by A. J. Dobbs
‘Well it was, as you can imagine, a tough fight; they say that Thera has not seen a fight like it in its history and will never see the like of it again, but no Keeper was going to defeat me, not the great Odling Victor Smee.’
‘Do you have a plan? When do you want to escape?’
‘Easy, Bishop, there is no hurry; all in good time. I’m not going to make the same mistakes again; staying here will lull them into a false sense of security. They will eventually forget about me, think I’m no threat and that’s when I’ll leave. Until then I need to take control of this place and make my life as bearable as possible. Tell me, Bishop, who runs things here?’
Bishop went on to describe both the formal and informal structures within Arahas, how a man by the name of Big Jack ran the rackets and cons. Well, Big Jack was in for one big surprise as Odling Victor Smee was about to take over.
The structures in Arahas were cunning, that’s for sure, and much more sophisticated than I had at first assumed. The warden, Frank Buckley, was running an impressive racket with Big Jack that amazed even me.
Buckley was given each month by Tolemak certain quantities of what is known as spindrift. Spindrift is the spray, if you like, off the outer edges of the regulus and whilst not as powerful as the regulus energy itself, it does allow a Theran to transport themselves to Earth or Arthe or almost anywhere in Thera. The downside of spindrift in the small quantities that Buckley used is that it’s not a permanent transfer; think of it like a stretched rubber band: after a while the rubber pulls you back.
Buckley was a Theran and, as warden of Arahas, was allowed spindrift to visit the current controllers of Earth and Arthe, to report on the prison activities. Corruption had, however, got the better of him after many years of working in Arahas and he found he had sufficient time on his visits to do other business and using contacts Big Jack had on Earth he was able to build an impressive black economy. Between the two of them they were targeting inmates who had stashed booty from their crimes, but who obviously couldn’t access it. By convincing them to let up their secrets they would convert the stolen goods into cash, take a percentage and the rest was put aside for the escapee. The prisoner was then given spindrift to return home. They didn’t know, of course, that it was not a permanent transfer so at the other end someone would be there to meet them and kill them. Big Jack and Buckley would then pocket the rest; they had amassed a tidy sum, according to Bishop, and constantly created room for more unsuspecting prisoners. It was quite the plan. What I didn’t know was why. What use was the money to them? Bishop’s explanation on this point was incredible, but that explanation is not for now; I needed to think.
I turned to Bishop. ‘Where is the warden now?’
‘He’s in the town for the morning, won’t be back until after lunch. Why?’
‘I need to meet Mr Buckley, we have much to discuss.’
‘Oh, don’t worry, he knows you’re arriving today; I’m sure he will want to meet you.’
Bishop switched back into guard mode as he marched me out of the admin block and called back the two guards who had initially accompanied us.
‘Take this piece of scum to block three.’
‘Yes, sir.’ The two responded in drone-like unison and I was taken in silence.
The prisoners’ quarters were formed from four barrack blocks each holding fifty prisoners and there were four blocks in total. The prisoners were all from Earth and Arthe, the worst of the worst, and had been sent here for life. There was no going back for them; escape was futile and fruitless. Thera’s lack of a wealth economy meant there was nothing to steal, which is what these people had been doing all their lives, and even if they had escaped from Arahas, the Eastern Desert is no place for a malnourished, dehydrated prisoner. Arahas was not the prison; Thera itself was.
The four rectangular blocks were laid out in lines of two in the centre of the compound, which was itself inside the inner fence that housed the exercise yard. The wire fence was about ten feet high and the whole compound was in the firing line of the guard towers on the outer perimeter. Weapons are not commonplace on Thera but were used in Arahas. We entered the inner compound and I was shoved in the back by one of the guards; I stumbled and fell with the surprise attack.
‘Block three is the closest one to you on the left, make yourself at home.’
Both men laughed as they turned away, locking the gate behind them.
As I stood up and brushed myself down I surveyed the scene before me; it was like a painting, everyone was frozen still in my field of view. Hundreds of eyes now focused on me, drilling into my thoughts, before the silence was broken with cheers as the whole prison population started to charge toward me.
I felt like a farmhand stuck in a stampede of cattle. Unlike my fictional farmhand, however, I was not in danger as they started to slow as they approached me and, soon surrounded, I was lifted up onto their shoulders and paraded around like a trophy. The first distinctive voice I heard came from the back of the crowd.
‘Put him down… Put him down now.’
This was to be my first encounter with Big Jack.
‘Smee, we’ve heard a lot about you. Don’t think that just because you killed a Keeper you’re someone special; they’re just men like the rest of us and I’ve killed hundreds of men.’
Big Jack was not, in fact, big at all; he was a skinny man around 5ft 5in tall. Clearly the reference to big in his self-named title did not refer to his stature, which in many ways made him more menacing. I respected that; I was much the same myself.
‘I’ve not come here with any thoughts at all, and you are…?’
‘I’m Big Jack, I run this place and you will do well to remember that.’
‘Well, Big Jack, I didn’t ask for the cheers and I didn’t ask to be hauled aloft like a trophy, so you’d better address those concerns to your… men,’ I said condescendingly.
