Haven Ward

by Elias Witherow

  Whether I knew it or not, the isolation was getting to me. Every other day the doctors were coming to my cell, between the long drains I dreaded where they’d hook me to their machines. They’d stick my arm with a needle and take a single vial worth. I let them. My sleep was haunted with dreams of torture and blurry images of my sister. One time I woke with tears staining my eyes. I wiped them off angrily, checking to make sure no one was watching. One of these times, when I awoke from a particularly horrible nightmare, I saw Nigel staring in at me, arms cross, a huge smile on his face. I turned my back on him and went back to sleep. One fight at a time.

  I was sitting, my back to the glass, away from the weeping man, palms flat on the ground, feeling for tremors. They weren’t coming as frequently these days. I wondered what that meant. Was it good or bad? I didn’t know. I exhaled and opened my eyes, movement outside my cell drawing my attention. A woman walking my way.

  Nadia.

  It was Nadia.

  She was walking quickly down the line of cells, head down, in her hand a small metal briefcase. As she passed my cell, I jumped up and slammed my fists against the glass.

  “Nadia!”

  She jumped, her eyes wide, turning to see what had made the noise. When her eyes fell on me, she gasped, taking a step back, dropping her little briefcase, the contents spilling everywhere. Vials of blood rolled across the floor, one of them stopping just in front of my door. So that’s what she was doing here. Delivering inmates blood from Section Z. Just like she had done with me. She knew from the moment she discovered my blood type that this was where I was going to end up.

  “Nadia look at me!” I yelled, pounding the glass. She dropped her eyes and began scooping up the scattered vials.

  “Look at what you’ve done to me, do you see?!” I screamed, throwing my body against the panes. All the finesse and coolness I had practiced over the weeks dissolved in an instant, replaced by the brewing fury that had been stewing in the back of my mind.

  “Is this how you thank me for saving your life!?” My throat was raw, my fists numb. Damn it just look at me!

  When she finally did look up at me, her eyes were teary, a deep sorrowful anguish overcoming her. She snapped up her case, all the vials back in place, and stood looking at me, helplessly.

  I motioned with a finger for her to come closer. I didn’t think she could hear a word I was saying so I was going to have to show her. I ripped the bandage off my arm where they had been sticking their tubes in me and pointed at it.

  “Look what they’re doing to me! Look what they’re doing to all of us! How can you live with yourself?! Do you think I deserve this?! Do you really think I belong here!? All I did was lose their goddamn draw Nadia! I’m here because I lost the Sanctions game! They killed my fucking sister! They killed her like an animal! How can you let them do this to me!?” My eyes were bloodshot and I realized that my eyes were moist as I continued to pound the glass. A felt a vein throbbing in my forehead, the tendons in my neck pulsing. God, I was so mad.

  Obviously I was getting through to her because her face crumpled and she put her hands over her face, dropping her case. I stood there, panting, as she put on hand on the glass and mouthed to me, “I’m so sorry.”

  “Let me out of here Nadia!” I cried, pressing myself against the glass, “You let me out of here!”

  Crying, weeping, her eyes swollen, she slowly bent and picked up her case, then turned, and began to walk away.

  No. no!

  I threw myself against the door, clawing at it, beating, screaming my lungs out, “You bitch! You can’t keep this place a secret! I’m going to get out of here and tell the whole fucking world!”

  She disappeared around the corner, out of sight.

  “Goddamn it! Go to hell! You all go to hell!”

  Chapter 14

  I was on my bed, my back growing numb from the hard metal. I was furious. My jaw hurt from clenching it, hands rolled up into fists. Breathe West…just breathe, I thought, eyes closed, exhaling. I was trying to reign my body back under control. I was mad at myself for exploding like that, but the raw bloody anger refused to go away. I was growing more and more frustrated. I thought that by now I would be well on my way to setting my plan in motion. Instead I was stuck here in this maddeningly restricted cell, still at square one. I felt like screaming until my throat bled, slamming my body against the walls until my bones broke, beat my face into the glass until I crushed my skull. I needed to get out of here!

