Prison

Clang.

Liz flinched as the cell door slammed shut behind her, the harsh sound slashing through her self-control. She clenched her fists, fighting to stop the trembling in her body. Every fiber of her being screamed for her to run, to hide, but she sucked in a breath instead, calming her nerves. Cold steel pressed against her throat, a constant reminder of her captivity.

A sharp pain came from her palms as her nails dug into flesh. With a great effort, she unclenched her fists. The breath caught in her throat, but she swallowed and sucked in another, refusing to give in to her panic. The thick threads of the orange uniform rubbed her skin uncomfortably, though in truth its quality was better than anything she'd scavenged in the past two years.

Liz cast her eyes over her new home. The plain concrete walls matched what she'd glimpsed of the rest of the facility on the short trip from cage to prison cell. The journey had taken less than five minutes, a quick march down long corridors, past open doors and strange rooms filled with glass tubes and steel contraptions. Some she recognized from her boarding school: beakers and test tubes and other things she'd forgotten the names of. But most were beyond her understanding—plastic boxes that hummed and whirred, steel cubes of unknown purpose, containers filled with a strange, gel-like substance.

The guards had ushered them past each room with quick efficiency, leaving no time for questions. Only once had Liz paused, when they'd passed a room apparently used as a canteen. The smell of coffee and burnt toast wafted out, and she'd seen a dozen people sitting around a table, talking quietly. Before Liz could speak, a guard had jabbed the butt of his rifle into the small of her back.

A little gasp had burst from her lips, and several people inside had glanced her way. Several had raised their eyebrows at the sight of her, but a moment later they returned to their conversations. Seeing their indifference, Liz had felt the last of her courage curdle.

From there they'd been led through a thick iron door, into the grim corridor of a prison block. Faces lined the cells to either side of them as they marched past. Wide eyes stared out, their owners no more than children, ranging from around thirteen to twenty years of age.

Now Liz stood in a tiny concrete cell, the iron bars at her back locking her in, sealing her off from the outside world. Two sets of bunk beds had been pushed against the walls on her left and right, while at the rear a toilet and sink were bolted into the floor. Curtains dangled down beside the toilet, presumably to offer some small semblance of privacy.

And between the bunks stood her new roommates.

The boy and girl stared back at Liz and Christopher. The boy stood well over six feet, his muscled shoulders and arms dwarfing the girl beside him. His skin was the dark hue of a Native American, except where a scar stretched down his right arm. Black hair hung around his razor-sharp face, and hawkish brown eyes studied her with detached curiosity.

The girl beside him could not have been a starker contrast. Her pale skin practically shone in the overhead lights, unmarked by so much as a freckle, and at around five foot three, she barely came up to the boy's chest. She stood with arms folded, her posture defensive, though with her thin frame Liz doubted she could fend off a toddler. Long hair hung down to her waist, the scarlet locks well-trimmed but unwashed. Had it not been for that, Liz might have thought she'd just finished a photoshoot.

But on closer inspection, Liz noticed the faint marks of bruises on her arms, the traces of purple on her cheeks, and dark circles beneath her tawny yellow eyes. Cuts and old scars marked her knuckles, and several of her once-long nails were broken.

Maybe not so harmless after all, Liz mused.

The boy from the cages, Christopher, stood beside her, completing their party of four. Although it wasn't much of a party. So far they'd gone a full minute without speaking.

Outside, the last thud of boots ceased, and the crash of the outer doors closing heralded the departure of their escort.

Between the bunks, the boy came to life. "Welcome to hell." He spoke with a northern accent as he offered a hand. "I'm Sam, I'll be your captain today. Ashley here will be your hostess."

Beside him, Ashley rolled her eyes but did not speak.

Liz winced as she recognized the urban twang. With her pale skin, it was obvious the girl had never spent any time in the sun tending to crops or livestock, but Liz had at least hoped she might share a kinship with the boy. A lonely sorrow rose within her as she wrapped her arms around herself. It seemed not only was she to be locked away, but her roommates were going to be a bunch of kids straight out of prep school.

"Ah…" Christopher sounded confused by their new roommate's banter. "My name's Chris, and ah…this is Elizabeth, I guess."

Liz heard the shuffling of feet, no doubt the sound of the two shaking hands. Shivering, she blinked back the sudden tears that sprang to her eyes, determined to keep her weakness to herself. Her head throbbed where the guards had struck her, and a dull ache came from the small of her back.

The tremor came again, the cold air of the room eating at her resistance. She looked up to find three sets of eyes studying her. A frown creased Sam's forehead and his mouth opened, as though to ask a question, but she turned away before he could speak. A sudden yearning to be alone took her, a need for the peaceful quiet of open fields and forests. The concrete walls seemed to be closing on her, the still air suffocating.

Her eyes found the beds, taking in the unmade sheets on the bottom two. The sheets of the top bunks were pulled tight, untouched by sleep.

Without a word, she stumbled past Sam and Ashley and grasped at the ladder. Arms shaking, she pulled herself up and rolled onto the hard mattress of her new bed.

"She's a friendly one," Sam's voice carried up to her, but Liz only closed her eyes, and willed away the sounds. Her breath came in ragged gasps as she tried to still her racing heart.

"She's just scared," was Chris's uncertain reply.

You're wrong, she thought.

She was angry, horrified, frustrated, and more than anything in the world she just wanted to curl up in a corner and cry. But instead, she found herself trapped in a tiny cell with three teenagers from the city—two young men and a woman who would never understand her, her past.

"She should be," said Sam, his voice taking on a bitter tone, "you two haven't even seen the worst of it yet."

