Haven Ward

by Elias Witherow

  He shushed me with a wave of his hand, “Be quiet. It’s not safe to talk here. We’ll discuss this more later. For now keep your head low and your mouth shut. You understand Weston?”

  I nodded, in a daze, mind blown and the pieces lost downstream. What was going on here?

  I turned to Bones, “W-why’d you tell me this?”

  Bones smiled, his eyes twinkling, “I watch out for my own, kid.”

  “Your own?”

  Bones turned to leave, “I was the Tribe Master before King.”

  I stood there, overloaded with information. Too many surprises, too many bombs exploding in my head. My mind was in shell shock. I needed to think. I needed to get away. I left Grub Hall, my brain crippled.

  A swirl of colors danced around my vision. So many moving parts. So many things happening. I couldn’t tackle them all at once. One thing at a time. What was going on here? What the hell was so important about my blood? I needed a long talk with Nadia. Had she been using my blood as a means to make glu? Did Haven Ward have a secret? Was this really a factory that produced glu? Were we just tools? Were the inmates nothing but living blood banks? Who knew about this? Did anyone know why blood was drawn? Was I the only one here who was having blood drawn? I didn’t know and it was eating me up.

  And then there was the tribe war raging on the outside. In the back of my mind I had doubted King’s intentions of actually going to war. I worried for him, but it eased my mind knowing that Dragon tribe was with them. With us. Was Roland involved? I was sure he was. He wouldn’t be content to sit on the sidelines while his tribe fought. He’d want to be right in the middle of it.

  The prisoners felt the tension as well. The Prophets weren’t a brother tribe of the Hunters, but their hate for Dragon ran so deep that they’d take any excuse to fight them. Bones was right. Everything was balanced on the edge of a knife and it only took one person to pick up that knife and begin the violence. I needed to be calm, but I found that I couldn’t.

  Bones had riled me up, got my blood pumping, got my fear flowing, and I needed to act. Needed to do something. I couldn’t just sit around waiting to be killed in the cross fire or taken and drained of my blood. One thing at a time West, just focus on one thing. I found that that one thing was Nark. It was a problem I could solve and right now I needed to solve something. Needed something I could control.

  I found myself walking near the entrance of Fahrenheit, the dim yellow light casting shadows on inmates as I passed them. Their eyes dared me to make a move. I passed them, hands in pockets, avoiding their gaze. One fight at a time. The very air seemed to growl and smell of blood. A copper taste filled my mouth and I let a wad of spit fly, eager to rid myself of the taste.

  Nark. Kill Nark. If I extinguished this problem now, it would be one less thing to worry about and I could focus on the next issue. But how? How would I get him alone? I cursed myself for not slitting his throat when I had the chance earlier. Those opportunities weren’t going to come often. Especially now. Maybe I could get someone to do it for me. But who? The Prophets hated me and had no reason to go after the leader of a tribe they had no beef with. Dragon would tell me to get lost, their own war already raging. Damn it.

  The lights started going out in the halls and I realized that I was supposed to be back in my cell. The Hazmats didn’t take too kindly on inmates not obeying their stupid rules. I turned around and started trotting back the way I came. As I flew around a corner, I ran face first into Progg.

  Falling to the ground, I swore. Just what I needed. More problems.

  Progg stumbled back, his orange suit looking extra bright in the growing darkness, “Damn it shit head, watch where you’re-” he paused seeing it was me. “Well, well. Little Weston. Where are you scurrying off too so late?”

  I got to my feet, brushing off my clothes, “Going back to my cell.”

  Progg put a hand on the wall, leaning, “Really now? It’s kinda late…shouldn’t you already be there?” He sneered.

  “Yeah well, I got wrapped up in my thoughts, lost track of time, now if you’ll excuse me,” I said, pushing past him. Pain wracked my legs as Progg clubbed the back of my knees with his rod. I fell to the ground, gritting my teeth, not letting myself cry out.

  “Oh…that felt good,” Progg said, standing over me, tapping his rod against the palm of his hand, “It’s been too long don’t you think?” He brought the rod down again on my back. I gasped, but didn’t yell.

