by Amy Cross
“Sir...” She took a step forward, but the sight of so much blood on the desk was almost enough to make her vomit. “Sir, I think you need to see a doctor... Maybe a couple of doctors, one for your hand and one for your -”
“Nonsense,” he replied, his sore left eye twitching furiously as he continued to examine his skinless hand. “Maybe there's something in here, some kind of transmitter or bug, something that secretly sabotages my efforts. It's the only explanation.”
“But -”
“I know what you're going to say!” he added, interrupting her. “You're going to say that I've gone a little too far, that I'm over-thinking the situation, but that's where you're wrong. There are rules at work here, Amanda. Rules and patterns. That's what distinguishes us from common animals. We humans obsessively seek to explain the patterns in the world around us.”
“Uh-huh. If you say so. But maybe it's possible to go a little... too far?”
He placed his hand flat on the desk and then grabbed the scalpel. “I know what I'm doing. I just have to find whatever's controlling my hand, and I have to get it out!”
He placed the scalpel's blade against his palm, and then slowly he began to cut through the ragged muscle. After a moment, the scalpel's blade could be heard scratching against bone.
“Sir!” Amanda stammered, hurrying around the desk. “I think you're on the wrong path with this!”
“Nonsense!” he said eagerly. “I just haven't cut deep enough yet!”
“Sir!” Grabbing his hand, she slipped the scalpel away. “I can't let you do this!”
“But I have to work out how she's doing it,” he continued, staring at his hand as a fresh trickle of blood began to run down across the pinkish muscles, eventually reaching the torn flesh around his wrist. “She's making a fool of me! All the inmates are probably laughing now, they think she's smarter than me... Can you imagine that? I was top of my class at university, I was being groomed for a leadership role in the party, and now here I am, being made a fool of by some... piece of human trash! I can't allow that to continue!”
“No-one's making a fool of you,” she replied, opening one of the drawers in his desk and taking out the clean white towel he usually used for whiskey spills, “and you're still going to move on to bigger and better things. You know, if you hadn't fired the prison's only doctor last month, this would be a lot easier to fix!”
“I just want to know the truth,” he whimpered, with tears in his eyes. “There has to be a reason for her survival! It can't just be pure, blind chance!”
“Come here,” she continued, putting a hand on the side of his head and pulling him closer, until his face was resting against her bosom. “You've let this get on top of you,” she told him, stroking his cheek. “It's not your fault, but this Roper girl has somehow got into your mind, Billy. Come on, I've known you long enough, and I know damn well that you're not going to crumble just because some stringy, ugly, dumb girl found a little loophole that let her beat your game.” Still stroking the side of his face, she felt he was already starting to become calmer. “You're gonna stay strong,” she added. “You're gonna get through this.”
“But how is she doing it?” he sobbed. “I don't understand.”
“You know what I think?” She paused, trying to come up with an answer that might satisfy him. “I think it's just luck. That's all. I know you don't believe in luck, I know you think everything's caused by hidden mechanisms of the universe and all that what-not, but whatever, it's manifesting as plan old luck. You just need to keep playing the game, and sooner or later that ugly little head of hers is gonna get blasted open like a goddamn watermelon, and then you'll see I'm right.”
“Maybe,” he replied after a moment.
“Maybe?”
He sat up, sniffing back tears as he looked at her. “I guess I'll know when she finally loses,” he suggested, as his left eye began to twitch with a little less force. “And she will lose, won't she? She has to, eventually...”
“Absolutely,” she continued, using the side of her hand to wipe tears from his face, “and more likely than not, it'll happen tomorrow morning, bright and early. Her head'll paint that wall a nice new shade of red, and then you can get on with your calculations. Plus, you have to look on the bright-side. Even though she's very annoying, I'm sure Miss Roper has given you plenty of data.”
“Oh yes,” he replied, nodding. “If she dies before Thursday, that means I'll have her entire data-set ready for my first-of-the-month compilation and analysis session. It'd be much neater that way.”
“See? Another bright-side!”
He paused, before nodding. “Maybe.”
“I know how much you love analyzing your data on the first of each month,” she told him, stroking his hair. “In fact...” She paused for a moment, before a faint smile crossed her lips. “Why don't you amend the rules of the game? Bring that stringy bitch up here right now and have another round of the game? Have as many rounds as you need until... Well, you know what I mean. That way, you'll have more data and you'll also prove to yourself, to everyone, that Gemma Roper only lasted so long because of sheer, dumb good fortune.”
He took a deep breath, as if he was considering the idea, before sitting up straight.
“No,” he said finally. “No, I won't break my own rules. That would be tantamount to surrender. I shall stick to the usual procedure, and I shall wait until morning before pitting Miss Roper against that other girl again.”
“But -”
“I've made my decision,” he continued. “If I break the rules, it'd be like letting her win.”
“As you wish,” Amanda replied, although she seemed just a little disappointed.
“You can get back to work now,” he told her. “I have a lot to do here, and I'd probably get it done faster if I'm not disturbed.”
“Sure,” she replied, “but... Haven't you forgotten something?”
He stared at her blankly. “What?”
