I
I’ll never forget the night I first laid eyes on Rend.
That year, a heatwave burdened our land. Summer never treated any of us kindly.
A new shipment of inmates was said to have arrived at the facility late that night. I had only just learned of it from a fellow prisoner who’d whispered the news between mouthfuls of rationed food during suppertime. It wasn’t meant for my ears, but eavesdropping had become a regular habit of mine since arriving at Blackridge Ward.
The warden came in late that evening, just before lights-out, fresh blood in tow. Chains and cuffs wreathed their wrists, clanking with each labored step as they were paraded down the narrow corridor hemmed in on either side by vacant cells.
From the confines of my own chamber, I watched, cloaked in the dust and shadow of the enclosure. I was a fly on the wall, my presence unknown to the other inmates.
Among the procession of dispirited prisoners, there he stood, bringing up the rear. My eyes were instantly drawn to him. The crook of his spine. The raven-dark hair, cropped short, close to his skull. Wan skin spread over sinew, its only pigment from the bruises and puncture wounds slashed through pallid flesh. He dragged dusty, unshod feet behind him, garbed in the thin blue jumpsuit assigned to every inmate housed in the facility—though the fabric of his was darker. Almost navy in color.
My face whitened as the wind stalled in my lungs. I had only been here a day, but I had gleaned a good deal of information about this place in that brief period of time. Navy jumpsuits were reserved for inmates with death sentences hanging over their heads.
This man was living on borrowed time.
He lifted bloodshot eyes to mine, just as the realization rooted itself in my mind.
Does he know? I wondered. Does he know his reason for being here, the fate that awaits him?
We locked gazes, for all of ten brief seconds before the warden seized him by the arm and stuffed him into the dank cell right across from mine.
“Prisoner 1,032, Rend-727, present and accounted for,” he muttered, jotting something down on his tablet before taking his leave, urging the other prisoners on.
Sleep skirted around me that night, refusing to consort with me in spite of my wishes. Rend’s muted sobs kept me awake. They came in fragmented bursts. I deduced from their muffled quality he was attempting to staunch the flow of sound with his palm, with less than desirable results.
Reactionary tears came to my own eyes. He knows. Of course he knows.
I should say something. Anything.
Perhaps simply my presence would be a comfort to him. But what could I say? What words might lie on my tongue that would erase his woes, unseal his looming fate?
I unlatched my jaw, willing sound to push past my lips, but apart from Rend’s sniveling, the silence stayed untouched.
Words escaped me, even as I revived my efforts, replaced instead with melody. It came gradually at first, but once the phlegm fled my airways, it swelled, strengthened. Music calmed me. It had been that way for as long as I could remember. It spoke for me when my speech failed.
Eventually, Rend’s weeping lessened. Stillness encircled the corridor once more, a silence pregnant with possibility amid the despair.
Dawn broke, and the warden returned to escort us along with the other prisoners down to the mess hall. As always, the place was teeming with rowdy inmates, and the chamber remained under heavy surveillance. Guards stood with their backs to the walls, observing the scene.
I waited patiently in line for my share of rations, smiling at all who made eye contact as I went, officers and inmates alike. I was met mostly with the familiar scowls branded on the faces of my fellow prisoners. Their reactions didn’t bother me in the slightest. I knew it was nothing personal, circumstances being as they were.
As I stood in line, I scanned the sea of inmates for Rend. I had arrived a bit later than him. The wardens fetched us in batches from our cells, and his had been one of the first groups to go.
My questing gaze landed on his retreating form as he lugged his tray of food to his assigned table. Utensil in hand, he absently stirred the gruel in his bowl, a glum look about him. I tried sending a smile his way, but he only looked for a second before devoting his attentions back to his rations.
Two guards were lined up against the wall at my back, clad in their dark uniforms, a man and woman. Overhearing bits and pieces of their conversation, I perked up a little.
“Recognize him from anywhere?” hissed the woman. Noting the slant of her gaze, it was apparent she was referring to Rend. I angled my head ever so slightly toward them, attempting subtlety.
