Somebody in the yard shouted and I looked over to see two inmates pushing each other, faces red and angry. But it died out after a couple of shoves, one of the boys walking away with his hands held up in submission.
"I'm not going to just wait here until I get taken, Zee," I said. "I can't just lie down and let them come for me, let them jab me with their filthy needles and haul me off to some butcher shop."
"Alex, what choice do you have? Throw yourself off the eighth floor? That's about the only way out I can think of, and it isn't pretty."
"I'm just not ready to give up, that's all I'm saying. There's always a way."
"There's a mile of rock in every direction, and those dogs will chew you up if you even piss the wrong way."
I slammed my fist down on the table in frustration.
"Didn't you tell me on the first day that you were getting out of here no matter what?" I asked, ignoring his guilty shrug.
"That was back when I had a little hope," he muttered.
"Well, don't lose it just yet," I said, leaning over the table and once again thinking of mountains, of fresh air. "I'm telling you, there's a way out."
ALL GOOD PRISON breaks need a plan. I'd seen them in films so many times-learning the guard rotation, bribing somebody for blueprints of the sewer system, getting your girlfriend to smuggle in a file so you can get through the bars of your window. One good plan, perfectly executed, that's all it would take to get us out of here.
But I had nothing. There was no guard rotation here, the monsters in their pinstriped suits seemed to patrol when and where they liked. The sewer system just led farther down toward the abyss, dumping its filth in the center of the earth. And even if I'd had a girlfriend, which I didn't and probably never would, we weren't allowed personal visits or letters. Hell, we didn't even have windows. None of the things I'd seen on-screen were going to work in Furnace, but that shouldn't really have been a surprise. I mean, television isn't real life.
On the plus side, my short career as a criminal had programmed my mind to find escape routes wherever I could. From the second I arrived at a target house I'd be scoping out emergency exits just in case I was found out. Which door would offer the quickest getaway, which second-floor window was a leap away from a tree branch or drainpipe, which bush in the garden would offer the darkest, safest hiding place if everything went wrong.
Inside, my mind worked in the same way. I'd take a mental snapshot of the house I was in, the layout, the location of furniture, how many locks were on the door. That way, even if the lights went out I'd know where to run to avoid tripping or crashing into a wall. There's no greater shame for a burglar than cracking your shins on a coffee table or doing cartwheels over a footstool that you'd forgotten was there.
The times I'd almost been caught, and there had been a handful, I'd only escaped because my brain had programmed in its routes and guided me to safety without me having to think about it.
It was like being on autopilot-the adrenaline would kick in and I'd fly along the safest possible route until I was outside. I could almost see the thread of silver light leading me to safety, a trail that I had to follow or my life would be over, a trail that led from the unbearable confines of an unwelcoming house to the utter relief of fresh air.
When I'd first arrived in Furnace the escape artist in my mind had set to work right away, taking a snapshot of every room in the prison, poking and probing everything I knew about the place in search of the path of least resistance, the best possible way of escape. It had drawn a blank every time-except one. Just once I'd imagined that silver thread, one occasion when I'd sensed fresh air and freedom beyond Furnace's impenetrable walls.
Room Two.
Zee wouldn't stop talking as soon as I mentioned a way out. He practically leaped over the table, grabbing me by my collar, his eyes wide with desperation. I clamped a hand over his squawking mouth before the entire prison heard him, then we walked to the most isolated part of the yard we could find and I told him what I was thinking.
"You hear anything more about the cave-in?" I asked, speaking as quietly as I could. There was nobody nearby, but in a place like this you never knew if the walls had ears.
"Just that it happened a couple of months ago," he whispered back. "I heard some kid talking about it in the laundry. Roof came down, killed thirty guys and sent a load more through the vault door, to the infirmary. They haven't come back, though."
I nodded. Donovan had told me the same. It had been the worst disaster in Furnace, apparently, but the blacksuits just acted like it never happened. The room was sealed and anyone caught talking about it got a day in the hole.
