Red Sky: Chapter 44

There was music filtering down the hallway. It was the soft music of an orchestra. I recognized the tune but had trouble placing it. It was Mozart or Beethoven or Bach, one of those famous composers that are taught in school.

I made my way towards the source of that music. I listened for the sound of my hard shoes on the tiled floor, timing my steps so the music would cover any noise. The glass overlooking the hover bay turned into a blank white wall then a closed door. I passed another closed door on my left. The music continued. The sound of strings and percussion rising and falling. The next door on my right was open. That room was the source of the music. Was Hades in there?

Crouching near the floor, I approached the open door. Hades would try to use the collar. I had the advantage of that second or two until he realized my collar was off and reached for a lance or a laser. I wanted to go foraging for a weapon, but that open door was between me and the rest of the hallway. If Hades was in there, I would have no choice but to attack. If Hades and Goodwell were both in there, it could get messy. But there were no conversations. Goodwell was in his office. He had to be in his office. It was Hades. I had to be ready for Hades.

My crouch was now a crawl and I was next to the doorframe. The music stopped. I listened, briefly panicked, my fight response kicking in, ready to leap at the first flash of movement.

There was no movement. A new track started. It was by the same composer. There was still no sound from anybody else in the prison. Was Hades in that room?

I stretched my neck, now even lower on the floor to make sure I wasn’t seen. The backs of five soft black chairs formed a semi-circle that dominated my view. In the chair directly in the center of that semi-circle I could see the back of a white shirt. There was a gargantuan head on top of that shirt. Hades sat reclining in that chair, drifting off to sleep as the gentle music played.

The floor beneath me was cold to the touch. My hands rested on it to keep my balance, ready to spring forward or run back. I looked down the hallway in both directions to make sure there was no one coming and then lifted those hands from the floor and tiptoed into the room. My eyes stayed focus on the back of his head. It hadn’t moved. Based on no experience whatsoever, I decided a slow quiet approach was better than rushing at full speed. 

Two steps in. I was only three meters away. An unused tether lay across the chair next to Hades. My eyes fixed on that tether. If I could reach it before he woke up, I would have a weapon and he would have nothing.

Two more steps, my boots grew louder, the music seemed quieter. I was two meters away. My eyes scanned from the back of Hades’ head to the tether. Then I realized it wasn’t an unused tether. It was his whip. I didn’t know if that was better or worse. It was something. That’s all I wanted. That’s all I needed.

An arm flung towards me and I rocked back onto my heels. Hades was awake. Had I made too much noise?

Frozen, I watched as the arm hung in the air for a beat, two beats, then slowly began to move in time to the music, conducting the orchestra.

The arm continued to sway back and forth. My gaze focused on his hand then the whip. I couldn’t let him grab that whip. I wanted to dive for it, but I was still too far away. I crouched lower hoping my body would blend in to the floor. The music rose, Hades’ hand was still moving. I took another step.

Less than two meters away. My arm is close to a meter long, I could almost feel that whip in my fingertips.

My mouth went dry. I wanted to swallow but was afraid it would make too much noise. I balanced myself ready to move again. Feet made noise on the floor. But I hadn’t moved my feet. Hades’ body tensed. A lightning storm erupted in my brain. Sparks shot from my heels. I had the whip in my hand and was staring Hades in the face. He reached, I don’t now for what, I pounced with the whip and wrapped it tightly around his neck.

He was a strong man. Stronger than the Lion. I pulled as hard as I could. Pulling on the whip, tightening the noose. He lurched to his left, knocking us both to the floor. I held on. He reached out with his hands again then began flailing about desperately like a mosquito bouncing from wall to wall after it had evaded the first swat. I saw panic in his eyes.

As he died, the panic in Hades’ eyes turned into a question. How could I, an inmate, a sub-human, be the one to take his life? No matter how much superiority he felt towards me, no matter how inferior he thought I was, he was going to die by my hands. All living things struggle to survive in the end. The body fights for survival without regard to the desires of the mind that controls it. Those eyes were begging me for life. Even though Hades would rather die than beg an inmate for his life. He didn’t have a choice. His survival instinct ensured that he would die fighting, that he would die begging. Resignation only came to those eyes after his heart stopped beating.

Hades had made me a killer when he sent me down in the elevator with the Lion. He had taught me well and now my torturer was my victim, his body lifeless lying next to mine on the floor. My head was in his lap. I had finally let go of the whip, a full minute after he stopped breathing. His neck was purple, his face dark blue. His tongue stuck out of his mouth the size of a horse’s tongue. I picked my head out of his lap. If I was smart I would have taken his whip. But I didn’t want that whip. He could keep it. I hope they buried him with it.

There were a couple of lances in the corner of the room. Next to the lances were several pairs of old-fashioned wrist shackles, the kind they used on the transport, the kind they use for the whipping post. There were other random implements buried on that shelf, but no laser. The best I could find was a rusty kitchen knife, the blade still sharp. I needed to find a laser. Even though I had never seen one on the red moon, they had to keep them somewhere. I looked back to Hades one last time to make sure he hadn’t moved. He was still in the same place on the floor.  I left the room carrying the shackles, the rusty knife and a lance.

The rest of the rooms were open. There were no more closed doors to pass by. I took my first step towards those open doors hunting Goodwell. It didn’t take long to find him. He was in the main control room. Like Hades, his back was to the door. Music still filtered throughout the corridor. I was amazed that Goodwell hadn’t heard our struggle. The music covered more than I thought.

If he hadn’t heard me wrestling with Hades, he wouldn’t hear me coming after him. I wasn’t slow and cautious this time. I rushed Goodwell and before he realized what had happened the cuffs were on his wrist and he was sitting chained to the wall. I pointed the lance at his chest. He was my prisoner now.

“Michael,” he called. That must have been Hades’ name.

“He’s dead,” I said without emotion. “I killed him.”

Goodwell began to register his fate.

“89,” he called me. “How did you get here?” The look on his face went from fear to astonishment. 

“Lasers. Where do you keep the lasers?”

He looked at me confused.

“We don’t keep any in this prison.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“For exactly this reason.”

“I still don’t believe you.”

“You can search the entire building if you want.”

I didn’t have time to search the entire building.

“Okay, food. Where do you keep the food?”

“You see it every night in the cafeteria.”

“Not the paste. I want real food, your food, the food for the guards. Where is it?”

Goodwell looked over my shoulder to a supply cabinet.

“Some of it is there.”

I set the lance and knife on a shelf and walked over to the cabinet.

“But it won’t do you any good.”

It was locked.

“How do I open it?”

“I said, it won’t do you any good.”

“The key. Where’s the key?”

I stalked back to Goodwell and picked up the rusty knife.

“I want that key. And then after I get some of that food you’re going to tell me where the lasers are.” I stood over him with all of my menace, the blade of the knife hanging over his head. “I killed Hades. I can do the same to you.”

“You can’t escape, 89. You should return to your cell and…”

“And what?  You can’t tell me what to do. I’m free now. I’m not your slave anymore.”

Goodwell laughed. I punched him in the face. It felt good. Years of anger flowing through my fist. But Goodwell kept laughing even as blood streamed from his lip. I stepped back. Maybe he had gone mad. He stopped laughing and looked me in the eye.

“You’re not a slave, 89. You were never a slave. There is no crime against humanity because you are not human. You are a mimic of a human. You’re not flesh and bone. You’re flesh and titanium metal. A machine.” 


Next Chapter: Chapter 45
Previous Chapter: Chapter 43