Haven Ward

by Elias Witherow

  “Who’s in charge here?!” Bones roared. No one moved. They all looked like they were about to wet themselves. They weren’t use to this kind of commotion. They lived in a world experienced through a screen.

  Bones grabbed the nearest man by the hair and hauled him up, putting the rifle to his head, “You have three seconds to tell me who’s in charge. One-”

  “It’s Marco! Marco’s in charge!” The man cried, his eyes wild and terrified.

  Bones grip tightened, “And who the hell is Marco?!”

  “I am.”

  I watched as a man with long gray hair that matched his uniform stood, pushing his glasses up on the bridge of his nose. He seemed calm. That wasn’t good. I strode over to him, my gun pleading to be discharged again. The man, Marco, was much taller than I was. I needed to bring him down to my level. I pistol whipped him in the crotch and he went down, screaming, a surprised look on his face. I grabbed him by his full head of hair and lifted his face to meet mine.

  “Give the order to release the prisoners. Now,” I growled. He was still gasping for air, his eyes bloodshot from the pain. Still no one moved. It was as if they didn’t believe what was happening. Didn’t they know what was happening on the surface? Maybe they thought that being underground would spare them any commotion.

  I dug the barrel of my gun into Marco’s skull, “If someone doesn’t release the prisoners, this man dies right here, right now.”

  Someone from the back of the room scrambled around, “H-hold on! Please! Take it easy! I’ll do it!”

  Marco’s eyes snapped to the man, “Don’t do it you fool! Just wait!”

  Bones went over to the man, “You also have three seconds. Do it.”

  Fumbling, the man sat back in his chair and fiddled with the control board, flipping switches, his fingers a blur. When he was done he looked up.

  “It’s done! The doors are open! Now please, just leave us alone!”

  I jerked Marco’s head, “Why did you tell him to wait?! What’s going on!?”

  The man pushed his glasses up again, “I signaled the alarm as soon as you arrived. The Hazmat’s should be here in seconds.”

  “Bitch,” I snarled. I crushed Marco’s face with the butt of my pistol.

  Bones grabbed me, “We have to leave! We did what we needed so let’s move!”

  I left Marco on the floor, sniveling as he touched his broken face, and looked to Bones, “Alright. We have to get topside. I want to see what’s going on with the tribes and if King’s broken through yet.”

  “Ok then let’s-” Bones started, but was cut short as gunfire erupted from the far end of the room. We both ducked instinctively and turned, seeing a swarm of Hazmats fill the room.

  “Run!” Bones yelled.

  We took off, our feet pounding across the tile floor as ricochets pinged around us. I felt a bullet whiz by my face as we took a corner, completely lost, having no idea where we were going. We needed to get out of here and fast, up to the chaos that could protect us.

  As we ran, we passed a few wandering inmates whom we had released. They shuffled along, eyes lost, as if their cells were just expanded. One reached out and stopped me. It was my old friend the weeping man, the scabs on his chest still proclaiming his message to me.

  “You’ve done it!” He cried, grasping for me. I tried to shake him off, Bones casting a puzzled glance at me.

  I slapped the man’s hands away, “You need to get out of here, all of you.” I told him. “You’re free so try to get to the surface.”

  He had tears running down his face, “You really are the angel of this hell! You’ve delivered us from this place! Thank you! Oh thank you so much!” He was on his knees, clawing at my clothes.

  Bones shifted his gun, “What the hell is he talking about? We need to keep moving they’re right on our tail West.”

  I removed myself from the man, “Get out of here buddy.”

  I left him, crying and smiling, calling out after me. As we picked up the pace again, I turned to Bones.

  “Do you have any idea where we are?”

  “Not a clue.”

  We were trotting down a long corridor, towards another door, hundreds of yards down, nothing more than a dark smudge in the white tunnel. This place was a labyrinth and I didn’t know if we were getting any closer to the elevator or not. Time was ticking and I was starting to feel frantic, anxious to get topside. Claustrophobia suddenly began to squeeze my senses. Suddenly the door slid open in front of us and two Hazmats emerged. They froze sighting us.

