Chapter 1
"A matter of Time"
A figure sits, nearly motionless, on a folding metal chair in a dark room. He wears a white button down shirt , pressed slacks, a black leather belt, and polished black Loafers. His overall appearance would belie all that he has endured except for the scars on his hands , cheek, and neck. His feet are bound, but his hands are free and he uses one of them to trace the line of his freshest scar. This is his ritual, his way, the way he had been doing it since the very first day of his incarceration, since his very first scar. The only light comes from a shade-less bulb that hangs motionless above the chair, and from a small red light that begins to blink in the darkness. “My name is James, or at least it was, they call me 37, I’m not sure where I am or how I got here, but what I do know I will try to relate in as few a words as possible. My fellow inmates, who are comprised of both men and women and are also given numeric designations, may wish to do the same...but I fear they may leave out details that will be imperative in finding our bodies.” 37 shifts a little in his chair clearing his throat “ As I said before my designation is 37, the lowest number still present is 24 and she says she has been here as long as a year but hasn’t a mind for dates so she can’t be certain. This may strike you as odd...not knowing the date, or how long you’ve been somewhere, but I’ll get to that soon enough. Now where was I” He squints at the red light as if it would remember for him “ ah yes numbers, I was an accountant before I found myself here, so I’ve always had a thing for numbers, our captors seem to have a thing for them as well. Our numbers never swell above or diminish below twelve which leads me to believe that there are twenty-three poor souls that have gone missing before 24 and as the rest of the numbers are a mixed bag 26, 28, 30, 31, 34, 36, 40, 41, 42, and 50,” He had gone over this list many times counting them off on his fingers, and pausing only for emphasis “ as of this recording, 38 people have died.” He stops “I don’t know that they’re dead, I assume they are, and I know of at least one that is definitely deceased....” He hesitates “The point is that our captors are very particular about numbers, and in particular the number 12.” He shifts again trying to retain his cool “So I said the thing about 24 how she isn’t good with dates. That’s because time is screwed up here, that is, our perception of time is screwed up. Our caretakers never turn off the lights in our cells, never turn on the lights in the hallways and there are no windows anywhere in the cell block. They feed us 12 times a day. Small meals, nothing fancy, quite good really, but nothing like breakfast, lunch, and dinner. More like constant brunch or afternoon snack. They take us out from time to time to stretch our legs or to allow us to socialize with our fellow inmates. But when they do you never know where you’re heading because they constantly change the location, and when that location happens to pass by a window you’re just as surprised to find it day as you would night.” 37 scratches at a scar at the base of his neck considering what should be said next. “I’ve devised a calendar of sorts, to help me keep track of events, and to better understand my situation. The easiest and most constant event is this...Interview, it happens once a week, that is to say every twelve days. My calendar sets the months at twelve weeks long as well, I decided this made the most since because every twelve weeks we seem to get twelve days, or one week, of rest. Rest,” He lets out a sigh. “we lost two more today ,a couple, if you want to call them that” closing his eyes slowly “ our ‘Care-Takers’ decided that we would be paired with one of the opposite sex. As a morale booster, or an experiment, or a sick joke, hell if I know.” James stops again regaining some composure. “Thing is, they move us around every couple months, our time not their time, so by the time you get used to your ‘partner’ you’re forced in with someone else. Most of the time this isn’t a problem but then there are the ‘games’ ” he stops short “ That’s what some of us call them. The games are tests, of courage, or strength, or stamina, or intellect. They, like everything else, cycle, 12 games, 12 players. With the introduction of couples we are now playing in team based games, having to depend on the stranger at our side. And due to the rapid turnover and the residual feelings of love or hate for their former cell mates, the matches have become more personal, less, methodical as they were before. This has cost us dearly...” His time is almost up so he continues more hurried “Its probably better that we lost both of them. Our stock is replenished when we lose someone and losing two someones means that everyone will get a rest till they’re captured. You see, there must always be 12.” The light stops blinking and James,37, leans back in his chair. Somewhere in the darkness a door opens and twelve figures dressed in white enter. Some wearing masks, some with a black fabric sewn into their hoods, they fill the room like a well trained guards. All stepped at the same time , all stopped at the same time, all breathed at the same time , and all, were armed. Somewhere a small click is heard and 37’s feet where again able to move. “Off we go then” 37 says standing. The figure nearest the door backs out and disappears into the hall then six of the figures proceed to leave, the seventh motions for 37 to walk, and like every time the twelve of them, eleven cloaked one captured walk silently to his cell.
The group walks down the dark corridor dotted with small view holes that mark the various rooms and hallways that made up the labyrinth. The walls are earthen, with large heavy beams that seem to hold both the walls erect and the ceiling above their heads. There was a constant feeling of moisture from the walls like water was just on the other side slowly working its way through the rocks to wash them all away. 37 had never been fond of water so he forced the images from his mind. The six in front of 37 stop abruptly and turned. 37 followed their lead and he is greeted by another guard and a door. As he walks toward the door the guard walks toward the line the door opens and in almost imperfect symmetry the guard and 37 replace each other. 37 steps across the threshold then continues into the room behind him the guards turn and continue their march. The door shuts slowly almost taunting him, but he knows better. He’s seen what happens when someone disobeys.
