The Prisoner

A man stared from the window of a bus; his stoic features undeterred by the shifting landscape around him. The towering metropolis he had once called home faded into insignificance in the background, its behemoth structures casting shadows beyond the horizon. These black streaks embedded upon the arid landscape would form the final memory of the place he grew up, yet the man seemed unfazed by the thought.

There was nothing left for him anymore.

The bus juddered as the terrain shifted, stirring up some of the passengers. “We must be getting close” a man across the way muttered to himself, clearly agitated by the thought as his features grew concerned. A strange spluttering noise piqued the passengers’ interests as an elderly man stumbled into the walkway clutching at his chest. He fell to his knees grasping for words that eluded him as his face grew redder by the second.

A rotund officer rose from the front of the bus with an unperturbed look plastered across his face. He sighed and approached the purple man who continued to grasp for air, he had become tired of this routine. He loomed over him, locking eyes – the man’s expression shifting as he realised he had been rumbled. “I never said you had to stay” the officer stated as the bus ground to a halt.

The man slowly rose to his feet, unsure of his next move. The officer stepped aside and ushered for him to walk down the aisle “Be my guest” he implored. The man hesitated, unsure of the situation that had arisen. A few captives decided to chance their luck and rallied behind him, instilling confidence in his decision. The doors rattled opened and the captives stepped nervily onto the dunes.

The officer slumped back in his chair and the bus continued onward, this was protocol these days. The Drought had wreaked havoc upon the prisons food stores and there were enough inmates as it was. The remaining prisoners clamoured to the back of the bus to cheer on the travelling band of convicts, who unbeknownst to them, would inevitably be lost to the cascading dunes.

Uninterested in the afternoon’s events, the silent man was lost deep in thought as he stared aimlessly into the desert. He traced his finger round the heart-shaped locket that lay heavy upon his chest; its cold metallic touch a painful reminder of what he had lost. He knew he shouldn’t have been here, and yet he was on his own accord. It hadn’t been hard either, a calculated bank robbery had been the perfect way into The Hole.

Meanwhile the convoy trudged onwards, struggling to mount a particularly large dune for what seemed to be an eternity. By the time they summited the sun had begun to set, casting rays of fiery tones upon the desert below. Beyond the dune lied The Hole; a vast, black expanse spanning the valley, swallowing the surrounding terrain in a manner similar to its celestial counterpart. Void of any obvious security, it seemed a facility ill equipped to be dealing with the calibre of inmates housed within.

The Hole was created to resolve overpopulation issues within the city, acting as a cheap alternative to housing inmates. Dug by the first to be sent there, its purpose was simple. Send the worst society had to offer down into the depths to mine for water pockets that would be used to sustain the struggling city. The conditions in which the inmates existed slowly bore away at one’s soul, with each day passing incurring an increasingly worse toll on the body. There was no solace here.

There was little to no infrastructure within the prison, layers were naturally formed as inmates dug deeper over the years. The prisoners were free of physical restraints yet shackled by an implant embedded in the top of their thigh. Coined as “the immobiliser”, the implant prevented any riots from occurring in the prison by sending a severe electrical shock pulsating through the bodies of any inmates within 5 metres of each other.

Many had tried to remove the implant, but all had met the same fate; whether they bled out in The Hole or in the desert it didn’t matter, there was no escape.

The bus slowly ground to a halt on the edge of the pit, a sterile room stood alone on its periphery. The new inmates filed out slowly from the bus, wincing as they adjusted to their new environment. A solitary clerk sat within the reception glaring at the prisoners who dared to disturb his silence. Each inmate was called forward to collect their orange jumpsuit that corresponded to the number given to them when convicted.

“D-724” the clerk yelled as the man with the locket rose to his feet and walked over to collect his uniform, pickaxe and bucket before heading down the corridor toward the Doctor’s office.

D-724 sat callously by as guttural screams erupted from the room opposite, echoing down the corridor as a painful reminder as to what was in store. He never saw anyone leave the room, instead the door was opened, and the next inmate was ushered in.

Silence. Scream. Repeat.

Soon came his turn as he was beckoned in by a stern face dressed in a white lab coat. He gestured for the patient to lay down on a bed in the centre of the room. Taking in his surroundings, D-724 analysed the room. For the most part it was devoid of intrigue, if not for the rickety elevator suspended in the corner.

The Doctor turned from his desk after reading through his new patients file, staring quizzically at him.

“You’re not the normal type we get in here” the doctor confessed as he fiddled with a large syringe situated on a tray across from D-724.

“I don’t tend to administer anaesthetic to the monsters that come here, but I’ll make an exception for you, that stunt you pulled at the bank doesn’t seem deserved of this punishment”

The man nodded. He was impartial to the Doctor’s decision.

