled up and I could feel it burn in my finger tips. I was grinding my teeth together, the grating sound filling my ears. Come here Nark.

  I ducked into Grub Hall where all the prisoners were eating. My eyes scanned, looking towards the Underdogs table. There they were, sitting around and laughing, a whole cluster of dirty thin kids. Nark wasn’t kidding, they were a big gang. But unless you were looking for them you wouldn’t have noticed because their table was off to the corner, way in the back. I was surprised I hadn’t noticed them before. Of course, I hadn’t been looking, everyone just a canvas of faceless inmates. Dragon was off on the other side of Grub Hall, all looking tense as if ready to strike. I scanned them for their leader. I wasn’t sure who ran their tribe here so no one stood out. And of course there was the Prophets. Their table was right in the middle, that asshole Milandro looking pissed as his vision swept my way. Don’t mess with me right now, I thought, noticing how his gang looked like a tight cluster of muscle, ready to pounce.

  My beef wasn’t with them right now. It was with Nark. That dirty little rat, squealing to Warden Martin like a little bitch. I moved towards the Underdogs, feeling the scalpel in my boot, crying out to be used. Before I even passed the first table, a voice called to me softly.

  “I don’t think I’d do that.”

  Infuriated, I looked to who had spoken. It was an old man, sitting by himself. His head was white, his face clean shaven. His watery blue eyes looked at me with sadness.

  “I wouldn’t do that,” he repeated.

  “Do what?!” I hissed.

  He nodded towards the Underdogs who had noticed my approach. Nark was leering at me. I clenched my fists tighter.

  “I wouldn’t pick this time to settle whatever score your about to settle,” the old man said picking at his food.

  I turned back to him, “And why the hell is that?!”

  He patted the seat next to him, “Sit.”

  “Why am I even talking to you?!” I said, turning away.

  He grasped my arm, “Because it could save your life!”

  I stared at him, daring him to keep touching me. He didn’t budge. Those blue eyes seemed to look into me, tearing out my secrets.

  “Fine,” I said after a few wavering seconds. The Underdogs were laughing at me. I tried to ignore them, but I could hear Narks voice rising above the rest.

  “Damn foolish to try to kill someone in Grub Hall…again,” the man said, turning his attention back to his food.

  I looked at him sharply, “Again?”

  He chuckled, “Oh don’t give yourself so much credit boy. Pretty much the whole Ward knows it was you who killed Hue.”

  “Hue?”

  “The rather large man you gutted. Ringing any bells?”

  “Look cut the bullshit old man, what do you want with me?” I said, feeling the white hot rage beginning to rise again.

  He licked his chapped lips, “There’s about to be some serious trouble. The gangs are growing restless. Tempers are flaring. It’s a bad time to stir that pot. These animals are on the edge of a knife and all’s it’s going to take is one little incident to cut them and start the flow of endless blood. News about what’s happening in the Gallows has caused unrest.”

  I stopped him, “Wait. What’s happening in the Gallows?”

  He looked at me as though I didn’t have a head, “You don’t know? Dynasty tribe has gone to war against the Hunters. Dragon has joined with Dynasty. Together they fight.”

  I blinked. They really had gone to war? King was really fighting? And Dragon tribe joined up with them? That was good. It might gain me some allies with them finally.

  “Do you know who has the upper hand?” I asked.

  “Dynasty was taking a pounding until King asked Dragon for their aid. Together, they’ve gained a solid foothold in this mountain of violence.”

  I paused, looking at him, puzzled, “Hold on. How do you know King?”

  The old man smiled at me, his wrinkles creasing, “Let’s just say…he’s an old friend.”

  I couldn’t believe my luck, “Well I’m in Dynasty tribe! I haven’t met a single person in this shit hole who is until now! Is there any more of us?!”

  He held up his frayed battered hands, “Calm down there kid. You’re getting ahead of yourself. I’m not in the tribe anymore. I gave up that life a long time ago. There was no point to it. Especially not in here where violence blooms more violence and nothing is to be gained except pride. On the outside you did it to survive. To earn glu. Here? It’s pointless.”

