A LOT HAS changed since my interrogation. It happened three days ago, and now it seems the guards are more strict. Yesterday I stood to put away my tray, and a guard pointed his gun at me, yelling for me to hurry up and get out of the mess hall.
Since I had a chance to see and talk with Sky before we were questioned, I have seen her in the mess hall several times. At every meal, I stand up, we lock eyes for about two seconds, then I set my tray down on the conveyer belt and leave.
Perhaps it had been my fear blinding me, keeping me from seeing her when I looked before. But there was a new hope renewed within me.
It would seem that she survived her questioning with Holbrook and also didn’t say anything about my Starborn ability. Guilt covers me every time I think about it, but there is no scenario in which I can see her relaying the information about me and it turning out well for either of us. My sense is they would kill both of us. Or use us in some terrible way. It’s hard to guess with these people. I have never met a more secretive enemy.
I can’t guess their motivations. I don’t know what they will do next. One moment, I’m able to stride across the room and talk to my daughter before a terrible interrogation, the next I’m not allowed to make a peep while I’m in line for my meal. Or the guards point their guns at me and yell for me to get out of the mess hall.
Rusty said that since he’s been here, the tension has always come and gone. He said for the last month or so since I got here, things have been relatively easy, but things seem to be getting back to normal since Holbrook came and went.
“Back to normal isn’t a good thing,” Rusty said, his right eye twitching. “Back to normal means harder working conditions. Beatings for no good reason. Executions.”
The conversation ended there. I had had a tough time getting anywhere on my escape plans, but I didn’t seem to be the only one.
I have learned one thing, however. When the lights go out, after about an hour, the guards seem to stop patrolling the corridors. I discovered this when I couldn’t stop thinking about Holbrook’s questioning and wondering over and over what kind of pain Sky had to go through.
I have tested the theory every night. One hour after lights out, and the guards are nowhere to be found until about midnight, then around two in the morning. Then, nothing until it’s time to wake.
Since the hour has passed and there are no guards to be seen, I get off the top bunk and make my way to the bars in my cell. There are snores in almost every direction. A few creaks of the beds with some trying to get comfortable. Someone murmurs in their sleep. I try to search my brain for clues, weaknesses in the prison’s defenses so I might break through.
I know now that Sky is in disposal, which is a terrible thing, but actually has the benefit of me being close to her during the day. If I’m right, she’s only one field over from me. And if what I’ve heard is true, prisoners working in disposal are allowed outside the prison. This doesn’t mean anything necessarily, especially if guards are watching them closely.
“Thinking about your daughter?”
The voice startles me, and I turn quickly to see Rusty sitting on the side of his bed.
“I don’t have a daughter.” I turn my head and stare out at nothing, wondering what in the world might have tipped him off. “Why are you up?” I ask.
“Can’t sleep,” he says. “Thinking about ways of getting out of here. Thinking about asking for your help.”
“That’s a switch,” I say, shaking my head.
“I’ve made it my job to notice things,” he says. “Don’t worry. Most people here only notice their own toes. Me? I’m an observer. Got to be if I’m gonna get out of here.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Yeah? Well, maybe you shouldn’t be so obvious when you’re looking over at the women’s side of the mess hall. Anybody with half a brain could see that you and that little girl look at each other. Makes sense. You came in at the same time. She’s what, eleven? Twelve?”
It’s a question meant to bait me. “I wouldn’t know,” I say.
“Come on, Liam. Look at it as a chance to let me trust you.”
I turn and look at him.
“I just want you to admit it first. What’s the harm? You think it’s information I could use to gain favor with Warden Black? I avoid the man like the plague. I don’t want to get a bullet in my brain, which I can guarantee will happen before I get another round of solitary.”
With weeks gone by and nothing to show for it, there is a temptation to admit my relationship. Partnering with Rusty could really be a benefit. But even if he wasn’t a rat, and even if he had no intention of telling anyone that Sky is my daughter, that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t let the information slip out accidentally. And I’m not sure what Warden Black or Davis or even Holbrook might do with that kind of information. They would certainly use her against me if they found out. I don’t know how or when or why, but it would happen.
If it did, then I would offer the cure to them. There is a chance they would leave us alone after they had it, especially since Holbrook seems to be looking for the cure, albeit through the means of a Starborn with healing powers.