To say that the room is a cell may be an exaggeration. Yes there are no windows, no door other than the one that stays locked behind him, and yes the man is forced to reside there. The room however is not without its comforts. The walls are designed to look like any modern home, sheet rock covered with plaster and a even coat of eggshell tinted paint. There are several rooms including a full bath, and kitchenette, and a walk in closet filled with fine clothes like the getup he was wearing. The bedroom and living room are shared, but with the bed on a small elevated platform much like you would find in a loft apartment. In the kitchen there is no stove or fridge but there are plenty of cups and glasses for drinking water or some of 42’s now famous liquor. He won’t tell anyone how he makes it, but its great for taking the edge off of days like this. Everyone is sure the guards know of the amber drink, but they seem to look the other way when it comes to the activities within ‘the block’. The only other thing in the kitchen is a shaft, like a dumb waiter, but more like a small elevator. The doors are sealed shut until the food arrives then with a gentle hiss the doors part and you have 15 minutes to get to the food before it's gone. Most of what furnishes the room is standard hotel fair. There is a couch, a wing-back chair, a queen size bed, and several end tables with various lamps. The cells go a bit further with creature comforts including a few nonstandard items that the inmates were free to use. Among some of the non-standard items in 37’s room: a bookcase filled to the brim with books (both fiction and non, hard back and soft) , an assortment of board games for sharpening one's wit, and an easel with paints of every color and kind. It was with these paints that the most predominant feature of his domicile was created. A huge circle from floor to ceiling was painted on the far wall. Within the circle was another circle and in that another. Each circle is divided into numbers divisible by twelve the smallest circle represents the twelve tests not by the action, but by punishment. In order they are as follows: cuts,burns,poison,beating,deprivation,and saturation. The punishment is shared by sequential tests so if your lose games one and two you go to the cutting twice. The next circle divides the days of the week showing that two games are played a week. not that most days are empty, but that you must play the same games over and over for the 12 days that finish the cycle. The next is blocked off by partner shifts, of which three weeks are consumed, No names, numbers, or symbols adorn these blocks because the order is yet to be decided. In the center of this calendar is a figure of a crow turned at profile. The symbol 24 claims is 37’s spirit. James doesn’t know about this, but he still looks at the calendar with great affection and awe. She painted it the last day they were together, and it was the first since 37 came up with the calendar, and even though it has the look of a rough draft she never once stopped during its creation every line painted as sure as if she had always drawn it. When he asked her why she had painted it so large she smirkingly called him the lord of time, (she new he was a big Dr.Who fan) and that it seemed only fitting. He walked slowly to the great wall and put his hand on one of the large blank spaces. “Goodbye old friend” even though James knew not the order the women traversed the cell block, he could guess that the twelve large sections directly indicated the rooms in which they were held. His hand fell on the room next to his, where 28 and 41 once shared a brief moment in their lives. Stepping back from the wall he studies the symbols for a moment considering what is to come next. “I wonder” he says to himself, today was the day that they were going to switch partners. Would their caretakers keep to their schedule or would they wait for the new ‘recruits’. “40! Are you here?!” 37 shouts looking around the room for any signs of her. “Guess not.” He shrugs, “must be with the rest of the group still” he thinks , and heads to the bathroom to take a shower. He starts to undress when a thought strikes him. “Clothes,” he chuckles to himself “mustn’t scare our new guest on the first day.” He heads to the closet and picks out a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. “This will do” he thought. Now satisfied that he would be deceit he heads to the bath. He allowed himself to unwind in the shower, the hot water cleansing his body, and mind of the last 12 hours. He wept for his friends, his family, his life. At 33 James had been relatively successful, he had a job he could stand, an apartment that served his needs, friends that would come over from time to time to see what he was up to, and an on again off again girlfriend that understood his need for space. He never went to the gym or considered himself the athletic sort, never went out of his way to help anyone, or to be a good friend, or lover. James was your ordinary guy, living an ordinary life, and he would have died just as ordinarily if it wasn’t for where he finds himself today. He turns off the water and steps out into the steamy room. He wipes the condensation off the mirror over the lavatory and takes in his form. “Not looking half bad 37” he says with a half smile. His body was covered with the signs of abuse, cuts crisscrossed his chest burns spotted his arms and back. Some of the larger wounds weren’t inflicted by the caretakers but by missteps during the tests. It has been made known to everyone that when someone is incapacitated during the match the guards come and remove the injured and since no one wins, no one is punished. For that, 37 always looks at these accidental wounds as badges of honor, of a job well done. He brushes his teeth and a gives himself a quick shave, knowing that the person that waltzes through that door will have seen him at his best and worst already never stops him from trying to make a good first impression. “Well if we don’t switch 40 will still find me more enjoyable to be around.” 37 walks out into the living room looks around for signs of his new visitor letting out a small sigh when he found the room to be empty. He walks into the kitchen, takes out two glasses and sets them down on the counter. Going to the other side of the kitchen he opens a cupboard and produces a pint jar of 42’s ‘miracle elixir’ pouring a little in each glass. “Might want to leave this out.” He lifts one of the glasses to his lips then reconsiders, placing it back beside the first he walks over to the book self finds an interesting title and makes himself comfortable on the couch. “I guess all I can do is wait and see” opening the book 37 begins to read, trying ,very poorly, to keep his mind off of what lay ahead.
