Ghetto

by M L Sparrow

  It doesn’t take long to reach the police station. Staring up at the tall building, I take a deep breath and get out of the car, throwing my shoulders back with feigned confidence as I stride inside. The lobby is bustling with activity, despite the early hour; men and women in uniform hurrying back and forth and robots stand mutely by the door. Walking over to the front desk, I catch the attention of a young female officer fiddling around with something on a sleek black Tab. Putting the Tab away beneath the desk, she makes her way over to me, recognition in her eyes.

  “Miss Beaumont,” she greets me, surprised, “what can I do to help?”

  “You’re holding someone here, a man named Sin, he’s from the Ghetto.” Instant recognition lights her eyes, along with a look of apprehension. “I’d like to see him.”

  “I’m sorry, but access is limited to authorized personnel only.”

  Something in her eyes, a guilty edginess, prompts me to ask, “Is that the only reason?”

  Colour stains her cheeks, but she nods.

  Pursing my lips, I notice the beautiful engagement ring on her left ring finger. Bracing my forearms on the desk, I lean forward and beckon for her to do the same. When she’s close enough, I ask quietly, “Have you ever been in love?”

  Blinking, she glances down at that ring before her eyes return to mine. “Well, yes,” she admits nervously after a moment.

  “Then you’ll understand,” I smile at her, reaching out to grasp her hand. “I need to see him. Please.”

  Face conflicted, she glanced around, before whispering, “The President personally made an appearance yesterday and said that, under no circumstances, were you to see the prisoner.”

  Anger sparks inside of me, but I force it down into the pit of my stomach, along with the rest of the caged resentment aimed at my dad and force my tone to remain pleasant. “I only want five minutes,” I cajole, “he’s to be executed in a few hours anyway, so what harm could it do?” She bites her lip, looks around again. “Please,” I beg, sensing weakness, “no one even has to know.”

  “I could lose my job,” she answers fearfully.

  “I’ll make sure that doesn’t happen,” I promise, though in reality I can guarantee nothing. I’d probably feel bad about deceiving her and putting her livelihood in jeopardy if I weren’t so desperate to see Sin.

  “You can do that?”

  “Yes,” I lie, feeling a twinge of guilt.

  Taking a deep, shaky breath, she nods, “Okay.” Straightening, she rounds the desk and heads towards a door leading to the back of the station. “Follow me.”

  My heart is beating overtime as I follow her through to the back and then over to a bank of elevators. We stand in silence as we wait for one to arrive, before stepping inside. Just as the doors are closing, a male officer slips inside.

  “Morning, Constable Morris,” he says in a friendly voice, smiling at his colleague, before nodding politely my way, though he doesn’t seem to recognise me.

  “Morning, Sergeant Oaks.”

  The other officer is going to the fourth floor, so we ride up with him. Once he steps out and we’re alone, Morris presses the button that will take us down to level -1. “The holding cells are down here,” she informs me needlessly.

  A few seconds later the doors open to reveal a long, white walled corridor studded with doors on one side. Each door had a small window so that they could see inside, but all the cells we pass are empty. Since the punishment was so severe and, with all the technology, it was almost impossible not to get caught, crime was rare, but walking past rows of empty cells really brought it home.

  “He’s right at the end.”

  I nod in response. I want to run the last few feet, but I force myself to remain calm and dignified, which is just as well because an officer is sitting on a chair outside the cell at the very end.

  “Jenkins, you can take a break now. I’ve been sent to take over for a little while.”

  “Great! I need to splash my boots.” Getting up, he walks past us, before turning back to ask, “Who’s this?”

  Morris’ mouth opens and closes several times, floundering for something to say. Seeing that she’s completely lost for an answer, I jump in. “I’m a psychology student at the University of Darnell. I just wanted a couple of minutes to interview the prisoner. I’m doing my dissertation on how different people respond to authority figures.”

  “You’ve come a long way to get here from Darnell” he comments.

  “Yes,” I agree – I hadn’t thought about how far away it was, but it was the only prestigious university that I could think of off the top of my head – “so I would really appreciate if I could just have a few minutes, if that’s alright with you.”

