The Alternatives

5 | Thin Thread

Ronnie woke in a prison.

Not a prison. She told herself. Just something exactly similar. She frowned. As well as being completely different.

She was completely alone inside a metal cube, no windows, only a metal door. Ronnie checked it. Locked. Of course.

She assessed herself. Her hair was obviously a mess. Easily fixed with a ponytail. Her dress was fine. A bit ripped, but not in shreds. Her stockings had ladders on either leg, but other than that, she had been untouched.

But where was she?

------------

Connor threw his whole body against the see-through door.

Still not budging. Definitely not glass, but possibly plastic or something similar. Maybe bulletproof.

He tugged on his chains wrapping his hands. and neck, collaring him like a dog. The cuffs felt around five kilos each, plus dragging around the chains were an additional two kilos at least. Connor hated feeling helpless. But the Hexagon was unlike anything he had ever experienced. He remembered the attacks. He should have suspected something similar to this. But he couldn't help it. He didn't have any siblings. He didn't care much about himself. He only had his dad, and even then his dad didn't pay that much attention. Connor just needed an escape. Something that felt a little less lonely.

He tried again. He screamed from frustration.

He hated being chained. And he loathed being lonely.

It made his thoughts that much more violent.

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Pyro was trying to stay quiet.

He was in a class full of boys that looked like they had been beat up. He was seated next to an Indian-ish looking boy who had a black eye and bruised skin. There were boys that looked worse, with scars, cuts, bruises, one boy was even missing a few fingers.

He was never more terrified.

What was this place capable of? Pyro had no idea. At school, they had only been taught that the Hexagon were enemies, and they couldn't be trusted. They seemed to abduct any person from any country that looked stupid enough to be kidnapped or to believe their lies. But, the "flawless" schooling system had never explained what had started the war in the first place. And no one had ever explained to Pyro why.

A person at the front of the class approached a podium with a microphone. She was caucasian, at least fifty years old, with her golden hair so tight into a bun that it must have been pulling on her brain. She wore rectangular red spectacles on her nose, was dressed in a black pantsuit and had a wide set jaw. She looked completely plastic.

"Welcome!" She greeted, with a wide smile. "And thank you for joining our cause! We expect great things from you boys in working for our little project! In return, as you understand, we will be providing you with sleeping quarters and some meals." Her smile was so wide Pyro was wondering if her mouth had been stretched open and was then too paralyzed to move. Plus, what the hell did she mean by 'little project'? If it was big enough to start World War III, then it surely counted as a Godzilla sized project.

"As you may have been told," She continued, "Our mission here at the Hexagon is to provide the world with energy to last eternity. You all pay a big tribute to this." She was still smiling. She started to look even creepier.

"Take a good look at the people around you. They will be your workmates for the next ten years, so we hope for you to have positive relationships with them."

"Are you effing kidding me?!" Pyro didn't mean to say out loud. All the soldiers and the lady talking up the front turned to face him.

"I'm sorry... Mr....?" She asked.

"Pyro." Pyro said. Holy crap what have I done. He thought. "Everyone calls me Pyro." You just broke the first rule of warfare, giving away your details. If Luke was here he'd slap me.

The lady looked irritated. "Well... Pyro. Do you have an issue with our programme?"

Pyro wished he could scream some very colourful language. "I was just curious about the workmates part?"

"Oh, you're a Mandated. Well, you will basically be working here for the rest of your life, contributing to a better world." Her smile lessened. Pyro thought that she was still more direct than Shade.

"Mandated?" Pyro asked. The lady had already moved on.

"Now, as we are working with relatively dangerous equipment, we do have rules here that are mandatory to follow. First, all workers must complete two six-hour work sessions a day, twenty minutes for three meals a day."

What the hell? Pyro thought. He didn't even do his homework on a regular basis, no matter how hard they tried to make him do it in the makeshift underground school. What was the bloody point.

"Second, all workers must report back to their dormitories once their working day is over. There is no curfew, so overnight workers must stick to their schedule, but if someone is out of their dormitory when they do not have a shift to attend to, they will be shot on sight."

The lady was smiling.

Pyro tried his best to keep his breathing silent. An Asian boy beside him silently let a tear fall. What people must have lost when they came here. A future. Their loved ones. Countless opportunities are now missed. Thousands - if not millions - of lives wasted.

On what?

An Indian-looking boy raised his hand to ask a question. "Sorry ma'am, but you talk all about working on hours and dangerous equipment, but what are we actually working on?"

Silence fell. The lady's scowl turned into a fake-looking grin.

"A power plant, dear. The biggest nuclear power plant in history."