Haven Ward

by Elias Witherow

  “If you want more, you know what to do. If not I’ll rat you out faster then you know.”

  Progg took the vial and made it disappear in his suit, “Careful there Weston, you’re skating on thin ice already. Don’t push your luck. I’ll do it when I do it.”

  I shook my head, “No no. You have to do it soon.”

  “Why do you want him dead so bad,” he asked, grinning that poisonous smile.

  I tapped my arm, “You want more blood or do you want the answer to that question?”

  Progg snorted, “It’s disgusting when you think you’re in control.”

  “Go to hell.”

  The door burst open suddenly, Nadia holding the key in her hand, standing there with Bones at her side, ready to take action. They seemed surprised to see us standing there talking.

  “You ok kid?” Bones asked.

  I nodded, “Fine.”

  We walked out of the room, settling down on the beds. Progg took one by the door, stretching out, putting his rifle by his side.

  “What do we do now?” Nadia asked, playing with her hands, the only one not on a bed.

  Bones was in the cot next to mine, “We wait. Let the professionals take care of this mess.”

  Nadia looked to Progg, “Does that sound reasonable?”

  He nodded, keeping his eyes on the ceiling, “There’s nothing I can do down there. The Warden has taken charge. Personally.”

  I turned towards Nadia, “And just what the hell were you doing down there?”

  She shrugged, “I heard that people were hurt. I was coming down to help. That’s my job, it’s what I do.”

  Bones snorted, “Crazy woman. You couldn’t wait for them to be brought to you?”

  “You know how the Hazmats are. It would have been days before they brought me any injured.” She turned to Progg, “No offense.”

  The hours ticked away. We all lay in silence, listening to the muffled screams and yells down below. Every now and then, a burst of gunfire was heard. Every minute seemed like a day. Every breath I took was a ragged, pained pulling of air. I felt myself drifting off and I slept, waking a couple times as inmates pounded on the door. Every time they did, Progg would just shake his head. No one was getting in or out until the dust settled.

  Nadia cleaned us up, running here and there, applying bandages, wiping blood, making sure we were comfortable. She looked tired, dark bags hanging from her eyes. It wore me out just watching her. She needed to keep busy, keep her mind off of what was happening, trying not to think about the near rape.

  Eventually, we all were asleep, an uneasy shallow slumber that barely dipped into the pool of dreams. Even as I rested, I felt pain. It was dancing just below my sub-conscious. I tossed and turned, trying to get comfortable. Every position I settled into brought me more pain. My dreams were blurred and fuzzy, every image bleeding into the next, nothing clear. Through it all, I could hear Ashleign crying.

  I woke in a cold sweat, my back soaked. Something wasn’t right and I was trying to clear my head, ridding it of the cob webs that cluttered reality. Someone was talking. Loud. Everything drifted back into focus.

  Progg was leaning against the wall by the door, smoking a cigarette, Bones was sitting up in his bed, looking alert while Nadia sat in a chair across the room with her face in her hands. The loud voice I heard was coming from the intercom system. It sounded like the Warden.

  “-meet in ten minutes in Grub Hall. Every prisoner. If one of you bastards so much as raises your voice, I’ve authorized the Hazmats to shoot on sight. That’ll be all.”

  “What was that about?” I said, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. The haunting echo of my sister’s sobs still rang in my head. I blocked it out. I’m so sorry Ash…

  Progg took another drag, looking like he hadn’t slept at all, “Martin’s calling all prisoners to Grub Hall. He said he wanted to set some rules in light of this riot. Come on, everyone up, I’m taking you there.”

  Bones crawled out of his bed, groaning, “Can’t we stay here and pretend we didn’t hear it?”

  Progg cocked his gun, “Don’t test my patience old man.”

  Nadia stood, looking bleary eyes, “I’m…I’m going to stay here Progg. I’m sure I’ll be getting lots of patients soon. Could you radio in some nurses to help me out? I’m sure it’s safe now. It sounds like the Warden has everything under control.”

