by L. S. O'Dea
Hugh stopped and Trinity shoved him in the back. “We don’t have time—”
“The shackles. Like Jackson said, no reason to leave a trail.” He grabbed the chains, tossing them over his shoulder as they hurried after the others.
They followed Curtis through a maze of hallways and down to the end of a small, side corridor. The young Guard tried several keys, found the right one and opened the door.
“This is not the way to the basement.” Tim’s voice was hollow with defeat.
The stairs only went up and going to the top was a dead end, with the emphasis on dead. The building was ten stories tall.
“What are we going to do?” Curtis staggered backward, hitting the wall.
“You know this prison better than any of us.” He put his hands on Curtis’ shoulders. “Where’s the next closest stairwell? Some of them have to go to the basement.”
“It’s...it’s on the other end of the building, but we can’t go there.” Curtis’ eyes were wide. “As soon as the alarm is activated, all the floors are locked down and secured. The Guards will be coming our way, searching everything.”
“I’ve been in worse situations.” Trinity pushed past Curtis and started up the stairs, taking two at a time.
Tim shrugged and followed his daughter.
“Yeah, but you had Gaar and Mirra with you,” he mumbled.
“We could use Gaar or Mirra about now.” Jackson shoved Curtis toward the stairs. “Get going.”
Hugh winced. He hadn’t meant for anyone to hear him.
“But that’s a dead end,” said Curtis.
“You have a better idea?” At Curtis’ frown, Jackson pushed him again. “That’s what I thought.”
Curtis started up the stairs, grumbling.
“I didn’t mean to sound ungrateful. I’m...it means a lot that you...that all of you.” He hadn’t expected a rescue, even a bad one.
“You can thank us later, if we make it out of here alive.” Jackson pushed Hugh through the doorway. “If we don’t, no thanks necessary.”
CHAPTER 3: HUGH
HUGH DIDN’T KNOW HOW many stairs he climbed but they seemed endless. Maybe, it was the stress. He kept waiting for someone to burst into the stairwell and take him back to his cell. All he had to do was make it to the top. If there was no way out, he’d jump. He may not accomplish much with his life, but he could take away Jason and Conguise’s final punishment. That thought kept his feet moving until he stumbled onto the roof.
The sunlight hit him in the face for the first time in years. As a traitor he hadn’t been allowed any time in the yard. He staggered to a halt. It was glorious. He inhaled deeply, filling his lungs with fresh air, as the cool wind whipped across his body. If he died now, at least he’d had one last glimpse of sunshine.
“Locked.” Tim tugged on a door.
Jackson trotted over and tried the keys but none of them worked. Hugh ran his hand through his hair. As he’d stood there wasting time, the others had been searching for a way to escape.
He walked over to the railing. There were a lot of carriages in the front of the building. “Are we surrounded yet?”
“Even if we get down, we’ll never get away.” Curtis paced near the edge of the roof.
Jackson grabbed the young Guard’s arm. “Listen to me. We’re going to get out of this alive. I swear.”
“How?” asked Curtis. “We’ll die if we jump. The only chance we have is to go back and find another way out.”
“It’s been too long,” said Jackson. “They’ll have everything locked down by now.”
“I know.” Curtis leaned against the railing. “We’re trapped.”
The kid was right. This was probably their last few minutes free, or in his case alive. He had things he needed to do. He walked over to Curtis and held out his hand. “Thank you for this and”—he grinned—“not taking me to the basement.”
Curtis laughed and tentatively took his hand. “Laddie would’ve my head if I beat you or anyone else like that.”
“Laddie? How do you know Laddie?”
“He took me in for a while when I was young.”
“Is that why you agreed to help with my escape?” Laddie was going to be devastated when he found out what happened.
Curtis nodded. “Laddie would’ve come himself but he’s been sick.”
“Sick? What’s wrong with—”
“I have a way out.” Trinity stood at the far corner of the building, holding a piece of glass. She was twisting her wrist and catching the sunlight. “There are no carriages or Guards through there.”
