Beyond the Horizon: New Dawn

2) "Seventy-Six"

The loud bang of the cell door opening ripped Seventy-Six out of his sleep. He was shivering uncontrollably and had his hands raised near his face to show submission. The loud heavy footsteps of the prison guards were quickly approaching his cell. His heart began to race uncontrollably. He had heard others being taken before him over the last week. None of them ever returned. I didn't do anything, he thought to himself. I didn't do anything. What do they want? Why me?

The extra guards entered the cell and Seventy-Six squinted as their flashlights shone in his eyes. He managed to catch a glimpse of a guard with a sack in his hands. "Get him up," a deep voiced man ordered. Seventy-Six recognized the voice, it was Warden Anders. The guards quickly rushed over to him and hauled him to his feet by his arms. Seventy-Six began to thrash and scream as loud as he could. "NO!" he hollered in desperation. "GET OFF OF ME!"

Seventy-Six tried to set himself free, but there were too many guards holding him down. "Fuck this," a guard muttered. Seventy-Six heard the low crackle of electricity and fell silent. He gritted his teeth and prepared himself for the pain he was about to endure. The guards dropped him onto the floor just before the shock baton reached his torso. Seventy-Six's body lurched forward as he was hit with the charge. A soft groan escaped him as he caressed his torso. The skin around it grew tender and the temperature around the encompassing area had risen dramatically. Whatever will Seventy-Six had to fight escaped him. It felt as though the shock baton had sapped him of all his energy.

Two men hauled him back up to his feet then another placed a sack over his head. "To the elevator," Warden Anders ordered.

They carried Seventy-Six's limp body into the elevator. He was trained on Mars to keep track of how many steps were taken and how many turns were made if there came a time he was ever captured. But the shock had left him completely disoriented. Everything sounded faint and it felt like he was in a daze.

The elevator began to move and Seventy-Six attempted to free himself once again. He was barely able to move the guards an inch as he attempted to wriggle himself free. "You fucking move again and I'll hit you with a higher charge," a guard threatened. Seventy-Six could do nothing but clench his jaw in frustration. He was powerless in his current situation. The only thing that could be done was to rest in order to recover whatever strength he could to prepare for what the prison guards had planned.

The elevator doors opened then Seventy-Six was dragged into the corridor. There were soft high pitched squeals as his shoes dragged against the floor. He heard a soft beep as the guards brought him into a different location. The lighting changed as bright white lights pierced through the sack. Seventy-Six was then forcefully put into a metal chair. It was cool to the touch as the guards strapped his arms and legs to it. His breathing became uneven as he looked around the room, desperate to figure out where he was.

The sack was ripped off of Seventy-Six's head. He squinted as his eyes adjusted to the bright lights. The guards' footsteps retreated as they made their way out of the room. "Hey!" Seventy-Six shouted. "You can't leave me here! What the hell is this?!" Seventy-Six frantically looked around the room in search of an exit. It was nothing but a giant, white empty space. He faced forward then looked up. There was a large, tinted bulletproof window and an individual behind it. The room was darkened so the person was nothing more than a shadowy figure.

"Hey!" Seventy-Six called as he tried to free himself. "Let me go! Please!" He fell back in the chair in defeat. The leather straps that held him to it could not be undone from his current upright position. Moving the chair to the door was not an option as it was molded to the floor. There were two things Seventy-Six could see happening to himself: torture or murder. His sentence was ten years, but he had no illusions of them being easy or him doing them without gaining a few scars. It was the price he had to pay for treason against Mars. He explained his choices to his wife Maria and their two sons, but they had not gotten back to him yet. If he were in their shoes, he was unsure if he would reply either.