They covered his head with a bag minutes before leaving Kings Base.
Ash, unable to see, felt laser barrels pressing into his spine as they rode the platform back to the surface.
There were voices surrounding him, mocking him. He had fought relentlessly against the most harrowing circumstances, but he would graciously accept defeat. Ash was ready to die. He wanted them to end it quickly.
“You’re going to love it at the C-Zone,” said a voice, close to him. “You’re going to be the very first inmate ever. Bet that makes you feel pretty special, huh?”
Another voice bellowed,
“Don’t talk to him. No one is to interfere until he’s handed over.”
Ash had no reaction to the voices. Maybe he had already died inside.
Before long, Ash felt the platform stop. Birds tweeted as they flew overhead. Ash, trying to get his bearings, knew they were back in Kings Park, but his departure was swift and precise. The sound of an approaching car grew louder. Doors were open. Ash was forced into the backseat of the car. They drove. The journey seemed relatively short, but Ash wasn’t able to accurately measure the duration.
The car doors were opened again.
“Get him out,” said a voice. “Take him straight to his cell.”
Pulled around like a puppet, Ash was hoisted under the arms – still handcuffed – while somebody picked up his feet. He was carried for a while. Trying to visualise the movements, Ash heard footsteps hitting a hard surface, perhaps concrete, but within minutes the sound had changed. He was sure the soldiers had brought him indoors, carrying him across lino or some kind of vinyl flooring.
Then, Ash was dropped. It felt like tiles.
“Now?” asked a voice, echoing out into an empty space.
“Yep,” replied another voice. “Just be quick about it.”
Ash felt hands all over his body. His pockets were emptied, his possessions taken and his clothes were removed with scissors. After a highly invasive search, he was dressed in a softer material. However, he remained shirtless and barefoot.
At last, the bag over his head was removed.
Ash opened his eyes, but the harsh white light almost blinded him. He looked up to see a square window, maybe fifteen metres above him. Natural light poured through, but it brought him little comfort. The blue sky had never seemed so far away.
Ash’s eyes began to adjust to his surroundings. He appeared to be inside a dome shaped room. Although the ground was tiled, the rest of it looked to be solid concrete.
He then looked directly in front of him.
“Home, sweet home,” said a soldier, holding a laser inches from his eyes.
Somebody else – not a soldier – but a man dressed in a maroon uniform moved around Ash and then unlocked his handcuffs. His hands were finally unbound.
He thought about making a split-second retaliation, but Ash didn’t move. His fight was long gone.
The soldier and the uniformed man stepped backwards, before quickly crossing over a narrow walkway. A door opened and closed behind them, and then the bridge retracted into the wall. The lights on the walls dimmed.
Ash was left all alone.
Scanning his eyes to the left, Ash saw another window. It was larger and rectangular, but the vision behind it was highly distressing. A row of soldiers stood behind the glass barrier, as if observing Ash like a caged animal. The man in the maroon uniform was also inside, pushing buttons and fiddling about with different controls.
Ash climbed to his feet, still watching the people behind the glass. They stared, unblinking. When he could take no more, Ash turned away and examined his enclosure. The room was almost bare.
There was a showerhead, hanging high above a lone drain and a stainless-steel bucket. There was also a bed in the centre of the cell, anchored to the floor. The mattress seemed thin, but at least it had been accompanied with a pillow and blanket. There was also a light grey t-shirt folded at the end of the mattress. Ash grabbed the shirt and slipped it over his head.
Just then, the sound of gears whirled beneath Ash’s feet and a tile close to the bed divided and opened up to reveal a meal tray. There was a large bottle of water and a bowl of slush, which Ash could only assume was food.
Scanning his eyes to the floor, Ash realised the tiles didn’t quite meet the walls in the distance. He turned around, doing a full three-sixty on the spot.
He was on a platform. It appeared to be hoisted above the ground. A gap, of maybe five metres or so, separated the platform from the dome walls.
Turning his back to the soldiers in the window, Ash walked towards the ledge. He stood at the edge of the platform, looking down. The floor could not be seen.
He didn’t know how far the drop was, but it seemed far enough. He closed his eyes. Ash was ready to fall.
Lifting one foot out in front of him, he attempted to step off. His knee hit something. It rebounded back at him. Ash opened his eyes, but nothing was there. He tried to step off again. Same result.
He lifted both hands and pushed them out in front, but they struck some kind of barrier – completely invisible to the naked eye.
“Welcome to the C-Zone,” said a voice. “You’re our very first occupant.”
Ash jerked his head around. From the viewing window, the man in the maroon uniform appeared to be speaking from a microphone. His voice echoed through a loudspeaker, booming from above.
“My name is Gerald, by the way,” said the man, waving behind the microphone. “You and I will soon become very well acquainted.”
Ash turned his back and tried to walk off the platform again. He couldn’t.
“In case you haven’t worked it out, you’re stuck in there,” said Gerald. “The cell has rebounding barriers. It’s called an Invisi-Shield, sort of like a force field, surrounding the perimeter. It’s a British invention, actually. We liked it so much we’ve used it here in the C-Zone. It can’t be penetrated. It can’t be broken. Only I can control it.”