She couldn’t be serious. On that side of the prison sat the perfect, natural deterrent for escape. It was the main reason the jail had been built in this location.
“The Mile of Fire,” said Curtis, disbelief in his voice. “We can’t get across there. We’ll be burnt to a crisp in a minute flat.”
They were ignoring the immediate problem. “Shouldn’t we worry about how we’re getting down from the roof? You know. First things first, so to speak.”
Trinity’s eyes narrowed on him and she opened her mouth, but her father grabbed her arm.
“We’re so lucky to have you here, Hugh.” Tim’s eyes sparkled with humor. “None of us would’ve realized that we needed to get down from the roof first.”
He’d forgotten how annoying the Servant could be. He grinned. He’d also forgotten how much he enjoyed irritating him. “You know, Tim. As far as rescues go, this is worse than when I rescued you.”
“Worse? I don’t think so. There are no monsters or sewage systems in this rescue.”
“Yeah, but we all made it out alive.” His humor vanished. They might all die because of him. “You shouldn’t have come.” He didn’t understand why any of them had done this. He’d gotten to know Jackson and Trinity a bit before he’d been arrested, but nothing that would explain this level of risk. Tim may have done it because he thought they were brothers. He should’ve cleared that up, but he’d had other things on his mind, like his arrest and trial
Tim walked over and grabbed Hugh’s shoulders. “Coming was never the question. Timing was the only factor.”
He nodded, his throat too tight for words, and hoped Tim understood what this meant to him.
“Listen,” said Trinity.
They all cocked their heads to hear what she heard. After several moments, small smiles broke out on Tim’s and Jackson’s faces.
“What’s that sound?” Curtis’s eyes darted between the sky and the others.
Even though his hearing had gotten better in jail—it’d been all he’d had when he’d sat in his cell at night—he didn’t hear a thing. Being an Almighty was definitely a hindrance in survival situations. Then there was something. It was like the wind but more direct, more focused. He closed his eyes and listened. It was the sound of flapping wings, large wings. He opened his eyes as Birdie flew over their heads, dropping a sack and landing on the railing.
Trinity snatched the backpack from the air. “Thank you, Birdie. You’re a life saver.” She grinned at the Avion. “Literally.”
“I told you that you could count on Birdie.” The little Avion’s chest puffed out with pride. “Avions are loyal, loyal friends. The best friends.”
She pulled a long section of rope from the backpack, tossing it over her shoulder and then removed a belt with a knife and sheath attached.
“Do you have another weapon?” He’d feel better with a weapon.
“Nope.” She wrapped the belt around her waist.
“High Hugh, good to see you, but you don’t look good.” Birdie chirped at his joke. “You lost weight. Too much. Miss Sarah would not be happy.”
“Good to see you too, Birdie.” He was a bit surprised that he actually meant it. He and the Avion had never been close. “You can drop the title though. It doesn’t belong to me anymore.”
“You are still High Hugh to me.” Birdie’s feathers ruffled, making him look like a giant cotton ball.
/> “I’m not that man any longer.” It wasn’t only that he’d never be that naïve and gullible again, but he no longer cared for the same things. He had no desire for riches or even to right the world’s wrongs. All he wanted was revenge on those who’d harmed the ones he loved, and if this rescue went bad, there’d be more deaths laid at his feet. “Birdie, thank you for helping, but you should go.”
“Hrmph. Still the same Hi...Hugh, I see. Jail didn’t change you. Not H...Hugh.”
Great, now he’d offended the prickly Avion. “I didn’t mean to be rude. I’m sorry if it came out that way.” He ran his hand through his hair. He’d never, in his life, done anything right around the Avion. “All I meant is that as of now, no one knows that you’ve assisted us. You should go before you’re seen.” He glanced around. “For the rest of us...it’s too late.”
Trinity shot Hugh a disgusted look and turned toward Birdie. “Please tell Gaar to bring the carriage to the Mile of Fire.”