  “Duck!” I screamed, diving to the floor as they open fired. Bones fell at my side, his gun propped up, already aiming. He fired off a snap burst, but missed wide. I took a wild shot that hit the ceiling, but we had gotten their attention. They split, each one diving towards a wall, slamming hard into it as they let their automatic weapons sing. Panicking, I rolled to the wall and took another shot. It was wide, but it ricochet off the floor and struck one of the Hazmats in the arm. He cried out as the white floor was colored in red.

  The other Hazmat looked at his partner, his attention divided for a split second, but that was enough time for Bones to act. In a flash, he was standing, one eye shut, the other gazing down his barrel. A single shot was all he needed. He hit his target, blowing the Hazmats head out the back of his skull.

  I charged the wounded Hazmat. He was on his stomach, reaching for his gun, a last feeble attempt to fight. I knew Bones was a wide open shot, easy killing. I wasn’t going to make it in time so I slid feet first, crashing into my victims face. I fired off two shots point blank into his mask. I was splattered with gore, a sick coppery taste filling my mouth as blood splashed onto my face. Breathing hard, I lay on my back, sucking in air and spitting out blood that wasn’t mine. Bones was at my side in seconds.

  “Are you ok!?”

  I looked up at him, panting, “Yeah I think so. You’re a good shot by the way.”

  He patted his rifle, “I should tell you stories sometime about the old days. You’d be surprised.”

  I sat up and began to collect ammo from the dead bodies, “I doubt it.” I reloaded my pistol, tucking away the extra clips. I handed Bones ammo for his rifle.

  “We have to be close,” I said, getting to my feet.

  Cautiously, we went to the end of the corridor and the door slid open for us. My jaw hit the floor. We were standing in a cavernous room, immense in size, the ceiling arching high above us. Rows of box shaped machinery lined the room, wires and tubes snaking across the floor. They were organized in neat lines, hundreds of tall intricate machines, blinking and winking. This was the heartbeat of Section 36 and this complex network that sprawled before us was the veins that brought all the blood back to the heart. At the far end stood five colossal glass towers, rising up and almost touching the ceiling. All the wires from the machines seemed to be leading to these towers, connecting at the bases.

  “Is this what I think it is?” Bones muttered.

  “God,” I whispered, taking it all in. The glass towers were filled with blood.

  “What is this place?” Bones asked.

  I went to one of the rows. Tentatively, I reached out towards one of the rusty metal machines and wiped away the grime from the pane of glass on the front. I closed my eyes as I saw what I already knew.

  “This is the Factory,” I said, turning away from the face inside the machine, “This is where they take the people with type O blood to drain them. I heard about this room.”

  Bones shook his head, “There’s so many of them…”

  “It’s a graveyard, filled with coffins. Except you’re still alive when they put you in it. God…look at all the blood,” I said staring at the towers.

  “We need to get them out of here,” Bones said.

  I shook my head, “Look at this place. They’re practically dead. They wouldn’t have the strength to climb out of those machines.”

  “This is awful,” Bones whispered.

  I put a hand on his s
houlder, “You knew about this place. You knew what they were doing. And you have to know that it’s hopeless. We can’t help them.”

  He shuddered, “But…but seeing…all these people like this. There’s got to be something. We can’t just abandon them like this.”

  “What are you suggesting? You have a plan?”

  He slammed his fist into the wall, “No I don’t have a plan! I’m not some mastermind that has a way out of every situation! We’ve gotten damn lucky to come this far and that’s it! Nothing more! We are one wrong turn from getting killed down here!” He paused, seeming to try and regain control, “Seeing this though…it strips my mind raw.”

  I sighed, “You’ve got to accept that sometimes…sometimes we are helpless. We can’t save them all. Consider them…consider them casualties of war.”

  He looked at me sideways, “How can you say that? If it wasn’t for me, you’d be dead right now. What if I hadn’t come? Wouldn’t you have been just another casualty of war?”

  “I guess so,” I said quietly.

  I could tell he was struggling, his eyes closed and his jaw clenched,

  “Let’s go.”

