by Maxey, Phil
CHAPTER 32
Two hundred and fifty nine lines made up the inside of Elijah’s cell. He knew because he had counted them many times over the years. Counted and involved them in various algorithms and math puzzles. He had too. Others did physical activities, push ups, sit ups, he didn’t care about that, he only cared about keeping his mind sharp, because that had always been his most useful weapon. The barren cuboid he resided in had been his home for over twenty years, ever since they deemed him too dangerous to be left in the world. Not too dangerous for normal folk of course, just them and their dirty little secrets which he had been involved in for half a century.
When his cell door unlocked and drifted open, he had been aware that it was early December, perhaps the only inmate in the New Mexico maximum security prison that was. He managed to keep all kinds of numbers in his mind. The date, the time, the frequency the guards passed by, even the regularity of the various sounds that emanated from pipes hidden behind his cell’s walls. After all these years Elijah’s world had simply become a math’s puzzle to be continuously solved. But this morning his cell door was open and that data was incorrect.
He went to talk, but found his throat dry, so clearing his throat he tried again. “Guard?”
During the night he thought he had heard screaming, but wasn’t sure if it was a dream, or maybe even a sound that had flowed through the air ducts. Now that his door was open and he was not getting any response, that sound took on more significance. The chances of their being a riot in the prison he was in, was nearly zero, but not exactly zero so without looking he reached for a book that he had been allowed to read. Seven hundred pages of the history of Rome, bound with hard thick board. Not much of a weapon, but something to deflect a blow if any came his way. Walking forward, even before he got to the door, the metallic smell of blood impacted his senses. It was a smell he knew all too well and one that he never forgot. He listened into the gap between his door and the hallway but couldn’t hear anything. Slowly he walked into the corridor, as the florescent light above flickered. The cell door next to his was open too and even though he knew there was no inmate in there, he peered around the door to see anyway. Empty.
His mind started to race through various possibilities. Has to be a riot He thought, and then whether the best course of action was to return to his cell, close the door and wait. At his age being in the middle of rage and revenge was not the best place to be. Standing there he was unsure of what to do but the feeling was exhilarating. An emotion he rarely felt in his predictable world.
He walked forward listening as best he could until he came to the door to the floors central hub. It was open too, and revealed a scene of devastation. Guards, covered in blood lay scattered like dolls on the mesh-like floor. Two doors led to dark hallways also had doors slightly open. One of the guards was alive, trying to crawl back into the control room. Elijah walked over to him, bending down to see the condition of his wounds. As he did the guard grabbed at him.
“Run,” said the guard with a rasping voice, blood trickling from his mouth.
“Run? Why run?” Just as Elijah spoke a metallic clanging noise rang out from the stairwell at the end of the dark hallway. He brushed the guards hands off and stood looking in that direction. No movement or sound was down there. The other door had the sign “Elevator” next to it. He knew he was on the lowest floor in the complex, but never knew the exit to the outside world was down here too. Looking through the reinforced glass into the control room, a monitor was flashing with the words “12/12 Cells open.” but not much else. Grabbing an I.D card from one of the dead guards, and their charge baton he looked down the hallway to the stairwell, only shadows looked back. He went to walk forward when he heard another noise from the stairwell, this noise was not as before but instead sounded like the distorted whimpering of an animal. When in Vietnam he had heard the noises of many exotic creatures but this sound was different, this sound was multilayered, almost human in quality.
He looked back again at the sign that said elevator and then back towards the gloom of the distant stairwell and stepped backwards. His instincts were telling him to leave, and they had kept him alive on many occasions. He could feel the presence of something, not exactly human in amongst the darkness at the end of the hallway and even with a curiosity to know what was there, the chance to escape was overpowering. Turning he ran, opened the elevator hallway door and ran down to the elevator. As he slid the card across the small screen the sound that was out of place started to grow louder. The elevator door opened, but Elijah stood, looking back to the control hub, waiting. The sound increased in intensity, and now it was combined with a shuffling skidding sound. He slowly stepped into the elevator not taking his eyes off the end of the hallway. The sound stopped and then a human scream bellowed out from where he just stood in the control hub, a scream that ended abruptly. He quickly scanned the available buttons and pressed “Ground”. The elevator door started to close, his view of the hallway getting smaller and smaller, until just with a few inches left, long spindly wet fingers appeared on the doorframe at the end of the hallway.