  Progg talked into his radio as I gingerly stepped out of my bed, “Hey Bones, give me a hand will ya?” He came to my side, letting me put my arm around his shoulders. I cried out, softly, my head exploding as I righted myself. Stars spun around my vision and my brain seemed to swell, begging to be released from its bone prison.

  “Hey you ok, kid?” Bones asked, feeling me slump against him.

  “My…my friggin head…” I said clutching it, shutting my eyes, trying to block out the pain.

  “Just take it easy, no rush, one step at a time ok?”

  “Ok.”

  Progg motioned for us to move, opening the door, “Come on assholes, let’s move.”

  The bottom floor was a slaughterhouse. Pools of drying blood were everywhere, chunks of flesh lay on the floor and stuck to the wall. Streaks, splatter, drips, and drag marks painted my vision. Everything had a sharp scent clinging to it. The sour smell of sweat invaded my nostrils and the copper taste of blood consumed the air. Bodies were everywhere. I was stunned with how many there were. Torn, ripped, beaten, gashed, gored, gutted, slashed, sliced, headless, carcasses lay motionless in the dead passageways. Body parts were scattered and forgotten, the skin stripped to reveal pale smeared bone.

  “Holy shit,” Bones gasped.

  “Shut up and keep walking,” Progg ordered, but the edge was out of his voice.

  “Why haven’t you cleaned this up yet?” Bones said, not moving.

  Progg turned, “Because it’s a reminder of what’s going to happen to you if you don’t move.”

  “Come on,” I said, adjusting my weight on him. He grasped my arm and we moved on.

  Grub Hall was filled with inmates, the room split between the Prophets and Dragons. A row of Hazmats divided them, their guns draw and aimed, just waiting for someone to twitch. The Underdogs sat with the Prophets, Narks ugly face turning as we entered. He gave me a little wave. I gave him the finger.

  “Come on buddy, let’s sit down,” Bones said, lowering me down in an unoccupied seat. The two gangs were staring each other down, half the men suffering from wounds. They thirst to continue the fight, rip each other apart, bite and scratch their flesh off.

  In the front of the room, another row of Hazmats were lined up, facing the prisoners, guns in a similar position. They were just as hungry to kill. Everything was quiet. No one moved, no one seemed to breath, the air as dead of the halls.

  Boots clicked towards the front, causing everyone to turn and see what the noise was, waiting to see if someone would get shot for breaking the tense silence.

  Warden Martin strode into view. He looked like he had walked out of nightmare. His suit was soaked in thick red blood, chunks of flesh were stuck in the buckles of his pants, his long black hair was frayed and mopped in sweat. He was gripping his sword with such ferociousness that I thought he’d lop off the head off the nearest inmate. The blade was stained and still dripping.

  “It is so good of you all to come!” He bellowed, his voice tainted in madness. He was trembling with rage, pacing back and forth with animal quickness.

  “Did everyone have fun?!” He roared. Silence. I gulped.

  “Fucking answer me!”

  Nothing.

  Martin was brushing his hair with his free hand now, a gold comb untangling the mess. His eyes were closed, obviously trying to calm himself. You could hear every breath he took, the quick sucking sound the only thing we heard. The only thing we saw. He had our attention.

  Stowing his brush away, he licked his lips, his eyes snapping open, “Listen to me. All of you. Listen. Are you listening?!” He s
creamed. No one moved.

  Martin stood, staring out at us, waiting for someone to say something. His deep green eyes were lost in a vortex of insanity. Suddenly, he grabbed the nearest inmate by the hair and dragged him out in front of everyone. I felt my heart flutter. Titan. He was crying, on his knees in front of the Warden. His face was filthy, the tears cutting through the muck.

  Martin lifted Titan’s head up by his hair, his grip like iron, “You assholes like fighting?! You cannibals like ripping each other up in my prison?! Do you like making me look incompetent?! Do you think I can’t keep order here?!” Titan was mumbling something to the Warden, sobbing, snot running down his face. Martin ignored him, his attention on us.

  “I am your fucking god! I choose whether you live or die! Me! Me! Not you!” His grip tightened on Titan’s hair out, despite the soft weeping of his victim.

