Furnace 3 - Death Sentence

by Alexander Gordon Smith

  ‘It’s over,’ hissed the warden, his face immense, his eyes once again those lightless pits that promised an eternity of suffering, twin portals which seemed to bore right through me. ‘Make your choice now. Surrender the traitors, or you will all die.’

  ULTIMATUM

  ‘Obedience is the difference between life, death and the other varieties of existence on offer here in Furnace,’ said the warden from the screen, repeating the same line I’d heard so many times before.

  I studied his face, saw the bruise that had begun to creep over the bridge of his nose, collecting in the deep bags beneath his eyes. Another blemish stretched from his ear down to his shirt collar, presumably where Zee had kicked him. He looked battered, but there was no sign of weakness in his remorseless gaze, which seemed to flood the prison with a cold, invisible darkness.

  ‘Someone gave him a beating,’ said Bodie, his hushed voice about the only sound in the yard apart from the fire. He turned to me. ‘That you?’

  ‘Team work,’ I replied.

  ‘Nice,’ he said. ‘Got what was coming to him.’

  ‘Quiet!’ said the warden, the word almost screamed, sending everyone flying back some more. I remembered the bank of television monitors in the warden’s quarters, and the ones that had been mounted in the control room. I scanned the wall before me until I saw it – a black eye in the rock between the elevator doors and the warden’s face, the camera he must have been watching us on.

  ‘This is my house,’ the warden went on. ‘And in my house a riot like this is punishable by death.’

  That last word was a snake’s hiss, and it ushered in a wave of sobs and cries from the inmates around me. He seemed to smell their fear even through layers of rock, his nostrils flaring and his upper lip pulling back to reveal yellow teeth as big as tombstones on the monitor.

  ‘For the most part, I would be willing to forgive this infraction. I have been watching you, and I know who is responsible. Those who return to their cells and wait for my men to lock you in will not be punished. I am even prepared to pardon those who took part in the fire fight, on one condition.’

  ‘Here it comes,’ said Simon. He had shuffled to my side, drawing ranks against the inevitable.

  I stared into the warden’s eyes, trying to remember how weak they had looked last time I’d met them – pale and watery and all too human. But all I could see now were black holes which caused the rest of the prison to disintegrate around them, sucking every trailing piece of matter into their soulless depths. As I watched, mesmerised, the warden’s voice seemed to split in two, causing another rush of vertigo that almost had me on the floor.

  ‘Bring me the three inmates who escaped from the lower levels,’ said one voice, the main one, which blasted from hidden speakers around the screen. The other had no physical source. It seemed to come from the gaping abyss of the warden’s eyes, a sonic boom that ground itself into my brain.

  How dare you, it said, the force of the words making my vision flicker. I gave you strength that you never dreamed of possessing, power beyond your wildest dreams, and this is how you repay me?

  ‘Alex Sawyer, Zee Hatcher and Simon Rojo-Flores. Bring me those three and consider your debt to me wiped clean,’ he went on. ‘Life will go on just as it did,and this mess will be forgotten.’

  The other voice spoke at the same time, softer than the real one yet at the same time a million times louder.

  Never have I felt so much disappointment, so much shame. To throw everything I offered back in my face. I showed you secrets that would turn the world on its head, and I promised you a place in the fatherland to be unveiled.

  ‘What choice do you have?’ the warden’s lips moved with these words. ‘There is no way out of Furnace Penitentiary. Your attempts are futile, and if you persevere with them then I guarantee that you will all meet an agonising death.’

  The crime you have committed here is unspeakable, and unforgivable, the voice was growing louder inside my skull, each syllable a knife edge. There is no punishment fit enough for a traitor like you, but believe me when I say you will know all the pain of the world before you meet an agonising death.

  The warden’s real words and those in my head were perfectly timed so that the final phrase – ‘agonising death’ – seemed to resonate through me. I felt the strength in my legs fade, tried and failed to stay standing.

  ‘He cannot save you,’ bellowed the warden as I thumped down onto my knees. ‘Look at how weak he is. Neither one of you nor one of us. A coward, a traitor, a mutant, a rat, to be disposed of like trash.’