I thought I would just test him, see how he responded. He did respond; he rushed forward and the last thing I remember is excruciating pain in my jaw. I hit the floor and when I came around I had a lump on my head to match the swelling on my face and the pain in my jaw; I now understood why Big Jack was so called…
I came around in a bottom bunk in block three; no nursing staff, of course, and the first sense that fired was smell. The place stank, stank like a cesspool. With no adequate ventilation and fifty filthy bodies occupying a space that was no more sophisticated than a chicken coop, my sense of smell was ambushed by the putrid aromas. As I started to move, I winced with the pain, just as a voice from near the door caught my attention.
‘I hear you’ve met Big Jack.’
Standing in the doorway was a medium-build man around 5ft 10in tall, wearing a suit and tie with brown hair and glasses. He looked like a headmaster of a school and either side of him were the two guards I’d met earlier with Bishop. This I assumed correctly to be the warden, Frank Buckley.
‘Well I didn’t meet him as such; he just hit me.’
‘You need to be mindful of what you say to people, Smee. These are hardened criminals not pussycats; they have short fuses… anyway, I just came to introduce myself, I do so with all new inmates. I am the warden and you will address me as “sir”. You will be with us a long time, Smee, so I suggest you keep your head down and out of trouble.’
‘Yes, sir, I will. I will heed your advice, I don’t want any trouble.’
‘Good, then we’ll all get along just fine.’
I was expecting more from our first encounter, but that would come, I thought.
June 2007 Arahas Prison, Eastern Desert
A month in Arahas is not for the faint hearted and I was destined to spend the rest of my life here if the Keepers had their way. After my first encounter with Big Jack I had taken the advice of the warden and kept my head low; I didn’t say much and I was soon forgotten. Like a sugar cube dissolving in water, I was absorbed into the prison. I used my time wisely: I watched.
I watched the structur
e of daily life here unfold and built up a mental picture, a who’s who of the prison. On the criminal side, of course, this was led by Big Jack, but he had his ‘foot soldiers’. As it turned out, all the guards were corrupt; there was just a pecking order to be observed and the two who I met when I arrived were down at the bottom of the corruption food chain. Money amassed by Buckley and Big Jack allowed them to buy goods on Earth and Arthe for bribes and so feed this inter-world web of deceit, ensuring that nothing about their exploits ever got out.
After this initial month I felt it was time to make my move and I requested an audience with Buckley. His office within the administration block was hardly palatial, with a simple wooden desk and two small wooden sideboards. I was marched in by Bishop and he was told to leave.
‘What is it you want, Smee? I’m a busy man.’
He was writing as he spoke and didn’t look at me at all.
‘I know about the Arcanum, I know that it’s on Earth and the deal you have made.’
He paused momentarily at this, put down his pen and now looked at me with a slightly nervous smile. ‘You surely don’t believe those old legends, do you? I would have thought you of all people would know that the Arcanum, if it ever existed, was destroyed by the Keepers many years ago.’
I was skating on thin ice with my facts here, relying only on what Bishop had told me, but Buckley’s reaction gave him away and I continued with my charade, now hitting him with what I thought would be my knockout punch.
‘Well let’s talk hypothetically for a moment; if the Arcanum was real and you could get it, I could get the Seventh Seal.’
Now I had his attention.
‘The power of the two, sir, will allow us to kill all the Keepers and bring down Thera; we’ll then be left to do as we wish on Earth and Arthe.’
Buckley now cracked.
‘Rubbish, you can’t get the Seventh Seal. Albertus will have it and I can’t see you wandering into Tolemak and him handing it over. Anyway, it can only go to a rightful heir.’ Buckley laughed mockingly.
I ignored his derision, maintaining my deadly serious expression. ‘Well what you don’t know is that I am a rightful heir; Michael Stone was my brother.’
That stopped Buckley in his tracks and his mouth dropped open with renewed interest, his derision now gone.
‘What about his son?’ said Bishop, captor turned collaborator in an instant.
‘Daniel is too young, he’s only ten; they will wait until he is at least fifteen and as long as I get to Tolemak before the Seal Ceremony takes place with Daniel the seal will automatically select me. They will have no say in it. Timing is everything, Buckley.’
We were now on a level playing field and so I dropped the ‘sir’ in favour of his more informal surname.
‘You need to get the Arcanum so that I can get inside Tolemak. Spindrift is not strong enough on its own. How long before you will have it?’ I said with a little impatience.
Buckley paused. ‘Another five years.’
‘Five years! I can’t wait that long.’
‘If I can get the money quicker then—’
‘Then you’d better get it quicker so I don’t have to spend another five years in this hell hole.’
‘Well look on the bright side, Smee; your chances of survival have now increased by one hundred per cent; it’s not so bad in here, you will be well fed and the Keepers will forget about you and when you turn up in Tolemak, it will be the ultimate surprise.’ Buckley made a compelling argument and we now both laughed.
*
Smee’s diaries were well detailed covering all the period in Arahas, but let’s not get too distracted by his dastardly activities there; suffice to say, his status continued to grow. He was a smarter man than both Buckley and Big Jack and despite his dark side was able to captivate an audience. He had leadership qualities and it can be seen from his writings that this progressively built up to create friction between the three protagonists as they could see their command on the place slipping.