  The officer frowns, glancing at his colleague. “Well, we’re not really supposed to let anyone in, but since you’ve come such a long way I suppose a few minutes won’t hurt.” Smiling at me, he unclips a pair of cuffs from his belt, saying, “I’ll just restrain him for you.”

  “Oh, no, that’s not necessary.”

  “It’s very necessary, Miss. I’m afraid he may look like an angel but he’s still a criminal.”

  I frown; sure Sin was handsome, with all that blond hair, as well as those blue eyes and high cheekbones, but I never would have said he looked like an angel. Maybe that was because I had hated him before I learned to love him, so I was under no illusion that he was perfect. “Did you know,” the officer continues, “they suspect that he’s the rebel leader, though he’s admitted nothing?”

  “Still, I don’t think…”

  “I’m sorry, Miss, but I’m going to have to insist. A man like that, with nothing to lose, can be very dangerous, especially to a pretty little thing like you.”

  “Sir,” I protest, “I’m more than capable of looking after myself.”

  “I’m sure you are,” he smiles indulgently at me, flaring my temper.

  He’s wasting time. “Fine,” I snap, none too graciously, “do what you have to.”

  Irritatingly, he thinks my harsh tone is funny. Mock bowing, he grins at me. “Yes, Ma’am. Right away, Ma’am.” Chuckling, he strides over to the cell and opens a little flap. “It’s your lucky day, boy, you’ve got a visitor. Come here.”

  Several long seconds go past and lines of frustration appear on the guards face when his orders aren’t immediately carried out. I’m beginning to think Sin isn’t going to cooperate and I won’t be able to see him, when a pair of hands are stuck through the gap, fists clenched.

  Smirking, Jenkins clips on the cuffs, fastening them too tight for my liking, though Sin doesn’t make a sound, before ordering him to, “Go sit on the bed.” Grabbing a thin length of cord hanging on the wall, he turns to show it to me, explaining, “This may not look very strong, but it’s unbreakable. I assure you, you’ll be perfectly safe.” Pressing my lips together in frustration, I incline my head in acknowledgment and fidget impatiently as he types in the entrance code and steps into the cell.

  A minute later, he appears again, holding the door open. “He’s ready.” Glancing between the other officer and I, he asks, “Are you sure you don’t want me to stay?”

  “That’s alright, Jenkins,” Morris answers for me, having finally found her voice, “I’ll keep an eye on things here whilst you take your break, it’s probably the only one you’ll get all day what with everything that’s going on today.”

  “When you put it like that…” he grins. “I’ll be off.”

  With baited breath I watch him leave until he’s safely closed away in the elevator, before spinning around and darting into the cell, unable to wait even a second longer. Sin’s sitting on the edge of the thin, uncomfortable looking cot attached to the wall, leaning forwards with his elbows resting on his knees and his cuffed wrists hanging down between them, the cuffs attached to a metal ring protruding from the bed with the unbreakable length of cord. Those austere blue eyes stare directly into mine as I cross to him. Sinking to my knees in front of him, I clas
p his bound hands, the cord stretching taunt as I lift them to my mouth, kissing the scarred knuckles.

  “Oh my God, Sin, I can’t believe this,” I whisper in his ear, stretching up to wrap my arms around his neck and holding him close, “things are going from bad to worse.” He can’t return the embrace, but he rubs his cheek against mine, his rough stubble harsh against my skin as he kisses the side of my face and neck.

  “It’s okay, darlin’, everythin’ll be okay,” he murmurs, but I can hear the doubt in his voice.

  “I know,” I say firmly, squelching both our misgivings, “I won’t let them kill you. Just trust me, I’ve got a plan and an ally.” On the spur of the moment, I opt not to tell him about the uprising and the threat of imminent violence; there’s no point worrying him when there is nothing he can do to change the outcome of events from his prison cell. “I haven’t got time to tell you everything I’ve discovered, but we’ll have time for all that once you’re out. All you need to know right now is that I love you, with all my heart, and I’m going to make this right. I promise.”