"Didn't you notice the smell when we were standing outside the room the other day?" I went on. He shook his head, confused. "Not so much a smell, just a sensation. Something different, like a breath of fresh air."
"It smelled less like sweaty teenage boys, I guess," was all he could manage. "Why, is that your way out?"
I didn't say anything, and he raised an eyebrow.
"Come on, Alex, think about it. For starters, we're who knows how far underground. Even the biggest cave-in in history won't have opened up a path to the surface. You'd need an earthquake measuring like a million on the Richter scale. It just isn't going to happen."
I opened my mouth to argue but it was no good, Zee was on a roll.
"Two: you think that if by some freak of nature and blessing of God a giant crack in the rock opened up to lead us to salvation, that the guards in here would let us hammer away with picks in the very next room? I mean, there isn't even a proper door on Room Two, just a few planks of wood. That's kind of like tempting fate if you run a prison, don't you think?"
I chewed my lip, my brow furrowed. Zee had caught me off guard. He was right, of course. What was I expecting? A miracle exit that nobody had spotted yet? But my mind kept circling back to the silver thread.
"I don't know what's in there, Zee," I replied, casting my eyes across the vast yard to the crack that led to the chipping rooms, guarded as always by an armed blacksuit. "I just know we need to find out."
NEW FISH
MY HEAD WAS BUZZING with possibility as we made our way back across the yard, but Zee was doing his best to undermine my escape fantasies.
"What next?" he asked, grinning. "The hand of God poking through the ceiling and offering us a lift to the surface?"
"Zee," I said, trying to ignore him.
"No, a magical escalator that the guards use to nip up and get their shopping. It probably leads to the local supermarket. We could just hop on and get some dinner for the walk home."
"That's not funny."
"A transporter!" he cried out, then: "Beam me up, Scottie."
"Give it a rest!"
"I know, why don't we just find one of Leonardo da Vinci's flying machines and soar up the ventilation pipes?"
"What?" I asked, turning around and raising my arms. "I have no idea what you're talking about."
"I'm just trying to show you how ridiculous the thought of escape is," he said, quietly this time. "I mean, you stand a better chance just running into the elevator as the doors are closing and hoping that nobody sees you."
I grimaced. That idea had occurred to me too. I was about to reply when, as if on cue, a gentle rumble came from above us, like distant thunder. The shouting and laughing and chatter in the yard instantly died away as the noise increased in volume, making the ground shake and dropping clouds of dust from the ceiling far above. The elevator was on its way down.
"Well, now's your chance," said Zee, walking toward the yellow circle in the center of the yard. I followed him, keeping my eye on the elevator doors as the lift lowered to our level. We'd seen it drop a couple of times now, twice with blacksuits wheeling in massive trolleys of supplies and once with five ordinary Doberman dogs that were dragged squealing through the vault door. Other than that the elevator had remained sealed.
When it seemed it would never reach its destination there wa
s a crunch and the rumbling stopped. Half a minute later the huge doors grated open revealing three kids almost lost in the enormous interior. They hesitated when they saw the hundreds of unfriendly eyes glaring at them from the guts of Furnace, and one of them started crying. I couldn't hear him from this distance, but the way his shoulders shook was unmistakable.
"More new fish!" came a shout from the crowd that was gathering in the yellow circle, followed by a series of whoops and whistles. I noticed the Skulls making their way toward the elevator door, one pulling a nasty black shank from the inside of his overalls.
"Looks like they're getting the same warm welcome we did," said Zee, thrusting his hands in his pockets and shuffling uncomfortably on the stone. "Poor bastards."
One of the new arrivals walked calmly from the elevator. He was tall and well built, and the way he stood in front of Kevin and his posse made it clear he was no stranger to a fight or two. The Skulls stared him down for a few seconds then dismissed him, spreading out in front of the lift door to pick on the easier targets inside.
"Come on, you chickens," screamed Kevin at the top of his voice. "Get out here and get on your knees. I'm your boss now."