“You’ve been assigned to the Delta division; those tend to be the people who don’t do well in a place like this.”

D-724 stared back blankly.

“Not much of a talker, eh? That’s alright you won’t be doing much conversing down there” the Doctor remarked as he gently pierced the man’s skin and pumped his thigh full of anaesthetic.

“This next one might hurt a little still” the Doctor warned as he pulled a device not too dissimilar to a nail gun from his drawer. In a swift motion he pressed firmly into the man’s thigh and pulled the trigger.

Even through the anaesthetic, D-724’s eyes streamed. He nodded gratuitously at the Doctor.

“If I can give you one piece of advice; if you see an orange jumpsuit with an A on it, steer clear. They’re from the Alpha division- real pieces of work those lot.” The Doctor stated as he locked eyes with D-724, sharing a moment of empathy for what lay in store for his patient.

With that, the Doctor helped the man to his feet and escorted him over to the elevator, he clung onto the railing at the back, struggling to stay upright. The Doctor pressed the button and solemnly looked on as the elevator creaked into action and his patient was lowered into the unknown.

D-724 was aware of his situation and yet showed no signs of fear as the light began to fade, this was exactly where he wanted to be.

A flickering torch welcomed him into the abyss as he struggled to adjust to the lack of sunlight. A figure greeted him in the dark, the torchlight dancing over what D-724 attributed to be an officer’s uniform.

“Evening scum” he bellowed as D-724 walked from the elevator squinting in the direction of his new acquaintance.

“Quit gawking fresh meat before I turn my baton on and you get to see how that implant works!”, grinned the officer. He clearly revelled in the minor powers that had been bestowed upon him.

D-724 headed along the tight, sandy walkway, following the flickering torchlight that writhed along the walls beside him. He was glad he wasn’t claustrophobic.

The passageway soon opened into a gaping cavern that moonlight spilled into as though it possessed a liquid form, illuminating the prisoners’ surroundings. He gazed down as the path fell away from his feet into the void that existed below.

The silence was pierced by a bell that resonated through the cavern, followed by a static crackle as a grainy voice rang through the chamber “The time is now Midnight. Work protocol commencing.”

Something began to stir within the abyss, a low groaning noise was emitted as an ancient pulley system began to strain as it whirred into action. Like clockwork, wary prisoners began to emerge from the crevices in which they resided and headed into the depths to begin their work. The monotonous clink of pickaxe against rock began to ring out throughout the cavern as the prisoners searched for water.

D-724 had no intention of working today. Or ever for that matter. He only had one purpose here, he thought to himself as he slumped against the wall behind him.

Working methodically, he ripped a sleeve from his jumpsuit; wrapping it round his leg to form a makeshift tourniquet. He reached for his pickaxe and without hesitation plunged the metal head deep into his thigh. His face contorted as metal pierced flesh. Holding back his screams, he stuck his hand deep into the wound, fumbling in agonising pain as he struggled to find the implant.

His arms shaked feebly as his fingers eventually settled round the plastic tumour, wrenching it from his body. He trembled as shock began to set in, he didn’t have long. Struggling to his feet, D-724 mustered his remaining courage and began his descent.

He knew his target; his face was etched onto his brain like an ugly scar plaguing his every thought. He’d followed the court case, campaigned for him to face the chair, and yet he was still alive, and she was not. A-7 was his name.

Getting weaker and weaker, he struggled onwards, passing solitary inmates clad in jumpsuits indicating their crimes. Eventually, the light diminished into nothing, and he was swallowed by darkness as a putrid smell overwhelmed his senses. He had reached the bottom.

Clutching at the locket sat upon his chest, he fumbled for the clasp until it opened. Piercing the darkness, a small, ghostly figure was thrust into the air. The hologram pulsated, emitting an eerie light as the woman’s image flickered. She smiled at him. A warm, kind smile that he missed dearly. A solitary tear trickled down his cheek, his face illuminated by the woman he once loved.

Filled with purpose, he ventured on, scanning the cavern as inmates stopped to stare at the strange, glowing figure that passed by. And then finally, in the darkness he saw him. The face that had haunted him all these years.

A-7, his jumpsuit read.

The man stared back at the mysterious figure who had disturbed him. He recognised the hologram that was being projected from his chest.

He stared in shock as D-724 approached him. Before he could defend himself, the prisoner raised his pickaxe above his head and brought it crashing down. His victim spluttered, his breath growing heavy as he inevitably fell still.

D-724 crumbled to floor, he had grown weak. He gazed longingly at the hologram, his wife’s blue aura comforting him as he slowly closed his eyes.

“That’s for you, Sally” he whispered as his arms became limp and the room fell silent.