"Better have a good explanation for this, Sawyer," he hissed. I saw the mole, knew it was the same giant who always seemed to terrorize me. His fingers were like iron, squeezing my windpipe and refusing to let me draw a breath, let alone reply. I felt my vision cloud as I stared into the twin silver portals of the freak's eyes. In them I caught a glimpse of my own reflection-the bottom half of my face smeared with the blood that still gushed from my nose, my eyes the very essence of terror. Seeing what I'd been reduced to was infinitely more terrifying than the man who held me.
"Been fighting?" the blacksuit went on, and despite the pain I felt a massive wave of relief. He hadn't seen me climb out from the tunnel. I did my best to nod, and with a glint of shark teeth he threw me to the floor. I landed on my back, winded.
"Back to work," Moleface said, pointing the gun at me. "If I see you out here again during hard labor, then I'm going to splatter you all over the walls."
"Yes, sir," I said. Somehow I managed to pull myself to my feet, lifting my pick from the rack again and my helmet from the floor. I barely had the strength to stagger back through to Room Three, but beneath my crimson mask I was smiling.
A REVELATION
THE REST OF THE MORNING felt like a dream. The adrenaline had robbed my body of any sensation, leaving me completely numb, and I seemed to float back into the chipping room. As soon as Donovan saw me, he dropped his pick and ran over, taking my arm and helping me to the far wall. After checking to see that the blacksuit hadn't followed me in, he lowered me down onto the rock, using his sleeve to wipe the blood from my face. I just lay there, helpless as a baby, looking at him but not really seeing him.
"Christ," he said eventually, speaking over the pounding of picks. "I won't say I told you so. What happened? Guards? Dogs?"
I opened my mouth to speak, but instead of words I suddenly found myself spewing my breakfast all over Donovan. He reeled, disgusted, but his expression quickly snapped back to one of concern.
"You all right?" he asked. "For God's sake, don't get sick. They'll take you."
"I'm okay," I slurred. Puking seemed to have removed the lead ball from my stomach, and feeling gradually ebbed back into my body. I struggled to a sitting position and wiped the acidic drool from my lips. "Sorry about that."
"Little warning would have been nice," he muttered. He glanced toward the door then back at me. "You better get up. That guard will rip your guts out if he catches you sitting down on the job."
Taking a deep breath, I heaved myself upward, using my pick as a crutch. I looked at the solid wall before me, and the thought of smashing through it for the next few hours almost made me chuck again. Donovan lifted his pick and brought it down hard, bathing us in sparks and debris. He struck a couple more times before looking at me impatiently.
"Well?" he said. "What did you find?"
I grinned and shrugged. "I thought you weren't bothered."
"I'm not, just curious is all."
I started to reply, but he suddenly looked back toward the door and gently shook his head. I lifted my pick, glancing out of the corner of my eye to see Moleface standing in the doorway. I couldn't make out his expression, but something told me his silver glare was aimed right at me. I took a halfhearted swing, and when I looked again the guard had gone.
"I'll tell you later, big guy," I said, swaying unsteadily as I prepared to swing again.
Donovan just sniffed and muttered, "If you live that long."
SHOWERS, FRESH UNIFORMS, march to the canteen. I could do it blindfolded now, without thinking, which was just as well since I was on autopilot for the rest of the day. I couldn't stop going over what I'd done. It didn't seem like it could have happened, none of it. The memories sat in my mind like the tendrils from some half-forgotten dream, fragments that couldn't possibly have been real.
But they were. I had done it, dashed beneath the boards and entered the forbidden room-a crime that could easily have been my last. And for what? All that effort just so I could panic and flee at the slightest noise.
We arrived in the trough room to see that Zee was already there-positioned as far as possible from the bench occupied by the Skulls and staring mournfully at his lunch. Gary Owens was sitting at the head of his table, bandanna still perched on his shaven head. The other gang members sat around him like caged animals, not moving or talking and looking like they regretted ever joining the Skulls.
