“Monroe?” Larry asked.
“These are his people,” the guard added. “He's been recruiting new members for his First Order cult. At one time, we even had him put in solitary confinement.” The name had James realizing why so many inmates had stayed behind. They were beholden to the cult.
James examined their surroundings, looking for the nearest exit, when the guard's arm came through the bars, pleading with him. “Give me the keys! They'll kill us all when they come back, especially after what you two have done.”
James hesitated. They might need the keys to get between cell blocks, and he didn't want to give them up. “Where's Julian Monroe?” he again asked the guard.
The guard extended his arms, reaching for the keys. “They say he's staying in the warden's office. He's got his men everywhere.”
Larry dragged the bearded man to the wall and pushed him against the concrete. “You take us to Julian, and I'll let you go. Deal?”
Clutching his ribs, the man could only nod. Larry turned to James. “Time to go.”
James relinquished what looked like cell block keys to the guard, trusting his instincts, and held on to the others. “Make sure to let everyone else out and get as far away from this place as possible.”
The guard snatched the keys all too eagerly, his eyes beginning to well up and his hand shaking. “Thank you.”
“Let's go!” Larry said, pulling the bearded inmate along. They moved toward the hall, seeing a sign for the administrative offices ahead. The guard feverishly went through the twenty or so keys on the ring, jamming them inside the lock, until he found one that worked.
“Good luck,” the guard said, ecstatic as he opened his cell door.
“You too,” James said as he grabbed a shotgun from the floor. He ran off and followed Larry, who pushed the limping inmate down along the admin hall. Two double doors awaited them ahead, with glass slits on each side. As they continued, James slipped on a puddle, nearly falling. A quick glance with his flashlight showed puddles of thick red blood in their path and blood smeared on the walls. James reached the doors and peeked through the glass. Inside the room, there was a corner stairwell.
“Up there,” the prisoner said. “Warden's office is that way.”
Larry slammed him against the double doors. “Lead the way, friend.”
“My name's Adam, by the way,” the inmate said.
“I don't give a shit,” Larry snapped.
Adam then pushed against the long med-section security bar, and the door swung open easily. Larry had his map out and was trailing his finger around the layout. “He's right.”
They moved ahead together, uncertain what awaited them at the top of the stairs. The inmate climbed the stairs with difficulty. James's only hope was that the benevolent force that had guided them this far would continue to show mercy upon their fate.
Marla sat on her cot in the corner of the room with nothing but escape on her mind. Carol lay nearby with her eyes closed, but Marla didn't think she was sleeping. How could either of them even try? They heard nothing from outside, which was a good sign. She shuddered to think what awaited them once the door opened. The day room acted as a holding cell of sorts. There were no windows. The ceiling above was solid. The thick, heavy door was impenetrable. They had unsuccessfully tried to break out. Their tools were limited to the few chairs and tables in the room along with the paper cups scattered along the counter. She hadn't given up yet though. There had to be a way out. She just had to think. The single LED lantern glowed from a table, allowing them to see.
It was nice to know that even with the collapse of all technology, some things still worked. A hundred different scenarios flashed through her mind. They could charge whomever entered the room and attack them with chairs. She could use the lantern as a weapon too. If the intruders were armed, however, that would be a completely different story. There was no doubt in her mind that they needed to get out, or there would be no good ending. She didn't know why they had been brought to the prison, but she could only imagine. The protection Julian Monroe had offered meant little to nothing. He'd tell them anything to keep them at bay. They couldn't trust him any more than one of the thugs who had kidnapped them.
“Carol, are you still awake?” she asked.
“Yes,” Carol said.
“We have to get out of here.”
“I know,” Carol said.
“We can't wait until morning,” Marla said.
Carol opened her eyes and slowly sat up, her white hair coming loose from its bun and making her look a little scary. “How do you plan on doing that?”
“It's been about two hours,” Marla said. “No one has checked on us.”
“I know,” Carol placed her feet on the floor next to her shoes but remained seated. “We should consider ourselves lucky.”
Marla stood up and returned to the counter, examining the mostly open cabinets and drawers. They had been unable to find anything useful. A simple kitchen knife would have at least been a start. “If we can maybe get one of them to open the door, we can attack them and steal their weapon.”
Carol nodded. “If we can get one alone, maybe.”
They had to be smart. They had to act together on something that would work. Evening, it seemed, would be their only realistic window of escape for obvious reasons of concealment and the fact that most inmates would probably be sleeping. Marla began pacing the room, frustrated. Even she wasn’t convinced her plan would work.
“They're going to kill us,” Marla said, tossing her arms to her side. “One way or another, that's what is going to happen.” The room went quiet as her pace quickened. She tripped on a chair and nearly hit the floor, catching herself against a table.
“Come sit down before you hurt yourself,” Carol said like a concerned mother.
“I can't,” Marla answered.
A loud banging sounded against the door. Both Marla and Carol froze as their hearts seized. Neither of them made a sound. Marla couldn't bring herself to move. The pounding continued, much to their stricken dismay. They didn't know if the end had arrived. The knocking ceased as a man called out to them, faint but impassioned. At first, she didn't even believe it. The familiarity of the voice instantly grabbed her attention. And then she heard her name.
