Send Simon Savage #1 (18 page)

Simon was silent.

‘Okay?’ Danice insisted.

‘I just didn’t expect we’d end up here,’ Simon said, ‘and the TPS is due back tomorrow morning.’

‘I guess we’ll miss that,’ Danice said.

Simon paced away from the window and back again. ‘I keep thinking about my mum and sister. I didn’t speak to them before we left.’ He paused. ‘Maybe the Time Bureau will tell them I was lost in action. Or that I died in an accident.’

Danice sighed. ‘It’s probably better not to think about that.’

‘I know! I read the manual,’ Simon replied. ‘
Rule Number Twenty-Seven: in adverse situations, keep a positive outlook.
’ He sighed. ‘Only it’s hard when you’re stuck in jail, with no hope of getting out.’

‘But the Bureau won’t forget us, will they?’ Danice asked. ‘They know exactly what timezone we’re in. We just have to hang in here and wait for them to find us.’

‘Except they don’t know where we are,’ Simon said.

Danice yawned. ‘Well, you go ahead and be negative. I’m going to sleep.’

Simon continued to stare gloomily through the bars. But he found no comfort in the rain or the darkness, and there was no hint out there of what the dawn might bring.

25

H
arsh bells jangled in Simon’s ears. He sprang up and banged his head on the bunk above. ‘
Owww!
’ he cried. He clutched at his skull and felt for any stickiness in his hair.

‘You okay?’ Danice asked, leaning down.

‘Am I bleeding?’

‘Not that I can see.’

‘What’s all the racket?’ Simon asked, rubbing his head with one hand and lifting the other to check his wrist pilot. ‘It’s only four-thirty, local time.’

There was a chorus of muffled yawns and the shuffling of feet throughout the cell block. Simon climbed off the bunk and went to the barred door. In the faint light from the light globes, he could see signs of movement as the occupants stirred in the other cells.

‘Must be wake-up time,’ Danice said.

‘I should have known we’d be up early,’ Simon grumbled.

‘We have to beat the birds out to the worms,’ Danice said lightly.

‘Move! Move! Doors!’ a voice bellowed.

There was an orchestrated
Clunk!
as each cell door automatically opened.

‘Move, you morons!’ the voice boomed again. ‘Assemble! Now!’

Danice jumped down from the top bunk, and they stepped through the open door into the corridor. As many as a hundred other prisoners were also trooping out of their cells, some still pulling on grimy orange shirts and scuffing their feet into boots. They were well drilled and, just as they had on a thousand other mornings, they automatically turned towards the steel exit door at the end of the corridor and stood, waiting like sheep for it to be opened.

A beefy guard stopped in front of Simon and Danice. ‘You two! Stay there!’ Short lengths of chain were draped over his shoulder. He gestured to another guard to join him. ‘Hey, Jack, give us a hand.’

‘What’s going on?’ Simon protested.

‘Shut up and never you mind!’ the guard growled.

He shoved Simon against the wall, while the other man shackled his ankles in chains and snapped the linking lock shut.

‘The girl, too!’

‘Let go of me!’ Danice struggled and kicked out at him.

The guard slapped her face.

She gasped with shock.

‘You animal!’ Simon yelled.

He sprang forward, but the chain between his ankles drew tight and he tripped and fell headlong on the flagstone floor. The beefy guard kicked him in the stomach.

Cheers came from the prisoners in the corridor. They hadn’t seen so much fun in months.

‘Get them both out of here!’ the guard told his workmate.

Simon clambered to his feet and kept his eyes on the ground as he shuffled past the lined-up prisoners. His chains dragged on the ground with each step.

‘You okay?’ Danice whispered, waddling along next to him in her own chains.

‘Just a bit winded. You?’

She rubbed her cheek. ‘I’m all right.’

They left the cell block, crossed a yard, then continued on past the last building in the compound and into a grove of small redwoods. On either side of the grassy path, watchful guards in khaki uniforms were posted every twenty metres to prevent thoughts of escape. By the time Simon and Danice reached the far end of the woods, the first rays of sunlight from the east were piercing through the branches and casting faint, rippling shadows on the ground.

The path skirted a small hill, then led to a set of gates into what looked like a sportsground. The far side of the hill had been roughly excavated into an amphitheatre. Several terraces made tiers up to the top, and wooden planks mounted on blocks provided seating for a few hundred people.

The seats faced a circular expanse of greenish-grey water at the foot of the mound, about ten metres in diameter. The surface of the pond seemed to be alive. Dozens of olive-brown, snake-like forms constantly rose in the water, their shovel-shaped mouths sucking in air before they twisted back into the pond.

Danice stopped dead in her tracks, a look of dread on her face. ‘What are they?’

‘Eels,’ the guard said. ‘We breed a lot of them out here.’

‘What do you want us to do?’ Simon asked. ‘Fish for them?’

‘You’ll find out soon enough.’ The man turned in the direction of a small shed near the first row of seats. ‘Hey, Dan! Dan?’

The shed’s rickety door opened and a wiry old man in overalls stepped out. ‘Yeah, I’m here!’

The guard nodded at Simon and Danice. ‘They’re all yours. Get them ready. I’m returning to the block.’

He headed back up the path, leaving Simon and Danice alone with the man called Dan.

Dan squinted, looking them up and down. ‘You prisoners are gettin’ younger all the time. Hope I’ve got somethin’ that fits you.’

He shuffled back into the shed and, a moment later, came back with two pairs of thick rubber gloves and two pairs of thigh-high rubber boots. He threw them at Simon and Danice’s feet.

Simon picked up a glove and turned it over. It had a rough surface on the palm and on the underside of the fingers. ‘What’s this for?’ he asked.

