Alexander Smith - Lockdown

I ground my teeth together, exasperated.

"Well, I sure as hell didn't imagine it," I hissed after a moment's silence. "I heard something in that room, something big enough to make a roar or a growl or whatever. I'll figure it out."

Donovan snorted and rose to go get some food. After scanning the trough room, however, he collapsed back down onto the bench.

"Incoming," he whispered.

I glanced up to see that Gary and his henchmen were making their way across the room toward the exit to the yard. The inmates were scampering out of his way with a deference that they'd never shown toward Kevin. The former Skull leader had been violent, yes, but there was something different about Gary. Kevin had tortured and killed to prove something, because he knew that life was valuable, something precious to take away. But Gary lashed out and killed as if life was nothing, meaningless, like he was crushing a bug.

"Don't look at him," Zee whispered, and I lowered my eyes to the table. When I raised them again, however, I found myself staring right into Gary's face. He was standing on the other side of the table, behind Zee, eyeballing me like I'd just killed his dog.

"I hear you've got a problem with the Skulls," he said in a voice that turned my bones to water. "Picking fights you got no business picking."

My tongue had turned to sandpaper, my limbs to lead.

"Well come on, then," Gary challenged, raising his hands. His knuckles were swollen and bloody. "You think you're so tough, then why don't you step up and take a crack at me?"

He pushed Zee out of the way and leaned on the table. This close I could see a line of blond hair on his top lip, like a tiny wig over his cracked and yellow teeth. I thought for a moment that I was going to puke again. At least I'd humiliate him before I was shanked. I swallowed hard and stared at the table.

"Look at me when I'm talking to you," he spat, grabbing my chin and wrenching it up. His fingers were rough against my skin. "I'm telling you to come on, let's see what you've got."

"Not enough," I breathed.

"What?"

"I'm sorry," I said, louder this time, then added "sir" for good measure.

"Too late." He pushed my head back so hard that I felt something pop in my neck. Then he slammed his hand on the table, sending Zee's food and drink flying. "You're marked. You're mine. You'll get your fight, little man."

And with that he turned and pushed through the Skulls, making his way toward the exit. I lowered my head and winced as pain cut through the tendons. Rubbing my neck, I saw Donovan and Zee staring sheepishly at the table.

"You okay?" asked Zee, not looking up.

"Oh yeah, that was fine," I replied, doing my best to hold back the tears that were building up behind my eyes. "No problem."

I put my elbows on the table and cupped my head in my hands so that nobody would see my glassy eyes. But I couldn't stop the floodgates from bursting. I blinked, and a tear dropped from my face to the plastic surface, winding its way gently toward the other side of the table. It wasn't alone, merging with the trail of water that had spilled from Zee's plastic cup. I watched the little stream meander through the piles of brown slush, flowing inexorably toward the edge.

And then it hit me, a revelation so bright and wonderful that it was as if the lights in the room had doubled in strength. I sat bolt upright, so quickly that Zee and Donovan both flinched.

"The noise. I know what it is."

They looked at me as if I'd gone mad.

"It's water," I said, pointing at the mess on the table. "It's an underground river."

WE ARGUED ABOUT MY revelation through practically the whole of trough time, Donovan scoffing at the idea with his usual disdain. As soon as we'd sat down with our trays of mush, he began listing the reasons why it was impossible.

"They didn't just pick a spot in the gorge and plonk the prison down inside it," he ranted between, and often during, mouthfuls. "I mean think about it, they must have done a hundred checks first, a million. Rock samples, scans of the tunnels, analysis of the caves already here, probably even psychological tests on the bugs that live underground. They'd have seen a river if there was one."

I poked my plastic food with my plastic fork and mulled over what he was saying.

"And if the cave-in had breached the river, then surely we'd all be floating by now," he went on.

"Not if it's beneath us," added Zee, using his fork to steal some of my mush. The idea of escape seemed to have finally filtered through his skepticism, and he was at last taking my side. "I mean, the cave-in could have opened up a rift that went down, not up."

"So what use is that?" Donovan asked. "Burrow even deeper into your own prison, head farther underground. Great idea."

"Well, that water's got to go somewhere," I said.

"So you think you'll just pop up in the girls' showers at the local gym, then," Donovan hounded. " 'Hello, ladies, don't mind us, we're just escaping from jail. By the way, you've missed a spot, allow me.' "

We all laughed at the idea.

"Okay, it probably won't end up there," I said. "But what if it goes up top?"

"What if it stays underground for a hundred miles?" Zee said, shuddering. "We could end up drowning."

"Better that than this, right?" I asked, but both boys were shaking their heads.

"Got life here, Alex," said Donovan. "Ain't much of one, but I'm still breathing. Just isn't worth the risk."

"He's right, you know," muttered Zee. "I'm not much of a swimmer, and I don't much like being stuck in small places neither. I think we should just stick it out here. You never know, they might close this place down tomorrow."

"They might come and take you tonight," I retorted, but it was no use. Zee started talking to Donovan about soccer, and I tuned out the conversation, retreating into the comfort of my own mind. The more I thought about it, the more the noise made sense-the distant, muted rush and roar of a million tons of water speeding past beneath our feet. If I could just get to it, maybe it would carry me home.

AFTER LUNCH WE headed back out into the yard. Donovan claimed he wanted to go to the gym, so Zee and I jogged up the stairs to my cell, sitting down on the bunk and preparing for another afternoon of mind-numbing boredom. We'd only been chatting idly for a few minutes before Donovan came storming into the cell, his eyes full of murder.

"They wouldn't let me in," he fumed, pacing up and down as best he could in the tiny space. "That new kid has taken over. Now the gym's out of bounds for anyone who isn't fighting. He's got the Fifty-niners on his side too; they're too scared to argue."

"So why not go in and knock his block off?" Zee asked. "I mean, you're easily as big as him, go and teach him a lesson."

"Not worth it," said Donovan, sighing loudly then climbing onto his bunk. "It's just not worth it. I don't mess with them, they don't mess with me."

Zee and I looked at each other as we listened to Donovan punching the wall in frustration, then he fell silent.

"Plenty of gyms on the surface," I hinted, but there was no response.

We sat there as the minutes ground by, life running in slow motion. In here, even time seemed moribund. My mind was already beginning to rot. I'd forgotten half the books I'd ever read, lost the TV shows I once loved. I struggled to even remember what certain colors looked like, as Furnace's relentless palette of reds and blacks and grays had long since rendered blues and greens and oranges a distant memory, as vague and delicate as a spider's thread.

To pass the time Zee and I summarized our favorite films, doing our best to act them out to one another. I ran through the Indiana Jones saga, impersonating my hero and even using a pillow as his hat and the sheet as a whip. My amateur dramatics had Zee in stitches, and even woke Donovan from his funk as I acted out the plot of the seventh film, which he'd never seen.