Alexander Smith - Lockdown

"Donovan," I said. He looked at the wheezer, then at me. "What do we do?"

"I don't know," he replied in a voice as soft as breath.

"Which one of us has it picked?"

"I don't know," he repeated. "You only know when the blacksuits come."

I cursed, slapping my hands against my forehead. I should have been more scared, but for some reason my head was clear. I guess it was because it didn't seem real, I expected to wake up any second. I threw myself at the bars, finding myself face-to-face with the wheezer, but it was motionless, not even a twitch to show that it was still alive. The prison was plunged into darkness and I backed away from the bars in panic.

"Think!" I shouted as soon as the red lights snapped back on again. "It can't end like this."

"But it has," Donovan said. "It's come to nothing."

I paced the cell, glancing down into the yard to see more figures emerging from the vault door. I counted seven blacksuits, two dogs. Then, to my surprise, the warden strode into the middle of the yard, staring up at the cells. He'd never come out during the blood watch. Something was wrong.

"They know," I said, my shoulders slumping. "They've come for us. They've probably got Zee and Toby too."

"No," replied Donovan. "That's Zee's cell down there. No wheezer."

I looked down and, sure enough, Zee's cell was unmarked. I couldn't make out any sign of life in the bruised shadows but I was sure Zee would be watching me. Maybe the warden didn't know. Maybe this was just some sick joke, a perverse coincidence. The lights flickered, then went out again, the only sign I was still alive the terrifying noises outside the cell-growls and footsteps and wheezes.

"Look," I said, taking Donovan's shoulders. "They only take one cellmate at a time, right?"

"Right."

"Then one of us is left. We still go ahead with this, okay? One of us makes the break. Once I'm free, I'll go straight to the cops. Doesn't matter if they throw me back in here, just so long as they investigate. If I'm quick, I might be able to save you. If you hurry, you might get back in time to save me."

Donovan nodded as the lights rebooted, then he flung his arms around me, squeezing me so hard I gasped for breath.

"Thanks," he said, his eyes filling.

"For what?"

"Thanks for giving me hope."

"It's not over yet," I said. I could hear footsteps crashing down the platform, the howl of the mutant dogs.

"I know," he replied. Then they were there. A command from the blacksuit sent the cell door crashing open and in a blink of an eye the guard was inside, a massive hand wrapped around Donovan's throat, pulling the boy out as if he weighed nothing, holding him up above the ground. I threw myself forward but the giant used his other hand to swipe me away. I felt like I'd been hit by a car, sliding across the floor and smashing into the bunks.

By the time I'd got to my feet again, the cell door was rattling shut.

"Donovan!" I shouted. The gas mask was sliding a needle from his belt, a syringe full of blackness and death, a cloud that swirled like a galaxy, full of flickers of yellow light. "No!"

But it was too late. The wheezer stabbed the needle into Donovan's neck and the boy went limp and silent.

"You can't do this!" I shouted. "Donovan, I'll come for you. I'll come for you!"

My words tried to give chase as the procession made its way down the platform, but they were powerless to stop this nightmare. I could do nothing but watch as Donovan and the other victims were dragged down the stairs and across the yard, my best friend disappearing through the vault door, swallowed by the shadows that would escort him to his death.

The warden was the last to leave, and as he stepped through the door he turned and stared up at the cells again. From this distance his eyes were just pools of blackness lost in the red leather of his face, but I could swear he was looking right at me. I felt my vision twist and flicker, a hundred terrible images flashing before my eyes-blood and bone and teeth and chains and screams-then the warden turned away and the carnage ended.

As the door closed behind him I struggled to cling to my sanity, to my reason, to my consciousness. But it was no use. I collapsed to the floor, calling Donovan's name and wishing with all my heart that they had taken me instead.

MORNING CAME RELUCTANTLY, afraid of breaching the darkness that embraced both the prison and my thoughts. I hadn't returned to sleep after Donovan was taken, I just sat on the bed at the mercy of a million different emotions-crying then screaming then pounding at the bars then laughing hysterically at the night like a creature of madness.

My last words to Donovan never left my head. I'll come for you. My exhausted mind pictured me charging back into Furnace at the head of an army, shooting the blacksuits where they stood, stringing the warden up by his neck, pulling Donovan from his cell and embracing him with the same strength with which he'd held me. I'll come for you. And I would.

As soon as the lights came on I was up and standing by the bars, staring out at the yard with cold eyes. It was like a piece of me had been taken along with Donovan, the side of me that felt compassion, that felt fear. All that was left was hatred. I was going to get out of Furnace, then I was going to burn it so that nothing remained but a smoking crater filled with the corpses of its demons.

The cell doors opened with a deafening rattle and I made my way down into the yard along with hundreds of inmates. It was as if the other prisoners sensed something different about me too, an edge that hadn't been there before, like I would explode if anybody even touched me. They moved out of my way as I marched toward the canteen, throwing wary glances at me when they thought I wasn't looking and turning their heads when they saw that I was.

I was sitting at an empty table when Zee ran up to me. He slid onto the bench opposite, checking over his shoulder. His face was pinched, his eyes still red with tears.

"They took him," he said. He seemed like he wanted to say more, but gave up and hung his head. I didn't reply, just stared out across the trough room to see Gary taking a seat along with the Skulls. He nodded at me and I nodded back, and in that moment of symmetry my expression was identical to his-empty, inhuman.

"I'll come back," I said, looking away. "I promised him I would. I can't leave him."

"So it's still on?" Zee asked, raising his head.

"It's still on."

Toby met us just as we were leaving the trough room. He was red-faced and stressed.

"My cellmate," he said through strangled breaths, "wouldn't let me out until he knew where we were going. I didn't tell him, Alex, but the whole prison knows we're up to something."

"It doesn't matter," I replied, leading the boys across the yard. We joined the crowd for the chipping rooms, avoiding the inmates who were eyeballing us with a strange mixture of hatred and hope. Jimmy was there too, his sickly gaze never leaving me. I ignored them all, focusing on the task ahead. We had one shot at this, just one. If we messed up, then we were all dead.

Slowly the crowd shuffled through the passage into the equipment room. The blacksuit watched us all with his silver eyes, finger permanently on the trigger of his shotgun. I thought for a moment that he might be able to hear my pounding heart as I passed him, but he showed no sign of even noticing me.

Inside the equipment room I slammed on a helmet and lifted a pick from the racks. Zee and Toby did the same. I thought for a moment that Gary hadn't made it, but he came in at the tail end of the crowd, his eyes narrowed with the same sliver of anxiety I'd seen yesterday. He spotted us and the expression vanished.