by Marina Epley
“Who’s got next?” I ask.
“Damn,” one of them utters.
“We’ll kill you,” Bulldog states.
The gang isn’t going to come at me one at a time after watching Ray. They attack together this time, like a pack of wolves and raining a hail of punches and kicks as they move in. I manage to slip the first punch, throwing a jab into the nose of the closest. Suddenly, they’re all on me and I’m knocked to the ground. I’m only half conscious after the first few solid kicks and punches land, my face and body already numb from the beating and not really feeling any more pain.
Somebody fires a round.
“Back off, freaks!” a sharp command follows. “Get off him! Now!”
Bulldog and his gang back slowly away, leaving me bleeding on the ground.
“Return to your cells!” I hear another command. The voice sounds muffled.
I can’t understand what’s happening, balancing on the edge of consciousness, and I don’t really care too much. The beating has stopped and that’s all that matters for the moment.
“Rex! Can you hear me?” somebody speaks. “Can you get up?”
Somebody shakes me. I open my eyes and see Chase.
“Whoa!” he exclaims. “You’re messed up pretty bad. Hold on, I’ll get help.”
“That’s all right,” I say, not recognizing my own voice. “I can walk.”
Chase helps me onto my feet and grimaces. “You sure you can walk?”
“Yeah,” I answer. “I’ve been through worse. It’s okay.”
I spit blood through split lips. No idea what other injures I’ve sustained. My entire body is hurting. Looking around, I notice a few guards dragging the still unconscious Ray away. No sign of Bulldog and his gang. Jimmy stands far off, watching. He’s probably the one who notified Chase.
“Thanks,” I say.
“For what?” Chase asks.
“I said thanks for saving me again,” I answer.
“Just shut up!” Chase growls. “Know what? You’re the worst breaker I’ve ever met. You’re nothing but trouble. Why is something always happening to you? Why can’t you just be an orderly inmate?”
I attempt a smile, but my lips hurt too much.
“I like you too, Chase,” I say sarcastically.
“Shut your trap!” he repeats, helping me walk. I’m limping. Blood seeps from my head. “Damn you, Rex,” Chase mumbles. “Never seen anybody who could be punched and kicked into the head so many times and survive. You must be brainless, otherwise you’d be in coma.”
I begin coughing.
“A brainless idiot,” Chase says. “Holtzmann advised you to agree with Browning. I’ve warned you as well. Why do you insist on being so stubborn?”
Looks like Chase knows all too well why Bulldog’s gang targeted me.
We finally make it to the prison hospital. At first the doctor refuses to treat me, saying that he hasn’t received any approval for this. Chase raises his rifle, saying, “Is this approval enough, doc? Treat the breaker.”
Reluctantly, the doctor examines my head, then injects something into my arm and stitches my wound. I have a broken nose, fractured skull and bruised ribs. It could be worse, I guess.
“They will be looking to try it again,” Chase says. “I mean Bulldog’s gang. They’ll want revenge for Ray.”
“I don’t care,” I answer.
Chase sighs tiredly and says, “Listen, breaker. Holtzmann really thinks that…”
Chase doesn’t finish his sentence, because the door slams open and a furious Wheeler enters the doctor’s office.
“Who ordered him brought here?” he demands.
“I brought him, sir,” Chase answers. “He was bleeding and…”
“Can’t you hear?” Wheeler cuts him off. “I asked who gave you the directive to bring breaker here.”
“There was no direct order, sir, there was just no other choice.”
“He’s started a fight with other inmates. He’s aggressive and unpredictable. So, I ask again, what’s he doing here in the infirmary? Protocol calls for troublesome breakers to be restricted to their cells. Did you flagrantly break protocol or conveniently forget? I expect better from you, Chase.”
Chase opens his mouth to speak, but Wheeler doesn’t give him a chance.
“Follow me,” Wheeler commands. “And bring the freak along with you.”
Chase raises up his weapon, motioning me to walk. Limping, I stagger out of the room.
“Move!” Chase commands, poking my back with the barrel.