  How does it feel when the power goes? How does it feel to be the pathetic boy you once were? How does it feel knowing that even when they trample you to death I will bring you back for more pain, more suffering? Oh yes, death will not find you here quickly.

  Both Simon and Zee had their hands on my shoulders, their voices calling to me, but all I could feel was the warden’s poisonous probing in my brain, and all I could hear was his real voice on screen.

  ‘This will soon be over, and it is up to you to decide how it ends. Pick one path and all you will find is darkness. Choose the other and by lockdown tomorrow this will be but a distant memory.’ The warden leant into the screen, his eyes expanding until there was nothing but a hurricane of lightless night. ‘Leave their corpses by the elevator.’

  The last few scraps of colour vanished from the monitor and it powered off. With it the pain from the warden’s voice burst from my head like a startled bird, leaving me with nothing but nausea. I shook it off, letting Simon and Zee help me to my feet.

  Every single eye was looking our way. Bodie and his Skulls still brandished their pickaxes, but they were no longer facing the elevator shaft. Instead they moved as one towards us.

  ‘Kill them!’ yelled a voice from somewhere overhead. It was taken up by others, becoming a wave of sound that was almost powerful enough to crush me by itself. Bodie stared at the crowd then looked at the Skull to his left, who shrugged.

  ‘Giving us immunity,’ the boy said. ‘Pretty generous, for the warden.’

  ‘And all we gotta do is flatline these three,’ added Bodie. ‘Seem like a fair deal to yous?’

  ‘Wait –’ I started, cut off by another round of cries from the inmates. Even past my fear I thought that this must have been what it was like in the Coliseum, being condemned to death by a jeering crowd. ‘Bodie,’ I tried again. ‘Come on.’

  I imagined the warden watching events unfold on the screens in front of him, laughing as we were pounded into the rock. I was determined not to show fear, but I knew my expression was a mask of pure terror and there was nothing I could do to change it. Bodie was close enough now to strike, his knuckles almost white around the pickaxe handle. The Skulls and Fifty-Niners were moving around us, forming a ring of bodies, while others kids were trampling down the steps to get a closer view.

  Or to join in when the slaughter started.

  ‘You want me to kill them?’ yelled Bodie, addressing the mob. There were a few more cries, but the inmates seemed uncertain now. There was a madness in his eyes, one that must have scared them as much as it did me. ‘You want me to kill these three, the only ones who’ve had the guts to stand up to the warden? The ones who might just get us the hell out of here? You want me to kill them because he tells us to?’

  This time the prison was silent.

  ‘And for what? So he can lock us all up again? So we can go back to spending every waking hour terrified of our own shadows, and lie awake at night waiting for the wheezers?’

  ‘The warden said –’ came a voice from somewhere behind me.

  ‘Yeah, the warden said,’ interrupted Bodie, loud enough for everyone to hear. ‘The warden said we’d die if we didn’t obey. He said that we had to kill them. He said a lot of things just now, but the fact is he’s saying stuff instead of doing stuff, and when have you ever known him to do that? He’s locked beneath our feet, him and his suits. Alex, Zee, Simon, they put
him there, in the ground, and he ain’t getting back up anytime soon.’

  This time the muttered words that emerged from the crowd were murmurs of agreement, and for the first time since the warden had vanished off screen I felt my body relax. Not much, but enough to let me breathe.

  ‘Yous all know the rules of the street,’ Bodie went on. ‘Well, those of yous who’re in here ’cos of the game, that is. Them that say are the ones who get ended by them that play. And the only ones who run their mouths off are them that don’t have no power left but their own voice.’

  That streak of insanity was still visible in Bodie’s eyes, but now it reminded me of a preacher delivering a sermon, all fire and brimstone. And it was working. Those quiet chirrups of sound were growing into something more, a chorus of cheers building up around us.

  ‘I can’t promise that we’ll all get out of here. Hell, I can’t even promise that any of us will. But I know one thing for sure: we stand more of a chance staying alive by fighting to get outside than we do sitting in our cells waiting for the warden to pick us off one by one. So …’

  He lifted his pick off his shoulder and held it up to my forehead.

