The silence in which the four men started at each other was blown away by a toneless voice that left everyone a bit disoriented.
“Lucas?… what the hell are you doing, lying on the ground?”
By the Shutter’s door, Adriano was staring at his accomplice like a drunken man trying to understand what was happening, failing to do so. It was a really grotesque sentence. The Guards gave him an annoyed look. Giovanni, maybe for the impelling need relieve the tension, thought that the tragicomical joke could even make him laugh, in a different situation. For a second he feared he would burst into an hysterical laughter and he started sucking on the cut he had on his tongue.
“Quiet, you!” Scald said without taking his eyes off Lucas. “And go back in, if you don’t want us to break your face, too!”
Adriano muttered something incomprehensible to his partner, then went back on his steps and started banging his forehead on the Suffering, like a penitent faithful on the Wailing Wall.
After spitting a red clot which landed close to Scalp’s boot, Lucas grunted: “Come on, shoot me, if you have the courage. Nazi bastard, you and everyone like you… shoot, you coward! Let’s see if you still have the balls, after what I did to them!”
Giovanni’s breath condensed into a cloud of frost, clogging his lungs. Stave gave his colleague an alarmed look, probably expecting him to shoot the convict without thinking about it twice.
But Scalp was unmoved and his lineaments went back to his usual neutral expression. “You’re smart.” He commented calmly. “But not enough.” He nodded towards Steve and Giovanni. “Pick him up.”
The two didn’t hesitate. Giovanni bent down and put one arm under Lucas’ right armpit. Steve did the same on the left side and, with a certain effort, made the dealer, on whose light blue shirt a red, damp tie seemed to have materialised. The man kept staring at Scalp, but at that point his arrogant look had already changed into something very similar to terror.
He barely managed to whisper: “Shoot me, pig. Shoot me, damn you…”
Scalp didn’t move e Giovanni admired him for that extremely lucid reaction. An example to follow.
“I know you would like it.” He stepped away, maybe to avoid another kick from Lucas. “Sorry to disappoint you, but you’re not the first to try. A bullet in the head is thousands of times better than what awaits you down there… too easy, man. Too easy.”
Then, nodding towards the Shutter. “Put him in.”
Lucas tried to free himself, spitting insults and blasphemy together with blood and saliva. But Giovanni and Steve tightened their grip, pulling him in front of the entrance; at that point Scalp, after holstering his gun, raised a leg and kicked him in the kidney with the sole of his boot. Lucas fell on his partner, who was waiting for him in a catatonic state, pushing him against the Suffering in a whirl of moans and jingling vibrations.
“Close it.” Scalp ordered.
Giovanni, overflowing with adrenaline, rushed to the push-button panel.
The door closed with its fatal puff. Lucas, on the other side of the glass, turned towards the Ring and started shouting words that the thick panel suffocated to a whimper. Understating him was impossible, but his bloody and terrified face was more than eloquent.
The Keeper was autonomous again; yet it was spontaneous of him to look at Scalp before proceeding to the Unloading. The Guard agreed silently, a tired look on his face, and only then Giovanni pressed the button that (clang) opened the Suffering and (zzzzzz) activated the moving platform.
The blurred silhouette swaying behind Lucas, Adirano, disappeared immediately, swallowed by the hungry, black void. But Lucas didn’t.
For a moment Giovanni was overwhelmed by the fear that the mechanism had jammed a Manual Discharge – a simple push – would be necessary as explained in the manual. But things were different. He was walking.
Matching the speed of his steps to the platform, as if he was on a treadmill, he kept staring at Giovanni, who was frozen in front of the door, safe in the cold light of the Ring. Shouting was a waste of energy, so he had stopped. He barely moved his lips, red with the blood still dripping from his broken nose, keeping his desperate and furious gaze of the Keeper. The opaque glass prevented them from seeing the tears on his face, but his eyes were probably swollen.
None of the guards talked. They just stood there, like Giovanni, watching that absurd scene, exhaling excited breaths from their nostrils.
Giovanni felt almost hypnotised. The man on the other side of the glass would soon fall into the abyss. The conclusion to that sinister farce was inevitable. Yet he kept walking, franticly, his head shaking from the effort, panting, grinding his teeth. Behind him, the maws of the Tank were waiting patiently.
The Keeper’s face, reflected in the lead-coloured crystal of the door, overlapped with the one of the dying man, eyes over eyes. The just on one side, the unjust on the other. Giovanni was sure he wouldn’t move nor avert his gaze until the other would fall. And despite not being able to see them he knew that Scalp and Steve would do the same. They would watch, motionless, until the end. There would be no surrender, no shame, no fear on their side.
The scene seemed to crystallise and dilate; the heavy droning of the platform intertwined with the sharp one of the neon lights, whole hearts and lungs were beating the rhythm of tribal dances as old as life itself. But what seemed to have no end was over in couple of minutes.
Lucas suddenly pronounced a sentence, short and peremptory; a fluid movement of the lips slipping directly into Giovanni’s subconscious. Then he simply stopped walking and closed his eyes. It was as if an invisible, clawed hand had grabbed him, dragging him backwards with bad grace. He disappeared in an instant, leaving a small halo of vapor in his stead, which soon dissolved and became a memory.
Scalp’s solid voice imposed itself readily: “You don’t need to count to thirteen, Keeper. We have used way too much current already.”
Giovanni tuner towards him, the skin of his arms still crawling with excitement. He quickly turned back to the panel, pushed the Unloading button again and in three second no more noise came from the Shutter. The silence that followed bloated like a soundless explosion against his eardrums, making the circular walls of the Ring waver at the sides of his field of view.
“Good job, Keeper Corte. I will mention your behavior in the report.”
Scalp talked like a high officer, despite being a simple EG. But Giovanni didn’t care: he could act like the Supreme President of the NMO and it still wouldn’t matter. His words were flattering and he thought that the report would even end up on Stevanich’s desk. The suasive touch of gratification slightly relieved the pain he felt in his stomach. He thought that maybe the convict-sedation operators wouldn’t be glad about Scalp and Steve’s report, but that didn’t interest him. If someone had made a mistake, it was only right that they payed for it. Because of somebody not doing his job, Giovanni had an ugly fifteen minutes. An awful fifteen minutes.
“Thanks, Sc…” He managed to shut up in time, and had the presence of mind to swallow loudly, simulating embarrassment.
Scalp smiled slightly, then started to turn towards the lift. Giovanni, wanting to be thoughtful, spontaneously asked him a question: “Are you all right?”
The Guard turned back towards him, raising an eyebrow.
“Down there, I mean.” Giovanni specified, hoping his words didn’t sound mocking.