The Exemption Trials (The Dinas Chronicles Book 1)

Chapter One

   Jericho sat on his cot in the cell at Zatvor prison, his fingers laced together with his head resting against one of the four brick walls that had surrounded him for the last five years of his life. His foot tapped rapidly against the floor and he gazed blankly up at the ceiling, bored out of his mind like he always was. The white prison uniform he wore was a couple sizes too small and pressed against his skinny frame like it was trying to suffocate him, making him shift his body and tug at it every so often in a vain attempt to be halfway comfortable.

   The sound of approaching footsteps reverberated through the empty corridors of the prison and Jericho lazily rolled his head so he could see the steel door that was the only entrance or exit for his cell. The door had a small rectangular opening located at eye level with bars placed across it and as the footsteps grew closer, he saw the silhouette of a guard stop just outside the door and heard the jungle of keys as it was unlocked. Inching the door open a crack, a hand appeared holding a tray of food, which it dropped down to the ground with a clatter before slamming the door shut and locking it once more.

   "Stupid guards." Jericho muttered, pushing himself up off his for and walking over to where the tray sat on the floor. He crouched down beside it and examined its contents - half of which had been splattered on the floor when the guard had dropped the tray - and shook his head. "So disrespectful."

   He picked up a flimsy spoon from the tray and forced himself to swallow a couple of grueling mouthfuls of the gray slop that occupied the tray. Gagging, he plopped the spoon back down on to the tray and passed his tongue over his lips, trying to rid his mouth of the disgusting taste.

   He braced his hands against his knees and was about to stand up when he noticed something white sticking out of the food. At first, he thought it was just a napkin, but then he remembered that the food never had a napkin with it and he frowned, carefully pulling out the white object. Placing it on the ground in front of him, Jericho realized that the object was a small piece of paper with something written on it. He brushed off some of the slip that was on the paper and stared down at it, frowning in confusion as he read what it said.

   The bombs will be first.

   The bombs will be first? That made absolutely no sense, especially since the only weapons that were allowed anywhere near the prison were the guns that the guards and the marshals carried. It's probably nothing, Jericho reasoned with himself. Just some note a random psychopath in another cell wrote that somehow got into my food.

   He scrubbed a hand over his face and snatched the scrap of paper up off the floor, stuffing it in a pocket of his prison uniform just in case it actually meant something. Pushing himself up off the floor, he went back over to his caught and lay down, staring up at the ceiling with his arms folded neatly across his stomach until his eyes finally drifted shut and sleep eventually claimed him.

                                           ~•~

   "GET UP, DELINQUENT!" A voice boomed, startling Jericho awake and making him jolt up on his cot. He let out a groan, still half asleep, when a hand suddenly grabbed him by the shoulder, forcefully yanking him up. He felt his arms being wrenched behind his back and blinked rapidly, thinking maybe one of the other inmates had gotten out of their cell and come to attack him, though he couldn't see how or why that would happen.

   Suddenly handcuffs snapped around his wrists and his sleepiness evaporated as he realized that the intruder in his cell was not an intruder, but, in fact, a guard. It didn't seem possible. The guards never took inmates out of their cells for any reason, not even if they were deathly ill.

   "What's going on?!" Jericho exlaimed, beginning to struggle as the guard shoved him towards the door.

   "You've been selected." The guards replied calmly, roughly pushing him through the entrance to his cell and out into the empty corridors beyond.

   "Selected?" He echoed, dreading building inside of him as he hoped the guard didn't mean what he thought they did. "Selected for what?" He asked, barely daring to breathe.

   "For The Exemption Trials." The guard answered simply, as if telling him the weather or staring the color of the sky.

   "Oh, no no no no no...." Jericho groaned, his pulse thundering in his ears as hopelessness swept over him like a crashing wave and he slumped in the guard's grip.

   Jericho closed his eyes and remained slumped over until they reached wherever it was that they were going. Once there, the guard forced him to stand tall and open his eyes, saying something about first impressions. He thought they meant it as some sort of cruel joke.

   The guard removed his handcuffs and unlocked a door in front of them, thrusting Jericho into the room before shutting and locking the door behind him. Eleven pairs of eyes turned toward him, each full of despair and hopelessness just like his own were. One set of eyes flashed with recognition as they gazed at him and Jericho's gaze flicked momentarily to the white hair that belonged to the owner of those eyes, a small flame of hope beginning to grow in his chest. The flame was soon extinguished, however, and he plopped himself into the only empty chair that was empty, tilting his head back and gazing up at the ceiling.

   His foot began to tap restlessly against the floor and he wondered if this would be the last time his foot ever tapped like that, because if what the guard had said was true and they really had been selected for The Exemption Trials, then they would all be very dead very soon.

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