  Instead, all I could do was pace, seething, and wait for the doctors to draw my blood. I had flirted with the idea of trying to fight my way out when they came to draw blood, but Hazmats were always with them. I felt helpless. I had clouds of lightening in my chest that begged to strike and burn away my enemies, but I knew that if I did, the only thunder that would follow would come from the barrel of a Hazmat gun.

  And so I waited. Every second ticking away in my head was like nails being pounded into my skull. I had noticed that the tremors had slowed drastically and eventually stopped. Was it just the earth shifting? I spent the rest of the day sitting on the floor, palms flat, making sure they really had ceased. Hours dragged on and I eventually fell back into my thoughts, drifting away as I remained on the floor.

  They came to draw blood at some point, every minute slurring into the next. Some doctor I hadn’t seen before was taking it today. He watched me curiously as I kept my eyes closed throughout the entire ordeal, hands still flat on the floor.

  “What are you doing?” He asked when he was finished. I kept quiet.

  “Freak,” he muttered, leaving.

  My mind drifted back to my former neighbor who always was staring at me. I worried that if something didn’t happen, I would eventually begin to crack, becoming an empty shell, just like him. Those dead eyes scared me. How long had it taken for him to get like that? Was he dead now? Nigel told me he was getting close and he hadn’t returned after his last draining. I could only assume the worst.

  As if he heard my thoughts, the doctor entered my cell, his ever smiling face as ugly as ever. I was sitting on my bed, knees draw up when he came in.

  “You’ve been very good,” he said crossing his arms, “I appreciate that. You’re due for another draining soon. This one is going to be a lot longer than the previous ones.”

  I stared at him, my eyes hating, “Why are you telling me this?”

  He looked up at me, almost surprised, “Ah so you haven’t lost your voice. That’s good. Means the fight is still in you. You’re a strong kid, Weston.”

  I continued my stare, “Why are you telling me this?”

  He grinned, “Just wanted to give you something to look forward too.”

  “What happened to the other guy?”

  “What other guy?”

  I pointed to the weeping man in the adjacent cell, “The guy before him.”

  Nigel chuckled, “Oh he’s long gone. He was starting to get sick, so we took him to the Factory and sucked him dry. Every. Last. Drop.”

  “The Factory?”

  Nigel nodded, “Yes, yes, the Factory. It’s our main Drain room down here. It’s where we take the commoners. People with the O blood type. Much bigger then where you’re taken. That room is special. Reserved only for people like you.”

  I stood up, getting off the bed, Nigel’s Hazmat escorts shifting and raising their guns. I held up my hands, “Relax guys.”

  I knelt down, tracing a finger across the floor, “What happened to the tremors?”

  Nigel licked his lips, “What tremors?”

  He was lying. I could tell by the way he wouldn’t meet my gaze. I allowed myself a little smile.

  “Don’t pretend you don’t know. They’ve ceased haven’t they? What were they?”

  “I think isolation is getting to you,” He said, trying to brush off the question.

  I chuckled, standing, “What’s the matter? You look uncomfortable.” I put a hand over my mouth, “No way. No way! You’re scared
aren’t you!? You’re scared of whatever is causing them!”

  Nigel snorted as if I was crazy, but I could tell he was off his game, “Please. You’re grasping at shadows, that fighting spirit in you refusing to give up. You’ll think of anything, won’t you? There are no tremors. I think you’re starting to lose it.”

  “Bullshit,” I said walking closer, “I know what I’ve been feeling and whatever it is has got you on edge. What aren’t you telling me? Why are you so afraid to tell me?”

  He threw up his hands, “I’m not afraid! Are you kidding me?! Me afraid of a mud rat like you!? Don’t flatter yourself! This conversation is over. I’ll see you soon for your next draining. I’ll be sure that the Hazmats are extra rough when they bring you in, you little shit.”