Clearing her throat, she looking down at his ravaged hand. “I think we oughta at least bandage that up for you.”
“Oh, right,” he replied. “Yes, of course. I'd quite forgotten.”
***
Seventeen hours, thirty-four minutes and nine seconds later, the Governor's eyes opened in his darkened bedroom and he realized the radio alarm had begun its morning rendition of Beethoven's 5th symphony. He stayed on his back for a moment, listening to the music and letting it swell his chest, before sitting up and tapping the top of the alarm, bringing silence back to the room.
A new day.
A new round of the game.
And this time, he felt certain that Gemma Roper would die.
Getting out of bed, he made his way to the sofa by the far wall. Amanda had laid out a fresh suit for the day, although when he began to unbutton his pajamas he was momentarily shocked by the large bandage on his right hand. Once he'd remembered the damage he'd caused during the previous day, he resumed the job of slipping out of his pajamas, which took considerably longer than usual, due to his injury. In fact, he was starting to regret picking his hand apart at all, since he'd found nothing hidden away beneath his flesh and now the wound was slowing him down.
Still, this morning – for the first time in almost a week – he felt as if he was back in control. Even his eye, which had been twitching so much of late, was now utterly calm, albeit still a little sore.
He'd had a little wobble, but now he was fine.
After his usual breakfast at the desk in his office, he took a moment to check through incident reports from the previous night. Everything seemed to be running smoothly, and even Amanda seemed especially complimentary, which he took as a good omen. As she cleared his breakfast tray from the desk, she asked if he was ready for the two girls to be called up so he could resume the game, but he replied that he would prefer to be properly groomed first. He therefore had the inmates' breakfast delayed by an hour, so that he could have his hair washed, his eyebrows plucked, and his m
ustache cleaned and waxed. He even told Amanda to check for stray nose-hairs, so that he could be sure of looking his best.
Then, and only then, did he tell the guard to go and fetch Gemma Roper and the other girl so that the game could begin.
Sitting at his desk while he waited for the girls to be brought up, he turned and looked out at the vast desert. Sometimes, the sight of so much bare, scorched land was enough to make him feel a little isolated, but today the view seemed utterly magnificent. He admired the emptiness of the place, and the bleached rocks that littered the land beyond the prison's pitch-black walls. More than anything, he felt a swell of pride at the knowledge that the San Marco DiMera Women's Prison and Correctional Facility was running as smoothly as ever. One day, he would be a high-ranking official in the party, and he'd look back on these days with great fondness.
Hearing footsteps, he turned just in time to see the guard stepping into his office.
“Are they ready?” the Governor asked with a smile, getting to his feet.
The guard opened his mouth to reply, but there was fear in his eyes and he seemed unable to get the words out.
“Roper and the other girl,” the Governor continued, still smiling as he slipped a black glove over his bandaged right hand. “Are they ready for this morning's round?”
“Not entirely, Sir,” the guard stammered.
“And what does that mean?” the Governor asked, stepping around the desk and heading over to the doorway. “It's not like they have anywhere else to be. Why aren't they ready?”
“They're...”
The guard's voice trailed off, but finally he took a deep breath.
“Prisoner 114185, Gemma Roper, is... missing, Sir.”
The Governor stared at him, convinced that he'd misheard.
“It's not just her, either,” the guard continued. “In total, five of the girls from the east wing are unaccounted for. I've got someone searching their cells right now, but... Sir, I hate to say this, but I think they might have escaped.”
As he heard those words, the Governor seemed almost frozen in place. Slowly, however, his left eye began twitching again, until clear fluid began leaking from the irritated tissue and ran down his cheek.
Day Twelve
“Move!” Barbara hissed, shoving Jacqui in the small of the back as they hurried along the dark tunnel. “What the hell's wrong with you? Get your ass in gear!”
“Watch who you're pushing,” Jacqui muttered, although she quickened her pace a little. “God, this place stinks. Are you sure we won't pass out from the fumes?”
As the others continued to bicker, Gemma remained at the back of the group, constantly glancing over her shoulder and watching for any sign that they were being followed. Since being woken in the middle of the night and told that the escape was about to happen, she'd been in a constant state of panic, terrified in case the prison's few guards caught wind of the attempt. She'd heard stories about executions in the aftermath of failed escape plans in the past, and she had no doubt that the Governor would be happy to line everyone up in a row and kill them in front of the others.
“This sewer system is a nightmare,” one of the other girls muttered, her voice muffled somewhat by the cloth she was holding over her mouth and nose. “How do we know which -”
Before she could finish, she slipped and landed hard on the wet, sludgy ground, before slipping into one of the waste-removal channels. Barbara quickly grabbed her and pulled her up.
“Stay focused!” Barbara hissed, hauling her to her feet and pushing her forward. “We've been studying the system, okay? We know which way to go, so stop second-guessing everything! It's too late to turn back now, anyway. They'll know we're missing by now.”
“Won't they send patrols out into the desert?” one of the others asked.
“What patrols?” Barbara asked. “It's not like the prison's exactly over-staffed. They'll take a look for us, then they'll give up. They'll just assume we've died out there.”
