Prisoner of Glass (7 page)

The ground out of which the corn grew was dry as a cough.
 
It was dust, sand, cobweb and rock.
 
Usually, hothouses like this simulated tropical environments — they were moist and damp.
 
And actually hot.
 
There should have been condensation everywhere.
 
She should have been soaked by now.

But she wasn’t.
 
This place was bone-chattering cold, like the rest of the prison.
 
She had to keep moving to stay warm.

And there were no lights.
 
Oh, sure, there was some ambient flickering in here, just like in the rest of the prison, coming from some vague and undefined source.
 
But there should have been white hot panels of thousand-Watt bulbs everywhere, blasting ultraviolet radiation on the greenery.
 
These plants needed either sunlight or artificial sunlight to grow, and here there was neither.

So how were they growing?
 

And there was no water, no irrigation of any kind here that she could see.
 
She had figured there would be pipes snaking around the ground in the cornfields — pipes that powered sprinklers that came on at night or something — and that sooner or later she would run into one.
 

But no.
 
Nothing.
 
Nada, zip.

She looked up.
 
The top of the cavern was merely rock: there was no sprinkler system there either: there would be no moisture raining down from the artificial skies.
 

Impossible!

This whole place was impossible.
 
It defied her medical knowledge, her scientific knowledge.
 
She refused to accept it.

There was simply no way green plants of any kind should be able to grow in an underground cavern, with no water and no sunlight, period, end of sentence.

AT MID-MORNING, Elspeth was told she and her group would move to different location in the vast underground farm.
 
Along the way, they passed several flower beds that appeared to be tropical orchids.
 
Impossible flowers growing in impossible conditions.
 

Then, they encountered a group harvesting coconuts.
 
These prisoners were being made to climb the slender palm trees and throw the coconuts down from the top.
 
To her dismay, Elspeth saw that the majority of these prisoners were children.
 
One, in fact, was the same small Indian girl she had seen earlier — the same one that had a cell very near her own.
 

The girl looked up, adjusting the folds of her garments and headdress.
 
The clear sharp whites of her eyes pierced the gloom, making her momentarily resemble a famous National Geographic magazine cover, her steel gaze driving into Elspeth’s soft moon-blue eyes insistently.

Then she looked away and the circuit was broken.

The Indian girl scampered up the long neck of a palm tree and vanished between its fronds, tossing the coconuts down for the others to collect.
 

Elspeth turned and made her way along the path.

THE PRISONERS WERE given water, and then shown an apple orchard.
 
New wicker baskets were dispensed, and the hard work of picking apples began.
 
But this time, it was easier to speak in low whispers and hide amongst the twisting gnarled boughs of the trees.
 
In fact, it was another prisoner who first attempted a conversation with her.
 

“Hey,” said a skinny, soft-spoken man with furry sideburns.
 
He spoke with a thick French accent.
 
“Over here.
 
What’s your name?”

“Elspeth,” she said under her breath, still wary.
 
“Elspeth Lune.
 
Fifteen fifteen.
 
You?”

At the mention of
fifteen fifteen
, the skinny man flinched.
 
“Huh.
 
Nobody’s been in fifteen fifteen for a long time.
 
Daniel Ogden.
 
Twenty-Five Eleven.”

“Twenty five?
 
So you’re the near the top, then?”

Daniel nodded.
 
“Not exactly.
 
The numbers don’t all go in order.”

“So I don’t suppose you know what this place is or what’s going on?” Elspeth said.
 

Daniel shrugged.
 
“I’ve only been here a month.
 
But you know what I’ve noticed?”

“What’s that?”

“
No bees
.
 
There’s no bees in this garden place.
 
How does anything here get pollinated?”

She nodded.
 
He was right.
 
One more impossible thing to add to the file.

“All this … it’s one big biology experiment,” Daniel concluded.
 
“All this food — it grows really fast, and in the worst conditions.
 
No bees, no water, no sunlight — but it all grows anyway.
 
So I think it’s like, genetically modified.
 
Superfood.”

Elspeth nodded.
 
Well, it was a little crazy of a theory.
 
But she was willing to entertain anything at this point.

“Do you mean the whole Glass Prison is an experiment?”
 
Daniel scrunched up his face in non-comprehension at the name.
 
“There was writing on the wall in my cell,” Elspeth explained, lowering her eyes and voice now as a guard loomed near.
 
“It called this place — all of it — the Glass Prison.
 
Does that mean anything to you?”

Daniel shook his head.
 
“No.
 
Never heard it called a Glass Prison.
 
But it would fit my theory — you know, all of this is just a big petri dish.”
 

“Rats in a maze,” Elspeth said.
 
“And we’re the rats.”

“More like the space monkeys,” Daniel corrected.
 
“We’re the ones they’re experimenting on.”

Right.

“So Daniel.
 
You want to get out of here as badly as I do?”

“Of course I do,” Daniel hissed with a new urgency.
 
He looked up with a quick furtive glance, like a starving rat glimpsing hope for the first time in a long while.
 
“I was hoping … well I was wondering if …”

“Yes?”

“You can’t tell anyone I asked you, okay?”

Elspeth nodded.
 
“Of course not.”

“Do you know
Sebastian Cone
?”
 
He spoke the name with a kind of awe or reverence.
 

Elspeth shook her head.
 
“No.”
 
The name meant nothing to her.
 
“But I only just got here.
 