I wind up in another interrogation room, surrounded by officers and facing Wheeler. They don’t even bother to handcuff me, being confident in my inability to resist. I look around, examining my surroundings. A windowless room with a low ceiling and smudged walls along with several spots of blood coagulated on the floor. Several metal chairs with straps and a long table with numerous instruments for torturing. God only knows what they’ve been doing to prisoners in this chamber.
“Do you like it in here?” Wheeler asks, smiling. “What’s wrong, breaker? Don’t want to fight anymore?”
He approaches, while two other officers hold my arms tightly. Chase stands quietly aside.
“Why have you attacked other inmates?” Wheeler questions, smiling. I’m sure he knows exactly what happened. He must be under orders from Browning to torture me in case Bulldog’s assault failed.
“Notify Holtzmann,” I request.
“Shut your hole,” Wheeler growls and one of the officers smashes the butt of his weapon into my face. The room spins and I go down. Two officers catch me, not letting my body completely collapse to the floor.
“Nobody will bail you out this time, freak,” Wheeler says. “You’re all mine now. I’ve been waiting for this too long. Now you’re gonna beg like a whipped dog.”
He punches me hard into the stomach. I gasp, coughing. I’m thankful for the anesthetic administered in the infirmary. It’s still working, helping numb my nerves.
“We have no tolerance for aggressive breakers here,” Wheeler says.
He’s still playing his game, blaming me for the fight.
“Well now, what to do with you?” Wheeler asks. “Shall we cut your fingers off? Or rather begin by ripping off your finger nails and pulling your teeth?” he looks into my eyes, smiling. “Would you prefer to choose your own fate, breaker? Or rather leave it to my discretion? Choose.”
How can he smile and remain calm, saying this? Suddenly, I realize that his hate has little to do with my being a breaker. This is just Wheeler’s nature. He’s a worst case sadist craving to pour out his violence on the innocent. If there were no breakers around, Wheeler would probably wind up in prison himself for kidnapping, torturing, and killing innocent people. Unfortunately, he has plenty of legal targets for satisfying his sadistic needs. In our warped society, Wheeler is a respected professional getting paid a salary to commit his crimes.
“It’s so disrespectful of you to ignore my question,” he says, smiling.
He pistol whips my head. This time I fall onto the floor.
“Stinking rat,” Wheeler spits. “You’re disgusting.” His heavy boot strikes my rib cage.
“Sir, I think this breaker has had enough,” I hear Chase speaking. “He’s already been beaten. We don’t really need to kill him.”
“I didn’t ask you for your opinion, Chase,” Wheeler chides, kicking me again.
“Bring Holtzmann here,” I repeat sluggishly.
Chase hesitates for a few moments and walks toward the exit.
“Halt!” Wheeler commands. “What the hell are you doing? I didn’t dismiss you.”
Chase freezes, moving his eyes from me to his commander.
“We shouldn’t kill him, sir,” he says. “He’s needed for project work.”
“Let me give you some advice, Chase,” Wheeler answers. “We’ve got plenty of young resistant officers, ready and willing to take your place. If you walk out of this room against my
orders, you’ll be walking out of Elimination forever. I brought you here, Chase. You can be sure, I could just as easily boot you out. Decide.”
Chase lowers his face in complete submission. “Yes, sir.”
I’m done, I realize. They don’t intend to let me out of here alive. And nobody will come to my rescue this time. I’m on my own.
I concentrate, projecting my thoughts toward Wheeler and other officers. Let me free. Let me out. It doesn’t work. The blocking collar makes my attempts useless.
“Now where were we, breaker?” Wheeler says, looking at me with the kindest smile you can imagine. “I’ve decided what we’re gonna do first. We’re gonna teach you how to swim.”
He grabs me under the chin, jerking my head to the side and drags me toward a big rusted barrel in the corner of the room. The officers follow, weapons at the ready should I decide to resist. Chase stands aside wearing a gloomy expression.
