Haven Ward

by Elias Witherow

  Martin was standing, wiping his face, and to my horror, he was chuckling, “Oh, ho, ho, ho, Weston, Weston, Weston, you little maniac. For a tiny guy, you have quite the solid punch.” He tossed aside he broken glasses and began fixing his hair.

  “It’s done Martin!” I screamed, “We’ve won! The Hazmats are getting slaughtered below you, King’s infiltrated your walls, your men are dying.”

  Martin sneered, “Please. Don’t go patting yourself on the back just yet. The Sanction heard about this little assault. They’re gathering an army in Red City as we speak to put an end to your bosses little campaign of terror.”

  I spat at him, “Campaign of terror?! The Sanction uses human beings as a source of wealth!”

  Martin snorted, picking up his sword, “Disgusting. Human beings? Really Weston? How can you call people who crawl around in the mud for a living, humans?! How can you call people who cheat and steal and rape all their lives human?!”

  I was panting, trembling with unchecked hatred, “Because they have a heartbeat and a will to live.”

  Martin paced in front of me, twirling his sword, the blade gleaming, “This little rebellion will be put down, child, and you as well. All of you uncaged animals will eventually be returned to your cells and taught obedience that will not be broken!”

  “Go fuck yourself, Martin!” I howled. I dove for the gun on the floor, my body flying through the air, fingers outstretched. The metal grip greeted me with its cold assurance and I twisted on my back, ready to put a bullet through this beast’s belly.

  Martin was too fast. He stood over me in a flash, kicking the gun out of my hands. I watched in horror as it flew across the room, landing harmlessly by the far wall. A boot came crashing down into my stomach and I felt the wind crushed from me. Martin grabbed me by the collar and hauled off me feet with one arm.

  “It’s time,” he panted, insanity sparking his vision, “To end your delusions.” He head butt me hard and I felt my nose explode, darkness flirting with my sight. Dazed, I spat a wod of blood in his face.

  Screaming in disgust, the Warden threw me across the desk. I felt myself tumble over it, body crying out as I made contact with the hard wood. I collapsed on the other side, barely having the strength to breath. Before I could even attempt to stand, I felt myself being hauled up again and slammed against the glass wall.

  Martin’s sanity had forsaken him as I stared into his eyes. His breath was hot against my face as he leaned in close to me, whispering in a voice cracked with intensity, “I. Am. God.”

  I heard some commotion behind Martin and I could only hope it was Bones gaining consciousness again.

  “You’re no god,” I croaked, “You’re nothing but a man who’s lost his head in a world of power.”

  Martin licked his lips, his grip tightening against my throat, “This is my kingdom. And no one is going to take it away from me. You understand that? Can you wrap your fading mind around that concept? You. Can’t. Win.”

  He raised his sword to deliver the killing blow and I closed my eyes. It was over. I had failed. At least now I would get to see Ashleign again, my dear dead sister. I exhaled.

  Suddenly Martin howled as his arm was bent back, snapping the bones. I opened my eyes, watching in utter disbelief.

  King.

  His grip was like iron on the mad man’s wrist, bending his arm back at a gruesome angle, splintering the bones. Martin screamed as he watched blood spray out of his tore flesh.

  “Don’t you touch him,” King growled, his voice like thunder, “Don’t you fucking touch that boy.”

  Martin dropped the sword and fell to his knees, still being held up partially by King’s grip. His eyes were filled with tears of agony, his voice rising to a screech. King finally let go and stood over him. He looked at me.

  “Weston, son, are you ok?”

  I blinked. This wasn’t happening. King wasn’t standing here. He hadn’t just saved my life. I was dead.

  King stepped over the Warden who was curled up in a ball, weeping and holding his arm. “Weston!” his hands went to my face, pushing the hair off my forehead, “Are you alive? What did he do to you?!”

  Suddenly I leaned forward and embraced him, feeling the breath rush back into me, “Oh shit King...I thought I was dead.”

  Behind us, I saw Nadia and Roland kneeling next to Bones. They both looked ok. Nadia pulled out a small medical kit.

  King pulled away, “When Roland told me you had come up here, I ran as fast as I could. I’m just glad I made it in time.”

  Martin was struggling to stand, still crying, holding his mutilated arm, “You animal, look what you’ve done to me!”

  King turned and gripped him by the throat, slamming him down on the desk, hard. He leaned his face close to the sniveling Warden’s and spat, “Shut the fuck up, you pathetic rat. You’re a goddamn animal. I heard about what you’ve been doing in this place. The whole Gallows heard and we’re pissed. We’re very. Fucking. Pissed.”

