02 Aug The Pecking Order

I sat in the dining hall for the evening meal—a bowl full of gruel with limited nutritional value, washed down by a cup of brown water. I had a table to myself, and most of my fellow prisoners also ate alone. There was plenty of space in the hall as our numbers had dwindled over the years. So many prisoners had perished, either from natural causes or otherwise, and those who were left tended not to trust one another.

I glanced across the grim canteen with its worn, bleached tiles, and steel tables and chairs, which were screwed into the ground. All my fellow inmates were keeping their heads down and eating their meals—all except for one. Number Fourteen wasn’t chowing down. Instead, he was glaring across the room at me with a murderous rage.

I met his eyes for a moment, enough to show I wasn’t intimidated but not long enough to further provoke him. I knew why Fourteen had it in for me. I was Number Thirteen, next up in the pecking order. If he eliminated me, he would gain my slightly less crappy cell and obtain the handful of “privileges” I held.

That’s the way of it down here in the pit. Everyone wants to take out the guy ahead of them to move up the chain. But that wasn’t even the craziest thing about it. The situation was so screwed up because Fourteen looked just like me. In fact, he was my exact double…as were all the other prisoners, and the guards for that matter.

Every man inside this prison, from the psychotics locked up in the basement all the way up to the governor, was a carbon copy, or at least we’d started out that way. I don’t know who the original was. In fact, I couldn’t even remember how I’d ended up here.

My first conscious memory was waking up on a rock-hard cot in my cell, although the harsh prison regime was already second nature to me. We may have all come from the same seed, but our respective positions within the prison hierarchy had taken their toll on all of us.

The guards were at the top, of course. They enjoyed the best food, accommodation, and power over the rest of us. In reality, though, they were prisoners too, but the hierarchy was everything, and the guards had the ability to make life hell for the prisoners.

A team of guards was in the dining hall, all dressed in neat blue uniforms to differentiate themselves from us, the prisoners who were clad in orange jumpsuits. The guards were leaning against the gray walls and keeping a close eye on us, their hands on their batons as they were ready to move at the slightest provocation.

It had been several years since the last riot, and frankly, there weren’t enough of us prisoners left to pose a real threat to those in charge. We prisoners were deliberately kept weak and malnourished, and we were encouraged to fight amongst each other—to kill one another to advance up the pecking order.

In a way, it was the perfect system for someone entirely devoid of humanity and lacking a moral compass.

Number Two was there that day, scowling sadistically as his dark eyes surveyed the canteen, looking down upon us prisoners with total contempt and disgust.

It brought a chill down my spine every time I laid eyes upon Number Two. He was the meanest and most sadistic in the pit, and it irked me that he had my face—albeit a fatter and fouler version of it. The captain of the guards only answered to one man—the governor, also known as Number One.

He ruled this dystopian prison and was perhaps the only man who knew why we were there or how we could escape. But the governor was smart. He’d set up this system or had at least run it with brutal efficiency. And he rarely ventured down into the prison these days, instead remaining in his luxurious office on the higher levels while delegating responsibility to his sadistic guard captain.

Number Fourteen wasn’t a smart man. Sure, he was my double, but he leaned towards his violent impulses rather than rational thought. Still, he wasn’t dumb enough to launch his attack in the middle of the dining hall with the guards watching.

Instead, he waited until after our meal, when we were being marched back to our cells for lockdown. His plan was unsubtle but aggressive, and it might have worked if I hadn’t seen the attack coming.

Number Fourteen charged me from behind in the tight corridor, a homemade shiv in his right hand, which he tried to stab into my throat. I moved at the last possible moment, avoiding this thrust, grabbing his right arm, and twisting as hard as I could.

Fourteen squealed in agony and dropped the shiv. But I didn’t waste a second as I headbutted my opponent, feeling a grim satisfaction as I let him fall—blood squirting from his broken nose as he hit the ground hard. Next, I kicked the discarded weapon away and stood over my attacker, growling as he squirmed on the concrete floor.

“Stay down!” I snarled, placing my boot on his chest to reinforce the point.

Fourteen had made his move and failed. I’d bested him, and everyone had seen that I’d acted in self-defense, including the guards. I expected the bleeding and humiliated Number Fourteen to be dragged away to solitary confinement, as was the standard procedure after an act of violence.

But the twisted Number Two had other ideas.

“The bastard tried to kill you,” he said while looking straight at me.

“Yeah,” I said in confusion, as his point seemed an obvious one.