“No, that can’t be who I think it is,” the male officer whispered to his compatriot.
“Oh, you best believe it is. He was processed just last night. Termination pending.”
I heard the wet splat of saliva striking the tiles as the man spat on the floor. “Public’ll be thrilled to finally be rid of that bastard.”
“Two more days and it’ll be done.”
The words reverberated in my mind, long after they were uttered. Two more days until his execution. But on what charges? What was the crime?
I was mere seconds away from turning around and demanding answers. Instead, spinning on my heel, I came face-to-face with a fellow prisoner who had slid in line directly behind me and had positioned himself far too close for comfort. Tanith. Prisoner 1,000, Tanith-63. Shocks of hair, dull gold in hue hugged his scalp. He hadn’t been here much longer than I had, from what I’d gathered.
“Oh,” I said, deflating. “Pardon me. I didn’t see you standing there.”
He leered, olive-black eyes scalding as they pegged me in place. Moments passed before he uttered a sentence. “You’re new here, aren’t you?”
“Nice of you to—”
“I saw you yesterday,” he interrupted quietly. “Perhaps you saw me, too.”
“It’s possible,” I echoed, my voice a wary drawl. I glanced toward Rend and was baffled to find his seat empty. Where’d he go?
When the silence endured a beat too long, I continued. “I’m Shilo. You can call me Shy—”
“Shy. How quaint.” I flinched as he took my hand in his, fingers closing tightly around me. “Fragile little wisp like you won’t last long in a place like this,” he said musingly, turning my wrist face-up to inspect the smooth planes of my palm.
The hairs along the nape of my neck kindled at the comment, and I jerked my hand away. “I beg your pardon?”
He cocked his head to the side, pupils blown.
My heart rate grew swifter by the second. I looked to the guards for help, but they only watched in disinterested silence. What were they even here for if not to keep order?
I felt a new presence at my side, and lifted my eyes just as Rend materialized, inserting himself between me and Tanith. He had no need to announce himself. He simply appeared as though he’d been there the entire time and only now decided to make himself known.
Grateful he had come to my aid, I straightened my stance.
Tanith scrunched angular features, blinking up into Rend’s auburn eyes. “What’re you doing back in line, newbie?” he growled. “You’ve already got your food.”
Rend’s voice, when it came, was gritty like the sand of the dunes that surrounded the Ward. “Never you mind.” He turned to me, nodding in acknowledgement, and only then did I realize I was next in line for my rations.
A smirk tilted Tanith’s chapped lips as I stepped up to the counter.
The other inmates in line thronged around us. We were making a spectacle. Still, the guards made no move to intervene.
Tanith sidestepped Rend, spindly fingers reaching for me.
I tensed, prepared to defend myself.
Rend had already foreseen the attack. He lunged, the movement sudden and explosive. His hand clamped down around Tanith’s forearm with bruising force, and I gasped as he wrenched the limb sideward at an unnatural angle.
Startled shouts multiplied amid the onlookers.
Tanith’s face muscles strained under the fluorescent lights, but he refused to grant Rend the dignity of a scream.
It was over that quickly.
The newcomer stayed by my side as I was served. Tanith retreated to nurse his wounds and avoided me for the rest of the day.
Once I had my tray stocked high with rations, I turned to thank Rend for his intervention, only to find I was speaking into empty air.
He’d gone as quickly as he’d come.
Pivoting, I glimpsed him back at his table. He held his head aloft and shoulders squared, looking past all who came near, his eyes never quite meeting anyone else’s, let alone mine.
Still processing what had transpired, I crossed the hall and retreated to my own table. My thoughts twisted, went in loops and spirals, always returning to the conversation I had overheard between the two guards. Termination pending…two days and it’ll be done…
Why was Rend here? What had he done that was so terrible that it warranted death? I had scarcely heard him speak a full sentence, but that meant little to me now.
I couldn’t stand by and let him die.
I couldn’t.
I wouldn’t.
