Chapter One: Darkness
Shivers coursed through me even as I clutched my tattered jacket around me. Curled up on a rough slab masquerading as a bed ignoring the pulses of pain, it was harder to shut out the groans and cries of pain floating around me. Even in the dark it's hard to escape the reality of the situation, I had been gone for ten days, the prisoner of people I barely knew. And I wasn't the only one; there were hundreds, perhaps thousands trapped behind walls and gates. We crowded by the dozens into barracks of the loosest description sharing bunks that rose to the ceiling, all having the same experience.
We had all been grabbed in the middle of night at weapon point, taken far from the cities, villages, and towns, and stuffed into compartments jammed so tight there was only room to stand. There had been not water or food or any semblance of toilet facilities for many hours, days I -- we came to find out later. The compartments had been completely enclosed so no sliver of light entered or breath of fresh air. Any new prisoners that joined us only came in the night, adding to the loss of time. When they finally released us, it was out onto a grassy platform behind one set of gates and in front of another eyes watering and blinking as we stepped into the sun. Our only possessions and clothes, the things that had been attached to our person before capture were stripped away within an hour of arrival. The guards sorted all of us, men, women, and children into lines. Two lines, two gates, two separate sides of the prison.
When they took my clothes from me I tried to conceal my headset. One of the guards shoved me to the ground and kicked me with spiked boots. A second grabbed my fingers, screaming at me words I couldn't understand or answer, feeling the spikes of the boot stab into my flesh and slide out repeatedly took over my senses. One by one, he pulled each finger back. I remember the snap and the pain but not the words he said. I passed out – fuck manly hunger, I fainted from the lack of food and pain, mostly the pain. Two other prisoners were dragging me to the left line when I came to, neither looked at me while they did it. Struggling and shouting, I fought against them. I didn't want to go to the left side. I could see the long line of people snaking through the gate and beyond amongst the green leaves of young trees. The silence of that side terrified me, no sound emanated from any of the prisoners, there were no birds, no ambient background that's inescapable in any part of life. It was quiet; it was death. The two bearers dropped me, one catching the now broken fingers as my wrist slid through his grasp.
A guard with the toe of her boot lifting my chin looked me over like a dog does its dinner. She sneered, gesturing with her head back to the other line. Pain flared through my entire arm, she had stepped on my hand, grinding it into the dirt with her heel. Weakly my hand was pulled to my chest protectively as I rejoined the line naked and last. I did not dawdle through the gate, which slammed shut with a heavy resounding clang behind me. Half the guards were behind me, close enough to feel their breath on my shoulders and the whispers passed between them. I was screwed, I was so screwed.
We were shoved by the dozens into stone buildings and doused with scalding water and the equivalent of bleach. No guards accompanied us but they waited on both sides watching those who went and those who came out. We were forced into single file lines, threaded through a maze of tables to receive rough clothes and crude physicals. The "doctors" looked us over like cattle at best, and the most worthless piece of garbage more often than not. Eyes, ears, mouths, nose, heart were all checked. Those found lacking were escorted sometimes dragged to the other side. One woman struggled, fighting off her guard and shrieking as she tried to run. They set dog type things after her; they ripped her to shreds, her screams dying with a gurgle in her throat. The guards only laughed like it was a sport to them. Most of the other prisoners looked away, staring intently at their feet, toes digging in the dirt. I watched hoping that she might escape, praying that she would. That perverse hope died with a whimper like her.
As dusk approached more guards appeared toting weapons, some technologically advanced, others primitive and classic in some respects. The guard who had crushed my fingers beneath her boot heel held the thick handle of a bullwhip in her hand, a cat o'nine tails dangled from her belt the ends tipped with metal. They gathered us in blocks, twelve rows by twelve columns. We were now barrack mates. Then one guard climbed up onto the platform in front of us. His uniform did not need decoration, of which there was none, to signify that he was in charge of the establishment.
"You are all prisoners here." He said eyeing each and every block. "Some are political prisoners, others are enemies, and some of you are here for no other reason than you were the ones taken. However, none of that matters for you are all prisoners and you are ours. There is no escape; anyone attempting to flee will be dealt with severely. We will treat you as we like. We will do with you as we wish, how and when we wish it. Just because you are prisoners does not mean your life is free, when you are not selected for special purpose you will work. You receive food and shelter that is the extent of our mercy."
Many of the guards began to snicker, some tapping their weapons against their hands. Growls emanated from the dog creatures and they snapped indiscriminately at any prisoner.
He continued on. "Furthermore, your names mean nothing. Identifications will be assigned; it is what you will answer to. Every morning you will stand in your blocks for presentation and counting, those not appearing will be punished – all will be punished. Any of these soldiers are to be addressed as 'Comm' and only as such; and you will not speak until spoken to. There is no deviation; any insolence will be met with the severest punishment. All vestiges of the past are gone, there is only here and now. You are ours. Tauhn da."
At that, every soldier pulled a hood over their head so only their eyes and mouth were visible. In twos and threes they advanced on each block firing shots into the air and turning the dogs loose. We tried to run but a panicked herd of people only ended with injury. Many in the middle fell to be trampled by those of us following. I tried to help a young woman up, her head bloodied from a cut near her temple. The sting of the cat o'nine raked across my arm to the shoulder and part of my back. Crying out only earned more blows ripping my skin open. She finally wobbled to her feet and stumbling we joined the rest of the block.
"Thank you." She whispered eyes darting furtively at the guards.
We were forced into another line; several of the block were drafted to bring tables, chairs, and boxes. Another group of prisoners emerged from one of the central buildings, splitting off into groups of four. Each sat at a table pulling out needles, ink pots, and other accoutrements. The first four of our block were forced to their knees at the table. Efficiently their sleeves were pulled up, forearm-left bared. One Comm called out a series of numbers prefaced with two letters, each tattooist responded "Yes Comm" after receiving an identification. The Comm made notes about the tattooed, who, once finished was pushed into the barrack.
"Could you sterilize that?" I asked when it came to my turn. It was stupid but who knew what diseases my block mates had, or those the needles had been used on previously. The crack of a club across my shoulders was the reward. I clenched my jaw, screwing my eyes shut as the needle tapped out symbols into my fair skin. Only when the Comm pushed me away did I dare to look. I was no longer Rodney McKay, I was now KV89603.
I remember places like this; I remember my world history. Thousands of prisoners all collected in camps for various reasons. One part of the prison completely silent, devoid of everything but the smell of flesh burning. (The smell did come, later that night and on into the next days.) Detainees forced to work, to bury the dead. All it needed was "Arbeit Macht Frei". It was the Pegasus version of Auschwitz-Birkenau. And I was trapped in it.