The dorm is dead silent apart from my loud, rasping breaths that seem to echo inside my skull with every heave of my chest. I stare at Caleb’s still body, willing him to move, to cough, to splutter. His gurgling breaths slow and silence, and the black froth on his mouth dribbles to the floor.
Seconds crawl by.
I notice other panting breaths around me—a whimper, a shocked gasp.
To my left, Bennett tries to get my attention. She pats the floor, just out of Harding’s line of sight, but I can’t drag my gaze away from Caleb. He’ll move. Any second now, he’ll get up and breathe, and everything will be alright again.
His arms are bonier than usual. The dust-laden light casts grey shadows on his wristbone, a dimple that has never been so prominent.
We could be twins. Same dishevelled brown hair, same haunted eyes, same pallid complexion.
I realise, inspecting his swollen face, that someone has broken his nose, and a fire lights in my stomach.
Allowing my rage to fuel me, I push against Ike’s firm grip and haul myself to my feet. He hisses something into my ear, but I’m deaf to it. My one and only target is right ahead.
Harding points at me and yells at the other wardens. More nonsense, more noise, more blood pumping through my body, pounding in my head, deafening me, enraging me further. I scream a guttural war cry and throw myself at him.
A flurry of flailing arms and clenched fists, angry cries and excited shrieks. I wrap my hands around a thick, beefy neck. I don’t even know for sure if it’s Harding or some other person. I’m not sure I care anymore.
Sharp stubble and greasy sweat slide under my palms. Picturing Harding’s loathsome features appearing through the red haze, I grit my teeth and squeeze.
It’s like trying to choke a tree. I know it’s useless, but my body acts on its own.
But then, I should be used to that by now.
Before I can do any actual damage, rough hands grab under my arms and haul me away, kicking and thrashing.
The room comes rushing back as Harding coughs and gasps for breath.
“He killed him!” I yell, again and again, writhing and hissing like a snake with its head pinned down. “He killed my brother!”
Somehow, this seems to trigger the other inmates into action. As the wardens drag me from the dorm, away from Harding’s jeering grin, one prisoner straightens and steps towards him. Then another stands from their bunk, then another. And time seems to crawl, then speed up, ramping up with each defiant face, each calm, determined step.
By the time I reach the exit, at least half of the prisoners run at Harding, swarming him. His smile disappears under a dozen grey linen uniforms.
“What the hell are you playing at?” Harris growls at me, dragging me to a corner and throwing me against a wall.
My bones crack on contact with the concrete, the air forced from my lungs.
“Easy, Harris,” Ike says, eyeing me warily. “There’s trouble back there. They’re outnumbered. Let me take this one to solitary. You sound the alarm.”
“Hah!” Harris scoffed, sticking his finger into Ike’s chest and pushing him away from me. “What you playing at, Miller? This ain’t the time for you to get your ya-ya’s.”
I clutch my side, wincing at the lancing pain in my ribs. Ike covers his concern with a chuckle.
“Ah, can’t blame a guy for trying. Alright, fine. You take her down, and I’ll sound the alarm.”
Harris bent over me and hauled me up by my elbow. “‘Bout time.”
Jostled along the corridor by Harris’ powerful grip, I cast a glance back at Ike. He holds his hand down low, signing to me.
‘I’m so sorry.’
“I don’t like doin’ this, you know,” Harris mutters. “But this is the real world. You make a living, keep your head down, get shit done. Folk like you fuck about and find out too soon—Skycross ain’t no place for rebels.”
“I’m not a rebel.”
“The shit you ain’t,” Harris scoffed. “Frank’s been sniffing around you like a fly on crap. We know what he’s planning, been following him for years.”
A part of me wonders if this is true, or if Harris is toying with me. I suspect the latter, so keep my mouth shut to avoid giving him any more ammunition.
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Not that it matters much, anymore. But I don’t want to make any more mess for other people to clean up.
Harris pauses at a huge, rusted door, slams his hand on a pad to the right and calls out. “New intake!”
“Thank you, Warden Harris,” An AI replies. Glancing up at the ceiling, I find the dome cover for a 360-degree camera. A small red light blinks at me. “Accepting inmate—Kyla Chase. Please proceed to cell number forty-two.”
The door squeaks and Harris pulls me through.
I don’t resist anymore, but then I don’t help him, either. Why should I?
“You’re lucky I didn’t let Miller have his way with you again.” He leads me down a narrow corridor, and I finally try to get my bearings.
The passage is only three feet across, lined on either side with steel doors—solitary cells. I can’t see anyone inside, but faint sounds ooze from a few—someone muttering so quietly I can’t make out the words, only the smack of their tongue against their teeth. In another cell, a woman wails endless garbled prayers. “Save me… Save me…”
Harris snorts. “I give ya two days, tops. Everyone goes crazy down here.”
