Demon Rock

Copyright
Stephen Dorrian
Demon Rock
© 2012, Stephen Dorrian
Self publishing
([email protected])
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher

About the Author

Stephen Dorrian was born on 20/09/1988 in Northern Ireland. He obtained a degree in Business Information Technology from Queens University. Belfast.

He wrote his first book ‘Tales from my Mind’ at the age of twenty one. He currently works for NYSE technologies and writes in his spare time.

Other titles by the author

Tales from my mind

I awoke to my head slamming into the side of the wall. I couldn’t even remember dosing off, they must have drugged us before we got on the boat. My memory of the past few days felt fragmented, I felt disorientated. The waves were throwing the boat back and forth like it was nothing, a small insignificant vessel in the vast endless ocean. The rain pelted off the boat, echoing through the metal stern. I began to try and focus my eyes; I was in a long dark hull. I tried to raise my arms but was stopped short by the metal cuffs that were grasped firmly around my wrists and feet anchoring me to the chair. Through the darkness, I begun to make out shapes as my eyes adapted to the lack of light. Sitting across from me on the other side of the boat was a motionless figure; I guessed his drugs hadn’t worn off yet. As my eye sight continued to adjust I made out several other people, all, like me chained to their seats, some conscious and others at the mercy of the motion of the ocean as their bodies were thrown about in their seats. Further down the boat there was a large silver box, big enough for a very large man to stand in, whoever or whatever was in there obviously needed extra security which didn’t help my unrest. From the silver box I could see the faint glimmer of something. There was a cut away near the top of the box, it was mostly dark but two yellow eyes appeared to be staring through me although I could not tell for sure. I was beginning to get nauseous when I felt the boat slow down. Just then the hull filled with light from the far end. A hatch was lifted and a man descended a rusty ladder that was missing two of its rungs. The man was tall with a thick brown beard that looked as coarse as the bristles of a brush. He was wearing what appeared to be black overalls, with his top two buttons open exposing a white shirt, the overalls had some logo on it but I could not make it out. His overalls were broken up by a thick brown belt with keys hanging from them. The man began to stride up the hull slowly, his heavy set boots against the metal and the jingling of his keys echoing through. As the guard approached the first unconscious man, he reached into his belt and produced an electric prod, approximately two foot in length. He jammed the prod under the man’s ribs, shocking him awake, the helpless man convulsed where he sat and awoke with a cry of pain. The guard moved forward another two steps and repeated the action, this time to a man who was conscious. “Hey!” I shouted, “Come on man, you can’t do that.”

The guard turned and walked towards me slowly, smiling through his beard with his yellow stained teeth.

“
Oh and why’s that then Prisoner...” he paused as he read a tag that had been placed around my wrist.

“
Prisoner 207.”

“
It’s not right.” I replied.

I received the same treatment shortly after this statement, except this time the prod was to my testicles, the pain shot through me and up my entire body. I clenched my fists and ground my teeth together as the guard laughed. The guard’s face then turned serious and he stopped laughing, bending down towards my face as he did so.

“
Human rights are for humans, 207.”

He turned to continue his wake up calls but not before a parting gift of spit which found its mark. I couldn’t reach to wipe it off and could feel it sliding down my face.

Just then the boat came to a complete stop.

“
Well then vermin. Looks like we’re here.” said the guard. Four more guards boarded the boat in similar attire; they each descended into the hull and began unlocking each of us from our chairs. I stood up but the boat was still swaying, nearly causing me to lose my balance.

“
I haven’t got all day, move!” one of the new guards screamed as he prodded me in the back. I began to move towards the ladder with the rest of the prisoners. I placed my hands firmly on the rung and began to climb. As I reached the top I could see that the sun had just set, the sky glowed red through the gaps in the dark clouds. The rain was heavy as I reached the top of the ladder, another guard was standing glaring down at me. He looked at me and with a twisted smile said,

“
Welcome to your new home. Welcome to Demon Rock!”

We weren’t even given the luxury of being thrown into the back of a truck. We had to walk the two miles to the abandoned-looking building as the guards drove slowly beside us, all the time with guns pointed at our heads. After departing the boat we were forced to stand in a line as our ankles and wrists were shackled to one another. As the twelve of us new arrivals walked as a single entity the guards would jeer at us, even tripping individuals to the ground causing the rest of us to stumble.
 

‘
Assholes.’
 
I thought to myself as I continued to walk the dirt road. Even the term road is a generous one; it was not maintained as a road, rather a clearing through the thick shrubbery and forest of the island, each footstep sinking into the mud still heavily saturated with the rain. The footsteps in front telling us a tale of those that had walked here before – we were not the first prisoners to Demon Rock. My eyes wandered from one end of the island to the other, of what I could see there was acres and acres of forest with few distinguished features except for the dark facade of the building we were marching towards jutting out above the tree line and a single lighthouse on the North side of the Island.