  Martin turned his head away, closing his eyes, fresh tears sprouting, crumpling on the ground.

  Wincing from my injuries, I leaned down and picked up Martin’s sword. My hands were shaking and I forced my body under command.

  “And now,” I said, staring down at my oppressor, “I’m going to kill you.”

  Martin looked up at me, arm a mangled mess, tears running from the corners of his eyes and I saw disbelief. Just as I was about to bring the sword down, I felt a hand grasp my arm.

  I looked at King, puzzled, “What are you doing? Let me kill him!”

  King shook his head, “We can’t Weston.”

  My eyes went wide, “What do you mean we can’t?! Of course we can, now let go of me so I can finish this!”

  King slowly pulled the sword from my grasp, “I’m sorry Weston, but we have to keep him alive.”

  “Why?!” I trembled.

  “Because,” King said, his voiced strained, “Because this isn’t the end. Red City is preparing for a counter attack. When and how they do that…well I don’t know, but the answers are inside that man’s head and could be the key to our victory or defeat. He knows the Sanction, he knows how they work, he knows response times. He holds the knowledge to what our next step should be. I know this isn’t fair and you need to believe me when I tell you that I want him dead as much as you. But that day is coming and I promise that you’ll be there to see it happen. But you have to be rational here and understand that this is only the start and killing him now could lessen our chances of seeing this rebellion through.”

  “This is such shit,” I spat, not sure what I was more angry about: the fact that Martin got to live another few weeks or the fact that King was right.

  King placed a hand on my shoulder, “Just be patient Weston. I know that isn’t one of your strengths, but at least try to believe and know that this is for the best.”

  Torn, I finally just pointed at Martin who was still sniveling on the floor, oblivious to everything but his arm, “Don’t think of this as a victory. Me and you…we’ve just been put on hold, got that?”

  “King, Weston, give us a hand here!” Roland called to us. I had almost forgotten about them, I had been so absorbed by Martin.

  Peeling my eyes away from my most hated enemy, I stumbled over to Roland’s side. He and Nadia were trying to prop Bones up.

  “He’s lost a lot of blood, but he’s going to be ok. We need to get him to the Medical Ward,” Nadia was saying.

  “Did you give him something for the pain?” I asked.

  Bones eyes fluttered open, “P-pain? Boy this is n-nothing.” He smiled weakly and asked, “Is it finished?

  King came and stood over my shoulder, “It’s over, Bones.”

  Bones seemed to struggle to focus, “King? King is that really you?”

  King smiled, “It’s me. Good to see you’re still ticking.”

  Bones snorted, “I got a lot of life still to live.”

  Roland looked at me, “I’m glad to see
you’re ok. If we were just a second later...I hate to think what would have happened.”

  I stood and looked at King, “We need to tell everyone down below what’s happened up here. The Hazmats will scatter, I’m sure of it.”

  King nodded, “Yes, I believe they will. But don’t forget the Sanction is gathering more troops in Red City. I’m sure they’ll flee to there, if they can make it through the Gallows.”

  “I know. But we can use this place right? This is a major step we’ve taken. The first of many. I think once the Sanction hears that Haven Ward is ours they’ll delay any plans for an attack. At least for a little bit. It could be enough time for us to regroup and reload.”

  King was looking at me funny.

  “What?” I asked.

  He put a hand on my shoulder, “You’ve grown up some, Weston. It appears you’re not the child that left the Gallows so long ago.”

  Nadia was wrapping Bone’s chest, “What should we do now?”

  King went over to the desk and picked up something off the floor. It was an intercom, wired out through the wall.

  “It’s time to let the prisoners know that their captor is ours now.”

  He fiddled with the panel briefly then thumbed the com switch. He voice boomed throughout Haven Ward.

  “Inmates! Prisoners! Warriors! Fighters! Listen to me! I am King of the Dynasty Tribe. I am speaking to you from the office of Warden Martin. Your long time captor is now in our hands, he is now our prisoner. We have taken Haven Ward. It is ours. Today we have dealt the Sanction a blow that will not be forgotten. Today we have said no. Today we have started a war. The enemy, the Sanction, is gathering in Red City as I speak! They plan to take this place back under their control. But we will not allow them to do that! I say we take the fight to them and end the Sanctions rule once and for all! We are slave to their cruelty no more. This is the beginning of the end. Their eyes are on us now and we will not disappoint!” Kings voice began to rise until he reached a roar, “Together we will bring the red back into their city! The blood they stole shall be given back and then some! It is their veins we will open! To war! Haven Ward, rise up with me to war! To war!”