Thirty minutes past while 37 read. Then the door opens and a caretaker steps out of the darkness into the room. Just one. James knows that this means the other eleven are on their way to pickup an interviewee, and that he will soon be meeting the person he will be living with for the next cycle or maybe not. Either way the book he had been reading had become stale, and he was ready for some company. He did enjoy 40, she was constantly babbling on about something, and then apologizing for talking too much. She was cute and dependable if a little bit flighty. He had taken a pretty hard fall one time for her when he realized that they were going to lose the match. The last punishment had been really hard on her and he couldn't stand to witness it again so ol’ clumsy James falls off a platform onto some barbed wire, and game over. She helped him dress the wounds and gave him a heroes reward of a kiss, and an invitation to her bed. He accepted the kiss and declined the bed. “I fear my wounds would hamper the experience” he said to her “but if you are still willing after I heal we can bring up the issue again.” she seemed satisfied with this, and got him a drink instead. 37 was abruptly shaken from his reminiscing by the door opening again and the woman who stepped inside. “WOW!” she said, WOW! he thought, her eyes were fixed on the calendar on the wall and his eyes were fixed on her. The door shuts, and 37 starts to get up to offer the drink he had pored nearly an hour ago. “You uh, compensating for something?” 34 says with just a slight air of jest. 37 stops and turns toward her she is now only inches away from the wall and scrutinizing every detail of the great wheel. “Yes,” 37 replies picking up the drinks and walking over to her his hand outstretched, “the loss of the Gregorian calendar”. She looks away from the wall and at 37 for the first time “Thanks” she takes the drink leans her head back and downs the liquid. “Wow!” 37 thinks again taking a sip of his own drink. “Would you like... another?” he says reaching out to take the glass. “Which one?” she says looking back at the wall. “Pardon” he replied “Which one is 28’s cell?” she gestures at the 12 outer blocks. “So you think that to?! That the 12 cells correspond to the outer 12 blocks! That’s marvelous.” he is so pleased that someone had made that correlation he didn’t realize she was looking at him impatiently. “37, which one?” he points a the cell that 28 and 41 shared. She puts her hand on the empty space just as he did, and with equally heavy a heart she began to weep. 37 finishes off his drink and heads back to the kitchen to give her space and to refill his glass. There is a bright flash out of the corner of 37’s eye and the sound of breaking glass. 34 was screaming and partially on the floor , and the glass had made it to the door where it met its demise. 37 walks quietly over to her kneeling he takes her into his arms trying to comfort her. “Get off of me!” She screamed “Its okay, Its okay” is all he replied. “How the hell is it okay! It's not fucking okay!” She screamed back. This continues for what seems like an eternity, He would comfort, she would scream. They wrestled around a little 34 trying to find leverage enough to get out of 37’s hug. She had gotten a few good hits in one that caused a newly stitched wound to open. He could feel his blood running down his chest but he did not dare let go. Finally exhausted she collapses in his arms laying her head back on his chest. She continued to weep and he continued to hold. Later that cycle James awoke 34 soundly sleeping on his chest “When did I fall asleep?” he thought trying to detangle himself from 34 without waking her. This was much easier than he anticipated and when finally freed of her he headed to the kitchen and realized that the food had arrived. Without hesitation he grabbed the plates and placed them on the counter. The door shut almost immediately after he had done this. “That was close” he thought. He ate a couple of bites off his plate and got himself a glass of water. Looking back at his new friend he can’t help but laugh. She has fallen over and had begun to snore, a little string of drool falling from her mouth. Chuckling to himself he goes over and lifts her off the floor. This was not a graceful or loving lift, but the kind you would see a grocer or bricklayer do to a bag of potatoes or cement. Her hair brushed the floor as he walked her to his bed she didn’t weigh much and he had no trouble getting her situated. “Well then” he said to himself as much as to her ”Seems you get the bed tonight” He removes her shoes and then pulls the cover up around her. He grabs his favorite pillow and head toward the couch. “Night 34” he calls to her. A light moan and the smacking of lips is all she replied.
“You call me 34,” begins a slender young woman dressed in a short sleeved dress. Her body is a network of healed cuts and burns, most of them below the neck. To follow them is to know her. To know her, is to pity her. But had you the chance to know her by her given name, in the world of sunrise and sunset you would have thought she was out of your league, and she liked it that way. “this is such a waste of time. You’re always watching, when we sleep, when we eat, when we shower. Why do you need ‘this’ “ she points at the red light and then around the room with a broad sweeping motion. She rubs her forehead with her now rough hands. “I’m tired, so tired.” She drops her head between her hands “ I can’t believe it. That 28 and 41 are gone. They where so smart, and … kind, and beautiful ... And you killed them!” 34 screams standing up so quick that the chair tips over, the sound is deafening in the empty room. “AND NOW!, And Now!,” deflating she looks at the chair “ and now, I can’t even sit down” she whimpers. “28 was such a nice guy” she says looking down at the floor. Letting her red hair shadow her face as she continued. “He was always making stupid jokes, and making sure I was comfortable. He never assumed or attempted to have sex with me. And I know he wanted to. I mean, look at me!” she gestures at her breast. “When it got cold, he would hold me, while we slept, our bodies so close and warm. I could feel him against me, his desire made him thrust and moan in his sleep. But he never took advantage, not once tried to persuade, or negotiate, or force himself on me. Not like some...” At this she went quiet. The air in the room begins to cool. Night must be falling. “I’m glad I didn’t have to do it...to kill my friend... but we don’t kill them do we?! You only put us to the task, and punish us when we fail. 41 had become so weak and yet you couldn’t stop, could you? Your God damned rituals! 37 said he could hear them, said he could hear 28 cursing you and fighting against you as she screamed.” 34 looks up at the camera her hair as fire around her. “How many of you did it take to quiet him?! How many times did you have to hit him?! How many! Was it twelve?! Twelve cuts for slow response! Twelve lashes for showing fear! Twelve injections of god knows what for falling behind! Twelve burns for being clumsy!...Twelve days in solitude, in the dark, in the stench, for failing your task...” She sits quietly for a while letting the room fill with night air. “So I assume you’re moving us around today” she continues calmer than before. “First you put me with 36, little child with a bad temper, had to put him in his place a couple of times...He put me in mine even more though.” Her hand falls between her thighs remembering injuries that only time and kindness can heal. “Did you enjoy watching him? Did you enjoy watching me fight him off me so many times?!” She pauses to catch her breath “I was so relieved, when we finally switched that I almost thought you had rescued me! How naive! You put me with 28 and then 49... both now dead” She looks around the room one last time. “I’m...I’m done here.” Five minutes pass the blinking stops. The door opens. The figures surround. -Click-. 