Page 4

We can be nothing together.

She followed the lighted wires embedded in the ceiling, ignoring the blister that popped on her heel. When the tunnel opened to an expansive dusty cavern, the sound of metal grating against stone amplified. Ten-foot-tall lamps were placed around the room, their bright lights illuminating massive boulders of rocks.

She shuffled to a stop against the gravel, locating the source of the pounding. A row of prisoners swung hefty pickaxes against the sheer stone wall, carving a new passageway in the tunnel. A layer of dust hung in the air, and she fought the urge to sneeze.

“Stop slacking!” A burly guard approached an old man in a prisoner uniform, slumped over in exhaustion.

The prisoner said something inaudible to the guard, and the guard bashed the butt of his gun against the prisoner’s head. The prisoner fell face down on the gravel, unmoving.

“Back to work!” the guard yelled at the other prisoners, who didn’t spare the unconscious man another glance. Their facial expressions were blank as they continued to swing the pickaxes toward the rock wall, like they’d seen far worse.

A girl shuffled by, pushing a wheelbarrow filled with gravel. Her light blonde hair was matted to her forehead in sweat, face sunken in, and a thin line of ribs protruded through the patchy holes of her grey garment. Khalani’s eyes widened at the frailness of her body.

The girl couldn’t have been more than thirteen years old and looked like she’d keen over at the faintest breeze. The wheelbarrow probably weighed more than she did.

“Hey,” Khalani whispered, walking toward her.

The frail girl slowly turned her head, and Khalani froze at the expression on her face. Her eyes were a blank void, as if a ghost had walked through her body and taken over.

“What do you want?” the girl asked in a monotone voice.

Khalani’s body felt rooted to the ground. A name. She couldn’t remember the name of the woman the guard had told her to meet. Past details paled to the insurmountable now.

Would Khalani end up like her, a breathing shell who lost any evidence of a previous life?

Was that what she already looked like?

“Why are you not working, prisoner?” a guard shouted. The bulky guard charged forward, and her muscles froze in place. His pale blue eyes gleamed with anger as he pulled out a steel baton and hit the young girl on her lower back, and she collapsed with a pitiful cry.

“No. Please, stop!” Khalani yelled.

“What did you say?” The guard turned to her with a merciless glare and got right up in her face.

Her hands were shaking. “I’m s-sorry, sir. It’s not her fault. I was asking her a question. The Captain sent me here to meet someone.” The name finally blared to mind. “Marcela.”

The guard’s eyes narrowed as he perused her up and down. She gulped and didn’t move an inch. Khalani barely recognized that she’d peed herself a little.

“Keep moving,” the guard snapped at the little girl, who slowly hobbled to her feet. She grabbed the wheelbarrow and stumbled away, her back hunched over in pain .

“Marcela is down that way.” He nodded his head toward the end of the cavern. “Hurry up, prisoner. Unless you want me to give you a real reason to be late.”

Her heart drummed so fast, the beats blended together in a singular vibration. The guard’s heavy footsteps echoed behind, tracking her like a demon as she headed toward the back of the cave.

Marcela was a heavyset woman with auburn hair pulled tight into a high bun. She scrutinized the prisoners with a steely gaze, ready to pounce at the slightest err in movement. Like the human embodiment of a vulture, scouring for prey.

“I wish all the animals didn’t die in the Great Collapse,” fifteen-year-old Khalani told her history teacher.

“Ah, that is where you are wrong,” Mr. Harroway said. “Animals are not truly extinct, and I’m not talking about the ones cloned and genetically bred for food. You forget about us. Humans are animals. Of course, we like to think of ourselves as lions, the old king of the land. But I see us as more akin to vultures, working in packs to scrounge our way to the top. The buzzards that don’t recognize themselves as one,” he remarked, looking away in thought.

“That’s a little dark,” Khalani said.

Mr. Harroway chuckled. “That’s human history. Darker than midnight. Why do you think we fled underground?”

“Keep moving!” Marcela yelled at several prisoners.

The shrill of her voice made Khalani flinch, clearing the old memory. Marcela wore all black like the guards, but a silver badge on her vest caught the light, identifying her as a prison employee. Marcela’s head snapped up from the electric pad in her hand when Khalani approached.

Marcela pursed her lips in disapproval as she eyed her up and down. “I told them to give me more muscle down here. And they gave me…you.”

Khalani’s brows pinched together, and she opened her mouth, but the woman held her finger up .

“No, no. You speak when I ask you a question. What’s your number?” Marcela asked with a scowl on her face.

“My number?”

“The one branded on you,” Marcela snapped impatiently.

Khalani glared at the scar on her wrist and ground her teeth. “Prisoner 317. I was told to report to you.”

Marcela’s fingers quickly raced over the touchpad, and she scowled at the screen. “I expected at least a builder or a farmer, but they sent me a scrawny girl who worked as a food distributor? I need to make a trip to the Warden,” Marcela muttered.

Her muscles clenched tight and she had to stop herself from fleeing. If Marcela transferred Khalani to another job, she could be assigned somewhere far worse, like the surface.

“When I worked as a food distributor, I lifted heavy boxes constantly,” the words rushed out of her.

Marcela snorted and turned away dismissively.

“I might not look like it, but I’m a hard worker and more than capable of pulling my own weight. You won’t hear any complaints from me,” she stated in a firm voice, lifting her hands in exclamation.

Marcela cocked her head to the side and studied her. Moments passed before she conceded.

“Alright, we’ll see how you do. Go see Prisoner 189 over there.” Marcela pointed to a male prisoner placing hefty rock chunks inside a wheelbarrow. “He’ll be your partner in the tunnels every morning. You’ll follow his lead.”