‘Grabbin’ eels. And throwin’ ‘em!’

‘Why would we do that?’ Danice asked.

‘You poor blighters!’ Dan jerked a thumb towards the pond. ‘They’re electric eels in there. They can kill you, if you touch ’em, take my word for it.’

‘I’m not touching them!’ Simon said. ‘Not in a hundred years!’

Dan’s eyes flickered quickly to the path to check no one was nearby. ‘Look, that’s why you’re here. For the eel throwin’. It’s the only entertainment we’ve got!’

‘What!’ Simon and Danice said together.

‘It’s a contest. One-on-one,’ he went on, pushing on a glove to demonstrate. ‘The gloves on your hands and the rubber boots on your feet insulate you from electric shocks when you get into the water. You reach in, grab the first eel you find, and then you try to throw it at the other guy before he throws one at you! And those eels sure get angry when you pick ’em up. If one hits you, it’ll give off eight hundred volts.’

‘Danice and I have to throw them at each other?’ Simon asked. ‘Like gladiators?’

‘That’s right! You only need a couple of hundred volts to kill you. These beasts fry you good!’ The man looked sadly at Simon and Danice. ‘And the last one standin’—if the warden likes ’em, and if they’re lucky—they’s allowed to live!’

An hour passed and the tiered seats were soon filled with hordes of rowdy prisoners, excited by the prospect of an hour off work. They were mainly men and youths, but Simon also saw about twenty women in their orange prison-issue clothes, all just as eager as the rest of the prisoners for the morning’s gladiatorial contest.

The crowd began a slow clap, impatient for the event to start, while dozens of baton-wielding guards kept a wary eye on the gathering.

‘So this is what passes for fun around here,’ Simon said. He gave his legs a shake now that their chains had been removed. ‘Haven’t they heard of the movies?’

‘They must be mad if they think I’m going to chuck eels at you,’ Danice said, ‘and try to kill you!’

‘Take your gloves!’ old Dan interrupted. ‘The only advice I can give you youngsters is to throw first and throw often!’

Loud jeers greeted the warden as he stepped out in front of the crowd with a loudhailer.

‘Gentlemen, and ladies!’ he bellowed, bowing gracelessly towards the women. ‘Welcome to today’s contest!’

Cheers greeted his announcement.

The warden’s eyes scanned the prisoners seated in the front row. ‘In order for today’s fight to be a true contest, we’ll need two more volunteers! You two will do!’ He pointed at two boys in their late teens, then nodded to four guards standing by, who plucked the protesting boys from their seats.

The other prisoners greeted this selection with loud applause.

‘Looks like we won’t have to fight each other after all,’ Simon muttered to Danice.

‘Bet we still have to fight,’ she replied grimly.

The guards pushed the two teenage boys towards the opposite edge of the pond. The boys glanced nervously at the eels in the water, but seemed to have already accepted their fate as part of the day’s entertainment. The taller boy took a look at Simon, summoned up some courage and spat in his direction.

‘Quiet!’ the warden roared at the crowd. ‘Now, it’s been a long time since we had any real entertainment out here …’

‘Yeah—too long!’ a voice yelled.

‘Take that prisoner’s name!’ the warden hissed to the guard at his side. ‘Give him an extra week on the wheat thresher!’

A chorus of boos greeted the order.

Simon turned to Danice. A loose plan had formed in his mind. ‘This fight might be our chance to escape,’ he whispered.

‘How? Escape by electrocution?’

‘First thing, just before the fight starts, we should put our helmets up for extra protection,’ Simon said.

He activated his wrist pilot and put it on standby. Danice did the same.

‘Do you think our suits will protect us?’ she asked.

‘Don’t know. But the helmet might stop us getting a shock in the face!’

‘That warden’s speaking again,’ Danice warned.

‘Good. I’ll talk while he does. Then no one will hear what I’m saying.’

‘Quiet, you rabble,’ the warden growled. ‘Or we call the whole thing off!’

An instant hush fell over the crowd.

Simon waited until the warden started bellowing into the loudhailer again, then kept whispering in Danice’s ear.

‘Today’s contest is between these two devious miscreants …’ the warden said, nodding towards the two teenagers.

There were loud cheers. Encouraged by the crowd’s support, the boys now raised their arms with an air of bravado.

‘And over here,’ the warden said, waving a hand towards Simon and Danice, ‘are two youngsters who I’ll bet are sorry they ever set eyes on us. And they’ll be even sorrier by the time we’ve finished with them!’

There were boos and catcalls.

‘So don’t forget … wait for my signal,’ Simon said under his breath. ‘When I say—NOW!’

‘Got it,’ Danice replied.

The warden slipped a thick rubber glove onto his hand and stepped towards the pond. ‘But let’s not forget the real stars of our show,’ he announced.

With practised skill, he plunged his hand into the water and dragged out a writhing eel, more than a metre long. He held it up. ‘These shocking devils carry a violent kick. They are what make this event the special occasion that it is!’

The eel hissed loudly. Suddenly, with no warning, the warden hurled it into the front row of prisoners. Its tail slapped loudly against a man’s neck and face, giving off a crackle like a mini lightning bolt.

‘
Yaaa!
’ the man screeched.

He jerked around like a puppet on strings, his body shaking and his eyes popping. Then he collapsed to the ground.

The prisoners cheered madly.

‘They have to be really stirred up to deliver a shock like that!’ the warden yelled. ‘Who wants to see some more?’

There were more cheers and whistles.

‘Then get our contestants ready!’

Guards stepped forward and pushed Simon and Danice towards the pond. A stocky guard waved his baton menacingly in their faces. ‘When I tell ya to get in, ya get in!’