“I hope you like water,” Wheeler says enthusiastically, forcing my head into the barrel filled with reeking liquid. I hold my breath, grabbing the edges of the barrel and pushing. A pair of hands hold me tightly, keeping my head pressed down. It seems to last forever. My lungs burn, but I know I can’t take a breath. Drowning.
Wheeler finally pulls me up. I gulp air greedily, coughing and spitting the noxious water. The room is hazy. I hear laughter.
“Do you like the taste of mop water, jerk?” Wheeler asks.
“Call for Holtzmann,” I try to say again, but can’t quite manage.
“Drink, breaker, drink,” Wheeler growls, dipping my head once again into the blackened liquid.
I have to do something or he’ll drown me. It won’t matter if Wheeler lets my head out of water this time or not, eventually I’ll wind up dead.
I push back against the barrel and resist at first, then relax, sagging as if passed out. I fight back my panic to try to get air. My entire body aches and I’m risking a blackout for real.
Seconds pass slowly. I’m about to give up, when Wheeler suddenly pulls me up. The officers must believe I’m unconscious, because they don’t secure my arms. Wheeler is the only one holding me at the moment. I swing my arm around violently, smashing an elbow into Wheeler’s face. It catches him by surprise. He doesn’t have time to move away or block my strike. Groaning, he steps back, swaying and letting me go momentarily. The same instant I snatch his gun and press the barrel against Wheeler’s head. The officers, including Chase, point their rifles at me.
“Drop your weapons!” I command.
“I’ll kill you!” Wheeler growls.
“Quiet,” I calmly answer as I thumb back the hammer.
“Easy there, breaker, easy,” Chase says.
“Anybody moves, I kill him,” I warn as I walk toward the exit, half dragging Wheeler. “Chase, open the door. Now!” I command.
“No way, breaker,” Chase answers.
“For God’s sake, Chase!” Wheeler groans. “Just do as he says!”
Chase hesitates, then opens the door.
“Don’t follow me unless you want to scrape Wheeler’s brains off the walls,” I suggest as we’re backing out of the doorway.
I don’t really expect the officers to comply with my commands, but they do. My actions must have taken everybody by surprise. Hopefully, at a minimum I have bought some time before they recover and hunt me down. Now, having Wheeler as a hostage, I may finally get a chance to escape. This is the opportunity I’ve been waiting for.
“You can’t get out,” Wheeler says. “No breaker leaves here alive.”
“I said keep quiet,” I say, smashing a handgun into the side of Wheeler’s head. Wheeler drops to a knee, bleeding. I point the barrel at him, hesitating. Calm down, I tell myself, you need a hostage to escape. Until I escape, Wheeler will be useless to me dead.
“Damn you, freak,” Wheeler hisses.
“Get up,” I command. Slowly, he obeys, looking hatefully into his own handgun aimed between his eyes. I nudge Wheeler with the gun to keep moving, making him walk ahead, so if needed I can use him as a human shield. Hopefully, the officers won’t blast their own commander. I can’t be sure though. These Elimination killers are brutal and unpredictable.
Each set of doors that could lead outside are locked. They must be externally controlled. How do I open them? There must be an operating center somewhere. That’s where I need to go, I decide.
“Listen closely, you pig,” I begin. “You get exactly one chance to be spared. Lead me straight to the security center. And don’t even think about messing around with me, Wheeler. You can be sure, I’m completely convinced the world would be much better off without the likes of you.”
Wheeler exhales deeply and turns down a side corridor. We walk slowly. I hear footsteps coming up from behind and look back. Chase and several officers follow at a distance.
“I’ll kill him if you get any closer,” I warn.
They stop, but I doubt I can keep them away forever. I need to hurry.
We proceed through several long passages. I have no idea if Wheeler is leading me in the right direction or into a trap.
A few guards appear along our way, but let us pass.
“You can’t escape, breaker,” Wheeler growls. “You’re already a dead man and just don’t know it.”
“As you are,” I answer, keeping my voice low. “Your life depends on my escape, Wheeler.”