Sam's voice put Liz on edge, dragging her back from the peace she sought, but she kept her mouth shut. Scuffling came from below as the three moved, then her bunk shifted as someone sat on the bed underneath her. Cracking open one eye, Liz saw the two boys still standing, and guessed Ashley had retreated to her bed.

"I don't plan on sticking around to find out," Chris spoke in a hoarse whisper. "I have to get out of here."

Laughter followed his statement. "Don't we all, kid," Sam replied jokingly, "but it's kind of a one-way ticket."

"I don't care." Chris's voice was sharp with anger. "Fallow…that woman, she took my mother. I can't, I can't let anything happen to her."

"Tough luck, kid. Wherever she is, she's going to have to cope without you. The only way out of here is in a body bag. Just be glad it wasn't our pal Doctor Halt who grabbed her—although I'm sure he could arrange a reunion if you asked him nicely."

Below, Chris swore. "How can you joke?" he snarled, his voice rising. "Don't you understand? There's been some mistake. My mother hasn't done anything wrong. Her father died in the American War; she would never betray the WAS—"

"And you think we're any different?" the larger boy snapped, the humor falling from his voice. "You think we all conspired against the government? Don't be a fool. There's no going back, no changing things now. Not for any of us."

Silence fell over the cell. A grin tugged at Liz's lips as she embraced the quiet, taking the opportunity to calm her roiling thoughts. The lights were bright overhead, burning through her eyelids, but at least the assault on her ears had ceased. Thinking of the other three, she felt a pang of empathy, a sadness for their loss. They were orphans now too, same as her.

Perhaps she was not so alone, after all.

"It doesn't matter." Chris's voice came as a whisper now. "I'll find a way."

Sam chuckled. "You and what army? Even if you could remove that collar, if you could break out of this cell, where would you go? Who would help you, Chris? You're the son of a traitor, a fugitive without rights."

A rustling came from below, followed by a yelp. Liz's eyes widened as Chris pushed Sam up against the wall.

"She's not a traitor," Chris retorted, "and like I said, it doesn't matter. I'm not going to sit here and give up. I'm not going to let them win."

Sam's eyes hardened and he reached up with deliberate slowness to remove Chris's hands from his shirt.

"Listen, kid." His voice was threatening now. "You still don't get it, do you? We mean nothing to these people. You'll find that out tomorrow, how little your life means. They'll kill you the second you cross them."

"Let them try," Chris snapped.

Sam's face darkened, and then it was his turn to grab Chris by the shirt. Without apparent effort, he lifted Chris off the ground, leaving the smaller boy kicking feebly at empty air.

"Believe me, I couldn't care less if you get yourself killed," Sam snapped, "but since we're trapped in here together, chances are, your stupidity will get us all executed—"

Sam broke off as Chris twisted in his grasp and drove a foot into the larger boy's stomach. Air exploded between Sam's teeth as he staggered backwards, dropping Chris unceremoniously. Chris landed lightly on his feet and straightened, eyeing Sam from across the cell.

Liz raised an eyebrow as the two faced off against each other.

"Enough!" A girl's sharp voice cut the air.

The two boys jumped as Ashley strode forward with a catlike grace to stand between them. She turned to Sam and placed a hand on his chest. Her eyes flickered from him to Chris, a gentle smile warming her face.

"Enough," she said again, softly this time. Even so, there was strength to her words.

Liz watched with surprise as Sam's shoulders slumped, his tension fleeing at Ashley's touch. Chris stared, his eyes hesitant, before lowering his fists. The smile still on her lips, Ashley gave a quick nod.

"We can't fight amongst ourselves," she chided, like a teacher reprimanding her students. "Sam, you know that better than anyone. We need each other."

She turned towards Chris then, her eyes soft. "Chris, I know you're afraid, that you're terrified for your mother. I know it's awful, that you're confused. But you must calm yourself. Your mother would not want you to throw your life away."

Liz blinked, shocked by the calm manner with which Ashley had taken control of the situation. Despite her reservations, she found herself warming to the girl.

Below, Ashley turned back to Sam. "Sam, you can't hide behind that charade. Not from me." She paused, her tawny eyes watching him. "Not after everything we've been through."

Sam bowed his head. "You caught me, as usual," he said with a shrug, before throwing himself down on his bed. "I still don't want him getting us all killed, though!"

Ashley nodded. Her eyes swept the room, lingering for a second as they caught Liz watching her, before turning to Chris. She approached him and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"You are not alone, Chris," she whispered. "Wherever you came from before, we are in this together now. We're family, you and I. All of us." Ashley's voice shook as she spoke. "And you're right. We can't just give up. We will find a way out of here, together. Whoever these people are, they are only human. They're not perfect. Eventually they'll make a mistake, leave some hole in their defenses. And when they do, we'll be ready for them; we'll take our chance."

Liz's heart lurched as the yellow eyes flickered back to her. "That goes for you too, Elizabeth."

Warmth spread to Liz's cheeks as the other girl watched her. She nodded slowly, struggling to cover her embarrassment. Listening to Ashley's words, she could almost feel a flicker of hope stir inside her. Maybe she wasn't alone after all. Whatever their differences, Ashley was right. They were in this together now.

Sitting up, Liz placed her hands on the bed and propelled herself off the side. She landed lightly, her bare feet slapping against the concrete, and straightened in front of Ashley. A smile, genuine now, tugged at her lips, but she tried to maintain a stoic expression. She didn't want to get too far ahead of herself—they were still from the city, after all.

Liz took a deep breath and offered Ashley her hand.

"You can call me Liz."