  ‘You want me to do them, then you just say,’ he went on, and all of a sudden the prison fell quiet again. ‘Or you want to tell the warden where to stick his pardons and then get the hell out of here?’

  The inmates erupted, cheering Bodie on as he turned and threw the pickaxe at the screen. It struck the corner, a giant crack snaking out across the glass. Without pausing, Bodie grabbed the shotgun that had been leaning against the elevator doors and aimed it towards the camera.

  ‘Screw you,’ I heard him say as he pulled the trigger, the black eye exploding outwards in a geyser of shrapnel and sparks. He tossed the empty weapon to the floor and walked up to us.

  ‘Thanks,’ I said, picturing the warden fuming in his chair as the monitor blacked out. ‘How the hell did you turn that round? I thought we were meat.’

  ‘Gift of the gab,’ he replied. ‘’Bout time I got to use my silver tongue for something in here.’

  ‘The warden is gonna be pissed as hell,’ said Zee. ‘We better get that elevator open fast.’

  ‘True that,’ said Bodie. ‘At least we know he’s scared. He’s shown his hand too early and it’s empty. He knows we’ve got a chance of climbing the shaft – he must do.’

  ‘Then let’s do it,’ said Zee.

  I risked a quick look over my shoulder, wondering if there would still be inmates willing to shank me just to end the siege. There were hundreds of pairs of eyes looking my way but I didn’t see any with murder in them. Bodie’s speech had been good, the kind I wish I could have made. He’d united the boys of Furnace, they were with us now come victory or defeat, life or death.

  Bodie, Zee and Simon were walking off but I raised a hand and stopped them in their tracks.

  ‘Just a minute,’ I said to Simon. ‘Don’t think you’re off the hook. I’ve got a question I need you to answer and I don’t want to hear any lies.’

  Simon blanched, holding his hands up like he was frightened for his life. Zee and Bodie were both looking at me as if I’d gone mad, and I fixed Simon with a serious look for as long as I could hold it before bursting into laughter.

  ‘Rojo-Flores?’ I said. ‘What the hell kind of name is that?’

  CRACKING THE GATE

  Bodie had been right. Five minutes after the warden vanished from the screen there was still no sign of him,no sign of the retribution he had promised. Ten minutes after that and the inmates of Furnace were starting to feel invincible, running round the prison looking for the hidden security cameras and shouting insults at the warden. Some were even flashing their backsides at him, or relieving themselves over the black eyes in the rock, and I couldn’t help but laugh as I pictured him sitting in his quarters effectively getting pissed on.

  And that was the least of his problems, from the sounds of it. Just as we were starting up on the elevator doors again one of Bodie’s lieutenants came rushing from the tunnel, shotgun hanging by his side.

  ‘Yo, boss, better take a listen to this,’ he coughed, gesturing back with his weapon the way he’d come.

  Zee and I followed Bodie down the tunnel back to the ruined control room, the crunch of loose rock beneath our feet masking the noises from below until we were right up against the gates of the lower elevator.

  ‘Wait for it,’ said the Skull who’d come to fetch us. ‘Ain’t loud but …’

  We heard it, a muffled pop from somewhere deep under our feet. It was followed by several more, like a kid playing with bubble wrap. I thought I could hear something else too, a howling scream that sent shivers up my spine even though I didn’t know if it had been real or in my imagination.

  ‘What do you think’s going on?’ asked Zee, leaning on the skeletal remains of the elevator car. ‘Sounds like gunfire.’

  ‘What the hell they be shooting at down there?’ Bodie said. ‘Each other?’

  ‘Gary,’ I replied.

  ‘Say what?’ said one of the Skulls. ‘You mean Gary Owens?’

  ‘Thought he was dead,’ said Bodie as I nodded.

  ‘He was taken, yeah,’ I explained. ‘Taken the same time Zee and I were, out of the river. Warden was turning him into a blacksuit too, only … Only he became something else, something worse.’ I tried to remember what the warden had called him. A berserker.