The elevator started to rise, and within a short time, a voice announced “Surface.” The door opened and a rush of dust hit him in the face as he walked out. Turning on his heels to see his surroundings, he held the book up to try to shield his eyes from the morning sun. He had always known he was in New Mexico but hadn’t known exactly where. It had to be remote as there were no obvious roads to be seen. Probably somewhere near White Sands he thought. Ahead were two shacks. The small one looked unused so he tried the other. Its door was locked with a flimsy lock, which quickly broke when he kicked at the wood. Inside it was cool and dusty. Tilted shelves contained a row of torches, and on a large wooden worktop were a number of backpacks, most were empty but one contained a map with two bottles of water. He quickly opened one of the bottles and drank just enough to quench his thirst. He then laid the map out on the worktop. The wind whirled around outside making the door bang against the frame, he turned to see if anyone was there, but then looked back at the map. The town of Baldo was the closest, but it meant trekking across the desert. Even in winter it wasn’t something a man of his age would jump at doing, but looking at the map he didn’t see much choice, unless he wanted to stay in this shack.
Packing everything away, he pulled the backpack on and walked back outside. Taking a look at the sun, he started walking across the desert in an eastwardly direction.
As he walked in the gravely sand his mind rolled over the facts and he calculated a ninety percent possibility that there had been a riot followed by a mass breakout. The facility was so remote that the guards had all been killed and the authorities had not had a chance to get reinforcements to it in time. Either way he wasn’t waiting around for them to show up. He wasn’t going to die in that prison. But what was thing I saw? It was a question for now he wasn’t going to try to answer, all that mattered was that he was free for the first time in twenty years.
After an hour he stopped and looked around him. He had balanced the backpack on his head to give him some cover, but he still needed frequent drinks and wasn’t sure if he had enough to make it across the desert. He bent down and let some sand slide through his fingers and smiled, just as he stood back up, a huge shadow passed over him. Instinctually he ducked, but then looked upwards. At first all he saw was a large silhouette, and he thought it was a large bird of prey, but then he quickly realized this ‘bird’ must have a wingspan of over thirty feet. He squinted his eyes against the sun, and saw things which he could not understand. This creature had almost human like arms and legs, but with extruding claws. As it flew away from him high above, he stood staring not quite believing what he was seeing. His mind kept wanting him to accept that it was just a bird, and that all the years in solitary had screwed him up. That must be it he thought.
He took another drink and continued walking. After two hours the town of Baldo appeared on the horizon, buildings and me
tallic things glinting in the sun. He had always been a fit man, but this walk across the desert was pushing him to his limits. His walk had slowed to a stagger, and the final thirty minutes to the town felt like an extra hour. Finally he made it to a wooden fence, which mostly ran along the outside of a small single story house. Mostly because part of it was smashed and splinted. Horses must have gotten lose.
Walking through the gap he approached the back of the small house. It was this point that he realized how quiet it was. It hadn’t noticed in the desert, because the wind was constantly in his ears, but now he was in a town, even a small town such as Baldo, the lack of any noise was palpable. Walking up to the back deck of the house, he passed by a window and his reflection startled him. They were not allowed mirrors in the prison, and the only view he ever had of himself was the occasional blurred reflection from something glossy. He knew he was seventy-two years old, he had felt the years eat into him, but this was the first time it had been confirmed, until this moment he could pretend he hadn’t aged. Taking a deep breath he stepped onto the deck, and looked at the open doors into the living room. There was no one there, and it was a mess. He knew he had to get out of the orange jumpsuit he was in, but entering someone’s home and stealing clothes was too much of a risk, so he backed off and walked around the side of the house to the front yard. There was something about the street in front of the house that bugged him, a kind of stillness like time had frozen. No cars passed, not even the distant sound of cars could be heard. And more than that there were some vehicles that were parked in the middle of the street with their doors open.
