A New England

Chapter Five- Come Together

"Is he dead?"

"Don't be stupid man, he's breathing, look, can you not see that?"

Gabriel was vaguely aware of voices filtering down through the heavy black fog that he was lost in. He tried to wade through the haze, towards the voices, fighting the heavy cloud with his arms. He struggled to open his eyes but it felt as though they had been glued shut. He tried to move his limbs but they felt heavy and lifeless. What was going on? They had shot him. He had made a run for it and they had taken him down so why was he not dead?

"Hey man, wake up!" someone shook him violently and his head rattled off the hard ground.

Gabriel groaned and managed to wave one arm recklessly. It collided with something that felt human and someone grabbed his wrist.

"See, definitely not dead!"

Someone was pulling up off the ground by his arm now, nearly pulling it out of its socket.

"Where am I?" he managed to croak, still struggling to open his eyes even though he was now sitting up.

"Where do you think?"

At last his eyes snapped open and he was able to see the owners of the voices. There where two of them. One was little more that a kid and he was thin and pasty with long straggly hair. The other looked to be around late twenties and had a skin head and a ring through his nose.

"Oh Jesus, no, why am I not dead? They shot me for Christ's sake!" moaned Gabriel, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes.

"Darts my good friend," the skin head patted him consolingly on the shoulder.

Darts. He stared at the skin head flatly, unable at present to feel any kind of emotion beyond the numb shroud that smothered him. They had not even had the decency to let him die.

"But why?"

"Because it would be too easy on you to let you die, you wouldn't get your punishment then would you?"

"But Hannah..." he trailed off as cold panic gripped his heart. He tried to picture her face in his head but was distressed to find he could no longer recall a clear image. No matter how hard he tried to rearrange the features the picture his mind threw forward was never quite right.

"Best not to think about the outside," said the skinhead, "It doesn't exist for you any more mate."

Gabriel tried to take in his new surroundings. Behind him was a stone wall and when he looked up he saw a long cylindrical shaft rising up and up to a round mental hatch. He knew what was beyond that hatch; a small white building, standing innocently on a peaceful hill top.

Ahead of him was a tunnel that sloped downwards into the earth with no sign of an end lit by dull electric bulbs caged in wire mesh. He had heard so much media speculation about this place. So much propaganda. So many films with their own take on what it was like but now he was seeing it for himself; the cold reality that was The New Criminal Institute.

"Jesus." he said again.

"What's your name mate?" asked the skin head.

"Gabriel." he said weakly.

"Ok Gabriel, I'm Finch, this is Crash." the skinny youth gave a small salute and Gabriel nodded a silent acknowledgement.

"Where is everyone?" he asked, "I expected a lot more than this."

"We aren't really in the heart of things yet," said the skinny kid called Crash, "This is just the entrance tunnel, you won't see many people in here, it isn't usually accessible."

"So they just drugged me and dumped me down here?"

"Pretty much," said Finch, "You're lucky we were hear though, most of us have to walk this first leg alone."

Gabriel did not feel very lucky. His heart ached.

"Let's see what you got," he hadn't noticed but Crash had snatched his backpack (every new recruit was issued with a basic kit, the only help they where ever really given, plus they where allowed a few personal items).

"Hey!" Gabriel protested trying to grab the bag, but his co-ordination was all off and he still felt groggy.

"Now, now, play nice," Crash warned, pulling at the buckles.

"Crash!" at Finch's command Crash dropped the bag, it was clear who was the dominant one in this partnership.

"But we always do." Crash muttered to himself as he slunk back.

"I know, but this one looks as though he might be useful, in fact, when we get down there I want you to take him under your wing and teach him a few things."

"Why can't you?" Crash protested.

"Because I have better things to do, you don't."

"Fine, but I think we should at least open his bag and see what he has, if I'm to risk my own neck watching his back then I want something in return."

"I don't need watching," said Gabriel, rising unsteadily to his feet.

He noticed the two exchange a sniggering glance.

"It can't be that bad," he picked up his backpack and slung it over his shoulder, trying his best to rise the false sense of bravery and suppressing the urge to scream.

What he wanted, in truth, was to be alone, to ponder his fate, to absorb the enormity of what was happening and yes, maybe even scream.

"I'd stay with us if I were you," Crash warned as Gabriel began to walk down the gradual incline of the tunnel.

"He's right," added Finch, "You have no idea how to live down there."

Ignoring them, Gabriel continued to walk, following the sickly glow from the caged bulbs.

It wasn't long before the sound of their voices had faded completely. When he looked back over his shoulder Gabriel could no longer even see the start of the tunnel from which he had come.

He glanced at his watch. It was quarter past eleven. Whether that be AM or PM he had no idea. Best just to keep walking and not think about it. Not think about the fact that he would never see daylight again. He tried to force his mind away from these thoughts but found nothing else to think of. He tried to block all of the thoughts form his former life by counting his footsteps but they kept coming as fleeting images to haunt his brain.

1...2...3...the door to their flat with the silver name plate...4...5...6...Hannah eating ice-cream in the park...7...8...9...their cat asleep on the radiator...10...11...12...Hannah crying out in fear...13...14...15...the flash of a silver blade in the street.

He broke into a run and howled like an animal in pain. His boots slapped the floor and echoed like gunshots down the tunnel. It was hysteria bordering on madness and it had well and truly taken hold. He flung himself first against one all then the other, slapping the damp concrete and screaming until eventually he fell exhausted to the ground, tears streaming down his face.

"I SHOULDN'T BE HERE!" he yelled and the tunnel threw his own voice back at him, "I HAVEN"T DONE ANYTHING WRONG!"

"None of us have," how had Crash caught up with him so soundlessly? "Want to tell me why you're down here, what so called crime did you commit?"

Gabriel looked at the tall figure standing over him Crash was a mess. Just a scrawny skeleton in clothes that where slowly turning to rags.

"I'm not sure I even want to think about that now."

"It's a shit system my friend."

"That's an under statement."

Crash slid down the wall and sat next to Gabriel, "I did do something wrong," he admitted, "And yeah maybe I should be punished but not like this, I don't deserve a life sentence, to be tarred with the same brush as murderers and rapists."

"What did you do?" Gabriel asked, not so much out of interest but more because he wanted something to distract him.

"I failed my probation didn't I?" Crash kicked the ground with the heel of his shoe, "Three drug offenses. Does that mean I deserve to loose the rest of my life?"