Number Two’s cruel grin widened as he spoke his next words.

“Well, what the hell are you going to do about it?”

I looked down at the man under my boot, seeing my own eyes staring back at me. Fourteen was down, bleeding and scared…but his twisted face was still filled with a murderous rage, and I realized he’d still kill me if he could. But what did the guard captain want from me?

Perhaps he wanted me to kick the crap out of Fourteen to teach the others a lesson. Honestly, I would have been happy to do so, given the bastard had tried to murder me in cold blood just moments before. But Number Two had a more sinister plan in mind.

He nodded to the shiv by his feet and provided his instructions in a cold and emotionless tone.

“I want you to pick up the knife and finish the job.”

“What?” I explained in dismay while meeting the head guard’s eye.

“You heard me!” he shouted back. “Take the shiv and kill Number Fourteen. He would do the same to you. This ends now.”

I glanced back down at the man under my boot and saw the sudden rush of terror enter his face. Could I do this? I’d been involved in many violent incidents during my time here, fighting for survival in this living hell. But I’d never killed anyone before.

It seemed insane to murder a man who was physically identical to me, even if his personality and temperament differed significantly from mine. But what choice did I have? I saw the captain pulling the baton from his belt, and the other guards soon followed suit.

“Kill him, or we’ll kill you!” he snarled in a direct threat.

I knew the head guard meant it. He’d killed men before without consequence. And my fellow prisoners would be no help, as they all stood back and waited to see how this would play out. I felt like I was running on autopilot as I slowly bent down and picked up the knife.

I wouldn’t have expected Number Fourteen to simply lie on the cold floor and wait for me to finish him off, and nor did he. My double was back on his feet in an instant, charging towards me while screaming bloody murder. But once again, I had the drop on him as I turned around and buried the shiv deep into his belly.

I saw the shock and pain in my double’s eyes as his blood spilled on the floor. He fell down once again, but I knew it wasn’t over. I needed to finish him, or the guards would crack my head open. So, I descended upon my victim with the shiv still in hand, stabbing him again and again in a murderous frenzy, only stopping once I’d cut him to shreds on the prison floor.

Then I dropped the knife, looking down in horror at my blood-stained hands and my victim, his eyes shut for the final time.

There was a sickness deep in my stomach because I’d taken a human life. But not just that…I had murdered my own double—slaughtered him like a pig. It felt like I’d killed a part of myself, a part I could never get back.

I remained on my knees for a moment, trying to keep it together in front of the guards and other prisoners. You couldn’t show any weakness in this joint. I wondered how this horrific moment would end, but suddenly I heard a cruel cackle from Number Two, soon replicated by his guard subordinates.

“Good job, Number Thirteen,” the captain said sarcastically. “That’s one less mouth for us to feed.”

I glared up angrily at Number Two, realizing what he’d just made me do. But there was no opportunity for retribution or even a justification, as the guard captain ceased his laughter, scowling once more as he spat out his orders.

“Enough of this nonsense. Get the prisoners back to their cells without delay.”

The guards complied without question, using their batons to encourage the prisoners, as we marched past the butchered corpse of Fourteen and towards the cell blocks. And with some difficulty, I followed, dragging myself up from the ground, my hands and uniform still drenched in blood as I was led, against my will, back to my cell.

I lay upon my hard mattress, still in my blood-splattered prison uniform, as I stared upwards at the damp patch on the ceiling of my cell. The harsh strip lights were still on, although it wouldn’t be long until lights out. I was already locked in for the night, secured inside my tiny windowless, subterranean cell.

My nostrils were filled with the stench of bodies and excrement, and my head was plagued by visions of Number Fourteen’s grisly death at my hands. This vile and twisted prison had turned me into a killer on this night, and a piece of my soul was gone…assuming I ever had a soul in the first place.

My head was spinning as I fought back the raw tears of anger, and as much as I tried, I couldn’t remember how I’d ended up in the pit. There were fleeting memories of a previous life in the depths of my subconscious, but nothing concrete.

None of this made any sense. Why were we all the same, except not the same? Every prisoner and every guard in this hellhole was my doppelganger, but a strict hierarchy kept us in our places. Not only was this unfair, but it was also totally insane and, frankly, horrifying.

I struggled in vain to deal with the lethal combination of emotions as the lights switched off and we were all left in darkness.