Khalani nodded and started to head away when Marcela gripped her shoulder tightly. “ Don’t make me regret this. If you let me down, I will send you to the surface for Genesis detail.”

The threat hung in the air like a bullet speeding toward her in slow motion. She nodded quickly, detaching herself from Marcela’s hold.

Prisoner 189 was tall, dark-skinned, very skinny—a prominent feature among the prisoners—and while he couldn’t have been much older than Khalani, he had a soft, boyish face marred by dirt. He held a hand to his lower back and grimaced as he wiped the sweat off his forehead .

“Um, excuse me. Are you Prisoner 189?” she inquired, rubbing her hands together as she approached.

Prisoner 189 turned to her with tired eyes. “You new?” He bent down to grab another large rock from the pile.

“Yes. Marcela said you’re my partner in the tunnels. I’m Khalani.” She wasn’t going to call herself 317. She refused to give them any more power. It was the most diminutive form of rebellion, but to her, it mattered.

He regarded her open hand and gave her a deadpan stare. “You better put those hands to use and start helping with these rocks. Grab the wheelbarrow over there.”

Khalani quickly rushed over to the empty wheelbarrow. She struggled to move the clunky wheels in a straight line, even without weight piled in. “Start piling those rocks in here,” he instructed as she zig-zagged her way over.

The rocks were much heavier than they appeared, and her arms ached after several minutes. The prisoner noticed her arms shaking and began to assist with her load.

“Thanks,” she whispered.

“First day is always the worst,” he grumbled in a low voice. “No matter how much it hurts, you keep going. They will make up reasons to hurt you, so don’t give them any.” He put the last rock into the wheelbarrow and dusted his hands.

His palms were covered in popped blisters, some oozing blood, but he acted as if he didn’t notice. When they finished, they rolled both wheelbarrows to the metal disposal unit on the far side of the cavern.

The work was challenging and arduous. Hours passed and she repeatedly rubbed her arms to smooth the aches and cramps, but Marcela’s warning rang in her mind. Khalani kept her head down and mouth shut as she worked, pushing through the sharp pain.

Her eyes caught Prisoner 189’s, and he gave her a nod of respect. “I half expected you to keel over by now, but you’re holding your own weight,” he said with a slight note of surprise.

“I don’t give up easily,” was her only response.

His calculating gaze shot past her warily, to where Marcela was on the other side of the cavern, yelling at prisoners.

“What did you do?” He lifted his eyes to her.

“What?” She grunted in pain as she plopped a cumbersome rock in the barrel a quarter of her size.

“I mean, what did you do to wind up in here? You don’t seem the type to kill, but I’ve been wrong about worse things.”

“I’m not a murderer,” she snapped.

“Had to ask.” He shrugged without remorse. “Braderhelm is home to many murderers, and there are few you can trust. If you wanna survive here, I would grow eyes in the back of your head.”

“Helpful advice.” She pursed her lips. “And I suppose you’re in the minority I can trust?”

“No. Carrying someone’s trust is too much responsibility. But you don’t have to fear anything from me if that puts your mind at ease,” he answered.

Khalani’s brows pinched together. “How long have you been here?”

“I was sentenced here 262 days ago.”

“You remember the exact day?”

“Most people don’t.” He scrubbed a dirty hand across his face. “But I would rather remember my last semblance of freedom. Better than the future bleeding together in an unending abyss. It’s a small way I can have control.”

“We don’t have any control.” She slammed a hefty rock inside the wheelbarrow. Harder than necessary. The lack of response reminded her why people left her alone. She was too broken.

Khalani closed her eyes as the familiar despair crept back and nearly halted her movement. She lost everything that mattered, like an empty corpse wandering with no purpose.

What did she have to live for ?

She couldn’t find the answer anymore and that trivial thought terrified her.

“I’m not saying the pain will get easier,” his voice rose, as if he could sense the ruin within her. “But you don’t realize how tough you are until you need all your strength.”

Khalani’s lips drew in a hard line, her knuckles turning white as she clasped the wheelbarrow in a tight grip. Images flashed in her mind. Her parent’s lifeless eyes staring at her on a cold table. Douglas closing her door with one final look, his words of hope burning to a fiery crisp.

Her last strength flew away like an extinct dove when the steel bars slammed home, locking her in prison.

She breathed for the sake of breathing. She continued to push her body because the physical pain served as a temporary distraction from the emptiness that bellowed inside.

“What cellblock are you on?” he interrupted the cold silence.

“Seven,” Khalani whispered, trying to forget the useless past.

“Not completely horrible. There are worse block placements. Just watch yourself with Steele,” he murmured.

“Steele?”

“Don’t stop working.” He glanced to the left as a guard walked close by. Khalani promptly grabbed bulkier rocks, huffing from the weight.

When the guard strolled away, he continued in a faint voice, “Takeshi Steele. He’s the Captain and runs your block. His aggressive temper precedes him. He’s even murdered some of his own guards. My best advice would be to keep your head down and stay away from him.”

So, the devil did have a name.

No doubt Takeshi Steele had already placed her on his mental kill list of inmates.

A loud, high-pitched buzz reverberated across the stone walls, startling her. Everyone around her set down their pickaxes and wheelbarrows and began exiting the tunnel.

“That’s the end of the morning shift bell.” Prisoner 189 strode toward the exit and peered over his shoulder when she didn’t follow. “C’mon, criminals aren’t allowed to straggle. Not unless you like being whipped and roaches served with your meals.”

That’s when Khalani knew she officially resided in hell .