Lockdown

TAKEN

I SAT BOLT UPRIGHT in bed, my head spinning. It was the blood watch, here for another harvest. I couldn't believe it, they couldn't be, not tonight.

The crimson light made the entire prison shimmer like I was seeing it through a heat haze, as if the fires of hell were burning right beneath us. I stretched my neck and looked down into the yard as the vault door swung open, unleashing a series of screams and wheezes that could only come from the gas masks.

"Alex," came Donovan's voice from above me, laced with fear. "Just don't move, okay? For once, just stay in bed and keep your head down."

I lowered myself back and pulled the sheets over my head. Donovan was right, just stay quiet, stay hidden and they'd pass right by. There was a series of wet cries as the wheezers split up, each heading for a different flight of steps. I pictured them jerking and convulsing as they made their way along the platforms, their piggy eyes picking out victims to be devoured.

There was a scream, distant. It was on the far side of the prison. The first wheezer had chosen. A second cry followed, like a dying bird, from below us. Two down, three to go. Another shriek, followed by a chorus of pleas from the chosen inmate. A fourth, this time way above, the sound echoing down the prison walls in case any of us missed it the first time around. Only one wheezer left. One more victim.

"Not us," I prayed, so softly I couldn't even hear myself. My breath hit the sheet over my mouth, the air stale and warm. "Please, God, just one more night. Not us."

A scream, so close it could have been from inside my bed. I curled up even more tightly into my sheets. Stay quiet, stay hidden, they'll go away, they'll just go away.

I heard another scream, but it wasn't from the gas mask. It was a cry of rage, of anger, of despair. It was Donovan. I pulled the sheets off my head and sat up to see the monster standing right outside the cell, all rust and stitches and glass eyes, all leather and syringes and dried blood. It had one hand in its pocket, and pulled it free with a sucking sound.

"No!" screamed Donovan. "NoNoNoNoNo!"

Its soiled hand struck the bars of the cell, marking out a crude X on the metal. Then it slung back its twitching head and screeched, the sound quickly mimicked by its twisted siblings.

I jumped out of bed and looked at Donovan. He was peeking from his sheets, his eyes like white moons against his dark skin, his mouth foaming. I'd never seen him like this before, filled with utter terror, and it broke my heart.

"What do we do?" I asked. The wheezer had frozen, but it wouldn't be long before the blacksuits made their way here with their dogs. "Which one of us is it taking?"

Donovan didn't move, didn't speak. I ripped the sheets from him and he still didn't respond. Desperate, I grabbed his arms and hauled him out of bed. He was halfway over the edge before he realized what was going on, snapping out of his trance in order to flip himself over and land on the floor.

"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.