34 is led down the dark hallway to ‘rest’. She finds herself at a door that was oddly familiar, but why, a quick look to her right and she realizes that 28 was just one cell over from her new home. “God damned whites” she thought turning back to the door in front of her. She walked quickly toward it not caring for the guards ritual and unbroken line. The guard made it back to the line just as she made it through the door “Have to walk faster next time” she said under her breath. Before her was the wheel, massive in scale, and as dark as ebony. “Wow!” 34 exclaimed both in awe, and astonishment. It spoke to her,pierced her heart. She had seen one before, in 28’s room, she knew that it was the mark of 24 and that it was 37’s brain child, but this! The lines were rough and emotional, the rings thick and uneven, the punishments were simple, but sinister, and the center image of a crow was majestic and kind. 28’s center image was of a fish, like a koi, strong and wise. Her eyes began to swell with tears when she noticed a figure walking up to her. “You..uh,” she had wanted to say something kind, something deep but she didn’t want to seem weak. This was of course their first day together. “Compensating for something?” she tried to make it sound like she was only having fun with him, but she realized her voice was harsh and regretted it the moment it left her lips. Without missing a beat 37 hands her a drink and replies “Yes, the loss of the Gregorian calendar” . “Thanks” 34 replies realizing that she had been staring at the wall for a good 30 minutes, and that the man beside her was going to be her roommate until the next switch. Their eyes meet for the first time, this made 34 very uncomfortable, and the silence became tangible. So she decides to to what always feels natural, for her, in these situations. Leaning her head back she swallows the liquid courage in a single gulp the sting of something sour and the heat of alcohol fills her mouth and chest. It was at this moment that she realized that she had not eaten anything since the word of 28’s death and that what she had just done was very unwise. “Would you like another?” 37 politely asks reaching out for the glass sounding a little astonished at her actions. 34 turns her head back to the wall focusing on the large blocks that make the broadest section of the circle. “Which one?” she asks 37 assuming he would know what she was talking about, he didn’t. “Which one was 28’s cell?” Then 37 starts babbling on about the cycles and switching and god knows what else. Losing patients 34, trying to sound polite, “37 which one?” he puts his hand on the block directly to the right of the top most section, it would have been one o’clock on a standard time piece. He removed his hand and she replaced it with hers. The room became hot , her eyes stinging with tears just about to fall. Her mind filled with all the images of their time together, her and 28, how they helped one another,laughed together, how he was such a goofy person back in their cell, but how serious he could be during the tests. How he saved her life so many times. She then started to remember the world before all of this, before the cycles, the darkness, the death. Had she been happy then? What was her boyfriend’s name? Did she live with him? It all seemed so long ago, like a dream, a fairy tale. Then her mind shifted to 36 and the horrible things he had done to her. It was their fault, the guards, the robes, they let him rape her, and every other woman that has set foot in his room! As the memories of pain replaced those of joy and rage replaced remorse, with all her strength she hurled the glass that she still held at the door screaming. The next thing she knows she is on the floor,there are arms about her, grabbing her around the chest. ‘Not again!’ she thought ‘NEVER AGAIN!’ she fought her assailant with whatever strength she had. She would make it to the door, pick up the glass, and slit his throat, or hers if need be. She screamed at him, “it’s okay” he replied in a gentle voice. She wasn’t falling for that, she made a move for it, elbowing him in the ribs, he held fast repeating “it’s okay” over and over again. She got him again solidly in the stomach which caused him to let out a yelp but he held, a warm wetness started to cover her back, she didn’t notice, or care. They fought like this until finally her strength left her and she allowed herself to be taken ‘What’s the use’ she thought ‘I should of at least let him get me drunk’. She woke up the next morning surrounded by soft warm blankets, she expected to find that she had been stripped but then realized that the only things missing from yesterday’s wardrobe were her shoes. Still dizzy from the night before she got out of the bed and walked toward the closet to get ready for the day. She passed by the couch where 37 lay a book across his chest still sound asleep. “Shit!” 34 yelps as she steps on a sharp sliver of glass from the night before. “Who the hell broke a glass...” 37 lets out a loud snore and 34 very quietly limps to the kitchen to clean her foot. Once cleaned and dressed she proceeded to sweep up the rest of the glass when she heard the familiar sound of the food conveyor opening. “Ah Breakfast” she went over and removed the two trays placing the mostly uneaten trays back into the elevator. She then went to the closet and retrieved more appropriate clothes for the day. She removed her pantyhose first in case 37 happened to wake up and wander in. She was planning on taking a shower so she wasn’t going to change completely in the closet but she wanted out of the dress she was in. So off it went, and that’s when she noticed the blood stain. ‘Oh my’ she thought, she quickly found a robe and walked back into the living room tying the belt around her waist as she went. She walked over to the couch and examined 37. He looked okay, no signs of excessive blood loss. Then she lifted the book and revealed a now dark red stain of dried blood on his shirt. She debates what to do next. ‘Well I can’t have a weak partner if I’m going to survive another cycle’ she thinks as she lifts his shirt to get a better look at the injury. The blood has clotted so much around the wound that the shirt sticks to his chest. Gently she runs her hand up his chest to make sure the bleeding has stopped. “This is a pleasant change from last night” 37 says looking at the beautiful woman leaning over him. “Don’t get your hopes up.” she says satisfied that he wasn’t dying. “I was just seeing if I would be getting a new room mate sooner than planned.” She got up went back into the closet and gathered up the clothes she had selected. “I’m going to take a shower, our breakfast is on the counter.” The bathroom door shut she lets out a sigh, and takes off the rest of her clothes. She never took long in the shower, only staying long enough to get clean. She always assumed that there were cameras everywhere and she saw no reason to give the whites a show. She Brushed her teeth and got dressed. Returning to the room she finds 37 dumping the glass fragments into a trash under the sink. “Oh, I’m sorry, I meant to clean that up” she said walking over to the counter where the food was. “No big deal” 37 replies he picks up a pile of clothes that he had selected for the day and headed for the shower. Her eyes followed him and noticed he was limping “You cut yourself!” she exclaims, “I’m so sorry!” 37 raises one of his hands “Forget about it, you had a rough night” he closes the bathroom door.