7
A Way Out
James pounded on the door once again before calling for Marla. Behind him was Larry with his rifle pressed against their prisoner's back. Adam, as promised, led them safely to the admin offices where he claimed the two women were being held, or so they hoped. So far, he hadn't seen anyone else, guard or inmate, on their journey through the labyrinthine tunnels of the prison. They'd been extremely fortunate, and it was a bout of luck that he hoped would not run out. He pressed his ear against the door and listened, not hearing a thing. He turned the deadbolt, but the handle was still locked.
“Are you sure this is where they are?” he asked the inmate.
Adam shrugged, looking more distressed. “I heard they locked some ladies up down the hall from the boss's office. That's what I know.”
Larry leaned within inches of the inmate's face, glaring at him. “Suppose it's an ambush. Maybe you should go in first?” He paused and then jabbed him with the rifle. “What do you say to that?”
James rattled the doorknob and then turned his head. “Where's the key?”
“I don't know,” Adam said, opening his hands in a gesture of helplessness.
“Don't lie to us,” Larry added, breathing down the inmate’s neck. Frantically, they tried all the keys on the second ring, but none of them fit.
“I'm not lying. Not everybody gets those keys.”
Larry gripped his neck. “If you're wrong, I'll—”
“Quiet, both of you,” James said as he cupped his hands near the crack in the door and called for Marla. The doorknob jiggled from the other side as Marla's voice answered.
“James?”
“Marla!” he said, his voice trembling and ecstat
ic.
“James, we’re locked in here.”
Larry pushed Adam to the side and charged at the door like a battering ram. The door rattled in its frame as he hit it with his shoulder, but there was no budging it. “Carol,” he said. “Carol, talk to me.”
“I'm here, Larry. How... how did you find us?”
Larry grabbed the doorknob and shook it hard in both directions. Short of kicking the door down, there didn't seem to be a way in. “Where's the key?” he repeated in a louder, angrier tone.
James backed away and looked down the darkened hall, where he saw the door to an office at the end. He squinted and was just able to make out the defaced name plate. Above it, in large spray-painted black letters, was the name Julian Monroe. It must be the office the inmates had mentioned, the former warden's office.
“Help me take this door down,” Larry said, examining the frame. He then turned to Adam, who was leaning against the wall with his hands in his pockets. “Come on. Help me.”
James stood at the door, thinking. “Wait a minute.”
Larry then pointed his rifle down at the doorknob, ready to fire.
“Hold on,” James repeated. “Give me one minute to figure something out.” He stepped away from the door and glanced down the darkened hall, painted in a shade of red. “Down there. I see the warden's office.” He paused and then turned to Larry. “Let's finish this now.”
Larry yanked Adam toward them and then pushed him down the hall. “Your lead.”
Adam took careful steps forward as they passed shattered picture frames along the wall, the images debased, torn, or missing. The pictures appeared to have been photos honoring the prison officials, its staff, and its history.
Larry remained behind Adam with James following them both. The warden's office was in range, with a desk outlined and the shape of a person sitting behind it. Larry stopped and backed against the wall, pulling Adam with him. He held a finger to his lips, urging quiet as he aimed his rifle at the shape. James took a closer look and saw that the man at the desk was sleeping, his head rocked back. They remained still in their positions behind a filing cabinet placed in the middle of the wall.
“We got this,” James said. “He's out cold.”
Surprisingly, Adam did nothing to blow their cover or bring attention to them. On the cluttered desk of the sleeping inmate lay a pistol. There didn't appear to be anyone else around.
“Look,” Adam whispered, pointing at a ring of keys on the table.
James stepped forward, approaching the desk. He gripped his pistol in one hand as he reached for the keys. His hand bypassed the holstered pistol lying below. His eyes remained on the inmate as the man snored rhythmically. A LED lantern sat nearby, glowing with a luminous blue light. James glanced to his right, farther down the hall, to see if there was anyone else, but all he saw were filing cabinets lined up against the wall. The coast looked to be clear. His hand hovered above the key ring, inches away as sweat beads formed on his forehead. James took the ring of twenty and slowly lifted it up. He guided his hand away, gripping the ring.
Just when they seemed to be getting away without waking the guard, Adam shouted, “Klaus, wake up!”
The inmate’s eyes opened. James yanked the keys away just in time, the jangling sound seeming as loud as church bells as they clanked together. He saw the inmate's hand shoot out fast as a viper, reaching for his pistol. A pro, not wasting any time. James brought his own pistol up, just as the man pulled out a .38 Magnum. The .38 flew to the floor as two shots slammed into his chest in rapid succession.
The inmate flew back, eyes wide as saucers and mouth agape, and fell over in his chair. James spun around to see Adam take a swift bash to the head from Larry's buttstock. He collapsed onto the ground in a writhing lump, his arms and legs out, and blood oozing from the gash of his skull. James's ears rang from the gunshot. He looked down at their unconscious prisoner, surprised Larry hadn't just gone up and shot him.