  “It’s sad isn’t it,” he mocked, “how young people like yourself get mixed up in a place like this.” He went to strike me again but I grabbed the rod.

  “Hold on Progg,” I growled, “Just hold on for two damn seconds.”

  Progg seemed intrigued. He kicked me over on my side, “Catching your breath? You can’t take it? I always knew you were a pussy Weston, but man up!”

  I propped myself on one elbow, “I’d like to make a deal with you.”

  Progg laughed, his voice echoing down the passage, his goggles shining with humor, “A deal!? You want to make a deal? What do you have to offer me rat shit?”

  I breathed heavy, “How…about…my blood?”

  Progg paused, his rod frozen. After a moment his said dangerously, “Go on.”

  I sat up against the wall, looking up into his mask, “I need someone dead. If you do it I’ll give you some of my blood. I know it’s rare or something. I’m sure it’s worth a lot of glu.”

  Progg snorted, “You have no idea the irony of that, do you?” I decided not to clue him in about my recently discovered secret.

  I waved him off, “Whatever. I’ll give you some, you can take it to Midtown or Red City or wherever and sell it right?”

  “How the hell are you going to get me blood?” Progg asked. At least I had his attention now.

  I slowly began to stand, “Next time I visit Nadia, I’ll swipe some needles. I’ll draw it myself. You can have as much as you want, so long you do something for me.”

  Progg shifted his weight, the rod still in hand, “And what is it you want shit brains?”

  “I want Nark dead.”

  Progg snorted, “Really now? I always did hate that bastard.”

  I held out my hand, “Do we have a deal?”

  Progg looked at me, not saying anything, his voice box emitting electric breath. I gulped. I was playing a deadly game.

  Finally he grasped my hand, “If you don’t get me that blood, your life is going to hell in a hailstorm, you understand me?”

  I nodded.

  “Good. Now get out of my sight.”

  I left him, not believing I had just made a deal with the devil. I knew I couldn’t trust Progg, but I didn’t have any options. I couldn’t kill Nark. He was untouchable to a person like me. But a guard?

  I passed a few stragglers, going back to their cells, heads low, glancing at me.

  “I heard you had a nice talk with the Warden,” someone said behind me. I turned and saw Nark, catching up to me.

  “Piss off,” I growled.

  He chuckled, “Don’t be so harsh. You knew what you were doing when you said you wouldn’t join us. No one says no to me. You’re going to learn that. Now I need you to do something for me or Martin is going to be tipped off again with some more juicy details.”

  “I said piss off, Nark,” I said, ignoring him.

  He grabbed my arm, “You don’t understand do you?” His eyes were dancing, “You’re mine now! And if you don’t accept that and start working with me, you’re going to be in a world of trouble.”

  I shook him off, “Keep dreaming asshole. I don’t belong to anyone.”

  Nark sighed, “Well I guess I’ll give you some time to think about it. I’m a nice guy. I’m a reasonable guy. I know life’s not easy here. I can let you think it over.”

  I turned to him, wanting to punch his face in, “Look dipshit. I’m not ever going to join you, I’m not ever going to think about joining you. Now piss off.”

  “I won’t wait for
you forever Weston!” He called out after me, “My patience has an expiration date too! Don’t push me!”

  I shut out his voice, my jaw like iron. I needed to get Progg his blood. As I entered my cell I saw that Titan was already lying in his bunk. He looked strange. His eyes seemed to stretch, bloodshot, a far away look in them. His mouth was open, a touch a spittle resting in the corners. I knew this look all too well.

  I walked up to him, hearing the door seal behind me, “Titan. Titan!” I said slapping his face. He grunted, turning away from me, his eyes closing.

  “Son of a bitch you’re high aren’t you?” I said, pulling the massive man onto his back so I could look into his face.

  “What do you care,” he muttered.

  “Damn it, you’ve really gone off the deep end. What were you thinking?!”

  He lazily rubbed his nose, eyes half lidded, “I don’t want…to feel…this pain anymore.”

  “You’re hopeless,” I said, disgusted. “Instead of curling up like a baby, you could actually do something for yourself. And now look at you. Turning into another glu addict.”

  He waved a hand at me, “Just…go away.”

