individually. But start in on the others, and their resolve crumbles. Honor among thieves.”
“Right,” Hardie muttered.
“Hey, we’re not the bad guys here,” Victor said.
Out on the floor Prisoner Two crawled over to the corner of her cell and curled up into it. Her body was trembling violently. Prisoner Three, meanwhile, slid over on his ass so that he could place his back against the bars, as requested. Whiskey unclipped the baton from her belt, pressed the end into the back of Three’s neck, and unleashed a harsh jolt while screaming something in French. Three’s body twitched, and he grabbed the bars of his cell to steady himself, but he did not move. Yankee held up a hand to Whiskey, then unlocked the back of Three’s mask.
“Come on,” Victor said. “You’ve got one more prisoner to meet.”
14
Now, I can be a good guy, or I can be one real mean sum-bitch.
—Strother Martin, Cool Hand Luke
ONE MORE? HAD Hardie missed something? He’d counted six cells on the floor—three on each side, four occupied, two empty. Where did they hide the fifth prisoner? The break room?
Victor led Hardie through the next room—which belonged to the guard named X-Ray. He was on the bed, oblivious to their presence, plastic goggles covering his eyes and a thin smile on his face. “Hey,” Hardie said, not expecting a response. Victor explained that X-Ray only spoke German, so Hardie shouldn’t expect much in the way of conversation.
The next door led directly into a shower room, which reeked of mildew. The lighting was poor, which was probably a good thing. The ancient crud caked onto the tile looked disgusting even in shadow. They kept to the wall and walked the length of it. Hardie’s cane slipped on the tile floor a few times. He moved slowly, trying to redistribute his body weight.
Victor gestured grandly. “This happy place is where we shower, too. Nothing but the best for us.”
They reached another locked door. Victor used a key to open it, revealing another long space, much like the break room. Only this room was utterly barren, except for a small table and a series of wall-mounted electronic fixtures.
“When we’re done taking the photos of the prisoners, we plug the cameras in here to upload.”
Another possible connection to the outside world. Food and clothes come down one way, photographic images go out another. This could be useful. Hardie wasn’t sure exactly how yet, but he kept it in mind.
Nate, if you want to give me any hints, feel free.
On the other side of the room was a door that looked like it belonged on a submarine, complete with a metal wheel in the center. Victor put his hands on the metal wheel, then paused. “I have to confess, this is the reason I’m glad you’re finally here. Because in the absence of a warden, I’ve had to step in here once a day, and I’m not going to miss it in the least.”
“What is that?”
“Where we keep Prisoner Zero.”
“Zero is the oldest prisoner in this facility,” Victor continued. “In fact, a lot of us think the facility was created specifically for him. We don’t know what he did in the outside world, or where he comes from, his age, what language he speaks…nothing. We don’t even know if he’s fully human, because none of us understands how a human being could survive these conditions for as long as he has. There’s a rumor that he can’t be killed. Which is why he’s down here, away from everything except us.”
Hardie thought about it. Can’t be killed. This was going to be like one of those old Universal monster-movie matchups: Unkillable Chuck versus the Prisoner Who Couldn’t Be Killed.
Victor must have caught the expression on his face because he said, “Look, I know it sounds like complete and utter shit, but believe me. The guards are vastly relieved they almost never have to deal with him. Which is why I’m vastly relieved you arrived. And I don’t want you dead, so please take care with
“Right,” Hardie muttered.
“Hey, we’re not the bad guys here,” Victor said.
Out on the floor Prisoner Two crawled over to the corner of her cell and curled up into it. Her body was trembling violently. Prisoner Three, meanwhile, slid over on his ass so that he could place his back against the bars, as requested. Whiskey unclipped the baton from her belt, pressed the end into the back of Three’s neck, and unleashed a harsh jolt while screaming something in French. Three’s body twitched, and he grabbed the bars of his cell to steady himself, but he did not move. Yankee held up a hand to Whiskey, then unlocked the back of Three’s mask.
“Come on,” Victor said. “You’ve got one more prisoner to meet.”
14
Now, I can be a good guy, or I can be one real mean sum-bitch.
—Strother Martin, Cool Hand Luke
ONE MORE? HAD Hardie missed something? He’d counted six cells on the floor—three on each side, four occupied, two empty. Where did they hide the fifth prisoner? The break room?
Victor led Hardie through the next room—which belonged to the guard named X-Ray. He was on the bed, oblivious to their presence, plastic goggles covering his eyes and a thin smile on his face. “Hey,” Hardie said, not expecting a response. Victor explained that X-Ray only spoke German, so Hardie shouldn’t expect much in the way of conversation.
The next door led directly into a shower room, which reeked of mildew. The lighting was poor, which was probably a good thing. The ancient crud caked onto the tile looked disgusting even in shadow. They kept to the wall and walked the length of it. Hardie’s cane slipped on the tile floor a few times. He moved slowly, trying to redistribute his body weight.
Victor gestured grandly. “This happy place is where we shower, too. Nothing but the best for us.”
They reached another locked door. Victor used a key to open it, revealing another long space, much like the break room. Only this room was utterly barren, except for a small table and a series of wall-mounted electronic fixtures.
“When we’re done taking the photos of the prisoners, we plug the cameras in here to upload.”
Another possible connection to the outside world. Food and clothes come down one way, photographic images go out another. This could be useful. Hardie wasn’t sure exactly how yet, but he kept it in mind.
Nate, if you want to give me any hints, feel free.
On the other side of the room was a door that looked like it belonged on a submarine, complete with a metal wheel in the center. Victor put his hands on the metal wheel, then paused. “I have to confess, this is the reason I’m glad you’re finally here. Because in the absence of a warden, I’ve had to step in here once a day, and I’m not going to miss it in the least.”
“What is that?”
“Where we keep Prisoner Zero.”
“Zero is the oldest prisoner in this facility,” Victor continued. “In fact, a lot of us think the facility was created specifically for him. We don’t know what he did in the outside world, or where he comes from, his age, what language he speaks…nothing. We don’t even know if he’s fully human, because none of us understands how a human being could survive these conditions for as long as he has. There’s a rumor that he can’t be killed. Which is why he’s down here, away from everything except us.”
Hardie thought about it. Can’t be killed. This was going to be like one of those old Universal monster-movie matchups: Unkillable Chuck versus the Prisoner Who Couldn’t Be Killed.
Victor must have caught the expression on his face because he said, “Look, I know it sounds like complete and utter shit, but believe me. The guards are vastly relieved they almost never have to deal with him. Which is why I’m vastly relieved you arrived. And I don’t want you dead, so please take care with
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