“Mile of Fire,” squawked Birdie. “You cannot go through there. Even Birdie doesn’t fly over that area. The air is poison.” He opened his mouth and made a choking sound. “Poison.”
“It’ll be fine. Gaar taught me to always have an alternative means of escape”— she shot a superior look at Hugh and her dad—“for every phase of your journey.”
“I had a useful backup plan,” he grumbled. She was more irritating than her father.
“Yeah, through the sewer,” said Tim.
“It worked.” Perhaps, they were equally as irritating.
“This will never, never work,” said Birdie.
Trinity gathered the rope in her hand. “Birdie, there are rocks surrounding the Mile of Fire.”
“Yes, but they’re hot, hot, hot,” said the Avion.
“No, they aren’t. The fire is dying. The section of rocks that are cooling is getting larger and larger. The ones on the very outskirts are warm...very warm, but they won’t set us on fire.”
“Are you sure?” asked Jackson.
She cocked her head. “The prison Guards are coming up the stairs. They’ll be here soon. Please Birdie, go now.”
“Little One’s plan is not good. You wait. Birdie will talk to Gaar.” Birdie’s chest puffed out again. “We will come up with a better plan.” He flew off, muttering under his breath.
Trinity trotted to the closest door and tied one end of the rope to the handle. She tossed the other end off the side of the building.
“You’re joking, right?” he asked. They were too far up. They had no net to catch them and nothing to keep them attached to the rope but their hands.
“Dad, you first,” she said. “Once down, keep watch to make sure no one comes to this side of the building.”
“You should go,” said Tim.
“We don’t have time to argue.” She put the rope in his hands. “You have Arthur and Mom to think about. They won’t survive without you.”
“Trinity—”
“I won’t lose another brother.” She gave her dad a gentle shove.
“I love you.” Tim kissed her on the cheek and stepped off the side, zipping down the rope like it was something he did every day.
Hugh didn’t have any hope that it’d be as simple for him.
When Tim was about halfway down, she turned to him. “You’re next.”
If anyone was going to be caught it’d be him. “I’m the slowest. I don’t even know if I can make it all the way down.” It was a long way to the bottom and he hadn’t eaten much since his incarceration. “I’ll go last.”
“We didn’t come here to leave without you,” she said.
“I won’t be the reason any of you are executed.” He leaned against the railing. “I’m not budging on this.”
“I’d forgotten what an overbearing, Grunt’s ass you are.” She turned to Jackson. “You next.”
“No, Curtis first,” said Jackson.
Curtis swallowed visibly but didn’t hesitate to grab the rope and drop off the side of the building. He moved slowly and was less than a quarter of the way down when Tim dropped to the ground, rolling at the impact and then hopping to his feet and darting to the side of the building.
“That’s a pretty far drop.” If he had to die, he’d rather do it trying to escape, but he didn’t want to go over that ledge.
“The rope only goes so far,” she said.
Footsteps pounded up the stairs.
“Jackson, go,” she shoved the Guard.
“No, you go. You’re faster,” said Jackson.
Curtis was a little over halfway down. The prison Guards would be on the roof in a moment.
“I’ll stall them,” he said. “Both of you go.”
“I’m not leaving without you,” said Jackson.
“How are you going to stall them? They’ll capture you in a heartbeat.” She ran to the door and stood by the side.
“I’m not as useless as you seem to believe.” She was really getting on his nerves. He and Jackson flattened themselves against the wall as much as possible.
“There are”—she shifted her ear toward the door—“three of them.”
One for each of us. He pointed at the rope. It was going to shift when the door opened. Jackson shrugged. There was nothing they could do about it now. The door slid open and three Guards stepped onto the roof. Two of them were big and muscular. The other one had been solidly built but with age and inactivity his muscles had turned to fat.
“Oh shit!” The slack in the rope must’ve startled Curtis.