Though I feel tempted to reveal I have a daughter, I shake my head at Rusty. “I have nothing to admit. I don’t have a daughter. And for that I’m thankful. If I had a daughter and she was here, I would go crazy.”
Rusty stares at me, not believing what I have to say. Still, a smile forms at the corners of his mouth and a shallow breath of a laugh passes by his lips.
“You’re a good man,” he says. “And to be honest, I feel like you’re safer to trust given that you don’t lay claim to the little girl on the other side of the prison. It means you’re loyal and stubborn. That, or you’re telling the truth, but I don’t think so because you seem to be a terrible liar. Still, I need someone who’s loyal and stubborn.”
“You don’t need someone who is a terrible liar,” I say. “If that’s what you believe about me.”
“That’s only true if you get caught trying to escape, which we’re going to avoid.”
“So, you’ve finally decided to trust me?”
“I don’t think I have a choice anymore,” he says.
“You don’t want me to help you,” I say.
“And why do you say that?”
“Because if I am lying and I do have a daughter here, then that would mean any plan we make would involve getting her out, too.” I stare into his eyes, my jaw set. “What kind of man would try to escape a place like this without his daughter?”
“Not any man,” he says. “But we’re not there yet. We’re not even close. Right now, what we need to do is tell each other what we know.”
“I’m already holding up my end,” I say. “I don’t know anything.”
“You will,” he says. “You just have to be a good observer, and you have to do it for a long time.”
He has no idea how much I observe. I wonder if he knows how many paces it is to each exit? How many windows are on the front of the building? How many steps to the front gates?
“I observe,” I say. “And I have nothing but time.”
“I have a little information that will be of some use to us,” he offers. He scoots off the edge of his bed and kneels in the dark next to me. His voice is low and barely above a whisper. “Truth be told, I don’t really know how much time we really have.”
“What do you mean?”
“I do whatever I can to talk to newcomers every time they come to the prison,” he says. “You’d be surprised how open to talking some of them are. You…pssht…” He shakes his head. “You’ve been clammed up since day one.”
“You’ve learned something?”
“Maybe,” he says. “This prison has been around for some years now, before the Containment Zone. I’ve heard rumors of Pass Cards…new prisoners talk sometimes. Sometimes I get word from my friend on the outside.”
“Pass Cards?”
“That’s right,” he says. “A ticket out of the Containment Zone. It was rumored that a number of them would be handed out to loyal Screven citizens, and to all those employed by Screven.”
“Like soldiers, patrol officers…”
“…and prison guards,” Rusty finished for me. “If it’s true, and the government plans to give every guard and Warden Black a Pass Card, then what do you think they are going to do with us?”
I don’t have to say it.
“Our bones are going to the top of Vulture Hill,” he says. “Now I don’t know if this mass exodus is happening soon or anytime at all, but I do know that Pass Cards are real.”
“How?”
“I have someone on the outside named Teagan. I know he’s got one.”
“How did he get one?”
He shakes his head. “I don’t know, and I don’t want to know.”
“So, he could just walk right out of the Containment Zone?”
“Maybe, but that depends.”
“On what?”
“On whether he’s got a citizen Pass Card or an official Pass Card.”
“Official meaning soldiers, guards, etcetera.”
“Exactly,” he says. “If it’s an official’s Pass Card, then he can’t use it without extra verification.”
“Such as?”
“A handprint scanner,” he says. “You ever been up close to a gate?”
I hadn’t. I had seen one from a distance. I saw the guns and the bodies that littered the ground near the site. I knew there had to be authorization to get out of the Containment Zone, but I never knew what kind.
“The automated guns won’t kill you if you don’t try to get through,” he says. “I’ve taken a look at the box where you insert your Pass Card to get through the gate, but I noticed there was a scanner, large enough for someone to place their entire hand over it. It’s the secondary verification meant for officials. Screven doesn’t want anybody getting through the gate impersonating a Screven official.”
“Is this common knowledge?” I ask, feeling a bit sheepish. I hadn’t done my homework.
“No,” he says. “In fact, most of the people in the prison don’t know about the Pass Cards at all because they were implemented recently and quietly. I don’t know how many were given out to ordinary citizens, but I’m guessing it’s not a lot. And the longer we’re in here, the less of a chance we have of stealing some Pass Cards before they all take the notion to leave the Containment Zone freely.”