  “I believe you.”

  Pulling back from my tight embrace, he rests his forehead against mine, our noses brushing, breath mingling in the space between us. Softly, he kisses me. And then harder, more desperate. Between us, his hands pull upwards as if he wants to clasp me to him, but the cuffs stop him. Since he can’t, I tangle my fingers in his hair and lean forward into the kiss. When we’re both breathless, panting, chests heaving, lips bruised, we pull apart. Pressing my face into the crook of his neck, I breathe in the familiar scent of him, feel the heat of his skin against my cheek.

  We stay like that for several minutes, until a hesitant knock on the door makes us both looks around. Standing in the open doorway, Morris is staring at us with huge owl eyes. When she catches both of us looking at her a faint blush rises in her cheeks and she clears her throat, gripping the doorframe.

  “Time’s almost up,” she tells us quietly.

  “Thank you,” I murmur, turning back to Sin, seeing his shields go up. Sighing, I slowly unwind my arms from around his neck, caressing his cheeks as I stand. To Sin I say, “By the end of the day we’ll be together, with no chains between us.” His answering smile is weak, a half-hearted twitch of his lips. Reluctantly letting my hand drop, I take a step back.

  I’ve just made it to the door, when his deep voice calls me back, “Wait.” Pausing mid-step, I turn back to him. He takes a deep breath, holds it, his eyes searching my face. For long moments he doesn’t speak and I think maybe he’s not going to, but then he says, “I love you too,” and my heart skips a beat. Even if this is the only time I ever hear those words from his lips, I could live with that.

  My heart feels like its breaking as I force myself to leave, first the cell and then the police station. The execution is set for midday, which still gives me over four hours to locate Kit and the others. So that I don’t lose track of time, I nip into a little shop and buy a simple watch. Fastening the thin black band around my wrist, I walk down the street a short way until I come across a call point, pressing the button to summon a car. Back home, I have many more elegant watches, but I hadn’t thought to bring one. As I wait for the car, I press the tiny touchscreen and the time appears as a hologram.

  It takes a couple of minutes for the car to arrive and when it does I jump in and program it to take me to Joels’ shop. Once there, I go around the front for the first time ever, ignoring the advertisements playing on the screens in the window, and step inside, the novelty bell above the door jingling as the door opens automatically. Letting the door drift softly shut behind me, I stride through the isles towards the front counter, which has been left unattended, but since most people use the self-checkout machines and high-tech cameras defend against theft it’s not exactly unusual. On the counter there’s a buzzer, so I press it and wait for someone to come.

  A voice yells from the backroom, “I’ll be there in a minute.”

  A short while later, a figure comes hurrying towards me and I look away from where I had been watching the News on the screen above the desk, to see Joel. He stops short when he sees me, appearing surprised. After a moment of silence, he motions with his head towards the door he just exited and begins backing towards it. Glancing over my shoulder as the bell tinkles to announce the arrival of another customer, I follow him into the backroom, waiting until the door is shut before opening my mouth.

  “I got your email and I’ve been following the News,” I tell him, wasting no time. “I need to see Kit, do you know where they are? Are they still in the Ghetto, or have they gotten into the city already?”

  Holding out a hand to stop the flood of questions, he answers, “As far as I know they’re still in the Ghetto, but things are starting to kick off, so it’s probably not a great idea for you to turn up there.”

  Reaching out, I grip his arm and give it a gentle, reassuring squeeze. “I’ve got to go, I need to at least try to stop this disaster unfolding. They don’t know that anything is being done about Sin, but maybe if they did it would change their plans.”

  Sighing, Joel shakes his head, before saying, “Fine. I can show you the best route to take.”

  Squeezing his arm again, I smile sincerely up at him. “Thanks Joel, you’ve helped me so much and I really appreciate it.”

  “It was the right thing to do,” he says simply.

  After that exchange, Joel simply leaves the shop, trusting all the technology in place to look after it in his absence, and we get into a car which takes us towards the Ghetto. We get near enough that by the time we stop in a built up, Third Class area of the city, I can see the Ghetto rising up on the horizon, a forest of decrepit buildings surrounded by miles of rubbish. Getting out of the car, I wait for Joel to join me, but he doesn’t, instead he scoots over into my seat and leans his head out of the open door.

