Origins Unknown Read online

  Seeing metal steps descending, I work my way down to the ground level. The dark cream-coloured walls around the prison both look decrepit and worn, as if the prison has been built to withstand long-term damage. Yet in some places, the prison does look new and renovated as if work had been started but then stopped abruptly for some reason.

  At the bottom of the steps, I hear voices coming from both sides of the prison. Fixed to that spot, I stand there for several minutes, listening carefully to hear what is being said, trying to get some sense of understanding or knowledge so as to figure out this predicament I am in. Moans, shouts, grunts and whispers – I could tell others are waking up in the cells and trying to deal with their similar situation in their own individual ways. Thoroughly acknowledging that these, I assume, people, are in the same mess that I am in, I wander on in frustration, kicking a nearby stone on the gravelly concrete floor beneath my feet towards the far side of a wall.

  From what I can make out, I can’t see any clearly defined way out of the prison apart from a very long corridor leading away to somewhere at the end of the hallway. Thinking of the task at hand, I remind myself of my choices before I decide to advance my way through it.

  As I walk through the twisting corridor, I can’t help but notice that the walls on either side are beginning to get closer together, so much so that as I get to the end of the corridor, I have to twist my body around and side-step myself all the way through. The walls merge into one as I come out of the corridor, leaving no way back to the cell as far as I can make out.

  I see that in front of me there is now a large, wide circle on the ground floor, thirty feet away from me and nothing else apart from walls surrounding it that are the same as before. The black-lined circle, which has circles running all the way inside it and an empty space in the middle, seems to have risen out of the ground, almost as if it is a podium. As I enter the middle of the circle, I notice a small control pad is rising out of the empty space in the centre as if it has sensed my presence. It has various buttons protruding from it, different in colour but without instructions as to what they do.

  It could help me find the way out.

  I press one of the buttons. All the buttons begin to light up as I touch it. Out of each wall surrounding me, there are now many different corridors encircling me, each one to my understanding a potential way out of here.

  I press other buttons on the control pad, hoping to find any clues as to where the corridor, or more importantly the right corridor, leads, but without any progress. I have no choice; I have to follow one or more of the corridors and see where they end up.

  I stride down the one nearest to me on my right-hand side. At the end of the path, I realise that it leads me back to the same circle as I was in a moment ago. I panic now, thinking of what do to next.

  ‘‘OK, no matter, right, let’s go for option two,’’ I say to myself before I try another corridor…

  And another…

  And another…

  I stop when I step back into the circle.

  This doesn’t make any sense whatsoever.

  All of the paths lead back to the same spot, i.e. the podium-like circle.

  Seemingly, without warning, the pod begins to ascend up from the ground. Quickly, thinking it has to have a different way out, I jump on board. As it rises, I once again see cells that are similar to the one I was in.

  The podium lift stops between two cells on the ground floor, which I thought was just wall space between the rooms.

  One cell upstairs is even open, as if one of the prisoners has left it that way on purpose.

  What…? I ask myself. It couldn’t be.

  It’s the same cell that I walked out of!

  I recognise it from the way I had opened the cell door when I exited it in the first place.

  How could this be? How could I find myself back where I was without me knowing about it? It just isn’t possible.

  I am really worried now.

  I don’t know what else to do.

  There is no way out of this place. Absolutely no way.

  I have no choice but to return to my cell and await my outcome as all the other prisoners would have to.

  As I step off the circle, I realise it has sunk into the ground before I could decide if I wanted to climb back on again.

  It is too late. It is gone.

  My teeth gritted, my jaw clenched and my fists balled up in rage, I stomp angrily and loudly around the cells as shouts from around the prison start to become louder and more aggressive in tone. I see that the prisoners have realised their dilemma and like myself, begin pushing and pulling furiously at their cell doors.

  As I near my cell, I immediately notice something very strange.

  The stranger in my cell is not there…

  2

  JAILBREAK

  Out of nowhere, several red, bulbous alarms descend out of the walls around the prison, flashing red with a loud, annoying sound. An automated voice comes on over a loudspeaker.

  ‘‘Err… Err… Err… Red alert… Red alert… Intruder spotted on the first floor of Block D… all security personnel proceed immediately to this region, I repeat, all security personnel proceed immediately to the first floor of Block D. Proceed with caution. Capture is essential – dead or alive.’’

  The message continues repeating itself for a while longer. I stand fastened to the metal scaffolding outside of my cell, too confused to move a muscle in case something else comes out of these strange walls that could have a negative impact on me or my health.

  Next, there comes a weird, whirring noise from above. Looking up towards the roof again, I see many white-suited guards lowering themselves via a trapdoor from the roof. They are using thick, black chains and are descending very quickly towards the ground, carrying rapid-fire machine guns. The remaining prisoners surrounding me in all directions are now extremely mad, kicking and banging at the bars of the cells within which they are trapped.