A sleepless night followed, and the regular routine kicked in at 6 am on the dot, as the harsh strip lights flicked back on and the guards walked the corridors rapping the cell bars with their batons. Roll call followed soon after, as the screws checked that no one had died or escaped during the night. Death was the more likely scenario, as no prisoner had ever escaped from the pit.

But on that morning, all of us prisoners stood to attention and called out our numbers in the designated order. Next, we were escorted to the dining hall for breakfast—the same canned gruel that we had for dinner the previous evening, and in fact for every meal on every day.

As per usual, I sat alone, and this time no one met my eye. I realized they were scared of me after what I did to Fourteen. Was this a good thing? I couldn’t decide. Sure, being a feared killer raised my status, but it also made me a target for those above me, as now I was a potential rival.

But breakfast passed without a further violent incident, and then our daily work details commenced. I’ll give it to Number Two—the guards’ captain. He had a twisted sense of humor. Number Fourteen’s body had been dragged away and disposed of after the fatal fight, but his blood still stained the concrete floor of the corridor, and I was assigned to clean up the mess.

I felt physically sick as I took the mop and bucket to the bloody floor, forced to relive the brutal murder I’d committed on my own double. Still, I knew I had to complete the ugly task, because refusal would result in punishment.

I had almost finished the mopping when I was approached by one of the guards—not Number Two but Number Eight. He was my double, of course—better fed and healthier, as was the case with all the guards. Eight was dressed in their neat blue uniform, but he looked less impressive and authoritative than the higher-up guards. It turned out that even the screws had a hierarchy within their ranks.

Honestly, I’d had few dealings with Number Eight. He was always in the background, silently working to make our lives more miserable. When he approached me in the corridor, I assumed Eight would deliver my next unpleasant work assignment. But instead, he intrigued me with a most unexpected proposition.

Number Eight glanced nervously over his shoulder, checking the corridor before he whispered in my ear.

“I saw you in action yesterday. Impressive.”

I grimaced, not appreciating the so-called compliment.

“I did what I had to,” I replied coolly while looking down at the mop.

“For sure,” my double muttered back. “I get it. We’re all doing what we have to.”

His comment got to me, as I met Eight’s eye with angry defiance.

“What the hell would you know about it?”

Number Eight backed up, raising his hands defensively.

“Hey man, I’m not your enemy. Sure, I’m a guard, but I’m the lowest of their number. The captain gives me the worst jobs—keeping the mental cases in line, cleaning out the slop buckets, getting rid of the bodies…”

“What do you want from me?” I interjected impatiently.

Number Eight nervously glanced back down the corridor before answering.

“The current regime isn’t working. The guards aren’t happy, and neither are the prisoners. We need a change in leadership. I think you could be our man.”

I scoffed in contempt, taken aback by the insane suggestion.

“You must be playing with me,” I shot back. “You know that’s not how it works down here. I’m Number Thirteen. If I want to rise up the ranks, I go for Number Twelve.”

“Why?” Eight shot back excitedly. “Who says it has to be this way? We’re all the same, basically… Same bodies, same brains. Why can’t we take over? You could be governor, and I could become captain of the guards.”

I met his eye, trying to detect any signs of subterfuge. But I could find none. And besides, it’s difficult for a man to lie to his own double.

“You’ve obviously thought this through,” I said carefully, “but why do you need me?”

Number Eight nodded his head and smiled thinly.

“I’ve been watching you for a while, Thirteen. You’re tough and smart, but also cautious. I’m not the one to rule us. You are…But you need my help. I can get you out of your cell after lockdown, and I can bring you to the upper levels…to the governor.”

“The governor,” I repeated thoughtfully. “If anybody knows the truth of this hellhole, he does. He might know the way out.”

This time, it was Eight’s turn to scoff and laugh in mockery.

“There’s no way out of this prison. Haven’t you realized this yet?”

I glared back at my double and answered through clenched teeth.

“You don’t know that.”

“Whatever, man,” Eight replied. “The point is, I can get you to the governor. You don’t need to give me an answer this minute. But we have to act soon, before they catch us out.”

He looked up and down the corridor for the umpteenth time before whispering his last instruction.

“I’m on duty tonight. I’ll come to your cell after lights out. If you’re in…well, we can take it from there.”

With that, Number Eight turned his back on me and shuffled awkwardly down the corridor, leaving me alone with my mop and my thoughts.

The rest of the day passed by in a blur as I went through the motions and thought over Eight’s intriguing offer. My mind was in another place, which was never a good thing in the pit. But luckily, the other prisoners gave me a wide berth, and I was able to return to my cell without further incident.