“Got em,” said one of the prison Guards as he and his companions followed the rope across the roof. The first Guard pulled a walkie-talkie from his waist band. Trinity landed on his back, knocking the radio out of his hand. At the same time Jackson tackled the other muscular Guard.
“Get help,” yelled the Guard right before Jackson punched him in the mouth.
The third Guard ran toward the door. Hugh lunged at him, but the Guard was fast.
“Stop him,” shouted Trinity, still fighting with her Guard.
Hugh raced across the roof, but there was no way he was going to catch him. The Guard was almost to the doorway. Maybe, he could stop him on the stairs. This Guard was old and fat. He had to be tiring. The shackles started to slip from around Hugh’s neck. He’d forgotten all about them. He grabbed one and flung it at the Guard, hitting him on the back. The Guard didn’t even flinch as he continued toward the door. He threw the other shackle, this time connecting with the Guard’s head and causing him to stumble forward. It was a slight delay, but enough. He pounced, wrapping his arm around the Guard’s throat. As they fell to the ground, his head connected with the concrete. Darkness teased the edges of his vision, but he kept his hold. He wouldn’t fail, not again. The Guard slapped at him and tried to insert his fingers between Hugh’s arm and his neck, but soon the lack of air took its toll and the Guard was out cold. Hugh held his arm in place a moment or two longer. He could end this Guard’s life here and now. He glanced at the Guard’s face. He didn’t recognize him. He took a deep breath and let go.
Trinity and Jackson were stepping away from their own Guards. They’d done it. The Guards were all unconscious, or dead. The one that Trinity had attacked was pretty bloody. Either way, he didn’t care.
“Let’s prop them against the door,” said Jackson. “It’ll buy us a little more time.”
“Agreed,” said Trinity. “Hugh, start down the rope while Jackson and I take care of things up here.”
“No. I’m going last.” With freedom so close he wanted to bolt, but it wouldn’t be right and he’d done enough wrong in his life. “If something happens it should be me that doesn’t make it out of here, not one of you.”
Jackson grabbed him by the back of the neck, dragging him to the side of the building. “I did not risk everything so that you could martyr yourself. Now go!”
Hugh caught himself on the rail. If Jackson had shoved a little harder, he might’ve gone over the edge. He spun around.
“I’m not—”
“Oh, for all that is holy,” snapped Trinity as she drug a Guard to the door, panting. “One of you help me and one of you go.”
“I’m not going before you.” He glared at the Guard.
Jackson snarled and grabbed the rope. Before he dropped over the side he said, “You’re a stubborn fool Hugh Truent. You’re more important to...” His eyes darted to Trinity.
“To what?” he asked, looking between the two.
“Nothing.” Jackson dropped off the side of the building.
He turned to Trinity but she was busy pulling another Guard across the roof. He walked over and helped her.
“What did Jackson mean that I was more important to...?” he asked as they started moving the last Guard.
“Let’s just get this done.”
“Why won’t you tell me?” It was dangerous not knowing what everyone else knew.
They propped the final Guard against the door.
“We can talk about it later. Now, we need to get off this building.” She walked over to the rope. “You first.”
“No. I told you. I’m going last.”
“I’m not some Guard trained to take orders from an Almighty.” She poked him in the chest with her claw.
“You may look grown up, but you haven’t changed at all. You’re still a stubborn brat.” She’d always been like this, as irritating as a piece of dirt in his eye, but arguing with her wouldn’t work. He should’ve remembered that. After the Night of the Trackers, they’d spent a little time together and she’d refused to do anything he’d said unless he’d tricked her with logic. It might work again, but first he’d have to say he was sorry. He took a deep breath. He didn’t want to apologize for being right, but he wanted to die less. “You’re right.” He swore the words actually burned. “I’m...sorry.”
She continued to glare at him but her posture relaxed a bit.
Now, he had to sell it. “I’ll slow you down.”
“You’re slowing me down right now by not doing what I tell you.”
So much for logic. “The day that I take orders from you—”
“If you go after me and you slip, you’ll knock me off the rope. It’s safer for me to go last.”