I cast my eyes around for Kevin but he was nowhere to be seen. Knowing this place, he was probably lying in a crypt of shadows in a dark corner somewhere, already forgotten. Scanning the room further I made out the two other new kids, Toby and Ashley, sitting in a corner sharing food from a single plate, pressed against each other for comfort. Both their faces were bruised.
Zee saw us approaching and shuffled along the bench to make room. He smiled at Donovan, but did a double take when he saw me. I'd washed off all the blood in the showers, but I was guessing my face was pretty pale.
"Where'd you find Casper the Friendly Ghost?" Zee asked Donovan as we sat down.
"Haunting Room Two," he replied softly.
"No way," said Zee, his eyes like pickled eggs. "You didn't?"
"Got busted too, the fool."
Zee's eyes bulged even farther from his face. I thought they were going to pop.
"I wasn't busted," I explained. "But it was close."
"You looked like someone had shot you in the face," Donovan said, his brow creased. I couldn't help but laugh.
"Well, I kinda had myself to blame for that," I muttered sheepishly. "I ran into a wall when I heard the growling."
"Growling?" Donovan asked, but Zee held up his hands and started waving.
"Whoa, whoa," he said. "Start from the beginning."
So I did. In hushed tones I told them how I'd got through the wooden boards into the room, how I'd felt the blast of cold air, and how it had been pitch-black-a revelation that got a laugh from both boys. I told them about the hum that I thought had been a growl. Lastly, I filled them in on my near escape from Moleface.
"You know he'd have probably shot you on the spot if he'd seen you climbing out from under those boards," Donovan said when I stopped talking. "I'm telling you, it's just too damn dangerous."
"So what was the noise? That hum?" Zee asked, ignoring the comments.
"I have no idea," I replied. "I couldn't place it. I know now that it couldn't have been a dog. I mean, I'm still alive, aren't I?"
"Something electrical maybe?" Zee asked. "The prison generator?"
Donovan shook his head.
"Nope, there's no way the generator would be through there. That room was carved from scratch by the inmates."
"Air vents?" Zee asked. "Maybe it was the sound of wind in the pipes. That might be where the draft came from too."
"What did I just say?" said Donovan. "There isn't anything in there. No wires, no pipes, no vents. Nada."
"No, you might be right," I said to Zee, trying to recall the sound in my head. "What if it was wind? I mean wind from the surface. Maybe the cave-in cracked open a rift in the rock. If fresh air is getting in, then we can get out."
"You're a little more substantial than thin air," Zee replied. "Besides, like I've said before a million times, if there was a route to the surface, then don't you think they'd have sealed it off with something more secure than a few planks?"
I ground my teeth together, exasperated.
"Well, I sure as hell didn't imagine it," I hissed after a moment's silence. "I heard something in that room, something big enough to make a roar or a growl or whatever. I'll figure it out."
Donovan snorted and rose to go get some food. After scanning the trough room, however, he collapsed back down onto the bench.
"Incoming," he whispered.
I glanced up to see that Gary and his henchmen were making their way across the room toward the exit to the yard. The inmates were scampering out of his way with a deference that they'd never shown toward Kevin. The former Skull l
eader had been violent, yes, but there was something different about Gary. Kevin had tortured and killed to prove something, because he knew that life was valuable, something precious to take away. But Gary lashed out and killed as if life was nothing, meaningless, like he was crushing a bug.
"Don't look at him," Zee whispered, and I lowered my eyes to the table. When I raised them again, however, I found myself staring right into Gary's face. He was standing on the other side of the table, behind Zee, eyeballing me like I'd just killed his dog.
"I hear you've got a problem with the Skulls," he said in a voice that turned my bones to water. "Picking fights you got no business picking."
My tongue had turned to sandpaper, my limbs to lead.
"Well come on, then," Gary challenged, raising his hands. His knuckles were swollen and bloody. "You think you're so tough, then why don't you step up and take a crack at me?"