  Before he left I threw my head back and filled the cell with laughter, a mad cackling of disbelief, “That’s right! Run away from me! Threaten me! You’re a coward and you always will be. Something has you spooked and so you punish me for it. Well that’s ok. Go ahead, hurt me!” Nigel was shaking his head, leaving me, the door closing behind him.

  I pounded my fists on the panes, still howling with laughter, “Get out of here! Go back to your room and cry! As long as you’re afraid, I’m winning! You here me!? ” I fell to the floor, tears rolling down my face, not able to stop the ripples of laughter.

  Everyone was asleep. The lights were dimmed, the prisoners curled up miserably on their beds, drifting off into a tormented sleep. Except me. I lay with my hands behind my head, staring up at the ceiling. All day I had been replaying my talk with Nigel. It wasn’t much, but it was still a glimmer of hope. The fact that he didn’t tell me meant that it was bad for him and good for me.

  I tried going to sleep, but found I couldn’t. My heart was beating too fast, my mind a whirlwind of thoughts all tossed around by the strong winds of my imagination. It wasn’t over. So long as I had the edge on Nigel, nothing was over.

  As I played with a variation of thoughts, I noticed a light. I sat up and saw down the hall, walking towards me a suit of orange armor, the neon goggles glowing like a pair of hot summer moons. Progg? Could it be? What was he doing down here this late at night? He passed the other cells with a stealthy quickness, finally stopping in front of mine. I recognized the build behind the armor. It was Progg. He slid a card through the emergency lock outside my cell and slipped in.

  “Good to see you shit face,” I said getting up.

  He put a finger to his mask, silencing me, “Shut the hell up. Not a damn word. Now listen to me. I’m taking you to Section Z.”

  I blinked, “What?”

  His head was whipping around, keeping a look out, “I’m taking you up to Section Z. Nadia asked me. She said someone needs to talk to you.”

  I still couldn’t believe what I was hearing, “Are you serious? You’re busting me out of here?”

  His turned to me, “Don’t be an idiot. I’m just taking you up there then bringing you back. If you cause any trouble, make a single peep, I’ll beat you within an inch of your life and throw you back down.”

  “You don’t have the authority to do this, do you?” I said slowly.

  He just kept looking around, nervous.

  I barked a laugh, “Wow. She’s really got you wrapped around her finger, doesn’t she? Well I’m touched you’d do this for me.”

  He suddenly grabbed me and lifted me up off my feet with one hand. His goggles flared, blinding me, “I said shut up. If you think for a second I’m doing this for you…” he dropped me, calming himself, “Just shut up and lets go.”

  “Lead the way captain,” I croaked.

  Still not quite believing what was happening, I followed Progg out of my cell. What was this all about? Why did Nadia want to see me? And ‘I needed to have a conversation with someone’? What did that mean? Who was I going to be talking to? Why was Nadia helping me all the sudden? Did the guilt finally get to her?

  We slinked down past the other cells, two shadows whispering through the night, avoiding detection. As we turned a corner, I leaned in and whispered, “Isn’t there some way you can dim that stupid suit of yours? It’s like a signal flare, begging to be seen.”

  He trotted along, not stopping, “Keep your voice down, we’re almost there.” We paused at another intersection of hallways, waiting with baited breath as a Hazmat patrol walked by us, eyes forward, not seeing us. We waited until he was a little bit down the hall then quietly continued. It was a ghost town down here. The doctors had locked up for the night, retiring to their quarters, leaving only a few guards to walk the halls.

  We reached the elevator and Progg, looking over his shoulder to make sure no one was sneaking up on us, punched in the code and we began our ascent.

  “You could get in big trouble for this couldn’t you?” I asked, a ghost of a smile on my lips.

  “Damn it Weston, do you not know what it means to shut up?!” Progg growled.

  I leaned against the wall, feeling the cables pull us up, “You love her don’t you? You must if you’re doing this for her.”

  He just gripped his gun tighter.

  “Don’t be embarrassed, I think it’s cute.”