“And how are we going to survive?” the first girl asked. “Once we get up there, the heat'll kill us in just a few hours.”
“There's a town,” Barbara explained. “With luck, we can make it.”
“Good job we've got out lucky charm with us, then,” Jacqui sneered from the front of the group, briefly glancing back at Gemma. “Unless she's snitched on us to her boyfriend, and we end up getting mowed down by a gunship.”
“Stop arguing!” Barbara said firmly. “We're almost at the access panel!”
The bickering continued, but Gemma still held back. Her mind was racing and she couldn't quite believe that they'd managed to get so far, although she knew that Barbara and a couple of other women had been planning the escape for months. They'd all been told over and over that no-one had ever escaped from the San Marco DiMera Women's Prison and Correctional Facility, although most people believed that was simply a scare story that was used to deter others. Still, she couldn't shake the fear that the existence of the sewer system was somewhat convenient, and that the Governor would immediately guess which way they'd gone. He might be a madman, but she knew he was no fool.
“Out of the way!” Barbara hissed as they reached a junction.
“Which route now?” Jacqui asked.
“Up,” Barbara replied, looking up at a panel above their heads.
“That leads to the desert?” Jacqui continued. “Why the hell would they even build something like this?”
“So contractors can get into the system without having to go into the prison itself,” Barbara told her, reaching up and grabbing the end of the ladder that led up to the panel. “Any contractor requiring prison access would have to go through the screening process first, and that costs money. So the cheapskates built an external entry point for the sewer system, so that they could hire low-cost labor and have them enter through the desert access points. Don't ask me to explain the rest, but the good news is that we can use it as a way out.”
“And no-one ever thought of using this route before?” Jacqui asked cautiously.
“They didn't plan as well as we have,” Barbara continued, starting to haul herself up. “We'll be long gone before they can start coming after us.”
Gemma watched as Barbara began to climb. A moment later, she realized that Jacqui was watching her with a scowl.
“You go last,” Jacqui said firmly.
“Does it really matter?” Gemma asked.
“It matters to me, bitch,” Jacqui continued. “You're lucky the escape was today, or right now you'd be back in your cell with a big fucking hole right through your neck. You still might end up that way, if I get the chance. Goddamn bitch, you were willing to let me die in that game yesterday, rather than giving up your secret.”
“I don't have a secret,” Gemma told her, as the others began to climb up toward the panel. “I wasn't doing anything different to anyone else.”
“Lying whore,” Jacqui replied, shoving her out the way once the other three girls had started climbing. Grabbing the bottom of the ladder, she pulled herself up.
Gemma began to follow, but suddenly Jacqui's boot slammed down, hitting her on the side of the face where her cheekbone was already fractured. Crying out, Gemma flinched and pulled back, but a moment later she heard Jacqui laughing from above.
Sighing, Gemma waited a moment for the worst of the pain to subside, and then she reached up, grabbing the bottom of the ladder. Her fractured ribs from the other day were still painful, so it took a couple of tries before she was able to pull herself up. She was already falling behind the others, but she knew they wouldn't leave her behind. Out of breath and in pain, she forced herself to start climbing, and after a moment she heard a loud banging sound from above. Looking up, she saw a circle of light at the top of the shaft, with the bright blue desert sky overhead. She felt a flash of relief as she watched the other girls climbing out, and she realized that even if she died during the escape attempt, at least she'd be free when she drew her final breath.
<
br /> And she'd have survived the Governor's game. That alone was enough to give her strength.
Each step was agony, but Gemma forced herself to keep climbing until finally she reached the top and hauled herself out into the blazing light. She let out a gasp of relief as she tumbled down the side of the access shaft's entrance bay, landing hard on the scorching hot sand. Nearby, several black ants were scurrying past, quickly slipping into a crack in the ground. For a brief moment, Gemma felt an agonizing pain in her chest and face, and then she realized she could already feel the desert sun starting to burn the back of her neck. After taking a deep breath, she started getting to her feet, and she spotted the dark shape of the prison several miles away, squat and dark against the horizon.
“We did it,” she whispered, unable to contain a flash of hope as she turned to the others. “We -”
Stopping suddenly, she saw to her horror that the other four girls were standing several meters away with their hands behind their heads, while a golf cart had been parked nearby. Taking a step forward, Gemma finally made eye contact with the Governor himself, who had a gun aimed at the other girls while his secretary held a white parasol over his head to keep him in the shade.
“Congratulations,” he said with a smile. “You made it quite a long way. Albeit, you used the only possible escape route in the entire facility, which didn't make it hard to work out where we'd find you.”
Gemma took a step closer, her heart pounding as she contemplated turning and running. She knew she wouldn't get far, but it would be better than simply standing around and waiting to see what he decided to do next.
“Let's play a little mini-game,” the Governor continued. “The aim of the mini-game is to restore order.”
Suddenly he fired four times, quickly shooting each of the other girls and sending them slumping to the ground. Gemma watched in horror as blood poured from Jacqui's head, and a moment later she saw Barbara's dead eyes staring down at the desert's dusty floor.