  We waded through the tangle of wires, both of us trying not to look in the glass windows that displayed the dying. It was sickening. My mind was boiling and my stomach churning. There were so many and the haunting towers of blood stared down at us, reminding us of the reality of this place. I didn’t want to leave these people. They had every right to live as I did, but we simply could not do it. We were just two people in an old wood boat, fighting against the raging angry waves in a cold sea of Hazmats.

  As we walked, we spotted a single doctor, running through the rows, checking the machines. He didn’t see us until we were right behind him. Bones put a heavy hand on the man’s shoulder and spun him around.

  “Well hello asshole,” Bones snarled. He delivered a stunning blow to the man’s face, drawing blood. I quickly put a hand on the old man’s arm, stopping another punch.

  “Hold on. Ask him how to get out of here.”

  The doctor was a younger man, his short blonde hair neatly kept. His face was smooth and clean, but his eyes were riddled with fear. He licked the blood from his split lip.

  “W-who are you?” he asked.

  Bones slammed him into one of the metal coffins, putting an arm to his throat, “That’s none of your concern you bastard. I’m asking the questions and the first one is who are you?”

  He stammered, choking, “I-I just work here! I’m not a Hazmat! I’m not a threat to you!”

  Bones chuckled darkly, “How ironic. You’re not a threat to me? How about a threat to all these people?” He pushed his arm harder into the man’s throat.

  I grabbed Bones, “Hey come on, just ask him how to get out of here.”

  Bones elbowed me in the chest, knocking me back, “Piss off Weston! It’s time to let the adults do some talking!”

  I recovered, breathing hard, sweat standing out on my forehead, “Bones, seriously, we need to keep moving, we could get swarmed any second.”

  Bones’ face was a mask of raw hatred as he stared down the doctor, “How the hell do you get out of this place?”

  The man’s eyes were tearing up from the pain. He pointed with a weak finger to the far end of the room, “There’s a door down there that’ll take you to an elevator. That’ll take you up to Celsius block. Please, don’t kill me!”

  His eyes never leaving the doctor, Bones jerk his head towards where the man was pointing, “Go Weston. Wait for me at the elevator. There’s some other things I need to discuss with this animal.” Hearing this, the man began to cry.

  I grabbed Bones’ arm, “This is stupid! Come on!”

  He turned his stone face to me, “You touch me again West, and you’re not going to like what happens. Do you understand me?”

  I took a step back, shock rippling through me, “…you don’t have to do this.”

  He licked his lips, “Yes I do.”

  Torn, I finally left them, sprinting towards the end of the room, feeling more tremors shake the ground under me as King continued his assault above. Halfway to the door, I heard the screams begin, loud and inhuman. I put my hands over my ears. Damn it Bones.

  Chapter 17

  Bones was standing next to me, breathing hard. His clothes were spattered with blood, his eyes staring dead ahead as the elevator ascended slowly, the grinding gears breaking an uneasy silence. I held my pistol lightly, fingers drumming against the side of my leg. I wanted to say something to Bones but I didn’t know what. Instead, I thought about the hell we were rising up into. It was going to be madness. The continuous barrage of explosions from King’s forces outside rocked the metal platform we were on. What if this didn’t work? What if we were stopped? What then? What would happen to us?

  “I’m sorry I threatened you,” Bones said suddenly, his voice broken. “I…I kinda lost it down there.”

  I looked at him, “You did what you needed to.”

  He said nothing.

  We were approaching the top. I threw a quick glance at the old man, “You up for this? You still got some fight in you?”

  Bones snorted, “I ain’t dead, am I?”

  Screeching, the platform came to a halt and the doors opened. I hesitated as my eyes adjusted to the dim light. I felt my breath sucked away. We were at the end of a long hall, most of the walls were crumbling or broken. It was as if a giant hammer had fallen on them, bent and charred, a scattering of holes imploding towards us. A few lifeless bodies were sketched into this picture of a fight gone past. On the wall, written in blood, were the words, “we will not be used”.

