"I said down, you fucking animal!"<br/><br/>Daz felt someone grab his hair and force him down to the ground. His arms were pulled out from under him and pushed against his back with a booted foot. He struggled and spat, tears mixing with his spit and pouring on to the ground.<br/><br/>They had killed her. Right in front of him, they had killed her. Daz would have gone quietly. He wouldn't have struggled, if only to save his mother. She had never talked about revolution, about the government or rebellion. She just wanted to live.<br/><br/>"No, no!" Daz screamed out into the courtyard until something foul was shoved in his mouth. His nostrils flared as his nose and mouth filled with the flavour of petrol.<br/><br/>Were they going to burn him alive? Daz didn't expect to become a martyr, but if it was what he had to do, then so be it. Even if the revolution was toppled, it still burned in people's hearts to see these bastards in hell.<br/><br/>The footsteps and shouting stopped, replaced by an eerie silence. The pressure on Daz's arms was released as a pair of cuffs were secured around his wrists.<br/><br/>"Let me see his face," a woman's voice broke through the silence. Daz was lifted up, again by the hair, and he found himself looking up at a severe-looking woman in a form-fitting suit and tall black heels. She was in stark contrast against the soldiers surrounding her, but she seemed to hold more power.<br/><br/>Daz's scowling face was jerked to the left and right as if he were a prized show-horse. The woman contemplated for a moment before nodding and waving a hand. "He'll do."<br/><br/>Daz was hauled up by the arms. As a soldier went to remove his gag he bit hard on their fingers, spitting muffled curses. The words weren't understandable, but the message was clear.<br/><br/>The soldier wiped the blood on to Daz's jacket. "Keep it then," he jeered, hand on his weapon.<br/><br/>Daz was now being treated carefully, like some sort of cargo. The soldiers forced him to walk, occasionally prodding and pushing him, but now it seemed like there was something keeping them from bashing his skull against the ground. Just who was that woman? She wasn't a member of the council, as Daz knew each one of their disgusting faces by heart.<br/><br/>As they marched, Daz looked over to the centre of the courtyard. They had moved her, taken her away before anyone saw. She would be pronounced missing, but everyone would know.<br/><br/>A bag was placed over Daz's head, and everything went black.<br/><br/>Daz was forced to sit down. He recognized the feeling of a seat in a standard travel ship. He heard the sound of engines being prepped, then lurched forward as the ship took off.<br/><br/>Daz couldn't move, and could barely breathe. He could feel his throat closing on him and the oxygen in his lungs dying to barely nothing. He fought to stay awake, but he couldn't keep himself from slumping over as the remaining life in him was wrung out.<br/><br/>"He's passing out," someone said, "push him up."<br/><br/>When Daz awoke, he was in a rudimentary metal cage. He felt like a whipped zoo lion.<br/><br/>"He's awake! Get the camera on him!"<br/><br/>Daz blinked and shielded his eyes from the sudden blinding light pointed at him. What was going on? Was he dead, and this was his punishment?<br/><br/>"Come now, stay awake, stay awake."<br/><br/>A bucket of cold water was thrown on him, suddenly sending his body into full awareness. The scratches and bruises on his body screamed as he jumped up and grabbed the bars of the cage.<br/><br/>"Let me out," Daz snarled, locking eyes with a woman in a government-issued uniform. She smiled pleasantly, looking down at a clipboard she held in one hand.<br/><br/>"We certainly will, Mr. Lagoau. First, you have to take this."<br/><br/>A bag was thrown into the cage. It was made of green fabric, with a single opening closed by a drawstring. As Daz reached for it, he realized he was wearing new clothing, made from the same material as the bag. It was like some sort of jumpsuit, with a number embroidered on the left breast. So he was a prisoner.<br/><br/>"Are we ready? Rolling?" The woman turned to speak with people Daz couldn't see. She turned back to face him.<br/><br/>"Welcome to The Maze. Reach the centre, and you get out. Good luck."<br/><br/>The front of the cage opened, and Daz was forced forward. He turned around, intending to launch himself forward, but he found himself hitting a wall where the cage used to be.