34 hated being alone, even as a child she always had someone around. She was the third of seven children and when she became a woman and moved out of the house she always had a boyfriend or roommates to keep her company, to keep her safe. The only time she was ever alone was the night that they took her. She had an argument with her boyfriend, nothing major seems stupid now, and she stormed off knowing that he would be right behind her. At least it always worked that way in the past. She was several blocks away from where she started before she realized that he wasn’t coming and this made her furious. Then she heard them, the gentle swish of long garments on cement, on grass, on dirt. The sound was all about her, and the figures seem to come from nowhere. Before she could scream they were on her. She forced the images from her mind and began busying herself with examining the room that was to be her home for the next cycle. She walks around the room slowly taking it in. Yes the cells were all basically the same, the layout was rotated one of three ways, and being the fourth room she had been in she had seen them all. She like this layout the best as it gives you plenty of privacy from the hall so your not constantly wondering if someone is going to walk in. Of course the Idea of privacy is a joke since they’re being watched every minute of every day, but being watched by a camera is still some how different than being watched by someone in the room.. When she made it to the book case she stopped. She ran her hand over several spines and looked for something she might like to read. She was never into reading when she was free, but now she found it to be a most wonderful past time. She and 28 would even take turns reading to each other when they had a particularly bad day. ‘I wonder if 37 will let me read to him’ she thinks as she pulls a non-fiction piece about the many edible plants of North America. She puts the book back after turning over a couple of times in her hands. After scanning the rest of the collection she realizes that they were the exact books that 28 had. There was “Pride and Prejudice” , “Of Mice and Men” and other literary classics along with many contemporary pieces. The non-fiction section however was the most telling, “Medieval and early renaissance battle techniques”, “Martial Arts of China, Japan and surrounding islands”, “Thinking on your feet: a survivalist guide”,”How to deal with depression”, etc. Each book picked by the robes to “help” those willing to open the tomes. She picks up the edible plants book again realizing that it wasn’t on 28’s book case. “What you got there?” 37 says still drying his hair with a towel the sudden sound makes 34 jump. “Don’t do that!” 34 yells at him feeling quite foolish “How long has this book been here?” she pushes the book into his chest as a final act of retaliation for sneaking up on her. “Oh this?” he replies looking down at the book expecting to see something he had read at least twice already. Its cover was foreign to him “I uh, have never seen this before.” They looked at each other, a look of concern, and terror, and remorse, and fear,and acceptance, and a knowing that is shared only by those whose lives are always a day away from death. They turned back to the bookcase scouring it for anything else that could have changed. In the end they found 5 books that weren’t there before the last interview. “Huh,” 37 says looking back at the pile “I would have thought they would have given us 6 new books....” 34 shrugs and walks to the couch picking up one of the new additions. “Tell you what, I’ll read one, and you read one and then we’ll relay the information learned. Then when we finish we will switch the order just in case one of us misses something.” 34 sits on the couch reclining against one of the arms her legs stretched out across the cushions. 37 Grabs one of the other books and makes his way to the chair. “But why aren’t there 6,” 37 says looking back at the bookcase. “We’ve missed one we must have!” He starts removing the books from the bookcase piling them in sets based on genre. “What’s the big deal?” 34 starts but stops when she sees 37’s face. He had changed, his kind understanding was replaced by worry and confusion. “What’s the big deal?!” 37 says with astonishment. “Look!”, He points at the calendar, “Everything thing is either 3,6 or 12 with these guys! They don’t deviate, or screw up, or change” He points at the books he had been removing. “Three classics,six high fantasy, twelve sci-fi, and again three books on fighting, six on survival, twelve self help books” He reaches down and hoists her off the couch. He was surprisingly strong and graceful. “Look!” He spins her around so she can see the room from where he stands. “Three places to rest chair,couch,bed,” He points to them as he speaks “six lamps, twelve overhead lights!” He pulls her into the kitchen she doesn’t resist, fearing what might happen if she did. He throws open the cupboards. 3 coffee mugs, 6 tea cups , 12 Glasses!” He stops, counting the glasses and begins to laugh,shaking himself out of his crazed state. “Correction, there are eleven glasses after you broke that one last night.” He turns to her and smiles, “So I guess you get the bed again tonight.” He walks past her and heads back to the bookcase continuing his work. 34 stands there for a second trying to figure out what had just happened. There was a swish from the food elevator, and 34 quickly removes the contents. Surprised, she looks back at 37. “Um, 37,” she says gently, “I think you need to see this.” He turns around, and there on the counter is a glass just like the one that was broken by 34 and a book entitled “Rhythm and Patterns :a practical guide”. He walks over and takes the book, “I think I we just past a test.” 37 says opening the book. “A test!” 34 replies, knowing that not everyone even looks at the bookcase and that few would have even seen the pattern that 37 had deduced. “That’s not good!” 34 exclaims heading back to pickup a book. “We better get to reading”. 37 nods and heads to the couch.