Was Caleb ever down here? Is that why I couldn’t find him? He’d been stealing a radio… Has he been trying to find me the whole time we’ve been here, getting punished for each attempt? All while I get clandestine meetings with Ike, secret messages from Frank, gifts of syrups and promises of breakouts…
When Harris throws me into the cell, I don’t resist. I crumple in the corner like a pile of rags, and flop against the cold tiled floor. He fumbles at his belt, muttering to himself. A dark thought occurs to me—he’s been threatening to do this for weeks. Now’s his chance…
My gaze travels lazily up Harris’ uniform, the impeccably shined boots and spotless trousers the epitome of pride—military precision, perhaps it makes his duties seem worthwhile. I expect to find him unbuttoning his trousers, a sly grin on his face, but he’s a nervous wreck. He picks at a small glass vial filled with Oblivion, his fingers shaking with uncertainty.
Of course he’s going to dose me.
Harris notices me gazing at the vial and frowns. “I don’t want to,” he says in a low voice. “It’s… protocol. If… If I thought you’d settle down, I might let it slide but—”
“Just do it.” I shuffle to my knees and kneel in front of him. Opening my mouth wide, I tilt my head back, ready to receive my communion.
Harris holds the vial over my face, trembling. A drop spills from the vial and lands on my chin, and he jerks his hand away.
“Shit…”
Just get it over with. I remain still and calm, mouth open, staring at the vial. It’s more than I could have hoped for. Nothing could fill the gaping void opening up inside me. But this will take everything else away—the guilt, the pain.
Harris tilts the vial. I focus on the liquid as it drips, like sticky molasses, into my mouth and down my throat.
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He’s dead. Gone. Stop it.
Best-case scenarios play like a silent picture show, torturing me with bright sunny futures that can never come to pass.
Caleb stands and wipes the black drool from his mouth with a grin. It smears over his face. Rather than clean it off, he rubs it all over his face—his cheeks, his eyes—painting himself with camouflage, ready for his last battle. He laughs, but the endless black void swallows the sound.
Caleb dusts himself off, seemingly unfazed by his own death, and walks away.
I scream at him to stop, claw at the ground to chase him down, but my hands sink into the ground. The floor melts into a thick, viscous pool of black ink, sucking me under and smothering me.
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“Kyla, get your ass downstairs and out of my house!”
“Coming, mum!” I hop into my jeans, smiling at my mum's complaints. She likes to play up the impatient mother act, but I know she's excited for me.
I'm excited for me—this is huge.
Mum stands in the hallway, hands on hips. “Get a move on, Kyla, they’re waiting.”
“Okay, mum.” I lean in to give her a kiss, grinning like a loon. “See you later.”
Stepping outside, I smile up at hundreds of wardens, all standing in rows wearing their street uniforms. An endless sea of blackened visors stare me down, rifles in hand.
“Where do you want me?”
The figure right in front of me steps forward, taking off their helmet. “Here is good,” Caleb says, ruffling his hair and giving me a lopsided grin. His chin drips with black molasses, his lips cut to shreds by tiny shards of glass.
I stand where he points out and smile, clasping my hands behind my back. “Like this?”
Caleb nods, and drips of black sludge splatter to the ground. “All good. Now—” He brings his rifle to his shoulder, peering down the barrel at me, and the army of wardens behind him follow suit. “—Hold still.”
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“Kyla! Kyla, are you okay?” Frank shakes me by my shoulders, turning my chin from left to right.
The light shining through his grey stubble is the light through a stained glass window—lines of silver decorate his features, mingling with black. Dark, black hairs that suck all the light from the room. “Frank?” I reach a hand out to stroke his cheek, but he grabs my wrist.
“Snap out of it, Kyla!”
“You’re not real.” I giggle, motioning to the cramped cell—three walls of bare concrete an arm’s reach away on all sides. A thick steel door with a hatch on the floor stands open behind him, leading to a long, dark hallway.
“Don’t you give up on me. We had a plan, remember?” Frank takes me by the chin and turns me to face him. “You’re stronger than this.”
He’s funny. Frank’s a funny guy.
His face is weird… shifting like a glitch in a video game, changing from the ruddy red to warm, chestnut brown… The rugged grey-flecked beard replaced by smooth, boyish skin.
He lays me down in the corner, tucking a blanket around me to keep off the chill from the concrete. Then he stands, running his hands through his hair with the maddened expression of a despairing parent. He’s wearing a warden’s uniform.
Weird.
“I’m sorry about your brother. I’ll be back soon.”
The steel door clangs shut, and I sink back into the inky black pool, pawing at the sludge, bathing in it.
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“Greetings, patron. You will be served by Dani today.”
I shuffle to the counter, leaning on a metal pipe I repurposed as a cane. Bent double over my walking aid, I reach out to grasp the surface, afraid I might fall.
A stunning smile greets me—warm tawny-beige skin, full lips and the most beautiful, friendly eyes… Dani leans in close and whispers in my ear. “I’m glad to see you. Can I get you some water?”
I nod eagerly, trying to ignore the cruel grimace of the girl on the far end of the counter. She curls her lip in disgust, eyeing up the counter as if I’ve infected it with my presence.
Dani brings a cup over and reveals a tiny bottle hidden inside. With a wink, they turn the label for me to read:
Selfishness. I will not go to Reform for you.
I sigh and nod my understanding, before shuffling away.