Elijah’s cold logical mind was having trouble grappling with the situation presented to him. Could the inmates had made it to this town and killed everyone? Surely there weren’t enough inmates to do that? He took another sip of his water realizing that was going to be his last, as the bottle was empty. Running forward he kept low and close to the bushes in the gardens lining the street. The noon sun was dispersing any frost that remained on the ground, as he walked down the deserted road, eventually finding himself standing at a main junction. A car sat alone, it’s drivers door open. He walked around the front and was immediately aware of the dark brown stain on the seats and the ground just outside. Also laying on the ground was a computer laptop, its screen equally covered in a dark substance. He picked the computer up, not being sure what it was and examined the bloodstain. It had obviously been there for a long time, this was not something that had just happened. Throwing the laptop onto the drivers seat, he looked around. No people, no sounds, nothing, this town was dead but he had no idea why. The creatures. Images of the things he had seen flickered into his mind but he quickly pushed them away.
A few hundred yards along the road an old motel sign caught his eye and he moved as quickly as he could along the sidewalk towards it. Crossing the road he walked into the forecourt and looked at the row of closed doors. The first few were locked, but the last wasn’t and he pushed it open. Everything seemed normal apart from the pile of food on the bed. He was just about to move into the room when a voice came from behind.
“Well looky here, looks like I got myself a bona fide convict. Don’t turn around.”
“Look, you can keep your food, I’ll be on my way.” Elijah went to turn.
“Hey! I said don’t turn around, and here’s me thinking my days of being a sheriff were over.”
“I’m just an old man looking for some food, I’m going to turn around slowly.” Elijah turned his head first, then his shoulders. Standing outside the door pointing a gun at him was a middle-aged man dressed in a policeman’s uniform. His shirt was covered in sweat, and his nametag was hanging off.
“And I think I’ve caught you trying to steal my food, so I’m just going to act as judge too.”
As the realization dawned on Elijah that this man was going to shoot him, a large shadow appeared behind the man, although he was unaware. A light gust of wind disturbed the cop’s hair, which he pushed back across his forehead, when suddenly a scene from a nightmare descended and landed in the forecourt. Before the cop had the chance to turn around, Elijah darted forward slamming the door closed. The next sound was a loud screech followed by the cop shouting to be let in, and then the impact of something heavy repeatedly hitting the door. The sound of wind rushing then continued for a few seconds then was gone.
Elijah sat with his back up against the door, breathing heavily. He thoughts jumbled and rushed, something he wasn’t accustomed too. After a few minutes he got onto his knee’s and shuffled across the carpet to the window, he then lifted himself up to see into the forecourt. There was nothing there, although he could just about see the cop’s shoes near the door. He stood, and moved the curtain back just a touch to see more. The cop was lying, but not moving. Quickly Elijah opened the door, grabbed the cops shoulders and heaved him inside, dropping him just in front of the bed, closing the door quickly behind. Two large gashes were across the cop’s back, his shirt torn to shreds. He felt for his pulse but couldn’t find any.
Tipping the body slightly, he felt underneath looking for anything in the cop’s top pockets, when his fingers touched the metal nametag. Pulling it from the mans shirt, he held it up. Elijah rubbed away the blood smears, revealing the name “Jacob”.
The End.
* * * * *
Thank you for taking the time to read Rescue. It would be greatly appreciated if you could leave me a review on Amazon. Sign up to my mailing list at www.digiterium.com/newsletter. to find out the latest on my writing! Thank you again. Phil.
About the Author
Phil Maxey is an author who resides in the UK. Formally a game developer he now spends his time putting his love of sci-fi and the paranormal into words.
Acknowledgements
Book cover design by www.starbookcovers.com.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Dedication
Copyright
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
About the Author
Acknowledgements