“I had a feeling he'd try something like that sooner or later,” Larry remarked.
James looked around the hallway, close to shock and unable to think clearly. For a moment, he couldn't even recall what they were supposed to be doing. Like everything he had experienced that day, it had all happened so fast he’d had little time to absorb it all. It was best to keep moving.
“Toss me the keys,” Larry said. “You look a little out of it.”
James turned away and examined the door of the warden's office. “If he's in there, we can take him out.”
Larry stepped forward with another idea. “Any Joe within earshot just heard us. Make it quick.”
James turned the knob and kicked the door open, aiming his pistol inside. The office was a cluttered mess. Lit candles were everywhere, close to burning out in a wet puddle of wax. At the desk, however, was an empty chair. James swept the room, aiming for anything that might move. “Julian...” he called out in a commanding voice. Wherever the mysterious cult leader was, he didn't appear to be in the warden's office any longer.
James approached the empty desk, examining its cluttered surface. There was a cigar mashed out in its tray next to an empty whiskey glass. Lying in the middle of the desk was a series of photographs. James grabbed them without thinking and spun around. They left the room, rushing past the dead inmate slumped over onto the floor and Adam lying unconscious in the hallway. James hurried ahead, keys in hand, and went to the closed door, where Marla and Carol waited on the other side.
There were at least twenty keys to choose from, and he wasted no time. He flipped between them, jamming each key into the lock and turning the knob to no avail.
“They probably heard us already,” Larry said. “Shoot the damn thing open.”
James considered Larry's request, only to unlock the door with the fifth key on the ring. He swung the door open, and Marla rushed into his arms, saying his name. He pulled her close and they embraced with tears in their eyes. Carol rushed into Larry's arms, shaking and crying as he smoothed her hair and brushed her tears away with the palm of his hand.
“I'm so sorry,” James said, forehead pressed against Marla’s.
“Don’t worry,” Marla said. “We're okay.”
His hand went to her face, thumb stroking her cheek. “Did they hurt you? What happened?”
“I'm fine.” Marla shook her head. “Even though I was afraid for you, I prayed that you would come for us, and you did.”
James couldn't help but smile. “Of course.” He then took her hand and led her away toward the door. “Come on, baby.”
Larry and Carol moved past them, hugging the side wall and stepping softly.
“How'd you get in?” Carol asked.
Larry cleared his throat. “Through the east entrance courtyard.” He took her hand and led her down the hall as James and Marla stayed close but kept watch. “Stay close. I'll get us out of here.”
They passed trashed offices and stepped over blood-stained hardwood floor. Death was around every corner. Larry pulled out the map and with his finger traced the most promising path for escape. They knew from before that there were armed inmates guarding the front exit and entrance. The east side would bring them to the courtyard where most of the inmates had congregated. Their best bet, according to the map, was the loading docks. They could reach the fences from there and cut their way through. It was as good a plan as anything they had. Larry looked at James, who nodded in agreement.
Larry led the way down the stairs and into a deserted lobby area. Without any windows, it was difficult to see in the darkness. The flashlight in James's hand was fading by the minute. Larry squinted ahead, again glancing at his map, hesitant. There were several closed doors to choose from. Suddenly they heard shouting from the nearby cell block. Marla pulled closer to James as they froze and listened. Whether it was the prison guards or the inmates, no one could tell, but there was no reason to linger and find out.
“Which way, Larry?” James asked as they inched forward, with only M
arla's lamp to guide them.
“Hold on,” he said, snatching James's small flashlight. “I'm looking.” Not a second later, gunfire rang out in a series of muffled blasts, loud and startling. Not far away.
“The prison guards,” James said, hurrying to the other side of the room. “They must have found them.”
Larry shifted to the left toward a door marked Laundry. “This way. Hurry.” He reached the metal door and tried to push it open, but it was locked.
“Son of a bitch!” he shouted, pounding on the surface.
James pushed through with their newly acquired keyring. “I've got this.”
More gunshots were fired, becoming increasingly louder. One man screamed in pain and went silent after another blast. “You better hurry,” Larry said.
“Yes, thank you,” James retorted as he flipped through the silver keys.
None of them were specifically marked beyond etched numbers. Marla pressed against his back, close enough that he could feel her rapid heartbeat. Larry turned from the door and took a kneeling position with his rifle aimed ahead. Carol was crouched down behind him with the .38 magnum locked in her hands. James tried each key in succession.
After one only turned halfway, he moved on to the other. He tried to keep his hands steady and his mind as clear as possible, despite knowing that the room was not far from undergoing a hail of gunfire. Marla said nothing as she tightly held onto him. To him, it made all the difference having her back.
Another gunshot rang out, louder than the last one. Halfway through the key ring, a man rushed inside the room, frantic and alone. James turned his head slightly and saw that it was one of the guards. He looked to be running for his life. A gunshot followed and hit the man from behind, taking him down. James quickly returned his focus to the door and tried the next key, finally hearing the lock tumble.
“We're in,” he said, excited.
Hideaway (Book 2): An Emp Thriller Page 7