  Spittle flew from the Warden’s mouth, “I am tired of dealing with you filth! I’m so fucking disgusted by your very existence! And when you make me descend into your cesspool of disease I’m not going to be fucking happy about it!”

  He now moved and stood in front of Titan, “I own you! You hear me!?” And with that, he swung his sword down in one smooth motion and cut off Titan’s head. Inmates stood, starting to protest, shocked.

  Martin spun around, his eyes wild, veins standing out of his neck, “Shut up! Shut the fuck up!” Hazmats shuffled uncomfortably. Titan’s headless corpse remained kneeling as blood began to pool and spread.

  “I can do whatever I want to you!” Martin yelled at him, “You are nothing but filth!”

  Bones turned away, covering his eyes. My heart burned.

  Martin glared at us, wiping his sword on the dead body, “You see? Do you see? You think you’re big men…you think you’re tough. You’re nothing. I own you all. I control everything you do. Your lives are in my hands. I am your puppet master, your king, your director and you are my cast.”

  He paused, letting that sink in. His words washed over us like an arctic flood, chilling us to the bone. Titan’s blood was creeping around Martin’s boots.

  “Now,” he said, his voice like the edge of a knife, “If there is any and I mean any more fights, any more arguments, anything…I will cut off your head so that I may cut out the problem. Is that clear?! I want this prison to operate in silence!”

  “He’s gone off the deep end,” I whispered to Bones. “He’s completely lost his mind. Poor Titan, that unlucky bastard.”

  “Now,” the Warden continued, “You will be returned to your cells and kept in lockdown until I decide you’re sane enough to be released.”

  From the crowd, on the Prophets side, someone groaned. Martin’s head snapped around.

  “Who did that?”

  Silence. Everyone was holding their breath.

  “Who the fuck did that?”

  Martin walked over to their side, Hazmats looking as nervous as the prisoners. The Warden lifted his sword to one of the inmate’s throats.

  “I’m going to kill every prisoner until I get to the one who made that noise now who was it?!”

  A man stood, shaking, one row down, “I-did sir.”

  Martin smiled innocently at him, “Oh really? How brave of you to take responsibility. I commend that! Please. Step forward.”

  Trembling, knees shaking, the man approached the front. Martin patted him on the shoulder, still smiling, “Relax buddy, relax. You look tense. Why are you so tense?”

  The man licked his lips, his eyes filled with hopelessness.

  Martin put a finger under the man’s chin, lifting his eyes to meet his, “Answer me.”

  “Y-you just killed someone…”

  Martin looked stunned, “So?”

  Nothing.

  Martin scratched the back of his head, “I don’t get it. You guys have been reaping havoc for the past eight hours, murdering each other, brutally slaughtering without a second thought . And I kill one man…and you’re scared?”

  The man kept his eyes on the floor, sweating profusely.

  “How many men did you kill?” Martin asked.

  The man mumbled something incoherent.

  “Hm? What’s that? Speak up, you’re among friends here.”

  “T-two…sir.”

  Martin nodded, obviously impressed, “How about that? Two men! Did you enjoy it?”

  “What?”

  “Did you enjoy killing them?”

  The man looked to us for an answer. We gave him none.

  “Answer me.”

  “N-no sir.”

  Martin spread his arms, “Then why on God’s green earth did you do it?!”

  “I-it had…to be done. Kill or be killed…sir.”

  Martin suddenly grabbed the man by the throat, “Don’t kid yourself. You enjoyed doing it. Didn’t you? Didn’t you?!”

  The man was shaking, “I-if you say so!”

  Martin released him, his face disgusted, “What’s wrong with you? Can’t make your own decisions? You can’t think for yourself?”

  Bones shifted next to me, “This isn’t going to end well.” His voice was strained and I realized that watching this was causing him mental trauma. His eyes were trained on his feet, his hands clenched. I reached down and put my hand on his knee.

  “Steady Bones. Steady.”

  Up towards the front of the room, the man was opening crying now, “P-please don’t kill me sir.”

  Martin threw his head back, booming with laughter. He laughed until tears ran down his face, the chilling sound rocking off the walls.