  ‘Worse than what he was up in here?’ said Bodie with a whistle. ‘That real bad.’

  I waited as a fresh round of gunfire exploded from below before telling them about Gary, the monster he’d become, and how I’d let him out of his cage to fight the suits. I’d seen him take down six or more armed guards without stopping for breath. If he was still down there rampaging through the tunnels then the warden would have his work cut out for a while.

  And if Gary was loose there was nothing stopping him freeing the other prisoners, and releasing the rats. Hell, maybe the air of revolution had somehow found its way down to the prison underbelly. Even the rats weren’t so far gone that they wouldn’t recognise the smell of freedom if they caught it.

  ‘Think he knows enough to find his way back here?’ asked Bodie. I felt my blood run cold as I pictured Gary clawing his way up the elevator shaft, bursting into the prison. There’d be nothing to stop his killing spree.

  ‘Let’s hope not,’ was all I could think of to say.

  ‘And if he does,’ Zee added, ‘let’s make sure we’re well and truly vamoosed.’

  By the time we were back out in the yard Simon and a large Fifty-Niner were pounding at the main elevator doors again, the sound of their pickaxes striking the steel making my ears hurt. Their aim was a lot better than mine had been, a cluster of pockmarks centred around the faint line where the doors met each other. As I got closer I could see that the metal was starting to weaken, each relentless strike parting it a little more.

  ‘Good work,’ said Bodie. ‘Bit more and we might be able to wedge something between the doors, force ’em open.’

  ‘A bit more and you’re gonna have to pull my corpse out of the way first,’ said Simon, panting hard. He held his pickaxe out to me. ‘Here, your turn.’

  ‘Yes sir, Mr Rojo-Flores,’ I replied, snatching the tool from him and ignoring his raised middle fingers. ‘What does that name mean anyway?’

  ‘Literally it means “Killer-of-those-who-take-the-piss”,’ he said. ‘So watch it.’

  ‘Means red flowers,’ corrected Zee, making us all laugh – including Simon. He muttered playfully as he walked out of my way, leaving me a clear shot at the doors. Bodie took the other axe from the Skull and I waited for him to strike before bracing myself, squaring my shoulders and relaxing my muscles. This time I didn’t put all my strength into it, focusing on my aim instead. My pickaxe made contact a couple of centimetres or so from the centre, the impact still jarring but not enough to dislocate my arms.

  While Bodie struck again I looked out acros
s the prison, watching the inmates mill around restlessly. Most were looking at us, others raiding the various rooms and cells in search of anything useful. At least they weren’t still all trying to kill each other.

  ‘In your own time, Alex,’ said Bodie. ‘It’s not like we’ve got a deadline here or anything.’

  I mumbled an apology, swinging my pickaxe again and grinning with satisfaction as it struck the line between the doors, opening up a lip in the metal. Bodie aimed for the same place and hit the bull’s-eye with a whoop of triumph. I missed with my next two shots but he was bang on every time, the hole reluctantly parting a little more with each jarring impact.

  It was my next strike which finally did it, however. With a grunt of effort I rammed the head of my axe square into the gap that was forming, the point sliding between the doors with so much force that it was jammed tight. I tried to pull it out but Bodie stopped me.

  ‘Leave it,’ he said, pushing me away and grabbing the handle. Instead of wrenching the pick free he braced a foot on the door and twisted, using it like a lever. There was an angry protest of gears from behind the wall as the doors began to part, sliding open a centimetre or two. Bodie grimaced, hissing out an order between his teeth as he struggled to hold the doors open. ‘Get a prop in there.’

  Zee was the first to react, grabbing another of the picks and wedging the handle in the crack at the bottom of the elevator. Bodie let go, panting hard but smiling at the shadowed slit that now separated the two doors. There was a round of cheers and high-fives from the cluster of kids by the lift.

  ‘Who wants to do the honours?’ he asked, stepping back. I walked to the doors, putting my face up to the crack between them and trying to focus on the muted light inside. It was impossible to make out any details through such a small space, but I was pretty sure that what I was looking at was the smooth metal walls of the elevator cab rather than the rough hewn rock of the shaft.