  I don’t know what to do until I notice several red dots on my body.

  These guys don’t care about bringing me in alive. As long as I am alive, it will require more effort on their part to bring me in. As far as they are concerned, it’d be easier for them if I am dead. For all my effort, all they see is someone setting a bad example for the rest of the prisoners.

  I have to move.

  No point going down to the ground floor; I’ve tried that option.

  Only way out is up.

  I look up to the on-going levels of cells above.

  I hope there is a way out of this hellhole up there.

  Fearing that the guards may also be descending down the steps, I turn to face my cell, grabbing the scaffolding above on the second floor and pulling myself up just as gunfire starts in my direction.

  I feel weird as if I am protected somehow by a higher power; strangely, I realise that despite the number of bullets fired at me, not a single one has yet ruptured my flesh.

  No time to think about that now, just go!

  The gunfire is coming at me from all angles as some of the guards have now descended to the ground.

  My only way out of this is if I am quicker! I’ve got to jump!

  I hurriedly jump up now from scaffolding to scaffolding, trying my very best not to look down as I try to outmanoeuvre constant gunfire in my direction.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I can see the prisoners are jumping back in rapid fear now from hearing gunfire, either hiding under their beds or against the furthest wall away from the door in the hope of not becoming a casualty from the escalating battle that is happening outside.

  Try being in my position! It’s me they want!

  One of the guards approaches me, swinging across on the rope next to him to try to get me. I see him coming a mile away. He is fully covered in what I can best describe as a white combat suit with grey patches and a white helmet to cover the head. A piece of black glass is in place over the top part of the visor so that I can’t see what the person i
nside looks like completely, apart from a pale white chin and luminescent white eyes. He takes out a large, silver sharp-edged knife while swinging towards me. I can guess what he is going to do next.

  I duck under his blow, turning my body whilst holding onto the railing to knee him on the right side of his ribcage and kick the knife from his hand with my left foot as soon as I can. Then I grab his head with my left hand and smash it hard, as hard as I can, on the railing of the scaffolding that I am currently on. His fingers loosen from the chain he is on and he falls all the way down to the ground with an almighty scream.

  Gunfire is still spurting out at me. More and more guards are approaching me from above.

  I have to get to the top at all costs and find a way to escape this insanity.

  I have a crazy idea. Exhaling loudly, I jump from where I am to the nearest black chain and from there to the next one and so on. The guards probably wouldn’t be expecting this. They might think that they are going to capture me and that judging by my speed and distance, jumping from scaffolding on one level to scaffolding on the next, I would be a stray bullet away from being shot. It would be crazy of me to attack first. But nevertheless it has to be done.

  They wouldn’t risk shooting one of their own.

  I dropkick one of the guards squarely in the chest while punching another in the stomach and elbowing another in the face. They all drop like flies to the ground, again with the same piercing scream as the guard before them.

  This just might work…

  ***

  Within a large command centre above the prison, a cape-wearing authoritative figure sits on a narrow, wide-brimmed black chair, watching out of a monitor in front of him at Max’s attempt at escape. This figure has a very steely face, hardened in places so that he looks as strict as he is in nature. He turns his chair around to face one of the guards, sitting at a control panel a few yards away.

  “Relay this message to ground control, Number 9. The fugitive is not allowed at any point to breach the confines of this facility. The order issued before is to be exacted under extreme measures. Number 9, whatever it takes, that prisoner must NOT get out of here unless I give the command that he can. Issue the order, Number 9.”

  “Yes, Commander Leukon.” The guard nods his head and presses a button on the command switchboard in front of him, activating the loudspeaker to carry out the order he has been given.

  The figure returns to the position he was in before. He presses a button on his chair. From one side of the room, more grey and white-suited guards enter the room and gaps within the floor begin to appear as if out of nowhere.

  “Yes Sir, Commander?” asks one of the guards, clearly the lead guard present as he is the only one wearing a badge on his chest.

  “You know what to do, Number 2,” the Commander states firmly, looking directly into the face of the lead guard.

  “You heard the Commander, move out!” shouts the lead guard to the others as they each grab hold of the chains attached to various parts of the floor of the command centre.

  Commander Leukon stands up and walks to the one-way clear glass floor a few yards away from him. Looking down, he can see everything that is going on below him, including Max’s efforts to challenge his soldiers. The Commander watches as one of the guards he has just sent has sneaked up towards Max and while fighting with him, has punched him in the chest with great strength. The blow has left Max reeling slightly and is causing him to become off-balance. A look of wonder gleams within the Commander’s eyes as he barks another order to Number 9, more furiously this time.

  “Number 9, order the sharpshooters to fire at the fugitive’s chain.”