  Wiping a tear from his face, Martin raised his sword, “Give me one reason I shouldn’t. Tell me one thing that’ll stop my blade. One. Thing. What are you worth? What will the world gain from you living.”

  The man was on his knees, clawing at the Warden’s armor, “Please sir please don’t I’m begging you I don’t want to die. I don’t want to die!” He voice rose into hysteria.

  Martin snorted, “Pathetic.” He brought his sword down. The man’s head flew across the room and hit the wall with a sickening thud. Bones was trembling next to me, his fists white.

  The Warden turned to us, madness inflaming his eyes, his voice harder than that bloody steel he held, “Go back to your holes you pack of rats and wait until your god releases you!”

  The Hazmats sprang to action and began hustling inmates out. No one complained, no one said a word, no one argued.

  We were all in shock.

  Chapter 12

  I lay in my cell, hand behind my head. Bones was in the other cot. Poor Titan. His tear streaked face was burned into my mind. I sighed. Bones was sitting up in his bed, knees drawn up, stroking his chin, lost in thought. I don’t know how long we’d been locked down. It seemed like weeks. It must have been a while, because my body was almost completely healed. Once a day they’d throw in our food and water. It wasn’t a lot and I was constantly hungry.

  I turned to Bones, “Can we please finish our conversation now?” I asked for the millionth time.

  His face never changed, “Not now, West.”

  I propped myself up on one elbow, “Look, I’ve been patient with you, giving you your space, letting you work through whatever’s been bugging you. But you have to snap out of it. You have too. You have to come out of that shell you’ve been hiding in.”

  “I don’t want to be here,” Bones whispered.

  I went over and sat next to him, “Don’t think about it ok? It’s done. You need to get your mind off it. Let’s talk about something else. Ok? How long were you head of Dynasty tribe?”

  Bones said nothing, keeping silent for a few seconds then muttered, “Ten years.”

  “That’s a long time. You must have been good.”

  “I kept people alive.”

  “Did King join your crew?”

  He nodded.

  “Why’d you decide to leave?”

  Bones let out a long drawn breath, “I was tired of it. After I got tossed in here, we got mixed up in
some bad business with the Prophets. A lot of people died. And it was my fault. After that, Dynasty tribe faded to nothing. It’s just you now. At least in Haven Ward.”

  “What happened?”

  “Look, I don’t want to talk about it. It was a long time ago.”

  I said nothing for a while. This man had been through a lot. I didn’t want to open up old wounds.

  “So how’d you end up here?” I asked after a couple minutes.

  He grunted, “I was young and stupid. I shot a Hazmat. He was trying to hustle me. Take all my glu. I didn’t like that and killed him. I thought because I was a tribe leader, I had some kind of status. As if. A day later I was captured, beaten, and hauled here.”

  “How long ago was that?”

  He looked to the ceiling, “An eternity. Before I was captured, I put King in charge. He was young, the youngest Dynasty has ever seen. A lot of the older members were angry, claiming he wasn’t up to the task. I guess he proved them wrong. He was always strong. He had a big heart, but could be ruthless when needed. He was the right choice, I don’t regret it.”

  I scooted back and put my head against the wall, legs stretched out, “Can I ask you why you’ve been looking out for me? I know you’re not in the tribe anymore, so why stick your neck out for a kid like me? I can’t figure it out. Not that I’m not grateful.”

  He smiled, “It was King. He asked me to keep an eye on you when you were captured. Passed a message through a Hazmat. Most of cost an arm and a leg. You must be pretty special to him.”

  “Jeez…I guess so,” I said, surprise rippling through me. He couldn’t stop me from coming here, but he could make sure I didn’t die. I owed him.

  “Have you heard anything about what’s going on outside?” I asked.

  “About the tribe war?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Last I heard, King had stolen a couple of Hovers. Must be driving the Sanction crazy knowing a tribe leader from the Gallows is using their ships. I don’t know where he’s hiding them, but I know he’s been using them to rip the Hunters apart. Air attacks.”

  I sniffed, “What a clever bastard.”

  “He always did had a strong understanding of battle strategy.”