<br/><br/>Daz spun around, attempting to find out where he was by anything. He knew the streets of his city by heart. Every landmark, every side street. But instead of the familiar towers and platforms he was used to, he was greeted by cold marble walls going far above his head, and a dirt floor.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">What the hell?</span>Daz thought, touching one of the walls. It was extremely smooth, with no imperfections that he could take advantage of to climb to the top. He could almost see his reflection in the shine.<br/><br/>Wherever he was, he was trapped.<br/><br/>Daz slowly started to process what the woman had said. He was in a maze. A maze prison?<br/><br/>They had given him a bag. Daz turned and began rifling through it. It was filled with silver packages, about the size of his hand. He knew them well as rations, foul-smelling and -tasting things that kept you alive, but not much else. At the bottom of the bag was a hunting knife in a sheath. So they had given him a weapon.<br/><br/>As he unsheathed the knife and held it in his hand, he thought to ancient gladiators and wrestlers, forced or paid to fight for entertainment. He spun around, looking toward the sky as if to see faces, or cameras, peering towards him. There was nothing but open sky, as gray and miserable as it looked.<br/><br/>There was a rumbling from behind him. Daz turned and saw as the wall began moving towards him. Slowly at first, then speeding up. Shoving the knife in its sheath and drawing the bag shut, Daz began running. His heart dropped when he saw the wall in front of him, also moving. He was going to be crushed to death.<br/><br/>It was a maze. There had to be a corner to turn, or somewhere to go. Daz ran until he saw a path to the right. His thighs began to burn.<span style="font-style: italic">I'll only die with one of those sons-of-bitches on the end of my knife,</span>he thought bitterly, fighting to reach the path before the second wall passed it.<br/><br/>He launched himself to the side, hearing a disturbing crunch from behind him. The blocks had met with such force that they had cracked and broken. Daz imagined his body broken up in the rocks, his life reduced to a smear of blood and guts between two stones.<br/><br/>Get to the centre when the maze could move on its own. Seemed simple enough.<br/><br/>--<br/><br/>Daz had been walking aimlessly for an uncountable measure of time. All he knew was that he had eaten 2 of the 12 rations when they were broken into 4 pieces and eaten only when he was sure he was going to die. The sky had remained an abysmal matte gray, keeping him from telling time by the sun. He had gone from marble walls to hedges with vines woven throughout, and hadn't seen any other creature besides a rat, which he had tried and failed to kill and eat, and a rotting corpse, whose flesh had been too rancid to even go near.<br/><br/>He was going to lose his mind before he died of hunger or thirst. He stumbled forward blindly, not noticing the fissures in the damp earth.<br/><br/>A misplaced foot caused the ground underneath Daz to collapse, as if it had simply been a caked-on layer of earth over a massive hole. On impact with the ground below, his foot exploded with pain, causing him to cry out in pain. His arms and hands were also scraped and bloody, as the ground was covered with some sort of sticks with sharp edges. He couldn't tell under the light of the sky.<br/><br/>Daz reached his hand around blindly, relieved when he felt that his bag had fallen beside him.<span style="font-style: italic">At least I can eat until I die,</span>he thought blithely.<br/><br/>There was no way up, from what he could tell. The walls were some kind of slimy substance, like a mixture of dirt and wet moss. They went almost straight up in a square. The hole he had made was quite large, covering a quarter of the square.<br/><br/>The only thing he could do was shout for help, like any would come. Daz hadn't spoken in so long, he almost forgot how to. He coughed and cleared his throat, before shouting in a cracked voice.<br/><br/>"Help! Please god, find me!" He slammed his fists against the wall in anger, resting on his side to not put pressure on his foot, which screamed every time he placed it on the ground.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">Please.</span>