Ash turned to the window and flipped him off. He’d only held his finger up for a second before searing pain skyrocketed from his feet, travelling through his legs, igniting every muscle in his body. Then, it stopped. Ash fell to the ground.
“See? Your new accommodation can do lots of neat tricks,” said Gerald. “From this control room I can activate your shower, offer you food or electrify the floor. You’d best keep that in mind. You don’t want to piss me off, bud. I’m solely in charge of your fate now.”
Climbing back to his feet, Ash darted towards his bed and climbed on top of the mattress. He’d only been seated for a moment before more lightning bolts ripped through his insides.
“Your mattress can conduct electricity too. It’s fitted with metal bars that are also connected to the floor. There’s nowhere safe. If you don’t behave, I will shock you.”
The soldiers standing behind Gerald started laughing. The faint murmur of their amusement could be heard through the loudspeaker. One by one, they shook Gerald’s hand and exited the control room. When they were gone, Gerald stood back in front of the microphone.
“We’re not going to kill you, at least not yet,” he began. “I’ve been instructed to keep you alive, until your trial, but heaven knows when that will be.”
Ash stared; feeling fragments of his soul break away.
“So, in the meantime, I hope you enjoy your stay at the C-Zone.”
The window then flicked over to a mirror. Ash could no longer see Gerald or the control room, just his haunting reflection.
He turned away. Dizzying thoughts filled his head. It was hard to imagine he’d woken up this morning beside a woman he claimed he’d loved, but now he loathed her.
If only he had killed her like he’d originally planned.
Ash draped his legs over the bed. He tried to breathe. He closed his eyes, trying to fill his lungs and find some inner peace. Impossible.
Hands on his knees, Ash felt them slowly curl into fists. Rage circulated through his veins, forcing his body to twitch. Ash was almost convulsing, allowing the animosity to consume him.
His eyes narrowing, he felt his jaw tighten. Gnashing his teeth, Ash didn’t try to control it. The demons had taken over. Ash revelled in the sin.
And then he screamed.
His mouth gaping, Ash let the wrath burst out of him like a dragon spitting fire. Once the first howl ended, he started again, feeling his vocal chords vibrating in his throat. Jumping from his bed, Ash picked up the bucket and hurled it out into the open. It rebounded off the Invisi-Shield and dropped to the ground. Ash kicked it, still yelling, trying to inflict as much damage as possible.
The floor was switched to active. More volts began shooting through his body. He endured five seconds of intensity, before it ended abruptly. Ash dropped to the ground, his body still jittering.
He pounded his fists into the tiles. Ash swore he broke a finger. It made it even easier to shout, feeling as though he might tear a hole in his throat.
Screaming had never felt so damn good.
Then Ash started laughing. He hadn’t heard his own laughter in almost a year, but it was bliss. The floor was switched on again. The pulse seemed shorter, or maybe Ash had already adapted to the hostility.
He chuckled some more.
“Pipe down!” yelled Gerald. “What the hell are you laughing at?”
Ash laughed harder, nearly choking. He coughed, gagged and spluttered, trying to catch his breath again.
The mirror flashed off and Gerald revealed himself through the window. He continued to hurl abuse, trying to silence Ash. When it didn’t work, the voltage was turned up. It only took one brief shock to knock him out cold.
***
It was several days later before Ash learned the severity of his actions.
He’d been told Ivy had successfully made the call to Nigel Durham from Ash’s phone. They were given coordinates to a mine via Morse code. The Lieutenant Colonel, taking the bait, launched a full-scaled search and destroy mission. Thousands upon thousands of troops gathered in central South Australia, in a remote open space.
Sitting ducks, really.
The British believed they were on the verge of a victory. Soldiers had assumed they’d uncover lethal nuclear weapons. Only a select few expected to find transhuman labs. None of them ever predicted they’d be blown to pieces.
Once the flies were in the honey, the President’s plan of entrapment was then given the green light. Hell was unleashed.
Ash had been told figures. It was the single greatest loss of British military lives on one single day in all of history.
All thanks to him.
He had no desire to listen to the details, but Gerald enthusiastically howled them through the loudspeakers. When Ash broke down, screaming hysterically, he was electrocuted to the point of paralysation.
Unable to move, Gerald told him that Ivy Adoni had been hailed as a hero. The British were likely to surrender within days.
For the first time in years, the end of the war was in sight.
Yet Ash’s battle was only beginning.
***
Days turned to weeks, and then months followed.
Ash hadn’t left the C-Zone. He hadn’t so much as stepped off the platform. Nobody else had entered his cell either, as the only form of human contact was a voice bellowing from a loudspeaker.
Strangely enough, he’d started to adapt. The first week had been far the worst, but each day seemed a little easier. Ash swore he’d even started to become immune to the high voltage shocks.
They didn’t seem to hurt as much anymore.
Ash had developed a routine. In the morning, he was instructed to undress and stand under the showerhead. Lukewarm water rained over him. For three minutes or less, he bathed as best he could, but the musk of his reeking skin never seemed to wash away.