He pushed Zee out of the way and leaned on the table. This close I could see a line of blond hair on his top lip, like a tiny wig over his cracked and yellow teeth. I thought for a moment that I was going to puke again. At least I'd humiliate him before I was shanked. I swallowed hard and stared at the table.
"Look at me when I'm talking to you," he spat, grabbing my chin and wrenching it up. His fingers were rough against my skin. "I'm telling you to come on, let's see what you've got."
"Not enough," I breathed.
"What?"
"I'm sorry," I said, louder this time, then added "sir" for good measure.
"Too late." He pushed my head back so hard that I felt something pop in my neck. Then he slammed his hand on the table, sending Zee's food and drink flying. "You're marked. You're mine. You'll get your fight, little man."
And with that he turned and pushed through the Skulls, making his way toward the exit. I lowered my head and winced as pain cut through the tendons. Rubbing my neck, I saw Donovan and Zee staring sheepishly at the table.
"You okay?" asked Zee, not looking up.
"Oh yeah, that was fine," I replied, doing my best to hold back the tears that were building up behind my eyes. "No problem."
I put my elbows on the table and cupped my head in my hands so that nobody would see my glassy eyes. But I couldn't stop the floodgates from bursting. I blinked, and a tear dropped from my face to the plastic surface, winding its way gently toward the other side of the table. It wasn't alone, merging with the trail of water that had spilled from Zee's plastic cup. I watched the little stream meander through the piles of brown slush, flowing inexorably toward the edge.
And then it hit me, a revelation so bright and wonderful that it was as if the lights in the room had doubled in strength. I sat bolt upright, so quickly that Zee and Donovan both flinched.
"The noise. I know what it is."
They looked at me as if I'd gone mad.
"It's water," I said, pointing at the mess on the table. "It's an underground river."
THE RETURN
WE ARGUED ABOUT MY revelation through practically the whole of trough time, Donovan scoffing at the idea with his usual disdain. As soon as we'd sat down with our trays of mush, he began listing the reasons why it was impossible.
"They didn't just pick a spot in the gorge and plonk the prison down inside it," he ranted between, and often during, mouthfuls. "I mean think about it, they must have done a hundred checks first, a million. Rock samples, scans of the tunnels, analysis of the caves already here, probably even psychological tests on the bugs that live underground. They'd have seen a river if there was one."
I poked my plastic food with my plastic fork and mulled over what he was saying.
"And if the cave-in had breached the river, then surely we'd all be floating by now," he went on.
"Not if it's beneath us," added Zee, using his fork to steal some of my mush. The idea of escape seemed to have finally filtered through his skepticism, and he was at last taking my side. "I mean, the cave-in could have opened up a rift that went down, not up."
"So what use is that?" Donovan asked. "Burrow even deeper into your own prison, head farther underground. Great idea."
"Well, that water's got to go somewhere," I said.
"So you think you'll just pop up in the girls' showers at the local gym, then," Donovan hounded. " 'Hello, ladies, don't mind us, we're just escaping from jail. By the way, you've missed a spot, allow me.' "
We all laughed at the idea.
"Okay, it probably won't end up there," I said. "But what if it goes up top?"
"What if it stays underground for a hundred miles?" Zee said, shuddering. "We could end up drowning."
"Better that than this, right?" I asked, but both boys were shaking their heads.
"Got life here, Alex," said Donovan. "Ain't much of one, but I'm still breathing. Just isn't worth the risk."
"He's right, you know," muttered Zee. "I'm not much of a swimmer, and I don't much like being stuck in small places neither. I think we should just stick it out here. You never know, they might close this place down tomorrow."
"They might come and take you tonight," I retorted, but it was no use. Zee started talking to Donovan about soccer, and I tuned out the conversation, retreating into the comfort of my own mind. The more I thought about it, the more the noise made sense-the distant, muted rush and roar of a million tons of water speeding past beneath our feet. If I could just get to it, maybe it would carry me home.