  I felt my heart sink, “Don’t you have any pride though? Any honor in representing your tribe?”

  “Son, that life has come and gone like a whore in the night. Don’t try to shame me by asking me stupid questions. Of course I have pride. I loved Dynasty tribe. I still do. But I don’t run with them anymore. I’m too old.”

  I snorted, “I’m sure King could find a use for you.”

  The old man sighed, “Give it up boy. I like the freedom. I’ve gotten use to it. No one’s telling me what to do, no dangerous missions, nothing. It’s how I’ve survived this long in Haven Ward. I’ve been here for…countless years and the only reason I’m still alive is because I don’t bother anyone.”

  I glanced over at the Underdogs again. They had forgotten me. I looked back at the man, “Didn’t these dirt bags give you shit though?”

  “Oh yes. Lots. But after a while, they left me alone because I never did anything. I’d let them beat me, take my food, hurt me. I suppose it’s no fun when your victim doesn’t fight back.”

  I stood up, “Thanks for the advice, but I’m not like you. I can’t let people just walk all over me without any consequence. I’m not a bitch.”

  The man shook his head sadly, “Suit yourself.”

  I turned back to him, “Hey what’s your name?”

  “The inmates call me Bones.”

  “I’m Weston, it was-” I was cut off as a roar filled Grub Hall. A member of Dragon tribe was fighting with someone. The snake P on his arm identified him as a Prophet. The two were wrestling on the floor, beating and wailing on each other. Blood sprayed as fists pounded. The two tribes immediately rose, spotting the incident and sparking bloodlust. Before either tribe could do anything, Hazmats stormed the place, pouring in from all sides, breaking up the fight and pointing their guns at anyone who came close.

  “You see?” the old man, Bones said, “We are on the edge of a knife. Be careful in your actions Weston.”

  I just stared at the two gangs. Hatred was branded in their hearts. They wanted nothing more than to erase the other. I needed to work with that, gain some allies, wiggle my way into Dragon tribe’s good graces. Maybe things would be different now that King had teamed up with them. I began to plan when Bones touched my arm.

  “Are they drawing blood?” he asked, looking
at my shot marks.

  I shook my arm free, distracted, “What? Oh, yeah. Ever since I got here they’ve been doing it pretty regularly. Why? What do you care?”

  Bones pulled me back down, “How often?”

  I looked at him, puzzled, “How often do they take my blood? I don’t know. Every couple days? Why?”

  Bones looked at me, his eyes serious, “What’s your blood type?”

  “I think I heard Nadia say it was AB-.”

  His eyes went wide, “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah.”

  Bones placed a heavy hand on my shoulder, “Boy. Have they told you anything? About what they’re doing? Why they’re taking so much blood?”

  I shook my head, “No, but Progg seemed happy to hear I had that blood type. Which means it’s bad news. I haven’t figured out why though.”

  Bones leaned in close, “Have they mentioned moving you?”

  “Yeah, they didn’t know when, but soon they said.”

  Bones put a hand over his face, “They’re waiting for a spot to open up.”

  “A spot?”

  “What do you know about glu Weston?” He asked suddenly.

  “It’s…our currency. And also a means to get high, but I’ve never used it like that.”

  He scanned the room warily, “What I’m about to tell you, you must keep to yourself you understand?”

  Bones face suddenly looked exhausted. His sunken cheeks, his ragged wrinkled skin, his weary eyes, his chapped lips, his whole attitude suddenly seemed swept with fatigue. His breath was ragged and painful, each inhale a chore.

  “Weston,” he said, his voice grave, “Glu is made from human blood.”

  Silence. The noise around was sucked into a black hole.

  I leaned close, “What did you just say?” My voice was faint, barely a whisper.

  “The base of glu is human blood.”

  “T-that’s impossible,” I stuttered, feeling dizzy as if the whole world was flipped on its head. Nausea dumped into my stomach.

  Bones sighed, “I’m afraid not, kiddo.”

  “B-but that changes everything!” I cried. “How is it possible?!”