Honestly, I hadn’t made up my mind over what to do, not until lights out that evening. There was a distinct possibility that I was being led into a deadly trap. Or—even if Eight was on the level—the plan could easily go wrong.

It was only once I heard the heavy thump of boots along the corridor that I made up my mind. Sure, it was a risk—but what did I really have to lose? I could stay in the pit and die by inches day after day, or I could take a chance at finding out the truth.

A moment later, a torch was shining in my face, and I looked up to see Number Eight standing on the other side of the bars, his face filled with nervous anticipation. I nodded my head in acknowledgment while climbing off my mattress, waiting as Eight used his keys to open my cell door.

We quietly made our way down the dimly lit corridor, Number Eight using his skeleton key to open the staircase door, our gateway to the higher levels. As we ascended the stairs, I took the opportunity to ask my co-conspirator a question.

“What happens if we bump into Number Two or one of the other guards?”

“I have an insurance policy,” he said ominously, before lifting his shirt to show me the pistol tucked into his waistband.

“Jesus!” I exclaimed.

Famously, there was only one gun in the entire prison, which was usually locked up in the guard’s station. It had been years since the gun was last used, when Number Two shot down three prisoners during a riot.

“Does that old thing still fire?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” Eight replied with a shrug of his shoulders. “Hopefully, we won’t need to find out.”

We reached the top and entered the next level, a place I’d never been before. I was shocked to see the differences between the guard’s area and the prison below. Instead of dark, dingy and featureless corridors, I saw a well-lit area adorned with soft carpets and bright wallpaper. And while our level was permanently cold and stank of human waste, this sector was fresh and comfortable.

I couldn’t help but feel a burning anger in that moment as I realized they’d deliberately kept us in inferior and miserable conditions for all these years. Eight must have sensed my boiling rage, as he placed a hand on my shoulder and whispered in my ear.

“Come on, man. The governor’s office is right down there.”

I took a deep breath and nodded my head, following the guard as he led me along yet another corridor and towards the ominous oak door at its end.

But we didn’t make it there unopposed, as a bulky figure suddenly stepped out from a side door and blocked our path. I recognized him straight away from his large frame and the mean look in his eyes—Number Two, captain of the guards.

For a moment, Two looked surprised, as he didn’t expect to see me on this level. But, once he looked to me and then back to Number Eight, I guess he twigged what was going on.

“You damn traitor!” he snarled in fury, before withdrawing his baton and charging forward.

Eight’s eyes widened in terror. He tried to pull the gun, but it was knocked out of his hands as the guard captain struck him hard. Eight was down on the floor, having the living crap beaten out of him. I knew I’d be next, and so I acted quickly—reaching down and grabbing the discarded pistol.

I pointed the barrel at Two, poising my finger on the trigger while shouting, “Enough!”

Two ceased his attack upon Eight, looking up at me and the gun. His eyes narrowed and he scowled dismissively, saying, “You wouldn’t dare!”

He darted forward, baton in hand. I didn’t think; I simply squeezed the trigger. Bang! A shot rang out, and the gun kicked back in my hand. Two’s body jerked, and he looked down in astonishment as blood poured from the bullet wound in his chest.

A moment later, he collapsed down to the blood-stained carpet and didn’t get back up. Immediately, I went to the aid of Number Eight. He’d taken a bad beating and was bleeding heavily, but the guard was still conscious.

“Go now,” he said weakly. “Get to the governor now, before the others arrive.”

I nodded my head, leaving the bleeding Number Eight on the floor and stepping over Two’s body. I held the still-smoking gun in one hand and reached out for the door handle with my other.

I expected the door to be locked, and so was surprised when the handle turned and it swung open. I walked into the finely decorated office and pulled the heavy door closed behind me.

I took little notice of my surroundings as I focused on my target. The governor stood behind his mahogany desk; his eyes wide as he’d surely been alerted by the gunshot. He wore a dark suit, a white shirt, and a red tie; he was certainly dressed for the part.

And the governor looked just like me. This was inevitable, of course. The man was my doppelganger, just like everyone else in this joint—but his face was drawn and pale. Despite his high position and privileges, the governor appeared tired and on edge. But the oddest thing was that he didn’t seem surprised to see me, and he wasn’t scared by the gun in my hand.

“Number Thirteen, is it?” he asked calmly. “I always knew one of you would come for me. Didn’t think it would be you, though.”