It was, however, the balance that had the last laugh on the exploits of the three plotters in Arahas, for in year five of his incarceration their world was changed. We will now return to Smee’s diaries to pick up the story.
September 2012 Arahas Prison, Eastern Desert
The weather continued to blight the mood in the prison; it had been the hottest summer ever known, not that official records were kept of such things, you understand, but according to the anecdotal recollections of some of the older inmates this was the case. I have to say I could well believe it; this weather left no doubt that we were in the middle of a desert and the steamy temperatures were only matched by the continued fights between me, Buckley and Big Jack.
I now had little time for these petty criminals. My ambition and destiny stretched far beyond what their simple minds could comprehend and having suffered their ramblings for five years my patience with them was wearing thin. I was taking every opportunity to make them look fools; it was a game and a game I was winning. However, I had begun to realise that I may have overcooked my ridicule as I still needed them to get out of Arahas. The hoard of cash had been steadily building and we were now close to our goal when the weather finally broke.
The first indications of a change came in the morning; normally we were awoken by the bright light of the rising sun and the fairly rapid rise in air temperature, but on Saturday, 8th September, the skies were a dull grey overhead and to the east they were as black as pitch. No one had ever seen anything like it and the winds were already blowing and whipping sand and dust up into complex eddies, such that it was difficult to know where the wind was coming from. The first claps of thunder were heard by around mid-morning and the lightning show was not far behind it. I estimated the storm was around thirty miles from our position and thankfully seemed to be heading due north and not to Arahas. The lightning was incredible, quite beautiful in its power and grace, almost dancing through the storm before striking the earth in a show of nature’s power that was humbling to even me.
We all, of course, made the mistake of thinking that this huge storm passing so far away was of no consequence to our lives, that it was just a curiosity from our normal daily routine. As the storm continued slowly north and the wind continued to blow, a new sound entered what had been a consistent sound field for most of the morning. It started with very deep rumbling sounds, sounds that you could feel in your body, and by the time the sun had moved another fifteen degrees across the sky, the first of the water had arrived.
What we had failed to realise was the storm was emptying millions of gallons of water on the mountain ranges. This water rapidly drained off the mountains, gathering speed and opening up old riverbeds that had been dry for centuries. The ground was so hard, baked by countless hot summers, and in particular this one, that virtually none of the water could soak into the ground; it may as well have been running on solid rock. These old water courses we called Idaws and in flood they were deadly, and this was no normal flood. This was a storm to end all storms. Whilst the builders who sited the prison at Arahas had done so for good reason – subterranean water – they had failed to realise that they had built it on a flood plain and today nature had decided to take back what was hers.
The Idaw at Arahas ran just to the south of the prison, but its profile had been progressively made shallower by decades of dry weather and wind filling it with sand and mud. To ask it to contain a wall of water was like asking a baby to walk. To make matters worse the prison was in a slight basin, imperceptible if one looked at the ground topography but good enough for the eyesight of water to find its natural level.
In the brief moments of shock, which in one’s mind seem like eternities, it was the mentally slow who suffered first, and there were plenty of them in Arahas. Most climbed onto the roofs of the barrack blocks, but there was only one building that had been designed to withstand a flood and that was the admin block. The water wave hit the outer fence at who knows what time – I had l
ost all my bearings with the departure of the sun. Its dark brown colour from all the mud and sand was accented on the front of the wave with white horns of aerated water. It was a beast intent on devouring and the perimeter fence was the starter course.
Men were screaming as they tried to scramble up on top of the roofs but were being kicked down by those who had got up there first. More screams could be heard as bones were broken in the falls and the immobilised bodies started getting laid down like bricks in a wall. It wasn’t pleasant, even for someone like me who had no empathy for their fate.
Buckley and Big Jack were near the admin block, mouths open and frozen with shock at the sight before them, and I had already started my run over there, but I could not outrun the water. The first wave was not high, only three feet, but its power was enough to knock me off my feet. Like a crocodile swiping its tail at its hapless prey, this brown water beast bowled me over and I scrambled to get upright, get my head above the waterline and get some air.
Just as I managed to get upright, the water slammed me into one of the storage sheds, which remarkably was still standing at this point. I cried with the pain as my bones felt like they had all simultaneously cracked, but my forward motion was momentarily stopped and I was able to stand upright and survey the carnage around me. All four barrack blocks were still standing, but now flooded and debris was everywhere, which was proving just as lethal as the water. Beds, chairs and tables were all moving with the power of rocks through the water, hitting anything and anyone in their way; I think the debris killed as many on this day as the water.
I was around forty feet from the admin block, when I heard a loud crack. I span around using the water pressure to keep me safely planted to the side of the shed and could see the veranda around the admin block collapsing, throwing Buckley and Big Jack into the water. They had foolishly believed they were safe on there, but years of no maintenance and termite damage had weakened the structure and ironically, in what was the safest building in the prison, it was the first to suffer substantial damage.