The six white figures fill the room as they always do followed by a man in blue jeans and a tightly fitting sweater. He was muscular ,but not overly so, he walked like a runner with firm well balanced steps. He would be handsome if it weren’t for the large burn that covered one side of his face. He did not keep in time with the robes, he did not want to. He sat there as the robes left the room. He sat there when the red light began to blink. He sat there as the room filled with a strange tension that only silent dark rooms can create. He stares at the camera, his dark eyes glaring at it, as if to say I hate you, I despise you, I deny you. “I am not your puppet” he thought “I am not your slave. You can’t control me, you can not make me do anything, you’re nothing.” The man that sits in the chair is number 30 and he blames himself for 28 and 41’s death. He sits there stoic and strong. He curses them in his mind imagining all that he would do to them given the chance. For forty long minutes he is motionless and silent. The light stops blinking, his enemy returns to take him. “Soon” he thought “soon”. 30 leaves the room as quietly as he entered his eyes me the guards eyes with fire and revenge. But he dare not act not now not yet. The twelve of them marched back to his cell the corridor seemed smaller more cramped. When they turned at his door he did not wait for the guard and made sure that his holder made contact with the white as they past one another.
“What’s the BIG deal?!” said the girl named 26, “I mean it’s not like anyone really dies,” she twirls her hair with one of her free hands. She is youthful, early twenties, her brownish hair is curly and her complexion is fair. She is dressed in a skirt, and tee-shirt, her long thigh high socks hide most of the wounds she has endured. “This is all just a TV show right? I mean why would you have us do these interviews if it wasn’t?” she gestures toward the camera. “See it makes perfect since,” She stops for a moment and smiles “Oh, I had such fun today, with the games. Our opponents were 28 and 41 and man were they trying! ” She leans over showing off what little cleavage she has. “ And you know what is screwed up?! My partner, 30, didn’t want to win! Whats up with that?! I think he felt sorry for 41 because she kept coughing and stumbling when she tried to run.” She sighs “ He sure is hot, and thoughtful, I hope we fuck before we have to change partners, because I can see what hes packing and I could use some of that man meat!” She leans back again “I wonder if there are cameras in our rooms...Oh it would be awesome if they make a special unrated version of this show! I would love to watch me get hammered by all these guys. It’s all about ratings right? And I am a star after all. Why else would I still be here?” She looks around the room a few times before continuing. “You know I yelled at 30 for trying to stop me from winning, I think he really thinks that when we disappear we’re dead, ha! how juvenile! But, I should say I’m sorry, I guess. Maybe give him a peak at “the goods” and he’ll forgive me. Um,” She struggles to find something to say “I guess it does get a little extreme here. I know that you have to make sacrifices for fame and glory but sometimes I think the robes like the “punishing” too much, if you know what I mean.” She reaches down and touches her left thigh “I guess that’s everything. Bye!” With that the light on the camera turns off and the twelve robes enter, and with a smile, and a cheerful bounce, 26 is out the door back to her cell.
“I know I’m going to die,” begins the man in the chair. He did not say this with regret or fear but as a matter of fact. “All I want in life is to know that I lived well, that I will be remembered well.” His hands are together on his lap fingers intertwined. He is wearing khaki slacks and a flowery Hawaiian shirt, his skin is dark, his voice smooth and deep, he looks thoughtful and intelligent with no signs of stress or fatigue. “My name is Jacob Barns, I live in New Jersey where I run a small IT firm, “ He looks down at the floor where his feet are affixed to a large metal plate on the floor. “I assume they’re using an electromagnet to keep me in my place. Clever.” Looking back at the camera he continues “You call me 50, and I am the newest person here from the sounds of it. This is not without its advantage, but I can tell the others have been through so much it frightens me.” He considers what to say next. “ I have a wife and kids, maybe when this is all over they will know what happened to me. That I didn’t abandon them, that I love them.” At this he leans back in his chair looking up at the fluorescent bulb hanging down from the ceiling. ” I assume that this exercise is designed to see what our mental state is, or how our acclimation is progressing. Or maybe this is being broadcast somewhere, I wouldn’t know...I got lucky,if you can call it that. I was paired with 24, a lovely woman, same age as my wife, but nothing like her. 24 has been here and survived longer than anyone else, I hang on her every word. She can give you detailed layouts of the buildings that we have been in, she can outrun, out jump most of the guys, except maybe 30, and she sharp as a tack.” He lets out a heavy sigh, “and she has a beautiful voice, I know this because when we’re in our cell she often fades out and begins to sing. It’s a mournful tune, about lost love and death, but there's so much heart in it, so much soul, no one would dare stop her or ask her to sing something else.” A tear rolls down his cheek as the song fills his mind with images of freedom “ I had things together! Up there, I had so much going for me, and for what? To be kidnapped, locked away like some sort of criminal. Fate is a cruel master. And maybe that is what they are....our fate. 24 says that the couple thing is rather new, only a few cycles before I got here, she doesn’t talk about the first roommate, but is very fond of 37 she says that he’s a real stand up guy, and good in a pinch. He made the calendar we all use here, and 24 adorns every cell she travels to with a beautiful circular design that represents the cycles much like the Mayan calendar. I often stare at the wheel wondering how many cycles I will survive.” With this the red light stops blinking and the fates fill the room. “To my room gentlemen” say 50 as he stands to greet them. They leave without a sound, the room empty and silent.