He laughed bitterly before continuing. “Thirteen…I was never the superstitious type. Perhaps I should have been.”

I frowned in confusion. “I don’t understand. What do you think is happening here?”

“You’ve come to kill me and take my place,” the governor said confidently.

“No,” I answered. “It doesn’t have to be this way. All I want is to get out.”

The governor laughed in open mockery.

“Wake up, Thirteen! There is no way out!”

I shook my head in disbelief. “There must be.”

“There’s not,” he shot back. “Believe me. We’ve spent years trying. This whole facility is underground, encased in concrete, and all the exits are sealed.”

My heart sank, and my head started to spin.

“But why?” I asked in desperation. “Why are we here? And why do we all look the same?”

The governor shrugged his shoulders.

“Damned if I know. We have a few theories. Personally, I think this started off as an experiment. Place a bunch of clones in a sealed prison, make some of us prisoners and others guards, all to see how we act.”

“So, they’re watching us?” I exclaimed.

“No, we don’t think so. Not any longer,” he answered solemnly. “All our food comes from a stockpile of cans. We still get electricity, water, and air from the surface. For all we know, these life support systems are automated. They might shut down one day. If so, we’re all screwed. But until that day, we’ll keep this place running.”

My mind was racing as I tried to make sense of this madness, as everything I thought I knew about my world was turned on its head.

Was the governor telling me the truth? If he was, then the reality was even more monstrous than I’d thought.

“You’ve got the prisoners down there in the pit,” I snarled in anger. “You starve us, torture us…and all for no reason!”

My double broke eye contact, some shame entering his voice as he answered.

“We keep order in this hellhole. It’s not easy. Difficult decisions are required.”

“You’re lying!” I shot back in fury. “You have no idea what we’re going through! You, up here in your damn ivory tower!”

The governor surprised me by sighing in frustration.

“You still don’t get it, do you, Thirteen?” he answered. “I’m not the original governor—far from it. I started down in the pit, just like you. I got the chance to kill the previous governor and take his place, and that’s what I did.”

He shrugged his shoulders again, his eyes beginning to tear up.

“But all good things come to an end. The truth is, I’m tired of all this. The burden of responsibility…Honestly, Thirteen, I’m relieved to see you. I just want this to be over.”

The gun shook in my hand as I was hit by a wave of emotions. The governor wanted me to kill him, but why should I give him this release? Why, after all he’d done to us…his own doubles.

The governor must have sensed my trepidation as he sought to motivate me.

“Come on, Thirteen. Don’t chicken out on me. Remember the hell I’ve put you through. All the humiliation and violence.”

I aimed the gun, poising my finger on the trigger…but still I hesitated.

The governor frowned, his tone becoming more aggressive.

“If I’m still alive once they get here, I’ll order the men to beat you to death, right here on the office carpet.”

A chill of fear ran through me, and when I looked into his eyes, I knew he meant it. There was no other choice, and so I pulled the trigger—the gunshot ringing out as the bullet tore through my double’s skull, splattering his brains against the far wall.

Sheepishly, I crept forward, the gun still in my hand, as I looked over the desk and saw my victim’s dead body sprawled across the floor. I didn’t have time to process the grisly sight, however, as my attention was drawn by the din of raised voices and thumping boots in the corridor outside. Looking towards the door and back at the corpse, I knew I had to act fast.

Fortunately, Number Eight was able to buy me enough time. And, by the time the guards burst into the office, I had changed into the late governor’s clothes, while dressing his body in my prisoner’s uniform.

It was a rushed job, and I didn’t think it would fool the guards. We had the same face, but surely they would notice the differences.

Number Eight followed his baton-wielding comrades into the office, still bleeding from his head wound but with enough sense to recognize what had just occurred. He glanced over the desk and nodded at the body.

“Number Thirteen. He killed Number Two and beat me down. But the governor stopped him, isn’t that right, sir?”

I nodded my head nervously. The other guards all shared a look. I don’t think any of them were fooled by the ruse, but it seemed to suit them to go along with the lie.

“Okay, boss,” said Number Three. “What should we do now?”

So that’s it, my story…the story of how I rose up to the top of the pecking order. I am the new governor—the man in charge of everything. I have the power and all the privileges of the top position. But now I’m responsible for keeping order in this hellhole, and all the time I have to worry about my doubles plotting against me.

But I haven’t given up hope. Every day, I use my newfound power and access to search for a way out. I’m determined to escape this pit or die trying.