  As we took our first few steps down the hall, blood dripped on my head, causing me to jump at the unexpected moisture. I looked up and saw a Hazmat hanging upside down, his feet nailed into the ceiling with long twisted rods. I shivered and moved on.

  We heard screaming and yelling further down the corridors, gunfire and pounding boots. A sense of urgency took me as the reality of what we were facing took me in its arms. We began to run towards the noises. We passed a few wounded inmates, their eyes barely shining with the spark of life. They said nothing as we passed them, just stared, blood leaking from their bodies. Someone ran by us, a young kid, probably one of the Underdogs. His face was coated in thick dirty blood. Bones grabbed him before got away.

  “What’s happening?!” Bones said, shaking the kid.

  The kid spit out a tooth, his lips swollen, “It crazy down there old man,” he rasped, “The gangs are pushing forward, but barely. We don’t have the weaponry the Hazmats do and the few that manage to get their hands on some rifles are soon shot. We outnumber them three to one, but without some guns, I don’t know how long we can last.”

  “Where’s the armory? They must have an armory!” I said.

  The kid nodded, “That was the first place we tried to get to, but it’s heavily guarded. We were slaughtered.”

  “We have to get in there, Bones,” I said.

  The kid threw up his hands, “Didn’t you just hear what I said?! We got massacred!”

  I glared at him, “So what? You’re running away now? Do you want to get your blood sucked out of you?! I just came from Section 36 and trust me, dying up here is better than rotting down there.”

  Bones pushed him away, “Coward. Get out of my sight. Typical Underdog.”

  He shook us off, “Whatever, if you want to get shot, go for it. I’m sitting the rest of this fight out.”

  The kid scurried away, leaving us alone in the hall. We turned and trotted deeper into the prison. The noise was growing louder, the music of a full scale battle beginning to crescendo. We turned a corner, climbing over some rubble that had collapsed from the ceiling, and were nearly shot as the symphony of war exploded around us in a brilliant vibrato.

  It was a wide corridor, the walls smeared with gunpowder and blood, the stink of sweat and dirty flesh causing my eyes to water and stomach to churn. In front of us
was a tumbling, pulsing tangle of bodies, all alive and fighting, a bubble of violence. It was a similar scene to the first riot I had been in, but on a grander scale. Inmates, shirtless, bloody, cut, hurt, insane, were leaping over each other, clawing, ripping, tearing at the Hazmats that opposed them. The Hazmats were at the far end of the hall, trying to push forward. Their masks were cast off and their eyes were hungry to kill. Guns were scattered around the floor. This battle was more personal. Fists plowed into stomachs, nails dug out flesh, eyes exploded as fingers found them, teeth were ejected as knees connected. There must have been fifty men on each side packed into the hall.

  Bones put a hand on my chest, halting our progress, pulling me back around the corner. He knelt down to my height, “We should find another way. That’s nothing but death and a quick dead end. We should get to the armory.”

  “Do you know where it is?” I asked as I heard a blood curling scream rise out of the boiling noise of fighting.

  He shook his head, “No, but I know someone who does. We need to find Nadia.”

  “We need to find Roland too. I want to make sure he’s ok.”

  “Of course. Come on, let’s keep going.”

  As we hurried down the opposite hallway, a pack of Dragons rushed past us, screaming a war cry, charging the battle we had just left. They held sics, parts of twisted metal, iron rods, instruments of death.

  We pushed on, our feet pounding on a blood soaked floor, muted explosions filling our ears. I checked my pistol to make sure it was loaded. We reached a metal stair case that led to an upper deck and both us came to a stop. Above, thundering down towards us, were four Hazmats and an officer, his orange glow blinding.

  “Get back!” Bones screamed, raising his gun and firing as he back pedaled. We dove behind a pile of broken metal, remnants from an earlier explosion, bullets pinging the floor behind us as the Hazmats returned fire.

  Our cover wasn’t great and I shifted onto my belly and snapped off a few wild shots at the Hazmats who were scrambling back up to higher ground, at the top of the stairs. I got lucky and I took a one of them through the chest. As I ducked, my back to the rubble, I heard a voice bellow down to me.