We enter a small room where several officers sit staring at screens. There are multiple panels loaded with buttons and switches. This must be the operating center.
“Open all the doors,” I command. The guards suddenly turn, hands reaching for their holsters.
“Not happening,” one of them answers.
I fire the gun at the guard, hitting him in the shoulder and immediately press the barrel back against Wheeler’s head. Others raise their weapons.
“Stop,” I command. “Lower your guns and open the doors, or Wheeler dies. Now!”
“Take it easy, inmate,” a guard near a panel states. “Nobody else needs to get hurt here.”
They lower their weapons and one presses a couple of buttons on the control panel. I watch the doors of multiple chambers open on the screens. Some inmates walk out of their cells. The doors to the outer world remain closed.
“You can’t get out of this prison,” the guard says. “The main doors aren’t automatic. We can’t open them from here.”
“I believe you can,” I say.
“He’s right,” Wheeler says. “It was designed this way to prevent escape. The outer doors can’t be accessed from the control room.”
Something tells me he’s not lying, but I can’t give up. They’ll shoot me if I do. I have to keep going.
“On the floor!” I command. When the guards are prone on the floor, I fire several shots into the panel they utilized to open the cell doors. Then I slowly back out of the room.
“Make it easy on yourself and surrender,” Wheeler says. “You can’t get out, so just what do you intend to do?”
“Haven’t made up my mind yet,” I answer. “At the moment, I’m considering whether or not to put a bullet into your head.”
“That won’t help your cause,” Wheeler says. “I have orders. Carrying them out is my job. I don’t necessarily always like it.”
“I think you must,” I say.
As we turn a corner from a control area, several officers leap out, pulling Wheeler away as one reaches for my gun. I put a bullet into the offending arm and take off running. Sprinting down the aisle, I hear the officers collapsing on top of Wheeler to protect him from further gunfire.
“Get off me!” Wheeler yells furiously. “Get that freak!”
I manage to make another turn before the shooting begins. I don’t stop. I scramble up the stairs through a long corridor, passing several empty cells. I’ve no idea where to go next. Officers are in pursuit from behind. I fire the gun their general direction, emptying the clip.
Running hard, I come upon a group o
f inmates. Some of them have rifles, taken from other officers. The prisoners pay little attention to me, being busy shooting into my followers. I keep running, leaving everybody behind.
An alarm sounds, a shrill and deafening noise, as all the lights shut off. I can see nothing now, just total darkness. Unsteadily, I press on, hoping for my eyes to adjust. I have to slow to a fast walk, placing a hand on the wall for guidance. Soon I hear the gunfire coming from the area I’ve just left and realize I’ve started a prison riot. Freshly released prisoners are viciously attacking guards, fighting to the death for their freedom. I don’t mind. Maybe I can somehow slip away unnoticed in all the confusion.
Somebody charges into me from the side, narrowly missing with a hard elbow. I slam him into the temple with my gun. He grabs me as he falls, pulling me down on top of him. I smash his head into the floor until he stops moving. Then I pick up the flashlight my attacker dropped and shine a beam of light at him. The clothes he’s wearing are inmate issue. I’m confused. Why attack me, if he’s another breaker? Then I realize that I must be in the section housing the hardcore prisoners. Most breakers in here are legitimate bad guys and criminals.
Carefully, I pick my way along the pitch black passage.
I hear a woman’s desperate call for help. The voice sounds vaguely familiar.
Chapter 14
I proceed closer toward the voice, winding up in a long corridor only slightly illuminated by emergency lighting. Up ahead, I can barely make out two figures struggling. As I approach, I realize there’s no real fight between them at all. A tall guy in a prison jumpsuit is dragging a girl by the hair. I recognize him as being one of Bulldog’s gang members. The girl is screaming, flailing her arms and kicking out into the empty air. She’s too weak and small to fight this guy. I’ve met the girl before although I can’t place her at the moment. She wears a business suit and slacks. Her blouse is torn from scuffling. Rebecca, I finally realize, Holtzmann’s cousin.