“What makes you think any of them will stay behind for any time at all?”
“Raiders,” he says. “If Screven has given away Pass Cards to citizens, then raiders have already hunted down as many Pass Cards as possible to hold onto them. You know how valuable those things would be? It’s freedom for the person who owns one.”
I have often wondered if Sky and I would get out of the Containment Zone once we finally left Vulture Hill. Now the possibility seemed less likely than ever. If only a small number of people received Pass Cards, there was no way I would get my hands on two. I have no plans of taking on raiders, and I can’t very well steal a Pass Card from someone who is innocent, while just holding onto the card and waiting for the right time. Even if I would stoop so low, it’s not like these people are going to advertise the fact that they have a Pass Card.
“Here’s the thing,” Rusty continues. “I work with a guy in the prison who has confirmed everything. His name is Chet. He came in when you did. You know him?”
I shake my head and sigh. “I’ve met him. He’s a loudmouth and half-crazy. You can’t trust him.”
“He's a talkative man,” Rusty agrees. “Talks a little too much if you ask me. He said someone in his settlement received a Pass Card and he was dead within minutes. No one knows who got it.”
“So, that leaves us with an official’s Pass Card,” I say. “Which requires extra verification. A useless card, essentially.”
“The official Pass Card is a rumor,” he says. “It’s a rumor likely to be true, but few people know anything about it because if and when the guards get theirs, they are going to kill us quietly. Then they are going to leave quietly.”
“But it doesn’t make any sense,” I say. “What’s the point of sealing us all in here? I get that they use us to harvest greyskins for their gain, but if all the soldiers and guards are gone, what’s left?”
“Pandemonium,” he says. “I think Screven is afraid of what the Containment Zone has become. They want all the extra greyskins, but they didn’t think they would get so many. It’s a dangerous place to be, and it’s starting to get too dangerous even for the Screven soldiers to be here. They would seal off the way in or out. They would keep us in here to rot.”
“So, why the Pass Cards? Why not just gather all the officials and leave?”
“Without verification, imposters would leave with them. Pass Cards make the most sense for soldiers and guards.” He looks at the ground and sighs. “Pass Cards given to citizens in the Containment Zone were loyal to Screven. People who believe in what they’re doing.”
“Surely those people don’t know what the Screven government is really up to,” I say.
“Probably not. But those people more than likely have voiced a favorable opinion about Screven in some way or another. And Screven listens to its people.”
It’s true. I’ve always been one to seclude my family from the villages and settlements, usually finding it safer to be on our own. But whenever I visited a settlement for a supply run, I would sometimes see Screven soldiers. They policed where they could, no doubt monitoring the citizens to report data back to Screven.
“So, with a Pass Card, we would have to carry around someone’s hand to get through. For the fingerprints.” I shake my head. “That doesn’t help us.”
“That’s where my friend on the outside, Teagan, comes in,” Rusty said. “He can help with that.”
“How?”
“Printing,” he says. “Essentially a plastic mold of the hand detailed all the way down to the prints.”
“But if we have to find out when the guards receive the cards, if they ever receive them,” I say, “that doesn’t help anything. By the time we find out, it will be too late.”
Rusty shrugs. “I’m just telling you everything I know and how it goes beyond Vulture Hill. If you really want to escape prison with your daughter, you’ve got to get out of the Containment Zone altogether. Only then will you really be free.”
I know this. I’ve known this since they built the gates. I just can’t see how it’s possible. Skylar and I can make a life for ourselves within the Containment Zone if we have to, but that’s not the case within Vulture Hill. We are here to die.
Bright lights blind me, and doors fling open at every exit. Yelling. Lots of yelling. Rusty and I scramble to our feet as our eyes adjust to the brightness. It couldn’t be past three in the morning. Why would the guards be waking us?
Davis is the first to come into view. “Everybody up! Get up! Get up!”
The cell doors slide open, and we’re told to start marching toward the mess hall. I look at Rusty and I can tell he is thinking the same thing. Had the guards already gotten their Pass Cards and were they about to exterminate us? If so, there was nothing we could do.
Still, I’m not so sure. I feel like we would have noticed some changes in behavior among the guards—an indifference toward us as they thought about their futures outside the Containment Zone.
