Demon Rock (2 page)

“
There must be some kind of misunderstanding here,” I began but I was cut short.

“
I will not ask again.” The man said and gave a nod to the other man who had stood in silence since entering the room. The man lifted his jacket to reveal a gun attached to his hip. I looked around the office, trying to see anything I could use as a weapon to try and defend myself with. There was nothing. It was a simple meeting room, a table with ten chairs around it, four at each side and one at either end. There was a television and camera, mounted on the wall beside the door for teleconferencing and a white board with half rubbed off class diagrams and some initial python programming code. Failing that, the room was basically empty.

I only had one choice, and it was going to hurt. I spun sharply on my swivelled desk chair and as I stood up I lunged backwards sending the chair into the man with the gun’s legs. It was hardly an amazing distraction but it gave me the extra two seconds I needed. I ran as fast as it is possible to accelerate in such a small room and launched myself towards the window that was lying open. Bullets followed and hit the window as I dove out the open window .The window behind me shattered and as expected gravity took hold. I began to fall towards the road below me, shards of glass falling against the pavement warned those walking below to look up and they quickly moved out of the way. I landed upright but as I did I heard both my legs snap loudly. The pain was immense and I fell to the floor looking down at my mangled legs. I looked back up towards the fifth floor window and seen the two men staring down at me before turning and heading towards the door. I didn’t have much time. Just then I felt a familiar feeling and my bones began to realign themselves, straightening up my previously shattered leg. The final fragments locked into place and I got up and ran down the street for my life.

We were each assigned a cell block and a guard came to take us to our new homes. Four of us were going to cell block B, the others divided among the remaining blocks A, C and D. We were marched along a corridor leading off from the room in which we stood. It took about five minutes to reach block B. We entered into a large room. In the centre of the room was a metal staircase that ascended up to three separate levels. Each level looked the same as the last. A metal walkway ran along the wall. Along the wall were the cells, about twenty per level, ten at each side of the room. I was the first to be shown my accommodation; it was a small six foot by four foot cell with bunk beds and a toilet. A man lay on the bottom bunk as I was shoved into the cell and the door locked behind me. “Keep moving!” the guard yelled as he marched the remaining prisoners onwards.

The man on the bed remained still. I took a step forward and the man stirred and a voice came from the bed. “Newby, eh?”

“
How’d you tell?” I retorted sarcastically.

“
Can always spot the new ones…” he said as he lifted his head; “…207. So what’s your story then, what makes you special?”

“
Getting a bit personal, don’t you think. I don’t even know your name?” I said as I climbed up to my bed.

“
Oh, a shy one. Okay, I’ll go first. My name is 74. Beautiful name I know but actual names don’t matter out here. One of the few dignities a person can have and they even stripped us of that because they say names are for humans. I am special because I am a Warlock, well that’s what I have been labelled.”

“
A Warlock? Isn’t that a witch?”

“
A male witch yes, Halloween holidays and six year old girls wearing pointy hats have pretty much destroyed the idea of a male witch but we have been around for hundreds of years and we’re not going anywhere!”

“
Except here, except to Demon Rock.” I replied.

“
What about you then 207, what can you do?”

“
I’m a shifter.”

“
Oh how exciting, never met a shifter before. Can you turn into me?”

“
No.” I could tell this guy was going to get on my nerves pretty fast, I wondered if I could request a new cell? I doubt it.

“
Why, too good looking for you?”

I took a deep breath. “I haven’t seen your face properly so I would not be sure of what to shift to look like.”

74’s head popped up to my bed level and smiled. He was about five foot seven inches tall, deep green eyes, and dirty blond hair. No crooked nose or stereotypes, he looked like a regular guy.

“
Go on!” he said. “Shift! It’ll be like looking into a mirror!”

‘
Anything to shut him up.’
I thought to myself. I studied his face, my photographic memory taking note of all his features to the tiniest detail. I then closed my eyes and began the process which I had performed many times before. However nothing happened this time.

“
Change!” the Warlock said again in a high pitched excited voice. I closed my eyes and tried once more, nothing. I looked down at the cuff that was around my left wrist. Whatever it was, it was stopping me from using my ability.

