Alexander Smith - Lockdown

"I couldn't let them kill you, man," he said, helping me across the yard. Zee and Toby were waiting by the stairs, and ran over when they saw us, but none of the other inmates looked the least bit concerned.

"Oh no," said Zee when they reached us. "Is that him?"

"Of course it's him, you moron," said Donovan. "Who else is it going to be?"

"It's just… his face."

"What's wrong with my face?" I tried to ask, but all that emerged was another groan.

"Let's get him back to the cell," Toby said. "You think you can get him up the stairs?"

"You think you can help?"

Together they pushed, pulled, and carried me up six flights of steps. A couple of times they folded under my weight and I almost toppled over the railings. Right at that moment the agony was so great that I didn't really care. Let me fall, let it be over. But a few minutes later I ended up on my bed, trying unsuccessfully to find a comfortable position to lie in while Donovan recounted my embarrassing attempts to defend myself. He left out the deal he'd struck with Gary, eyeing me nervously as he told them that the Skulls had just let me go after a beating.

"You were lucky," said Zee, perched on the bed next to me. He reached out as if to touch my face, then pulled his hand back. "You don't look it, but you were lucky."

I ran my tongue over my teeth. One of the bottom ones was missing. By the way my face was throbbing I thought that was the least of my worries.

"I wasn't lucky," I said, the words coming out like I was chewing a mouthful of toffee as I spoke. "Donovan saved me."

"Donovan?" said Zee, looking at the bigger boy who stood by the cell door, staring out into the yard.

"He saved my life," I went on.

"Nice one, big guy," said Zee. "You go in and show 'em who's boss?"

There was a moment of uncomfortable silence, then Donovan spun around and faced us all.

"What was I supposed to do?" he shouted. "Leave him to die?"

"Whoa," said Zee. "I don't blame you, I'd have done the same thing if my arms were as big as yours."

"He didn't fight," I said. "He made a deal."

"A deal?" Both Zee and Toby looked worried. "What kind of deal?"

"We've got another passenger," I slurred. "Gary."

"No way," said Zee. "No way, Donovan. You didn't tell him?"

"It was that or Alex died," Donovan spat back. "You want that?"

"Well, what… I mean, we all get a plus-one now or something?"

"Zee," I said. "It's fine, it just means one more person. Donovan did the right thing."

"But Gary's a psycho, he'll tell all the Skulls and then there's no way we'll get out. We're all going to the hole. Either that or he'll stab us in the eyes just to get out first. This is a bad idea. This whole thing's a bad idea."

Donovan slammed his hands on the bars and stormed out of the cell, disappearing down the walkway.

"Leave it, Zee," I mumbled through swollen lips. "He did the right thing."

Zee just snorted, but his expression was one of fear. If my face had been able to move at all, it would have probably mirrored it. The thought of having Gary on board was terrifying. He really would snap our necks if he thought he could get out alone. Hell, he'd probably snap them even if we made it to safety, just for fun. But I couldn't complain. The alternative was having my guts spilled out across the gym floor.

"It will be okay," I said. But I wasn't sure how much I believed it.

THE REST OF that day I spent drifting in and out of sleep, with endless dreams of being beaten senseless. Each time I woke I thought the pain had been part of the nightmares, until I tried to move.

Donovan only returned when the night siren blew. I didn't ask him where he'd been, but he apologized for storming off and reassured me that he hadn't told Gary anything about the escape except for the fact that it would be happening soon.

"He can't give anything away and he can't do it without us," he said as the lights shut off.

I went to hard labor in the morning even though I thought I was going to die. I didn't have a choice-anyone too injured to work was dragged off through the vault door to the infirmary, a place that few returned from. Fortunately we were on trough duty and Donovan sat me in the corner, happy to do my share of the work as well as his. Despite the fact that my skin was purple and unbearably tender to touch, I still managed to squeeze a couple of gas-filled gloves against it. Donovan managed to smuggle out eight, and we were back on track.

It was on that morning that Donovan had a brain wave about the fuse for the explosion. He spent an hour trying to weasel off the end of one of the giant stove lighters, draining the fluid inside into a glove and filling it with string from one of the crates. He slipped the flint free from one lighter as well.

"Something to spark up with," he said.

"Nicely done," I muttered weakly as he stuffed the fuse into his overalls.

We didn't have many run-ins with Gary for those few days. Every now and then we'd see him in the yard and he'd track us with his insect eyes, and four days after the fight he came over as we were sitting in the trough room.

"Better not be going anywhere without me," he said, leaning over the table.

"As soon as we know when it's happening we'll tell you," I replied. "You've got my word."

He just stared at me for a few seconds until I thought my blood was curdling, then he walked off. He threw another comment at us over his shoulder as he went, one loud enough for most people to hear.

"I'll kill you if you try and leave without me."

"He's going to ruin it for all of us," said Zee when Gary had left the room. "Half the hall must have heard that."

If they had, they showed no sign of understanding it. For most, the idea of escape from Furnace was so unthinkable, so impossible, that they'd probably have dismissed it even if there was a hole in the wall and a staircase marked "To Freedom."

"Relax, Zee," I said. "There's only a few more days."

THERE WERE EIGHT, to be correct. Eight days of fear that everything would go horribly wrong. Eight days of panic that we'd be caught, tortured, then executed in the most violent ways possible. But also eight days of hope that we'd actually manage to break free of our prison, that we'd be able to see sunshine once again.

For the next week it was the hope that carried us. Even though I was exhausted, and never fully recovered from my beating, it was the smell of fresh air that kept me going. So many times I thought I couldn't go on, couldn't handle the stress of smuggling out any more gloves or secreting them behind the panels in Room Two. But just when things seemed at their bleakest I'd recall something from up top-birdsong, the feel of the grass on my bare feet, the sight of the sea bounded only by the horizon-and the hope would be like fuel, urging me on.

It was the same for the rest of them. Where there should have been tired faces there were always smiles, jokes instead of tears, bravery when we should have all been cowering in our cells. We pushed ourselves to the limit. By day two we'd smuggled another fifteen gloves into the tunnel. By day five it was thirty-three. By day seven the pile was fifty-one deep and more than big enough to blast us out of here.

Day eight found Donovan and me back in Room Two, stripped and dragging our gas-filled overalls across the rough floor to the rift. We were relieved to see the rest of our stash still in place. A couple had deflated slightly, but it looked like they were all fit to go boom.

"You start slotting them in," Donovan shouted above the roar of the river. I could swear the sound was louder now, like it knew we were coming for it. "I'll get the fuse sorted."

He rummaged through the gloves until he found the one full of lighter fluid. Giving it a shake for good measure, he opened it up and pulled out the string, which reeked of fuel. Tying the strands together, he laid one end by the balloons then walked backward and unwound the rest, the fuse snaking for several meters until it disappeared behind a massive chunk of rock.