Fortunately the horrible scene was cut short by the siren, which sounded for a good few seconds while everybody crowded into the yellow circle in the yard. Kevin saw me scowling at him and rubbed his eyes as if he was pretending to cry. Then he ran a hand across his throat and pointed to me before turning his attention back to the elevator. The two boys who had been dragged out were getting to their feet, the weeping lad being helped up by the other. Their faces were creased in agony and fear, and I shuddered, knowing that's what we must have looked like when we arrived.
With a hiss and a roar the vault door swung open to reveal the same horrendous group that had welcomed us a week ago. They prowled into the yard all growls and wheezes and muffled screams, and even though they were some distance away every single inmate in the prison shuffled backward.
Once again I found that I couldn't focus on the warden, my eyes slipping off him each time like two opposing magnets held next to one another. Frustrated, I turned my attention to the gas masks, who shuddered and shook like rag dolls as the warden introduced the three boys to Furnace. It was impossible to tell if the wheezers were feeling any emotion because their faces were covered with metal and scars, but I thought I could make out a gleam of excitement in their piggy eyes as they studied the fresh pickings before them.
"Maybe one of the new fish is a tunneling expert," Zee whispered to me as the warden gave his speech about rules. "That tall one looks like he might have already escaped from a couple of prisons."
I laughed inside, not wanting to draw any attention from the freaks as the warden read out a series of names and numbers. The tall kid was Gary Owens, the weeping one was Ashley Garrett, and I had to choke back a sob as the name of the third kid was read out-Toby Merchant. I didn't know him, but the name Toby was almost too much to bear. I was assaulted by the memory of my best friend lying on the carpet, his head blossoming, the same shade of red as a valentine rose. It could have so easily been him here, and me decomposing in a quiet graveyard. I guess we were both dead and underground.
One by one the boys drifted off with their cellmates, and as the warden and his ghastly crew vanished behind the massive door, the shouts of "new fish" and "fresh meat" rose up again from the crowd, serenading the terrified inmates to their new home. It was terrible seeing even more new faces shoveled into Furnace, more fuel for the horrors to devour in the dead of night, more innocent victims, no doubt, forced into their rawest nightmares.
The siren blew, letting the crowd disperse, and my attention returned to thoughts of escape. I jogged up the stairs toward my cell, Zee hot on my tail and still bombarding me with crazy ideas-including stuffing my sheet into my uniform and pretending to be one of the muscular blacksuits. I ignored him as I made my way down the platform, entering to see Donovan sitting on his bunk idly picking his nose. He looked at me distastefully, then flicked something in my direction.
"Haven't you got better things to be doing, Sawyer," he said with a sneer, "like trying to get us all killed? Why don't you start another fight? This time you might get lucky and bring the dogs and the wheezers up here."
I walked up to the bed and leaned against the wall, running a hand through my hair and sighing loudly.
"I couldn't just lie there not knowing what was going on," I said eventually. It was a lame excuse for something that could have got us both dragged away, but at least it was the truth. "Besides, you saw that thing. It wasn't interested in us. It knew exactly where it was going."
"You wouldn't be so damn cocky now if it had marked the door," Donovan spat back. "You'd be strung up somewhere beneath Furnace having your skin ripped off or your eyes skewered or something."
I felt my stomach turn and did my best to ignore his remarks. Donovan wiped a hand beneath his nose and sniffed loudly, looking me in the eye as if waiting for something.
"Okay, I'm sorry," I said quietly. "I really am. Come on, I've hardly been here any time, I didn't know how serious it all was." Donovan nodded gently but his eyes never left mine. "I just…" I paused, not quite sure what I was saying. "I just want to be doing something, something to help get us out of here. I don't want to be curled up and cowering in the dark when those things come for me. Okay?"
"What else is there to do?" was his emotionless reply.
"He thinks we can make a break for it," said Zee, smiling at Donovan as if he was talking about a silly child. "He thinks there's a way out."
"Oh yeah, there are plenty of ways," Donovan said, rummaging under his mattress and pulling out a small wooden shank. I was surprised to see it, but I guess everybody in Furnace needs some way of protecting themselves. He started scratching the rock wall, the homemade blade not even leaving a mark. "Just pick a spot and start digging. If nobody catches you, I reckon you could make it out in, say, a thousand years."
He tossed the shank back onto his bed then leaped nimbly onto the floor, barging past me and standing at the bars of the cell, looking down into the yard. I sat down on the bottom bunk and tried to ignore my frustration. In the relative silence I heard the sound of screaming from nearby but I tuned it out.
"Tell me what you know about the cave-in," I asked after a while. "In Room Two."
Donovan snorted.
"That was my reaction too," Zee said, sniggering. I wanted to leap up and slap him but I managed to control my temper and settled for a mean glare. He mouthed the word "sorry" and let me carry on.
"Something happened in there," I went on. "Those kids hit a fault line or something. I could smell it, Donovan, I could smell the fresh air."
"It was your imagination, you chump," he replied, resting his head against the bars. "Maybe someone let rip when you were standing next to them and you felt the draft."
"You were there too, the other day. Didn't you sense something? Anything?"
"Yeah, I sense it every time I walk into a room in here. I hope and pray that there might just be a hole in the rock and we can all make a run for it. Sometimes I hope so much that I can see the way out, I can smell the rain, I can hear the birds. But I can't, it's just an illusion. They say that hope can set you free, and I guess that's what it is. A tiny glimpse of freedom to keep us sane, if you follow me."
"It wasn't an illusion," I snapped. "I'm telling you, it was real. I didn't make it up."
I thought back, remembering the sensation of being outside, of mountains and wind and endless views. Maybe it had just been an illusion, my brain's way of coping with the thought of never going aboveground again. I guess it made sense. I mean, I knew that Furnace could do funny things to your mind. But something deep inside me wouldn't let it rest, was screaming at me not to give up. I knew that inner voice well, the instincts that I had followed all the time when I was robbing houses.
"Fine, maybe it was just my imagination," I said. "But what if it wasn't? What if there is a way out? Isn't it worth a look?"
"Feel free," muttered Donovan. "I'm not stopping you."
"But we need your help, D," I added. "We can't do this alone."
"You mean you can't do this alone," Zee said, looking at me with a concerned expression. "Less of this we business, please."
I looked at Donovan for a response but he had straightened up and was staring down into the yard with an expression of disbelief.
"No way," he said with a laugh. "No way is he taking on the Skulls."
I jumped off the bed and ran through the cell door to the platform. Six floors beneath me I made out a small circle of people, each wearing painted bandannas and unsettled expressions. In the middle of the circle, prowling around like a caged tiger, was the tall, calm new boy, Gary Owens. Donovan and Zee rushed to my side and watched as Gary raised his hands, inviting the Skulls to throw a punch. Some had pulled shanks from inside their overalls but nobody was making the first move.