The Pen

Ara stared at the floor of the van as it rattled along, the rough road making all the prisoners’ chains swing ominously. Ara noticed that the prisoner in front of her had on flip flops. Flip flops are the only shoe named for the sound they make, she thought to herself.

God she was glad she wasn’t arrested in flip flops. But she wished she hadn’t been taken on a Friday either.

If she was honest with herself, Ara was surprised she hadn’t been picked up sooner. She’d been living on the street since she was 16 and breaking the law to survive. She’d been so lucky for so long…. but everyone’s luck runs out eventually.

The van stopped.

One by one the women were unloaded. Ara’s legs shook violently as she stepped off the ramp onto solid ground, her cuffed hands pulled forward by the chain connecting her to the girl in the flip flops.

“Walk!” Shouted a voice.

Flip flop, flip flop, flip flop.

How odd to hear the sound of flip flops, Ara thought calmly. That may be the stupidest sound in the world.

Flip flop, flip flop.

But Ara shouldn’t be calm. Flip flop girl wasn’t calm. She was whimpering as they drew closer and closer to the Pen.

The Pen: America’s way of killing two birds with one stone.

Pervasive overcrowding in the prison systems and not enough dramatic television created The Pen, short for The Pendulum. In the Pen, prisoners with even the smallest infractions are forced to stand grouped on unsteady platforms called cells that hang suspended from a vast web of metal that was erected over the massive pit left by the nuclear bomb dropped by Russia in 2089. If one person moves around too much, the entire cell can tip casting the prisoners into the endless cavern below. Of course, that’s only a normal days’ worry in the Pen.

What prisoners dread most is The Swing. Every Friday, The Pendulum holds a live televised event where the cells are swung on purpose at random, hence the name. Sometimes it’s only one cell, sometimes it’s many, but the idea was to make it a sporting event, complete with advertisers. Prisoners can fall to their death by accident or by spectacle. The producers prefer spectacle, of course, especially for long time prisoners who are known favorites. The longer they survive, the more money bookies and brands can make off of them.

However, prisoners have more to worry about than just being cast into the pit…

“Halt,” a voice ahead shouted. Ara stopped short.

“Ladies, face the wall.” Came a gruff voice over their shoulder. Obediently, they turned to the wall to their left. The chain linking Ara to the flip flop girl shook. Suddenly, large holes opened in front of each prisoner. Before Ara could resist she was forced forward, her shackled hands trapped beneath her body as she was bent at the waist through the opening. It was dark except for one blinding overhead light.

“Looky here,” came a voice. A hand stroked her face. “We finally got a pretty one.” Ara tensed but knew there was nothing she could do.

“You’re right.” Said a second voice.

“And what’s this?” A hand found the thin chain at her neck and pulled the gold heart shaped locket from Ara’s shirt. Her mother’s locket. It was the only thing she had left of her. “Keep it safe,” her mother had said, struggling to place it around Ara’s neck. The cancer stole her life two days later. Then everything changed.

Ara looked pleadingly at the guard. He smirked. With one sharp pull he snapped the chain. Ara’s eyes stung with tears. “Don’t worry love.” He said softly, holding her chin so she could squint up into his cruel face. “We’ll give you the chance to earn it back. We have something better for you to wear around this pretty neck.”

It took the two of them to bring up a giant piece of metal around her neck and hold it steady. Ara had seen a Gallows before on TV, all prisoners in the Pen wore them. Shaped like an upside-down tear drop, The Gallows had a diamond shaped blade resting at the tip with one point just inches from a prisoner’s throat. It was their own personal guillotine. It was the producers’ way of getting rid of more prisoners at a time, for when the pendulum swings, those who survive by hanging on for dear life cannot always stop the blade while their hands are busy.

The guards fastened the Gallows to Ara’s neck and welded the metal. She turned her face to avoid the sparks, the sounds of screaming and crying ringing in the air as her fellow prisoners were fitted for their own Gallows.

“You look so much prettier now, love.” Said one guard as they finished, the weight of the metal and blade almost pulling her forward off her feet. The first guard took the opportunity to brush his fingers over her lips. “I hope you survive your first swing.”

Ara was pulled roughly to her feet, the weight The Gallows making it difficult to stand upright. Her fellow prisoners attempted to do the same, grunting with panic. Flip Flop girl struggling most of all, her tiny frame bent over from the weight.

“Walk!”

They began marching forward, slower than before. Ara struggled, her neck and back already aching from the odd angle which the gallows hung, making it impossible to stand completely upright. She lifted her chin as much as she could manage to look at the massive entrance to the arena and the sign lit up in a cool blue; The Pendulum.

Flip, flip, flop, flop, flip, flip.