“
Shouldn’t be surprised,” the Warlock began. “The majority of us can’t use our abilities in here. Take the werewolves in cell block A for instance, silver bars, no windows. The vampires in block C get a regular injection of concentrated garlic and silver, enough to make them weak, but don’t be fooled, they’re still stronger than most. Hell, even the spirits can’t escape. They’re just as trapped as we are. EMP fields around the perimeter sees to that.”

‘
That explains the white flash.’
I thought. This place has thought of everything. “Tell me 74, has anyone ever escaped from here?” I enquired.

“
Afraid not, we have some of the biggest bad asses the world has ever seen, but in here? We’re nothing. The guards don’t even fear us. Because of the security measures they have in this place. Take that piece of tech on your wrist there. With it on, you’re normal, you can’t shift. You’re basically human. Ironic isn’t it?”

“
How so?”

“
That’s all it takes to turn you human and they still treat you like a red haired step child.”

“
207, report to medical!” a guard screamed from just outside, rattling his nightstick between the bars. I was almost relieved to get away from the annoying Warlock but I had only just arrived, why was I required to go to medical right away?

The guard walked me back towards where we had been hosed down but instead of entering the showering room we turned sharply to the left and carried on for about another one hundred feet before stopping at a checkpoint. Another guard sat behind a desk, protected by what look like reinforced glass. The guard was small and elderly, barely a hair left on his head. He looked at the number on my overalls and back to a piece of paper which he had attached to a clip board. After being seemingly satisfied he reached for a button on top of his desk, pressed it and a loud buzzer sound signalled that the door in front of us had now been unlocked. The guard poked his nightstick between my ribs as encouragement to start walking again, not unlike cattle. I walked on through the door into a tiled room. A single beam of the moon’s light streaked across the dimly lit room. The other source of light in the room was from a lamp, suspended from the ceiling above a chair, not too dissimilar to that of a dentist’s chair. The guard strapped me into the chair before taking his sentry position just outside the door.

I looked around the room; there was not a lot to see. A refrigerator stood against the far wall and a tray of scalpels and needles lay just beside the chair atop a table. Behind me there was a second door to the room and as I tried to turn my strapped in head to it, it began to open. A woman entered the room, evidently a doctor or medical professional judging by her appearance. She wore a white laboratory coat with a stethoscope hanging from around her neck. She had fiery red hair, with several freckles clumped together on her rosy cheeks. In her hand she held a clipboard with what I could assume had my details and medical history on it. “Good Evening 207. I am Dr. Hammond” The woman said through a fake smile. The kind of smile you receive at a customer service desk when they apologise about not being able to help you. “How are we feeling?”

“
Peachy.” I replied.

“
That’s good; hope the boat ride over wasn’t too long for you?”

“
I wouldn’t know, I was drugged.”

“
Well,” she began “prisoners have been known to get sea sick so we feel it is best to sedate you during transportation. Believe me, the last thing you want is to have vomit on your shoe for the entire journey. The stench mixed with the smell of the sea water can be pretty strong.”

“
Aw, you’re too sweet Doc, just got my best interests at heart.” I scorned back sarcastically.

“
Oh, a sarcastic one you are, enough small talk then. 207, you are here because every new prisoner must give a blood sample upon arrival. It is so we can insure that no illnesses or viruses are transported from the main land. We are quite a bit away from the mainland and so supplies are limited as you can see. Now, lets get to it shall we?”

The doctor picked up one of the syringes and removed the protective plastic tip. My arms were strapped in so tightly that she had her choice of any one of a number of protruding veins. She selected her target and slid the tip into my arm drawing out the blood. She applied a cotton pad to the arm as she removed the needle.

“
Now, that wasn’t so bad now was it?” as her fake smile returned to her face. The doctor stood and walked to the far wall, opening the refrigerator door, and placed my blood onto a rack of tubes after applying a label to it which read ‘207’. She then turned to the guard posted at the door, gave him a nod to indicate that she was done with me and proceeded back out the door she came from, winking at me as she passed. By the time the door had closed the guard had begun un-strapping me from the chair. He walked me back to my cell via the same route, past the balding guard and back to my charming Warlock cell mate. Could this day get any worse? Thankfully it was nearly over.