  The Commander watches as several guards that are positioned on the ground adjust their guns to sharpshooter mode to aim at the rope Max is on. One lucky shot catches Max’s chain just above his head. Max is falling rapidly to the ground now. A grin begins to appear on the Commander’s face…

  ***

  I can still feel the pain from the punch I received moments ago as it has agitated the pain in my chest. But by now, it is too late. I am in mid-fall, falling flat on my back 200 feet from my position in the air to the ground below.

  BOOM!

  I land on my back in a heap on the floor, with every part of my body in pain, especially my chest but grateful that I am still alive. Instantaneously, all the guards’ guns are on me from the moment I begin to fall to where I am now, covering my body with several red dots.

  I get up as slowly as possible, pressing my hands on the ground to hoist myself up. Amazingly, I am fully aware that no permanent damage has been done to my body. Even though in pain, I look at my body wondering how I could have survived such a fall. I make my way over to the nearest wall.

  Looking towards the guards, I see that they are waiting for the right moment to strike. The lead guard, or at least the guy in charge at that point, motions to another guard to grab me. The guard steps forward, brandishing a steely knife from his already buckling belt, similar to the one held by the first guard I encountered in the air.

  I have had enough.

  This is it. If I’m going down, I am going down swinging.

  The guard swings his knife at the left side of my body and I sidestep out of the way to the right. Then he swings his knife at my right side and I sidestep away again to my left. He then plunges his knife towards my chest. This time, I sidestep away, but I grab his left hand with my right, crushing his fingers with the strength of my hand, causing him to drop the knife. The guard screams with anguish. A strong surge of anger boils up inside me. I punch his left hand away, then punch his right hand away with my left hand and with all my might I punch him squarely on the chest with my right hand.

  The guard flies back from the force of my blow, flying all the way back until he hits the wall on the opposite side and lands on the floor, unconscious and unmoving. I have still not moved from my position, my right fist still balled up in front of my face. I look in awe towards it and then at the rest of the guards. The guards all saw the guard fly into the wall but are now all facing me, anger brimming on their faces.

  Next, as if out of nowhere, a loud booming sound is heard from the speakers around the prison; a loud repeated sound as if it is the signal for something else to happen.

  The lead guard is now placing his right hand to his ear and nodding his head as if he is listening to instructions from an earpiece.

  “Orders are to apprehend the fugitive, but alive,” the leader informs the rest of the guards.

  The guards are moving towards me rapidly. Surprised at my own strength, I decide to fight back. As they attack, I punch one guard squarely in the face, breaking the glass visor and knocking him out. I take out another guard’s legs by kicking them out first from under him, sending him into the air and then in his chest so he too lands against an adjacent wall. Another guard manoeuvres around me and grabs me around the neck. I use his own strength against him to send him hurtling towards some guards several feet in front of me.

  All of a sudden, all the guards begin to jump on me. I realise their tactic: strength in numbers. As I am about to try and shove them off me, one of the guards uses the opportunity to punch me in the chest. The pain is unbearable as I double over onto my knees.

  “ENOUGH!’’

  The shout comes from a neatly-dressed man wearing a mostly grey and white combat suit and a cape. His appearance is very similar to the other guards and his helmet covers only part of his face, again leaving space for his creepy pale, white, chiselled face and luminescent white eyes to be seen by whoever is looking at him.

  After seeing him begin to descend from quite possibly the same lift I had been on, I notice a slight opening in the side of one wall to the right of me from which a white light shines through. It had not been there before, but as my mind starts to ravage itself looking for clues on how to escape my capture, the building starts to move outwards swiftly, revealing a distant clearing from which I could possibly escape.

&nb
sp; This is it.

  Sensing my chance, I use a last burst of energy from within me to toss away the guards that are restraining me. I begin to run fast in the direction of the clearing. Looking back, I notice the neatly-dressed man has taken a pair of luminescent light-blue handcuffs from out of a pocket within his cape. He releases the cuffs from his hands, which fly linked in my direction.

  I run even faster in the same direction, hoping to get out before anything worse happens. However, the cuffs separate from one another and each cuff fixes itself tightly to my wrists. The force of the attachment pushes me down, back-first on to the ground and starts to drag me in the direction of the guards. Gasping with effort and with pain emanating from my chest worse now than before, I look at the neatly-dressed man, whom it appears is controlling the cuffs with his fingers using sharp, sudden movements.

  As I get dragged to the rest of guards, they once again apprehend me and grab me by my arms. Once again, I try to get free, but the cuffs seem to have sapped a lot of my strength from me, holding me quite fiercely in the guards’ grasp.

  The neatly-dressed man, clearly the one issuing the orders around here, strides through the parting crowd of guards until he is standing before me. Even though I am in pain, I turn my face upwards to look up at him.

  “Who are you? Why are you doing this to me?” I croak out, the pain in my chest causing my throat to close up.

  “Who am I? Let me see, I… I am your worst nightmare and you… You are the first of your kind to even attempt to escape my prison and you’ve had a good try at that too, I will give you that. You have, however, made the tiniest mistake.”