Why?
 
Who is that?”

“He’s the guy who can get anyone out,” Daniel said dejectedly, very visibly disappointed with her answer.
 
He rubbed his forehead nervously, like he was trying to dig the flesh off his skull.

Elspeth was suddenly very interested.
 
“Is this Cone guy a prisoner also?”

“Yeah.
 
But I don’t know which one he is — I don’t know what he looks like.
 
You can supposedly cut a deal with him, and you’re gone.
 
So you really don’t know, huh?”
 
Daniel was hoping that she was lying.

“No.
 
No, sorry, I really don’t.
 
I’d like to talk to this Sebastian Cone myself.”

“Well.
 
Okay then.
 
Thanks.”
 
And with that Daniel moved on away from her.
 
Moments later, Elspeth spied him chatting up another prisoner, probably asking the same question.

Sebastian Cone.
 

She’d have to look into this.

JAMES CARD shook his head when she brought up Cone.
 
“Probably just a wacky rumor.
 
All prisons have them.
 
Everybody needs a fantasy tale to keep them going.
 
Otherwise, everyone here would hang themselves.”

“Oh?
 
What’s your fantasy tale?”

“I’m not telling.
 
But I know what yours is.”

“What’s that?”

“Your husband.
 
You think you’re going to find Oscar somewhere in this place.
 
And then you’re going to escape with him.”

She snorted.
 
“I
am
going to find him.
 
But I don’t think he’s in here.”

“Well … I was close enough.
 
That’s what keeps you putting one foot in front of the other.
 
But never mind about this Cone guy.
 
Doesn’t exist.”
 

“Hmm.
 
Well, I’m not convinced.
 
There might be something to it.
 
Anyway, how’s the wood shop?”

Card shrugged.
 
“The Kings have mellowed out.
 
Well, on me, anyway.
 
Now they’re up in the collective face of a Slovak gang.
 
Usually just at lunch though — the Slovaks are on a different work detail, so we only see them at meals.”

Just then, the Indian girl Elspeth had seen down in the arboretum walked by.
 
She stared at James Card.
 
“Hi,” James said.
 
“What’s your name?”

“Ione,” the girl said shyly.
 
“What about you?”

“James,” Card replied.
 
“I’ve seen you around.
 
You’re a prisoner too, right?”
 
Ione nodded.
 
“Are your parents here as well?”
 
No
, she mouthed.
 
“Oh.
 
I’m sorry to hear that.”
 
Card exchanged a glance with Elspeth through the bars.
 

“Are you lost?” Elspeth asked.
 
Ione shook her head,
No
.
 
“What I mean is … usually the guards don’t let us just wander around.
 
Do they know you’re up here?”

“Yes,” Ione said.
 
“They let me walk back to my cell on my own.
 
They know I’ll be good.”

“I see,” Elspeth said.
 

Ione turned her gaze back to Jim Card.
 
“Really nice to meet you, James Card.”

“Both ways,” James said.
 
“Both ways, Ione.”
 
When she was gone, he said, “Cute kid.
 
That must be weird, getting thrown into the slammer at that age with no parents.
 
Think I’ll keep an eye on her.”

LATER ON, just before lights out and the horrible films began, James yelled a guard over to his cell.
 
“Hey.
 
So there’s a little girl down the way there.
 
Names Ione.
 
You know about her?”
 
The guard nodded.
 
“I want you to do something special for her tonight, you hear?
 
I want you to bring her ice cream or something.
 
Or get her a pretty dress instead these burlap sacks you make us all wear.”
 
The guard just listened, but did not react.
 
“Come on.
 
I’m asking nicely.
 
She’s just a little girl.
 
I have no idea what you guys could want with her, why you would ruin her life like this.
 
You really should let her go, let her leave.”

“That’s not possible,” the guard said finally.
 
“You don’t know what you’re asking.”

“Goddammit!
 
How much more simple can it be?
 
You kidnapped a little girl, stole her from her childhood and her parents, and put her in some crazy prison!
 
Not really a place for a kid!
 
Now — just do something nice for her.
 
Tonight.
 
All I’m asking.
 
Can you do that?”

The guard thought for a long moment.
 
Elspeth wished she could read the face beneath that black helmet.
 
But finally, he just nodded and said, “Alright.”
 
He turned and left.

James Card called out after him, whooping with delight.
 
“Alright?
 
Alright!
 
Alright!
 
And get me a record player, while you’re at it!
 
And jazz albums.
 
Vinyl.
 
Not a CD player!
 
I like the honesty of vinyl.”

“Don’t push it,” the guard mumbled as he walked away.

The guard faded in the distance.
 
Elspeth watched him as he stepped across a bridge that retracted behind him.
 
She watched him all the way until he disappeared into the Panopticon.

Then the lights snapped off with a crack.
 
The films started, distorted voices and music blaring: the nightly din that was their lot.
 

Elspeth sighed and went to bed.

FIVE: THE ORDER OF THE BLACK DOVE

IN THE MIDDLE of the next night, Elspeth realized that Titus had entered and left her cell by some means other than the front door.

It was the only explanation.

Gripped with the idea, and now wide awake at its implications, she started examining the walls of her cell.
 
If there was a secret doorway, it would probably be in the back somewhere, away from the front of the cell, she reasoned.
 
She dug her fingernails into every nook and crevice, pushing, pulling, scraping — anything to trigger a hidden door.