AFTER LUNCH WE headed back out into the yard. Donovan claimed he wanted to go to the gym, so Zee and I jogged up the stairs to my cell, sitting down on the bunk and preparing for another afternoon of mind-numbing boredom. We'd only been chatting idly for a few minutes before Donovan came storming into the cell, his eyes full of murder.
"They wouldn't let me in," he fumed, pacing up and down as best he could in the tiny space. "That new kid has taken over. Now the gym's out of bounds for anyone who isn't fighting. He's got the Fifty-niners on his side too; they're too scared to argue."
"So why not go in and knock his block off?" Zee asked. "I mean, you're easily as big as him, go and teach him a lesson."
"Not worth it," said Donovan, sighing loudly then climbing onto his bunk. "It's just not worth it. I don't mess with them, they don't mess with me."
Zee and I looked at each other as we listened to Donovan punching the wall in frustration, then he fell silent.
"Plenty of gyms on the surface," I hinted, but there was no response.
We sat there as the minutes ground by, life running in slow motion. In here, even time seemed moribund. My mind was already beginning to rot. I'd forgotten half the books I'd ever read, lost the TV shows I once loved. I struggled to even remember what certain colors looked like, as Furnace's relentless palette of reds and blacks and grays had long since rendered blues and greens and oranges a distant memory, as vague and delicate as a spider's thread.
To pass the time Zee and I summarized our favorite films, doing our best to act them out to one another. I ran through the Indiana Jones saga, impersonating my hero and even using a pillow as his hat and the sheet as a whip. My amateur dramatics had Zee in stitches, and even woke Donovan from his funk as I acted out the plot of the seventh film, which he'd never seen.
Zee picked a trilogy about some kid inventors, although his memory was useless and he was forever stopping and going back to fill in a vital piece of the story that he'd missed out, or revealing the end before he'd reached the middle. By the fifth time he'd said, "Oh, wait, that never actually happened," Donovan and I were rolling around on our beds, tears streaming down our faces. They were good tears, though.
The siren blew for dinner midway through my account of the third Darren Shan movie, but we deliberately waited as long as we could before traipsing downstairs. Our delay worked, and by the time we reached the trough room it was almost empty, the inmates behind the canteen already starting to clear away. We grabbed the last few plates of swill and wolfed them down as quickly as possible.
The only other boy in the room was Ke
vin, who sat alone on a bench near the door, devouring his food with a nervous twitch that reminded me of a rat eating trash. He saw me looking and snarled, but soon broke eye contact, pathetic in the absence of his gang.
From there, we headed back to our cells. Zee claimed he was beat, and disappeared down the platform on level four. Donovan and I continued upward but we walked in silence, both too exhausted to bother with conversation.
As soon as we entered our cell, I lay down on my bunk and felt my eyelids droop. I didn't struggle, letting sleep gather me up in her gentle arms and carry me far away from Furnace. I should have stayed awake. I had no idea that she was about to betray me, that she would carry me to the most horrific thing I'd witnessed since I descended to the bottom of the world.
IT ALL STARTED with a dream, the same one I'd had so many times since I arrived here. I was trapped inside a glass prison, one that looked out over my old home. Each night I had the dream, the house looked different, less solid. It was like a little piece here and there had been erased from existence, forgotten.
My parents were inside, as always. They were strangers to look at, my unconscious mind no longer able to picture them as they once were, but I knew it was them. It was always them.
And it was always the same sequence of events. I watched through the glass as the blacksuits and the dogs approached my front door, the beasts crashing through the windows, gripping my mom and dad in their dripping muzzles, sucking the crimson life from their veins.
The wheezer slammed on the other side of my prison, a twisted reflection that I still didn't understand. I beat the glass and screamed until my throat was raw, but nothing could stop them dragging my loved ones away, throwing their writhing, stained bodies into a prison meat wagon.
This time, however, something was different. I kept beating on my transparent prison cell, my bleeding fists creating cracks in the glass. The cracks spread across the entire wall, each one letting in a trail of clear liquid, as if the prison was submerged underwater. The harder I struck, the bigger the cracks got, until the glass cube began to fill up.
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