Flip flop girl staggered at a halting pace. She was gasping. She kept fighting to pull herself upright.

Flip flip, Flop, flip, trip.

It happened so quickly. Flip flop girl pitched forward, screaming. Ara desperately grabbed at the back of her dress but was pulled off her own feet by her chained hands, along with the prisoner behind her and the one behind her, and on down the line like grotesque dominos.

Panicked cries split the air as they desperately tried to catch themselves from being impaled on their blades. Ara had only just saved herself from completely falling forward when she looked up to see the newly headless body of flip flop girl.

Ara’s stomach clenched. Blood gushed everywhere. She wanted to scream but no sound escaped. Desperate shrieks sounded off down the line, the prisoners all realizing the devastating consequences of what their own Gallows could do. An alarm sounded and several guards came running.

“You have to be more careful ladies.” Said a guard smiling. It was the same guard that had stolen her locket. “Or you won’t even make it to The Pen.”

They made short work of flip flop girl’s body. Removing her chains, two of them easily tossing her delicate frame into an unmarked body bag, one throwing her head in as casually as tossing a football, securing The Gallows on top and carrying her away.

The thieving guard stayed behind to re-shackle Ara’s chain to the prisoner in front of flip flop girl.

“I especially want you to be careful.” He said softly in her ear, “we need a chance to get to know each other better,” He stepped back winking at her.

“Prisoners, walk!” Someone shouted up ahead.

The line moved again, Ara unable to avoid stepping in the thick pool of blood left by the flip flop girl.

They finally arrived at the entrance that led under the high walls of the arena surrounding The Pen. Through the endless tunnel they walked. A screen flashed up ahead. It showed a live feed of The Pen, the cells hovering in the air, shots of the crowd then cutting dramatically to the pretty blonde plastic announcer, Carrie Christine Heart.

“As you can see, the stadium is packed tonight with avid spectators to see which cells will swing.” Carrie chirped cheerfully, “Audience members will be wondering if Pen 462 will finally swing tonight after 6 long months of no action, the longest any one Pen has been spared.” As she passed below the screen, Ara hoped she wasn’t put on 462. Carrie’s sickly, sweet voice seemed to be tempting fate.

They emerged on the other side of the tunnel and Ara gasped in horrified awe. The television truly did not capture the scale of The Pen. What looked like hundreds of cells were hung from thick chains suspended at different heights from the complicated metal web over the cavern that was at least 2 miles in diameter.

Tiny drones flashed and buzzed in the lights making sure to get multiple angles of every individual cell. Ten large screens hung around the top of the arena above the stands burgeoning with thousands of rowdy spectators. Ara found herself grimly impressed.

“Keep moving!” shouted the guards, their voices amplified by headsets to cut through the deafening sound of the cheering crowd and advertisements echoing in the cavern.

The guards herded them to what looked like loading docks that lined the edge of the Pen. Like a spider descending from a web, a cell lowered to the dock nearest them. Only two prisoners were aboard, two haggard women. Under their Gallows the women looked to be in the clothes they came into the Pen with but had turned sour colors with sweat and filth. Clearly they had survived The Pen for a while.

One by one each of the prisoners in front of her was released from their shackles and pushed onto the Cell until, at last, it was Ara’s turn. The cell was nothing but a flat piece of metal with a single railing that wrapped around the edges. The tattered prisoners already on board had posted themselves in opposite corners. Before anyone else could get wise, Ara found a corner and wedged her back into it like a boxer. She made eye contact with the battered prisoner diagonal to her. The prisoner looked her up and down and made the smallest nod of approval.

Suddenly, a blaring alarm began to chime. The cell was dislodging from the dock. Instantly the floor wobbled. Ara braced hard in her corner. The women grabbed at the railing, eyes staring wildly into vast expanse below.

Music was blasting, lights were whirling, assaulting Ara’s senses. The cell zoomed up, up, up. Ara was sick. She hated heights. She was going to hurl if it didn’t stop. The wobbling floor made her Gallows move ominously. The cell stopped, suspended like the others from the web.

“Welcome, everyone,” the loud speaker blasted. The crowd roared. “To the Pen!”

More screaming and applause echoed out across the chasm.

“Tonight, we will see who will swing!” The announcer shouted. “Let’s start the count down!”

Ara saw everyone in the cell brace, their eyes wide with fear.

10, 9, 8 - The numbers flashed on all the screens, the crowd counted down in unison.

7, 6, 5, 4 - Ara clenched the railing, her heart racing, the chanting pulsating in her body.

3, 2, 1.....

For a moment nothing happened. The crowd was silent. Ara held her breathe.

Then she felt floor of the cell begin to plummet. Ara closed her eyes, screams ringing in her ears.

Please, she thought, let me make it through the night.