Two of the Skulls leaped into the lift and grabbed the inmates, pulling them out and throwing them to the stone. One rolled and tried to get back to his feet before getting a kick to the chest that sent him sprawling. The other, who had been crying, just lay there and howled. The Skulls laughed and imitated the sound. I felt my entire body burning with the desire to help, my muscles so tense that I thought they were going to snap. But what could I do? Charge in like an idiot again and risk someone else getting chewed to pieces?
Fortunately the horrible scene was cut short by the siren, which sounded for a good few seconds while everybody crowded into the yellow circle in the yard. Kevin saw me scowling at him and rubbed his eyes as if he was pretending to cry. Then he ran a hand across his throat and pointed to me before turning his attention back to the elevator. The two boys who had been dragged out were getting to their feet, the weeping lad being helped up by the other. Their faces were creased in agony and fear, and I shuddered, knowing that's what we must have looked like when we arrived.
With a hiss and a roar the vault door swung open to reveal the same horrendous group that had welcomed us a week ago. They prowled into the yard all growls and wheezes and muffled screams, and even though they were some distance away every single inmate in the prison shuffled backward.
Once again I found that I couldn't focus on the warden, my eyes slipping off him each time like two opposing magnets held next to one another. Frustrated, I turned my attention to the gas masks, who shuddered and shook like rag dolls as the warden introduced the three boys to Furnace. It was impossible to tell if the wheezers were feeling any emotion because their faces were covered with metal and scars, but I thought I could make out a gleam of excitement in their piggy eyes as they studied the fresh pickings before them.
"Maybe one of the new fish is a tunneling expert," Zee whispered to me as the warden gave his speech about rules. "That tall one looks like he might have already escaped from a couple of prisons."
I laughed inside, not wanting to draw any attention from the freaks as the warden read out a series of names and numbers. The tall kid was Gary Owens, the weeping one was Ashley Garrett, and I had to choke back a sob as the name of the third kid was read out-Toby Merchant. I didn't know him, but the name Toby was almost too much to bear. I was assaulted by the memory of my best friend lying on the carpet, his head blossoming, the same shade of red as a valentine rose. It could have so easily been him here, and me decomposing in a quiet graveyard. I guess we were both dead and underground.
One by one the boys drifted off with their cellmates, and as the warden and his ghastly crew vanished behind the massive door, the shouts of "new fish" and "fresh meat" rose up again from the crowd, serenading the terrified inmates to their new home. It was terrible seeing even more new faces shoveled into Furnace, more fuel for the horrors to devour in the dead of night, more innocent victims, no doubt, forced into their rawest nightmares.
The siren blew, letting the crowd disperse, and my attention returned to thoughts of escape. I jogged up the stairs toward my cell, Zee hot on my tail and still bombarding me with crazy ideas-including stuffing my sheet into my uniform and pretending to be one of the muscular blacksuits. I ignored him as I made my way down the platform, entering to see Donovan sitting on his bunk idly picking his nose. He looked at me distastefully, then flicked something in my direction.
"Haven't you got better things to be doing, Sawyer," he said with a sneer, "like trying to get us all killed? Why don't you start another fight? This time you might get lucky and bring the dogs and the wheezers up here."
I walked up to the bed and leaned against the wall, running a hand through my hair and sighing loudly.
"I couldn't just lie there not knowing what was going on," I said eventually. It was a lame excuse for something that could have got us both dragged away, but at least it was the truth. "Besides, you saw that thing. It wasn't interested in us. It knew exactly where it was going."
"You wouldn't be so damn cocky now if it had marked the door," Donovan spat back. "You'd be strung up somewhere beneath Furnace having your skin ripped off or your eyes skewered or something."
I felt my stomach turn and did my best to ignore his remarks. Donovan wiped a hand beneath his nose and sniffed loudly, looking me in the eye as if waiting for something.