Once the water stopped, the showerhead then pushed out warm air. It dried his bare skin, along with his ever-growing hair and beard.
Ash then dressed. Breakfast and fluids would appear from under the dividing tile. Lunch and dinner were the other highlights of the day.
Even shitting in a bucket gave him something to do.
For the rest of the day, Ash would walk around the platform in circles, occasionally yelling at himself, before collapsing on his mattress. He often looked towards the square window above his bed. It was the only glimpse of the outside world.
He daydreamed about walking free from the C-Zone one day, but he also knew that day would never come. His trial was scheduled for the end of the year.
Rumour had it they were considering bringing back the death penalty, just so the world could see him hanging from the gallows.
Gerald hardly spoke to Ash during the day, but if he did, it would usually be an insult or a news update.
The rest of the globe had begun to silence their guns, and dozens of countries were in the process of signing peace treaties. The British massacre in Australia had triggered a tsunami reaction. The transhuman secret was also public knowledge, although the Kings Base labs remained uncovered.
Lying on his back, Ash gazed through the window. Tiny droplets began to splatter against the glass. It relaxed him. He watched the rainfall, admiring the simple beauty when a thought crossed his mind.
Magenta. She had been so kind to him. Ash made a promise that if it hadn’t rained in Silverton before the end of April, he’d send help to her.
The thought of letting her down fuelled sorrow in the pit of his stomach. Ash jerked upright, staring towards the mirrored window. Although he could only see his horrid reflection, he was certain Gerald or one of his assistants, were watching him.
Ash stood to his feet, thinking about Magenta and her farm. He’d give anything to be back with her. In a world full of wickedly evil people, she had not been one of them. Ash wondered if she’d heard about his downfall.
Probably not.
His mind clocking over, Ash predicted it was now the middle of April. If it hadn’t rained in Silverton, Magenta would soon be without water.
He needed an answer. He wanted one now.
Pacing back and forth, Ash knew Gerald was his only resource. He needed to get his attention, forcing him to give him the information he desired.
Ash looked up and eyed the showerhead.
It was too high to reach from the ground, but with a boost, it didn’t seem so impossible. He also spotted a few long screws at the base of the head.
Picking up his bucket – which he’d thankfully emptied down the drain during his shower earlier in the morning – Ash placed the bucket upside down directly under the showerhead. He then walked away from it, still pacing.
His heartbeat on the incline, Ash had to make his move before Gerald could predict it. With a swift turn, Ash bolted towards the bucket, stepped on top and jumped towards the showerhead. He grabbed it with one hand.
“Hey! Stop!” yelled the loudspeaker.
Launching his other arm up, Ash latched another hand on it. He began to lift his body. His arms ached from the unusual movement, but as the muscle memory kicked in, Ash was able to hoist himself up. He stood on top of the oversized showerhead, clutching onto the pole for dear life.
“Hey!” shouted Gerald, appearing from the control room as the mirror was flicked off. “Get down!”
Ash didn’t budge. Panicking, Gerald tried a number of different controls. Nothing happened. Ash could hear the floor switching to active, but upon the showerhead, the electricity could not reach him. He’d found a flaw in the design.
Laughing, Ash dropped his pants and exposed himself, mocking the stunned faces behind the glass.
He then blew them a kiss. The gesture was just the icing on the cake.
“I will kill you!” roared Gerald, pounding his fists on the control panel.
Once his pants were back around his waist, Ash sat down on the showerhead and let his legs dangle over it. With one hand holding the pole, Ash then used his free hand to tap out a message in Morse.
Has it rained in Silverton?
“What the hell are you asking?”
Ash tapped the same question.
Has it rained in Silverton?
“I don’t understand Morse, dickhead!”
Unfazed, Ash tapped out the message on a loop. He was prepared to stay put until somebody gave him an answer. They would be required to give a response, or enter his cell to bring him down forcefully.
Replying to his question was the far easier solution.
At last, one of the other uniformed men within the control room whispered something in Gerald’s ear. He then approached the microphone.
“Are you asking me a question?”
Ash nodded.
“Come down from the showerhead, and then we’ll talk about it.”
Smiling, Ash shook his head.
Gerald, fuming, put his hand over the microphone and spoke to one of his assistants. They then watched as Ash tapped out his request for the umpteenth time.
After studying the pattern, an assistant walked over and spoke into the mic.
“Are you asking about rain? In Silverton?”
Finally, they were catching on.
Yes. Give me an answer.
The people in the control room scrambled around, making phone calls and talking amongst themselves. It was quite a while before Gerald approached the microphone again.
“We just called a national weather station,” he began. “I can confirm it has been raining on and off in Silverton for the past week or so. They’ve had about ninety mils since the start of the month.”
Sighing with relief, Ash started grinning. Gerald, and the other assistants watched him, perplexed by his reaction.
“We told you what you wanted to know,” said Gerald. “You have to get down now. Please.”
Ash held the base of the showerhead for a few more minutes. After a couple of adjustments, he then slowly lowered his body down until he was dangling by his hands. When he dropped, the floor lit up.
They shocked him to the point of numbness.
If they killed him, so be it. At least he would die with a smile upon his face.