  As I listened, I smiled, feeling the blood in me begin to rise. To war.

  Epilogue

  I quickly walked down the hall, still littered with the stains of the uprising. The cells had been transformed into living quarters for the inmate-turned-soldiers and men freely roamed wherever they wanted. King had worked miracles in the week that had passed since we had taken the prison, establishing a system of order that the men, surprisingly, followed. Each tribe had been assigned certain duties, even the Prophets, who had taken a lot of convincing after the victory. Even with them taking orders, King wisely kept them away from the Dragons, not wanting to risk a pointless skirmish.

  I kept walking, nodding to the pair of Underdogs who were clearing away rumble. There was only one thing on my mind right now. At the far end of Fahrenheit, where the last cell in the block was, I stopped. Two members of the small Gallows tribe, The Burning Sons, stood guard outside the now painted red cell door.

  “I need to talk to him,” I said.

  The two men looked at each other, then back at me, “Can’t do it kid.”

  “Please, it’s very important,” I urged.

  One of the men shook his head, “Look, I have my orders ok?”

  I stood my ground, “I’ll be quick and I won’t touch him, it’s very important. Please.”

  They looked at each other again, then sighed, “Fine, but make it quick and don’t do anything stupid.”

  They opened the door and I walked into the dim cell. The single light bulb overhead cast shadows across the floor and the all too familiar claustrophobia tickled my senses.

  A man was chained by the wrists to the ceiling, his long black hair spilling over his naked chest. He looked up at me as the door sealed at my back.

  “Ah, hello Weston. Come to break me out?”

  “Hello Martin,” I greeted, glancing at his crudely wrapped broken arm. Not much care had been given to it, but Nadia had insisted that something be done.

  Martin’s green eyes looked even sharper without his glasses on as he spoke, “You know,” he started, his voice cool, “Even I didn’t keep my prisons in such horrid living conditions. What does that say about you and your people Weston?”

  I leaned against the wall, “You deserve so much worse.”

  Martin sniffed, “Ah the cruelty of a vengeful heart. Sad.” He shifted, wincing slightly as the chains twisted around his broken arm, “What is it you want, child?”

  “I need to ask you something,” I said.

  “An inquiry. How obvious. Ask away, I live to serve,” He said without the slightest bit of sarcasm in his voice.

  I pushed myself off the wall and stood in front of him, “How long do we have until the Sanction launches their counter attack? It’s been a week so it has to be soon, right?”

  Martin chuckled, “I always thought you were a bright kid…and if I’m correct about that then you should already know I won’t tell you. Why ruin the fun? I’m guessing you’re the kind of person who doesn’t like surprises, am I right?”

  I gripped Martin’s face with a hand, “The day I get a surprise that’s good, I’ll be sure to change my attitude, but right now, you need to answer my question.”

  Martin yanked his head back, freeing it from my grip, “Don’t touch me boy, your hands are filthy! And I’m sorry, but I just don’t really feel like humoring you today with that information.”

  “King’s going to lose his patience and start hurting you,” I warned. I knew King was beginning to worry about the imminent counter-attack. We weren’t anywhere near ready and that constant threat was weighing heavy on his mind. The clock was counting down and we needed to know how much time was left.

  Martin sighed, “You animals are all the same. What’s he going to do to me? You’ve already stripped me of my dignity. There is nothing else you can do.”

  “King made me hold off on killing you,” I growled, “So tell me what I need to know or I’ll end this right now.”

  Martin laughed openly now, “Why would I tell you something knowing you’ll kill me anyway? What’s the point?”

  “Because everyone wants to live longer,” I snarled at him, patience burning out fast.

  “I guess I’m the odd duck then,” Martin cooed, his voice getting dangerously cold, “Now get the fuck out of my cell.”

  Grinding my teeth, I turned to go, “You’ll never get out here alive Martin. You can hold on, you can be as stubborn and as stupid as you want, but either you tell us what we need to know or your death is going to be slow and last for days. You think the Sanction is going to come and break you out? Is that what you’re holding out for? Well let me tell you something. We’ve fought the Sanction and we’ve won. We can take anything they dish out. They’ve thrown the worse they have at us and we’ve won.”

  Martin leaned forward, chains clinking and stretching, his eyes like ice, his voice soft and deadly, “Oh Weston, things can always get worse.”