  Suddenly I had an idea. I got in Titan’s face snapping my fingers, “Hey. Hey! You have any needles? You have any you haven’t stuck yourself with?”

  “W-wha…”

  I slapped him in the face, hard, “Focus! I need a needle! You have any?”

  Titan’s eyes were flying high, but he motioned with a weak finger towards the hole in the floor where we shit. I closed my eyes. Of course. Grimacing, I knelt down and reached my hand down into it, trying not to gag. Just don’t think about what you’re touching…

  My fingers grasped something. It was hard. I pulled my hand up, wiping it on the floor, trying to get away from the smell. It was a small blue case. I wiped the shit off and opened it, checking over my shoulder to make sure the door was closed. Inside were two needles. One filled with glu, the other empty. Quickly, I rolled up my sleeve, pulling the empty needle out.

  You better kill him, Progg, I thought before sticking my arm, draining my blood, you better kill that son of a bitch.

  Chapter 10

  I was returning from another trip to the Medical Ward, my arm stinging from a shot. Nadia hadn’t talked much, offering nothing but a few kind words. She had been tight lipped about why my blood was so special and when I had asked her about blood being used for glu, she had gone pale. I managed to snag another two needles as well. I hadn’t seen Progg since I talked to him and Nark was still alive. I was beginning to feel anxious, feeling like anytime a saw a Hazmat, he was going to haul me up to Martin’s office. Hurry up Progg.

  At the moment, I was searching for Bones. We needed to finish our conversation. His cell was in Celsius block, but getting there was going to be tricky. The Prophets were watching everyone, the whole prison poised. I needed a way in there without drawing attention, but Milandro, the Prophet kingpin here, kept the pass well occupied these days with tribe members. If he was around, you had to pay two tabs of glu to pass. I didn’t have any and had no way of getting it. None that I knew of.

  My mind wandered, stretching thin, thinking. Bones had answers that I desperately needed. I could wait until Grub Hall, but that was risking it. I could get snatched up any minute and I wasn’t leaving here without some answers. Tick tock.

  As I paced, just outside of Celsius block, I heard some commotion down the passage, coming from my side. Around the corner stormed the entirety of Dragon Tribe, looking pissed and deadly. The Prophets saw them coming and whistled to their men. The message was passed and by the time Dragon reached the Celsius Pass, the Prophets were waiting for them, Milandro in the front, arms crossed. I stuck to the wall, not wanting to get caught up in this, but seeing a possible opportunity to slip by.

  A man emerged from the cluster of the Dragons. I recognized him, seeing him in Grub Hall a few times. He was tall, his long beard braided and dyed red. He was shirtless and sported a full body tattoo of a seven headed dragon, the long necks wrapping around his thickly muscled body.

  “Stand down Milandro,” the man growled. He voice was like fire.

  Milandro laughed, “This is our turf Zack. Why don’t you take your boys and fly away.”

  The leader, Zack, reached into his belt and pulled out a pistol. The Prophets took a step back, surprise splashing across their faces. It wasn’t everyday you saw an inmate with a gun. Zack pointed the gun at Milandro.

  “I said stand down. Your reign over Celsius block is over. We’re expanding our ground and we will purge any who stand in our way.”

  Milandro grinned, his broken smile unflinching, “Why don’t you just go to hell.”

  Zack returned the smile, “You don’t understand. We made hell.” He pointed the gun at the person standing next to Milandro and shot him in the head. And that’s all it took to start it.

  Immediately both tribes charged each other, screaming, yelling, roaring with hate for the other. They clashed in a flurry of fists and feet, knives and sics were drawn, slashing cutting stabbing. Blood began to paint the walls and pool on the ground. Men beat and clawed at each other, ripping out hair and gouging eyes. Teeth bit into flesh and screams echoed the halls.

  I tried to slide away, the pulsing torrent of chaos slowly absorbing me. I was knocked over, one of the Prophets spotting me, punching me in the face. I spit blood, scrambling to get up. Above me spit flew, sweat rained, blood gushed. Soon I was covered, crawling my way to the back. Oh shit, get the hell out of here Weston, you’re going to die! I thought, feeling someone grab my foot. Bodies knocked into me, feet kicked my body as the tribes fought. I saw the Prophet who punched me was the one holding my foot. I kicked out with my free one, feeling it connect hard, blood exploding from the man’s nose. He roared out in fury, diving for me. I reached into my boot and grabbed my scalpel, slashing out as the man fell on me. It cut through his throat with ease, hot blood spilling over my face. He looked at me, his eyes wide, gargling, trying to speak. I pushed him off me, wiping my eyes clear, not knowing whose blood was who’s.

