Alexander Smith - Lockdown

Too late I realized I should have checked the room first. I heard feet pounding on rock and swiveled around in time to see a massive black shape swoop toward me. The blacksuit had just emerged from Room Three, and like a speeding train he rammed into me, wrapping his hamlike fist around my throat and lifting me off the floor.

"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.

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?"