The lighthouse stood atop a steep cliff face warning fellow ships of the impending doom. I doubted that many ships passed here however, beyond the ships that bring
people
like me to the island. It is hard to recall exactly how long we were on that boat but the middle of nowhere seems an appropriate destination, away from the judging public for their protection and the privacy of the government. The lighthouse was black, odd in a sense since its job was to warn people and thus be visible but the bright light shooting out over the water was hard to miss, it was one the brightest lights I had ever seen. Just then I realised why the light was so bright, it was a UV light; it must double up as a spot light and security system for escapees. We were getting close to the building and I could now see that the building wasn’t abandoned. Around the building was a twenty foot tall wall which had not been visible through the trees. On the walkway around the top of the wall were armed guards looking down into the court yard leading up to two huge steel doors. Around the walkway sat barbed wire, metallic spikes and large black rods at regular intervals along the wall. As I walked staring up at the wall a white flash appeared, only for a second as well as a sound of static near the third rod, two of the guards laughed and a horrid screech echoed out into the night.

One of the guards gave a nod to another guard up on the wall. He acknowledged and pressed a button that raised the giant steel gate in front of us. The sound of the chain on metal gave a sound similar to the screech moments before as it was slowly raised. Once the gate was about six foot above the ground, the guards hushed us forward like a pack of sleigh dogs as we walked into the yard, I couldn’t help but think that this would be the last time I would ever be at this side of the gate for the rest of eternity. Some of the larger inmates had to duck their head under the gate as it continued to ascend. Through the gate we were in a circular tunnel which let up to the main doors. At either side of the tunnel the yard seemed to stretch around the whole facility in a hexagonal shape. The steel doors opened as we approached them like the jaws of the beast of this facility. We were led to a room of to the right from the entrance and lined up as if for a firing squad.

“
Strip!” one of the guards commanded. We all hesitated, the guard approached a man to my left and smashed him in the face with the butt of his rifle, and blood gushed from his nose.

“
Strip!” he bellowed again.

This time, we all obeyed. I kicked off my shoes and began unbuttoning my shirt. Another guard came up to me and tore my shirt open sending buttons flying everywhere.

“
Hurry it up!” he screamed. The jeans were next and we all stood there nude on the cold tiled floor. The guard who had given the order lifted a hose from the wall and turned a pump. Water shot from the hose with veracious speed. The water was ice cold and it forced a few of us back as it hit our chests, the sharp icy water felt like we were being stabbed, pain shot through us as the guard sprayed each of us in turn. The man to my left’s blood swirled the drain mixed with the water. We were each then given a red jumpsuit and forced to get into them, without even drying. My body itched from the dry material as I put on my uniform for life.

We were once again forced to walk, like marching cattle. This time we were led into what looked like a school assembly hall, except the school had been closed for years. We stood in the middle of the empty hall when a man walked onto a raised platform. He was a man in his fifties - I would have guessed – with a short crew cut hair style and deep set eyes. His body was lean and athletic for someone of his age and his eyes told a story that he had seen a thing or two in his life time.

“
Gentlemen” the man began.

“
Welcome to Demon Rock Penitentiary. I am Warden O’Brien. You are each here because you have been deemed unfit and a danger to society. We can’t have your kind mixed in with the general public. Now the current administration wants nothing to do with you, so I have been given control of your fates and I can assure you gentlemen that you will not leave here in your pathetic life times. There will be no luxuries, no amenities of any kind. Human rights are for humans, this is a prison for the supernatural; the inhuman, and you will be treated as such. Enjoy your stay!”

It wasn’t always like this. Up until four days ago, I was happy, I had a life. I lived with my wife just outside of London. It was a simple two up, two down house but it was ours to do with as we wanted. I have done some bad things in the past, but they are the past. Love changes a man, the realisation that someone loves you for who you are rather than the mask you show to the world. She even accepted my ‘gift’, although they deem it as an ability, an abnormality. With this realisation, you realise that it is not just your own life you need to worry about but that of whom loves you. I rid myself of any and all selfishness and devoted myself to her. We were happy. We were truly happy… until they came for me.

Word had reached my ears of this facility, this prison for supernatural beings. I had also heard that they were rounding up anyone with a gift indiscriminately whether they were a threat or not. This new government wanted us eradicated, away from the public. They came for me at work. I had a regular job, a software engineer at a well renowned firm. I kept to myself, behind a desk coding forty hours a week.

It was a Monday morning, I have had some horrendous Monday mornings as I am sure we all have but this one was particularly bad. At Eleven AM I got a phone call from security that some men were here to see me. I took them to a meeting room on the fifth floor and asked what I could do for them. One of the two men placed his black leather briefcase on the table and opened the locks. He opened the case and took out a pair of silver handcuffs. They were not regular handcuffs that you would see on television, these looked different, custom made almost. “You are under arrest due to new legalisation being introduced by the government. You are to be remanded into our custody and to be processed.”