  “Over there,” he points out, “is a manhole cover leading to a sewage tunnel that hasn’t been used in years, since the new ones were put to use. Head towards the Ghetto and you should get there in about twenty minutes.”

  “So fast?” I frown, “Why isn’t this passage used more often?”

  “Because of the neighbourhood, there are too many people around so it’s hard to come and go without drawing attention, especially in large groups.” Fishing something out of the rucksack he’d brought with him, he hands me the long, thin metal rod, explaining, “You need this to lift the cover.”

  Nodding in understanding, I glance over my shoulder at the manhole in question, before asking, “Aren’t you coming?”

  “No,” he shakes his head firmly, “I’ve never been inside the Ghetto and I’m not eager to remedy that.”

  “Oh, okay.” I take a step back as the car door closes on me, lifting a hand in a brief farewell as the vehicle starts moving. Once the car is out of sight, I glance around; I’m in the middle of the street, however, it’s thankfully empty. Paranoid, I scan the windows facing the street to make sure no one is watching as I make my way to the manhole and crouch down beside it. How the hell am I supposed to lift this thing, it probably weighs a ton? Biting my lip, I look down at the crowbar type tool in my palms. It takes me a moment to figure out where it slots in and then I push down, trying to lever up the heavy slab of metal. I manage to lift it maybe an inch, before my strength wanes and it falls back with a loud thud. Wincing, I rub my sweating palms on the material of my jeans and once more pick up the metal stick. Just as I’m reinserting it, something catches my eye and I look up to see a car gliding towards me. I feel myself pale, eyes widening and heart pounding. The car stops and Joel steps out. A breath whistles past my lips.

  Walking towards me, Joel lifts his shoulders and arms in an exaggerated shrug. “I just realized what an arsehole move that was.” I don’t disagree, but I do smile as he comes closer, taking the metal tool from my hands. Once in place, he uses both hands to push down, his muscles straining and face reddening. “Grab it!” he huffs, when it’s lifted of
f the ground.

  I hesitate, because I don’t want to get my fingers crushed, but Joel doesn’t look as if he can hold it in that position much longer, so I grip the edge of the manhole cover and strain my muscles as I try not to let it drop back down. Unhooking the tool, he chucks it aside and it clatters to the ground, before helping me roll the heavy metal circle out of the way. With the hole uncovered, I peer inside and the darkness stares back at me.

  “I don’t suppose you have a torch I could borrow?”

  “There should be one hanging on a hook on the wall. Find it, then use it to find the arrows on the walls, they’ll lead you to the right exit.”

  “Okay.” I nod, taking a deep breath as I shuffle forward so that my legs are dangling down into the darkness. I remember being in the same position the night of the raid, but then Sin had been descending with me. “Thanks again, Joel,” I say one last time before taking the plunge.

  The landing is jarring, but I manage to remain on my feet by reaching out and using the wall to steady myself. My eyes begin to adjust, even as I run my hands over the walls in search of the torch. The walls are wet and slimy, but I try to ignore that. After a moment my fingers brush against something hard and I fumble to unhook the torch.

  “Are you alright?” Joel calls down, sounding faint and distant from up on the street above.

  “Yeah, I found the torch,” I call back, switching it on and shining it around to take in my surroundings. The tunnel is claustrophobically narrow and I can feel my heart speeding up in reaction to the enclosed space.

  “Remember, follow the arrows,” he reminds me, peering down into the tunnel.

  Nodding mutely, I shine the torch in the direction I need to head, finding the large white arrow chalked onto the wall, before craning my head back to look up at Joel and holding up two fingers curled to form an ‘O’. Having received the go-ahead, Joel disappears from view and I hear a grating sound as he begins hauling the manhole cover back into place. Once I’m ensconced totally in darkness, with only the watery light of the torch to guide my way, I force myself to take another deep, shuddering breath and begin the walk towards the Ghetto.