We start toward the mess hall, but we stop in the prison camp yard. There are a group of guards in the middle of the yard and on the other side are all the women of the prison. I scan the crowd for Sky, but can’t see her anywhere. I catch Rusty looking at me who has an eyebrow raised. I ignore him, searching the crowd for any sign of her, but it’s too dark and there are too many people.
A tall, dark figure walks in the middle of the yard, his hair falling in every direction, his thin frame hunched and pointy. Warden Black paces back and forth until each prisoner is standing quietly along the sides of the square.
“It’s not often I call you out in the middle of the night like this,” Black says. “I want you all to be well-rested for your workday tomorrow.” He lifts his hands in the air. “But how can you be well-rested if you’re already up all night, digging your way through your cell?”
He motions to a guard with his right hand. The guard walks out with a man whose hands are tied behind his back, a gag stuffed into his mouth.
“I want you all to look at this man,” Warden Black says. “This is a man who is desperate. So desperate to get out of here that he would risk a gruesome death over the simple death that we provide all of our inmates here in the end.” He looks at the man and leans in to meet his gaze. “Tell me, three-three-four-two, was it worth it?”
Warden Black nods to someone in the crowd, and a man emerges carrying a briefcase. The man kneels next to the bound prisoner and opens the briefcase.
“I don’t want any of you to think I don’t know the saying that goes around the camp,” Black continues. “If you’re not trying to escape, you’re suicidal. Well, let me propose another mantra: If you are trying to escape, you’re suicidal. Not one person…not one…has ever escaped this prison. Every single prisoner who walks through the entrance leaves only to be eaten by the vultures at the top of the hill.”
The man with the briefcase holds something in his right hand. The prisoner squirms, grunts getting past the gag as three guards have to restrain him.
Warden Black nods at the man with the briefcase. The man reaches out for the prisoner, and I can now see that he’s holding a syringe, slowly making his way toward the prisoner’s neck. The man’s needle slips into the prisoner’s veins despite his incessant struggle against the guards holding him.
“He’s being injected with greyskin blood. Within the next twenty-four hours, he will slowly turn into one of those monsters.”
A set of eight guards carry a large metal cage to the middle of the yard and set it down in the dirt. A door swings open on its hinges. The prisoner lets out a scream, but it’s already too late. The blood is in his system. Honestly, I am the only person in the world with the potential to help him, but only if I had the cure with me. Of course, even if that absurd notion were possible, this wouldn’t be how I played that card.
I turn my eyes toward the ground as the guards shove the prisoner into the cage. Why is this happening to any of us? How does this help anything? There is evil in this world, and you are in hell. That is the answer.
“Each of you will know this transformation intimately,” Warden Black continues. “For the next twenty-four hours, you will watch this man die and you will watch him turn. You do not eat. You do not sleep. You relieve yourselves where you stand. If you move before this man has turned, you will be shot. If you talk to someone next to you, you will be shot. If you fall to your knees to rest, you will be shot.”
He points to the man in the cage who now leans against the side as his shoulders bounce up and down in response to his sobering sobs. There are several sniffs in the air from those who might know him or are quietly torn apart by this horrid display of punishment.
This has the opposite effect that Warden Black intends. All this does is make me want to escape more than ever, and I’m sure I’m not the only one who feels this way.
I can’t believe we will have to stand here in the summer heat for the next twenty-four hours. That alone is torture. But to have to watch a man make the transition from living to dead, to reanimating…that’s sickening.
In every situation that happens here, my mind always drifts to Sky. What is she thinking right now? Is she scared? Does she think we should halt our attempts to escape? Should we?
Hours go by. The heat rises with the sun. The man in the cage writhes in pain, the fever taking over him. Both sides of the yard are silent. Man and woman stare at the cage and watch as the inmate sweats, as his eyes start to turn to a shade of black.
I look straight ahead, my mind drifting to the past, thinking about how I got here in the first place, wondering if I had never been so interested in finding a cure for the virus, would I have somehow skipped this prison? Did my insistence of isolation force my daughter and me to be where we are now? If I hadn’t desperately searched for the cure for so long, we would be free. I would still have my wife.
Regardless of the answer, there is nothing I can do about it now. I look at the prisoner who seems to be whimpering. There is nothing any of us can do. That realization, however, doesn’t take away my regret. What were all those years of searching for a cure? It now rests in a vault, locked away, never to see the light of day. I lost my wife because of it. I might lose my daughter. If not for the cure, we might not be here at all.