The door opens and six enter followed by a man wearing a white wife beater and jeans that are missing the knees. Unlike the other numbers this man’s hands were bound behind him and when he was placed in the chair the cloaks did not leave at once but circled the chair pointing their weapons at him, once, twice, three times before leaving. Following them out with his eyes he blows them a kiss and then turns to the video that was already recording. He begins to laugh. “Did I scare you?! HA! Y’all sure don’t like getting a taste of your own medicine do ya. Come back here sweetie I could smell you when I took you down. Seems your not all men are you?” A stream of blood starts to run down his face, he sticks out his tongue to catch it, making him look deranged..and he knew it. “36 is the name, and pain is my thing” he says this with all the bravado a 21 year old man could muster his cheek twitches slightly which it always does when he lies. “ You guys don’t scare me. I should thank your really! I haven’t had this much sex in...ever. The girls here are crazy for the cock and I’ve got plenty to give.” He looks into the camera “how about your darlin’ would you like me to get you down again without that ridiculous robe. I’m sure my cell mate wouldn’t mind a little break from the Stan-dinator.” With this he began to nervously move his bound leg. “Speaking of breaks when are we switching again? That bitch 24 didn’t draw that lame calendar on my wall when she was in my cell so I don’t have a clue what's going on. What's with that damn song she’s always singing? Talk about a buzzkill. Anyway I want to put in with 26, now there’s a proper slut! I bet she would tire me out, and that would take allot ! God! I love being me!” He starts laughing again, leaning back on his hands and leaning his head back as he does. Then the laugh becomes a scream, then a cry, the tears running uncontrollably down his face. ”I’m so sorry, so sorry” he whimpers, “I don’t want to die,I have my whole life ahead of me.” A few moments pass in silence and then Stan’s,36, head pops back into place staring unblinking at the red light. “That’s what you want isn’t it? A blubbering loser. Well tough, that ain’t me baby. I’m a man! You hear me! A MAN!” Then he begins to laugh again. The light goes off, the door opens, this time the guards are dressed in red and seem much larger than before. “Ah decided you needed backup, did you?” Silently they surround him, circling the chair as the whites did, holding their weapons at the ready. 36 had never had a good look at what they carried he assumed they were a type of billy club or night stick like the police use, but now with the guards spinning and the weapons in clear view he could see that at the business end of each of the clubs to metal prongs protruded and an uncomfortable feeling began to fill the boy. There was a small noise from under the floor like gears turning, and the plate where Stan’s feet were held fast by the magnet recesses slightly, a cold wet fills his shoes. In the darkness the red light begins to flash again. “Now hold on!” The pain was intense, white hot, and paralyzing. It came from his left, and then was gone. The guards begin to tap their feet in time. One..two..three. Another sharp pain, another moment without breath. Tap..Tap..Tap, Again! Tap..Tap..Tap, Again! 36 screams as his bowels let go and the stench of excrement and seared flesh fills the room. “Stop, Please!” 36 pleads, again they hit him, again he screams,again, and again, and again. The pain is dizzying his eyes burn from tears. Again! Again! Again! The final blow is struck from the guard directly in front of him piercing the skin directly above his heart. With this 36 goes limp. His body burnt, bleeding, but alive. The sound of gears is heard again and the floor rises back to where it was. The red light stops blinking and the boy is removed from the room carried back to his cell.
A mousy older woman enters the room next, walking like a slave burdened with a heavy load, she keeps her head down not daring to get out of step with the whites in front of her. She was pretty once, in her youth, in her confidence, in the arms of her loving husband and adoring children, but those things have left her now, and what is left begins to speak. “ Designate 31 reporting,” This is the way she always starts she doesn’t know why but as a child she always wanted to be a reporter for a news station, and that was as good as a reason as any. “My life has become much harder since the last cycle ended, since 36 became my...partner...I know that you know best, and that it is not my place to question,” she hesitates “I thank you for allowing us this time to talk about what’s going on. How we’re holding up, most of my friends think that you use this against us, but I know differently...now.” She forces a small smile that never reaches her eyes. “I hope that the reds have taught him a lesson. And if any of you are watching thank you, you’re my heroes.” She takes one of her free hands and moves her hair behind her ear exposing a burn that runs from jaw to the base of her neck. “Every night it was the same thing, he would start out sweet and kind, keeping his distance, apologizing for the day before, he would talk about how the stress just gets to him and he has a hard time controlling himself and that the release is the only thing that helps. And like a fool I believed him!” A small glimpse of the person that she was once begins to appear, “ I would tell him that I understood that I too need comforting from time to time, that maybe we could work something out so that we were both comfortable till the end of the cycle. But then when I would least expect it he would be on me! Panting and thrusting. I fought back the first few times, but that only made him more wild, more violent during the act. Thankfully, it never lasted long, five minutes at the most.” She stops for a moment remembering the horror and the shame of it all. Then her mind drifts back to her husband, her kids, how it all seems like a dream now. “I miss them so much, my husband, my daughters, that stupid dog that the girls wanted so bad, but then it was up to my husband to take care of.” This time the smile was genuine but came with the tears of lost love. “I know I’ll never see them again, I know that I have compromised myself so much here to...survive. But I thank you so much for your patience and kindness toward us. Even if we don’t deserve it.” Looking at the camera more directly “ I think I will get to really rest the next couple days while 36 recovers. Thank you again. 31 signing off.” With that the light stops blinking and as any good slave 31 stands up head down ready to accept her place in line with her protectors.