  I was on my feet, still being pushed and shoved around by the mass of bodies, all beating on each other. I felt something connect with my gut and I doubled over as someone’s boot delivered a blow to my face. Dazed, I crashed against the wall, my nose aching, bloody scalpel blindly swinging at the air. Two Prophets slammed right next to me, one hitting me. He turned and saw me, a deep gash running down his face. Screaming in hatred, he grabbed me by the head, palming it, and head butt me, causing my vision to blank, a blackness rushing towards me. Sound wavered, going in and out, this ugly shit’s face, grinning at me as blood ran down it. I watched, as if in a dream, his fist rise and connect with my face. I barely felt the blow, semi-conscious, everything wet, hot, sticky, red. He let go of me and I fell to the ground. A boot connected with my back and I grunted.

  I realized during this thrashing that I still had my scalpel. Between one of the stomps, I reached out and planted my blade into the man’s shin. I heard him screaming as I got to my knees and ripped up, splitting his leg open, the flesh parting up to his thigh. Coughing, spitting wads of blood, scarlet drool hanging from my pulpy mouth, I stood and grabbed the howling man by his shirt and sank my weapon into his heart, grinding it and pushing it deep. Through half lidded, blurry eyes, I watched him fall dead.

  No sooner had I killed him then another crazed Prophet slugged me in the back. I crashed into a group of beaten bloody men, pushing myself away from them, turning to see my opponent. I could barely stand, my legs trembling, my face was drenched in dripping blood, my vision fading, my face swollen. The Prophet charged me, his shoulder connecting with my chest. I was bowled over, tossed like a rag doll. I bounced on the floor, sliding into the wall, my head slamming into the hard metal. Just give up and die West, I thought idly, you’re getting your ass kicked. The Prophet loomed over me, raising his boot over my face. A second before he extinguished my life, a pair of thick arms
wrapped themselves around my killer and lifted him off his feet.

  Titan.

  His face was red, veins standing out on his forehead, mouth clenched, he let out a roar, squeezing his arms tight. The Prophet opened his mouth to scream, but Titan was crushing the wind out of him. With a sickening crack, the man’s ribs were destroyed as Titan howled, killing the man.

  He tossed the body aside and grabbed my hand, pulling me up, “I owed you at least that.”

  I stood, barely able to hold myself up, “You’re…sober?”

  Titan laughed, “Are you kidding me?! I’m high as hell on a holiday!” He patted my head then turned and lowered his shoulder, bowling into the mass of people, crushing them, his head a battering ram. I shook my own head. The man was completely insane.

  I realized that the alarms had been blaring and Hazmat’s were storming in from both sides of the fight. I stumbled as another body fell into me, a man with his eyes torn out, and I grasped for the wall. The Hazmats were beating their way to the middle, trying to split up the riot, separate the two sides. I watched as a Dragon twisted one of their necks completely around, a sick throbbing fire in his eyes.

  Behind me, I saw the Underdogs. The whole tribe quietly observing in silence, watching the mess unfold, doing nothing. Nark was smiling at me, his black hair pushed out of his face. I gripped my scalpel, taking a step towards him when a knobby had grasped me. I turned and saw Bones, his face calm, blood leaking from his nose.

  “Come on kid, things are about to turn really ugly,” He said pointing to the Hazmats.

  I looked at Nark, “I have to kill him here and now, Bones.”

  He shook me, “Don’t be foolish! He’s surrounded by his entire gang, you wouldn’t make it two steps. Now let’s go!”

  Knowing the old man was right, I allowed myself to be dragged away, the alarm ringing in our ears. As we left the riot behind us, I heard gunshots. Maybe Bones was right. Things really were getting worse. We found an empty cell and we ducked into it. I collapsed on the floor, my body not being able to take another step.