Against Gravity

It wasn't the first time this feeling had come to him but, looking at that chair, Kendrick knew with absolute certainty that he would never escape the Maze. So he did not resist as his arms were pulled harshly behind his back and bound. A blindfold was placed over his eyes and he was shoved down roughly onto the wooden seat.

He heard shuffling, thick breathing, a metallic click. Something cold and heavy pressed against his temple.

He waited long, agonized seconds.

More seconds passed. Someone sobbed – a wretched, guttural sound full of horror. At first Kendrick didn't realize that it had come from his own throat.

The pressure against his temple lessened and he heard footsteps: two pairs of feet shuffling around nearby. The blindfold was pulled roughly from his head.

Kendrick blinked in the sudden light. One of the guards brandished a pistol, its barrel now pointing towards the ground. After an eternity seemed to pass, he placed it back in its holster. The other guard untied Kendrick and he was taken back to his old cell.

There he lay, shivering and semi-delusional, until the next morning when the whole procedure was repeated. He was taken again to the underground car park, bound to the chair and blindfolded, and the muzzle of the gun was placed against his temple. To his shame and horror he wet himself, his bladder voiding as he sat waiting to die.

The next morning it all happened again.

What was the point where you went insane, Kendrick wondered. Was it a recognizable boundary like a road sign, something that would mark the transition? And if he lost his sanity – something he had more than enough time to ponder – would he even know it?

He returned to the basement one last time. This time, as the door into the garage was slammed open by his guards, Kendrick heard a muffled explosion.

He looked over and saw another prisoner bound to the same wooden chair. The man's body was half-twisted off the seat, his legs slumping towards the ground, his arms still secured to the back of the chair.

Kendrick could see that the other man was dead. Blood poured from an enormous wound in his skull, forming a rapidly spreading pool at his feet. Two other guards whom Kendrick didn't recognize stood over him.

This is it, he thought. Everything else had just been a long prelude to this. This is finally it.

Somehow he found the energy to at least try to fight against his two captors, but in his physically weakened state it was worse than useless. He waited helplessly while the corpse was unbound and allowed to slump to the concrete floor. The other two guards proceeded to drag the body by the feet towards the truck that was still parked near the ramp.

Kendrick had little difficulty imagining his own slack torso being flung in there. The other two guards then departed with a nod and Kendrick was left with the men who were finally to be his executioners.

"Your turn now, sweetheart," one of them said, drawing his pistol and gesturing towards the chair. As Kendrick turned towards it, the other guard kicked him hard in the buttocks. Kendrick landed in the pool of blood and gagged at the stench of it. A hand grabbed him roughly by the neck, hauling him up and pushing him onto the seat.

This time they didn't bother to blindfold him.

Kendrick waited to die.

Then he noticed something out of the corner of his eye. On all the previous occasions when he had been brought to the garage he had been too preoccupied to pay much attention to it. But now he became aware that an elevator directly across the garage from the stairwell had opened and several soldiers were coming out of it. A couple of them were engaged in hauling a large cart stacked – Kendrick was horrified to see – with yet more corpses.

Exiting along with the soldiers were some men dressed in shirtsleeves, incongruous middle-management-looking types such as he had last seen in the days following his arrival. One of them glanced over sharply and shouted something to Kendrick's pair of guards. The one who had apparently been about to blow Kendrick's brains all over the wall lowered his gun from Kendrick's forehead and stared round him with a scowl.

The man in shirtsleeves stepped up quickly, seemingly unaware of Kendrick's existence as he addressed them. "Sergeant, I thought we made it clear that we need more subjects for testing. Have any of the prisoners you've processed today been cleared through us first?"

Shirtsleeves-man had a tall and narrow frame and wore a pale grey shirt fronted by a thin dark tie. His trousers were neat and pressed. Kendrick didn't learn that his name was Sieracki until much later.

The guard who had been about to execute Kendrick shook his head. "I don't know, sir. I'm not involved in the admin side. I'm just following orders."

Sieracki nodded. "Wait here." Then he stepped several feet away from them and began to speak quietly into a slate-grey wand.

He returned shortly. "All right. Your orders are countermanded. Make sure that no more subjects get processed until they've been cleared with us." He pointed an angry finger at the sergeant. "Make sure you don't forget that. I'm not going to put up with any more interference with our project, Sergeant Grady. Any more of this happens, I'll come looking for you."

With that Sieracki returned to the other soldiers, who had now begun to lift the corpses into the back of the green truck.

Grady stared after him, then turned and kicked the chair hard. Kendrick toppled off it, grunting as the side of his head hit the concrete wall. His skin felt sticky and slippery with someone else's blood.

His wrists were unbound roughly. Then Grady grabbed him by the neck, twisting Kendrick's head around until he was forced to stare into the man's face.

"Look at me, you son of a bitch," Grady spat. "Look at me." He squeezed Kendrick's jaw hard so that Kendrick found he couldn't swallow. He lifted his hands in a feeble attempt to push Grady away but as soon as he touched the guard's hands he was hurled down again.

"Don't touch me!" Grady bellowed. "Don't ever fucking touch me." The other guard gri

"It's shit like you makes me sick," Grady shouted. "You and all the niggers and Jews and the rest of the scum. You should all be dead, now we got the White House. Instead they keep you bastards alive so they can play games with needles."

Grady shook his head disgustedly, then followed Kendrick and the other guard into the elevator.

As they began a long descent, even though his life had been spared, Kendrick found himself filled with sick fear at what might yet lie below his feet.

Grady turned to him and smiled. "Time they've finished with you, you're go

19 October 2096 Angkor Wat

"Smeby's an Augment?"

Draeger smiled at Kendrick's confusion. "His augmentations turned rogue, just like your own."

"But he didn't get them in the Maze – that's what you're saying?"

"On the contrary, he paid to have his augments installed."

"I've heard about that kind of thing. It's insane."

"Men like Smeby know the risks. There are substantial differences between the technology he carries within him and what you carry inside your own body. But, yes, there's always a risk."

"So now he's only got a few months to live?"

"Had only a few months to live. Then he started working for me. Now his augments are in equilibrium with his nervous system. We can do the same for you."

"I hope you'll forgive me if I say I have trouble believing this."