An older gentleman is escorted into the room, the eleven guards move slower to keep in time with his labored stride. This was the only kindness they extended. His tired body labored to lower himself into the chair. “There we go,” 42 begins taking a minute to shift into a comfortable position “I’ve not been here as long as most of my fellow inmates, but I guess my advanced age is catching up with me.” he rubs his right leg the pain subsides, but is never truly gone. “As of this recording I am 65 years old and the oldest person here. I find it hard to keep up with my fellow inmates in the tests, or the games, as some will have it. The death of 28 and 41 was a surprise to me, to all of us, I think, they were a good team, she was the more clever, but he was no dunce either. They both seem to acclimate to this life much better than some of us. 43 and 44 came in with me, I’m the only one that survives from that group. 43 lost his life the very first day here. Cardiac arrest. 44 was his partner, in the real world, she survived much longer, but still only a cycle. She was partnered with 36 and the constant abuse was too much for her...I was in the game when it happened. She climbed up on a pylon, must have been at least 2 stories high, not enough to kill you if you lost your balance and fell but that’s not what happened. 36 cussed her as she climbed, “You’re going to lose us the game your f’n slut! he yelled.” The old man in the chair stops rubbing his leg,leans forward to take weight off his lower back and continues “We all stopped, we watch her, as she walk to the ledge, graceful and determined. Her arms raised like wings, her eyes fixed on the darkness, beyond the lights of the arena, beyond the horizon, fixed on the unseen. Leaning forward her arms still out stretched she plummeted head first off her perch. The fall seemed to take forever, when her head hit the ground there was a sickening crack, and it was over. We rushed to her side, but before we could the robes were around her. We were all escorted back to our cells that evening. No one was victorious, no one was punished. If there is any shred of humanity in our captors it was shown that night.” He rubs his eyes with one of his free hands. He was a scholar in life, his words, well chosen, come with the confidence of a man who was used to telling stories, recounting the past. His injuries are internal he has no burns or cuts as the other do. His leg prevents him from being rash about his decisions so he can usually avoid the common mistakes of youth, but with each test, his bones weaken, and with each game his breath becomes more shallow. He coughs several times before the light stops blinking. Laboring to stand 42 awaits his escort.
24 enters the room, her red dress in stark contrast with the whites. She is tall, thin, her face is angular and her eyes are bright. She walked with confidence, sat with pose. By any definition she was stunning,and she kept her bright eyes focused on the red light that begins to blink. “The passing of 28 and 41 is a tragedy. As all that have passed in your ‘care’ have been. I will not lament or mourn their loss. However I would like to be on record saying that they will be missed and in the short time I knew 28, I counted him as a friend“ There is a long silence, her eyes never leaving the cameras rhythmic blink. “I’m glad for this break, 50 , my new partner, is in desperate need of training. He is a quick learner, but he is still too busy trying to wrap his head around all of this.” She gestures at the room, “he is determined to remember his name, and his family, and what he did before he found himself here. What a fool,” 24 says this with a small chuckle, “however I do appreciate his spirit...I wonder how long it will hold....” Suddenly her eyes change. And the room is filled with a voice that comes from the woman in the chair. It is young, innocent, sad and somehow disconnected from the body that creates the sound. For ten minutes she sings, of life, of love, of things remembered, and things forgot, she sings the name of her lover, of his touch and his kiss. About what could have been and what was. She sings the names of her children that she will never have, about the house and the yard she will never keep. She sings of her capture, and death’s sweet release. The song falls away and her eyes come back to the camera. “I’m tired, take me back to my cell” The whites come in, and together they leave.
A woman dressed in black is brought into the room. She is short, petite some would say, her face was round and friendly her skin is tan and eyes are a dark brown. Her hair is straight, thick, and reaches her waist in a very tight braid. She sits nervously, fidgeting from time to time. “Hi, My name is 40, but I’m not really 40, I’m 27. Oh that was horrible can I get a do over?” she looks around for some sort of acknowledgment. “What am I doing you never say anything do you? I guess it doesn’t matter anyway.” She straightens her dress a little, hoping that she isn’t giving anyone more of a show than intended. “I’m so sad for 28 and 41, I was captured with 41 she was nice, and she did her best to calm me down when we found ourselves in the “holding tank”. That’s what we call it, the place they put you when you’re first captured. I assume it’s used to dehumanize you. It’s dark and smells, and you get no food or water for what seems like days. The others in there with you cry softly to themselves, or yell and scream for someone to let them out like they’re someone important or something. Maybe they were.” She looks down at the floor, “then one day the door opens, but not on the same level you’re at, but high above you. At least 12 feet, suspended with no signs of stairs or landing. And there’s the smell! Like thanksgiving dinner but with pizza, and cake, and god knows what else. Everyone is so hungry there is a rush toward the wall. I got up and started running toward it with everyone else. Then she grabbed me, planting me in the filth on the floor. “Are you crazy!” she yelled at me and then sat me up. What I saw was horrible” She shifts in her chair uneasily remembering the event. “Men and women were throwing themselves at the wall. Trying to scramble up its shear face like rats. They punched and pulled and kicked one another trampling on the fallen. This carried on until the last two crazed souls collapsed on the mound of bodies on the floor. Then from our right another door opens. The light from this door was dim, hardly a light at all, and people started filing in. They walked straight toward us eleven for me and eleven for 41 they motioned to us to rise, and to follow, and we did. Once out of the room the door closed, and I thought I heard the sound of rushing water, but I dare not think of the poor souls that were left behind.” She shuddered at the thought of all the bodies floating lifeless and decaying. When we made it to our cells the robes began chanting our numbers, 40, 40 ,40, 40 this continues till I am well within the cell but once the door was secured it stopped and I was here.” She looks up at the camera, “Good bye my friend, I’ll always remember my plus one” The whites re-enter the room come to collect her.
About
I wrote this nearly 10 years ago when sitting in a coffee house in Austin, TX. I then lost it for a few years before finding it again. I hope that in sharing it I'll be encouraged to continue the story and someday finishing it. Enjoy, share, comment, etc.