  That earned me a sudden blow to the stomach and I went to one knee, gasping, “I guess I was asking for that, huh boss?”

  We reached the top and got out, the familiar scenery embracing my senses. Progg grabbed the top of my head and pushed it down.

  “Keep your eyes on the floor, don’t look at anyone, and do what I tell you.”

  The cells were sealed here too, so we didn’t have to worry about prisoners curious eyes as we passed and the Hazmats on duty barely even looked at us. Our boots echoed down the passage, each one having a familiar sound to it. Section Z seemed like a paradise compared to down below. I wondered if there was some way I could be transferred back. What the rumors told me, I didn’t have a chance, no one comes out of Section 36, but then again, here I was.

  We took another passage, the next elevator in sight in front of us. A side door clicked open, about fifty paces from us, and a man stormed our way. I felt my blood turn to ice and I noticed that Progg went stiff as well. I drilled my eyes into the floor, wishing I could melt and disappear from sight. We couldn’t be caught now, we were so close!

  “Is that you Progg!?” The person roared, coming closer. My throat turned to dust and my heart skipped a beat.

  That was Martin’s voice.

  Progg grabbed a handful of my hair, his hand shaking, keeping my head down, shoving me against his body, trying to hide my face as we walked.

  “Yes it’s me,” Progg answered, his voice wavering, “Do you need something?”

  Martin continued to walk towards us, not slowing, “Yes! I need you to do your goddamn job and get a handle on these outbreaks! I’m tired of hearing about prisoners wounding my Hazmats!”

  Progg nodded, still walking and I realized that Martin had no intention of stopping and having a conversation.

  “I’ll get right on it, sir,” Progg said as the two men walked by each other.

  Without turning, his back to us, I heard him yell, “I’m busy enough trying to deal with this damn Gallows war! Do your job Progg or I’ll find someone who can!”

  We had reached the elevator and Progg pushed me onto it, visibly shaken, “Yes Warden!” He called out after him.

  “Progg!” Martin suddenly yelled, his voice echoing back to us from the end of the hall.

  Progg kept a firm hand on my head as he turned around, hiding my face in the shadows, ‘Yes sir?”

  Martin pointed at me, “Who’s the kid?”

  My heart froze.

  I heard Progg gulp then say loudly, “Just some Underdog who thinks he’s better than the Sanction. I’m taking him up to the boys for some fun.”

  The Warden was too far away to see his face, but I could have sworn I heard a smile in his voice, “Very well. Carry on.”

  Trembling, Progg started the elevator.

  “Holy shit,
” I breathed, shaking his hand out of my hair.

  We reached the top, my heart returning to its normal pattern, and took the short walk to Medical Ward. Upon reaching it, Progg opened the door and we slid in.

  Nadia was standing in the corner, arms crossed, looking worried. She looked up when we entered, obvious relief overcoming her. I was surprised to see Bones there as well, sitting on a bed looking miserable. He smiled upon seeing me.

  There was a third person in the room. When I saw his face, I gasped, not sure if what I was seeing was real.

  Roland.

  He looked bad. His face was a series of cuts and bruises, one eye swollen shut. His shirt hung loosely around neck, his body skinny and fragile. I stumbled for words, but gave up and ran, embracing him tightly.

  “Oh my god, Roland! You’re…here!” I cried.

  “Good to see you boss,” He said, returning the hug.

  “Wh-what are you doing here!?” I asked, releasing him.

  “Just came in to say hi to my best friend,” he said, winking with his good eye.

  I hugged him again, “Man it’s great to see you. You have no idea.”

  He chuckled, pushing me away, “Ease up boss, you’re going to strangle me.”

  I let him go, looking him up and down, “What happened to you? How’d you get here?!”

  Roland shrugged, “Well a couple weeks after you were taken here, I got tangled up in something and ended up killing a Hazmat. They caught me red handed.”

  I looked at him, “Why did you do that?”

  He looked at Bones and Nadia, “He doesn’t know what’s been going on does he?”