"Okay, I'm sorry," I said quietly. "I really am. Come on, I've hardly been here any time, I didn't know how serious it all was." Donovan nodded gently but his eyes never left mine. "I just…" I paused, not quite sure what I was saying. "I just want to be doing something, something to help get us out of here. I don't want to be curled up and cowering in the dark when those things come for me. Okay?"
"What else is there to do?" was his emotionless reply.
"He thinks we can make a break for it," said Zee, smiling at Donovan as if he was talking about a silly child. "He thinks there's a way out."
"Oh yeah, there are plenty of ways," Donovan said, rummaging under his mattress and pulling out a small wooden shank. I was surprised to see it, but I guess everybody in Furnace needs some way of protecting themselves. He started scratching the rock wall, the homemade blade not even leaving a mark. "Just pick a spot and start digging. If nobody catches you, I reckon you could make it out in, say, a thousand years."
He tossed the shank back onto his bed then leaped nimbly onto the floor, barging past me and standing at the bars of the cell, looking down into the yard. I sat down on the bottom bunk and tried to ignore my frustration. In the relative silence I heard the sound of screaming from nearby but I tuned it out.
"Tell me what you know about the cave-in," I asked after a while. "In Room Two."
Donovan snorted.
"That was my reaction too," Zee said, sniggering. I wanted to leap up and slap him but I managed to control my temper and settled for a mean glare. He mouthed the word "sorry" and let me carry on.
"Something happened in there," I went on. "Those kids hit a fault line or something. I could smell it, Donovan, I could smell the fresh air."
"It was your imagination, you chump," he replied, resting his head against the bars. "Maybe someone let rip when you were standing next to them and you felt the draft."
"You were there too, the other day. Didn't you sense something? Anything?"
"Yeah, I sense it every time I walk into a room in here. I hope and pray that there might just be a hole in the rock and we can all make a run for it. Sometimes I hope so much that I can see the way out, I can smell the rain, I can hear the birds. But I can't, it's just an illusion. They say that hope can set you free, and I guess that's what it is. A tiny glimpse of freedom to keep us sane, if you follow me."
"It wasn't an illusion," I snapped. "I'm telling you, it was real. I didn't make it up."
I thought back, remembering the sensation
of being outside, of mountains and wind and endless views. Maybe it had just been an illusion, my brain's way of coping with the thought of never going aboveground again. I guess it made sense. I mean, I knew that Furnace could do funny things to your mind. But something deep inside me wouldn't let it rest, was screaming at me not to give up. I knew that inner voice well, the instincts that I had followed all the time when I was robbing houses.
"Fine, maybe it was just my imagination," I said. "But what if it wasn't? What if there is a way out? Isn't it worth a look?"
"Feel free," muttered Donovan. "I'm not stopping you."
"But we need your help, D," I added. "We can't do this alone."
"You mean you can't do this alone," Zee said, looking at me with a concerned expression. "Less of this we business, please."
I looked at Donovan for a response but he had straightened up and was staring down into the yard with an expression of disbelief.
"No way," he said with a laugh. "No way is he taking on the Skulls."
I jumped off the bed and ran through the cell door to the platform. Six floors beneath me I made out a small circle of people, each wearing painted bandannas and unsettled expressions. In the middle of the circle, prowling around like a caged tiger, was the tall, calm new boy, Gary Owens. Donovan and Zee rushed to my side and watched as Gary raised his hands, inviting the Skulls to throw a punch. Some had pulled shanks from inside their overalls but nobody was making the first move.
"He is either the bravest kid or the biggest idiot on the planet," said Donovan, his tone almost respectful. I'm not sure why but I suddenly felt a surge of jealousy that my cellmate was so impressed with him.
"Idiot, I'd say," I muttered. "He's going to die down there."
I saw Kevin walking up to Gary. The new kid was almost a head taller than the leader of the Skulls but Kevin didn't seem to care. His face was red, his expression apoplectic-all bulging eyes and foaming mouth. He grabbed Gary by the collar and started screaming at him. The acoustics in the prison weren't great, but from up here we got the gist, just like everybody else in Furnace who had stopped what they were doing to see what was going on.
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