The day had taken its toll. I was asleep as soon as my head even hit the bed. Even the word ‘bed’ is generous; it was a hard mattress with several stains, no sheet, no quilt and no pillow. Despite this I found slumber in an instant. I began to dream of my wife, her long brunette hair, deep green eyes and her luscious body. I recalled our weekend trips together, the latest one of which we took to Budapest together. This was just three weeks ago and we had the most amazing time. Long mornings in bed, late nights filled with fine wine and elegant meals. In the dream my wife and I were conversing over dinner. She was saying something but in the dream I could not make out the words, I could just feel myself smiling and enjoying the moment. Amidst the conversation my wife opened her mouth and a loud screeching scream came bellowing out. It was a high pitched piercing scream that shook me awake. I awoke staring at the ceiling of my cell. The screaming seemed to have carried from my dream because I could still hear it when I awoke. At the foot of my bed levitating was the figure of a woman who appeared slightly transparent or at the least translucent. The woman had long dark hair and wore a long white robe. She had a look of fear that was noticeable in her eyes and expressed in her wail. The screaming was nearly unbearable, just then the Warlock took a swing at the apparition with a metal bar. The bar cut through the spirit and the woman disappeared.

“
What the hell was that!?” I shouted, still a bit shaken up.

“
That…” the Warlock began “was a Banshee. It is said that she came home to find her husband lying in their marital bed with his wrists slit. She stood at the bottom of their bed screaming until she died. Some say it was a heart attack, others say it was brought on by the heart break of seeing the one she loved dead.”

“
I can relate.” I said.

“
She haunted the people of Ireland appearing at the bottom of their beds at night screaming for years. She was brought here a few weeks ago and as no cell will contain her she haunts the various cell blocks. However she cannot escape the complex due to the EMP pylons situated around the perimeter of the prison walls.”

“
What did you hit her with?” I enquired.

“
Iron. Last week I was sick of her keeping me up at night. So I prised a piece of the bed free to strike her with. Spirits don’t like iron; think of it as my own personal snooze button on an alarm clock.“ The Warlock said with a smile as if he was proud of himself.

“
Thanks, Good night.”

“
Night.”

With that I tried to get back asleep. This time it took me considerably longer to fall asleep.

Warlock had been in Demon Rock for one hundred and fifty seven days and counting. He had two previous cell mates, one killed himself and the other tried to kill him. Warlock had been told he could talk someone to death, and apparently that someone had nearly been himself. In Warlock's other life, the life on the outside, he was a wealthy man living in Las Vegas. His penthouse stood tall above the Nevada desert. He would often find himself watching the vast emptiness for hours at a time, something about the desert was calming to him. At the other end of his penthouse his windows looked out onto the Las Vegas strip, his playground. Warlock had worked every casino on the strip at least twice each and had made a name for himself. He lived an extravagant lifestyle, travelling around the world and fast cars were just two of his hobbies of expensive taste.
 
 
One warm July evening Warlock put his best Dolce & Gabanna black suit, white shirt and polished black shoes on and went to Caesars palace. From the moment he entered the casino he was buying drinks for everybody around him. He had one too many to drink and was evidently enjoying himself. He then moved onto the casino floor and went to the roulette table. He won ten bets in a row before losing two as to not arouse too much suspicion. Each time the ball landed on the spinning roulette and was slowing down he would use some magic to stop the ball or move it over one so that it always landed on his colour. The dealers didn’t suspect a thing; it was the same routine he had used countless times in accumulating his small fortune. He collected his chips and left the table, heading back to the casino bar. He continued to knock back triple malts and became even more inebriated.
 
 
Part of Warlock told him that he had had enough and he should go home or to a strip club. He personally preferred the latter. But something inside him told him to bet some more. Warlock got a rush from winning and having more money than he could spend and decided for one more game. He walked over to the blackjack and sat down. Many smart people had conned casinos at blackjack by counting cards but Warlock's technique wasn't quite as logical as that. His technique involved using magic so that the dealer looks at the cards in Warlock's hand and even if they are a two and three of clubs; his mind sees an ace and a king or some other combination to beat the dealer and other players. Warlock was on form and continued to drink. His ability became a lot harder to control when he got this drunk and so he decided to play one more hand and call it a night. The dealer placed two cards in front of him. Warlock called his hand and placed them down on the table. The cards were two jokers. The dealer immediately called for security. They were on Warlock in seconds. The eye in the sky had been watching him for sometime, waiting for him to slip up. He was escorted away from the casino floor and down a maintenance corridor to a security room.