EPO Foxworth was sitting with his claws dug into the arms of the sofa. He was not leaving.
Captain Zamir and Utilities Executive Landry carried the man into the hallway. The former EPO didn’t protest; he was pouting like a spoiled child. The two men locked the door behind them on their way back in and took their seats.
Once the men took their seats, A.W. Kapparis addressed the group. “So, what are we going to do?”
The men in the room looked to their boss, who said, “We can’t very well let them out. The first thing they would do is follow the road down to Highland Valley, storm the city where our families live, and do God only knows what to them. The fate of the men under our care has already been sealed. I will not grant them freedom if it comes at the expense of the lives of our loved ones. If the Lord wants to hold me accountable, I will gladly trade my own soul for the lives of all of you and your families.”
The warden looked out his window, seeing flakes of ash falling to the ground, he cursed his EPO for lying to him and making him think they had more time. If the fool tried to kiss his ass and keep his job, he was sure he was going to slap the man across the face like the bitch he was. He ordered Captain Zamir to move the Riot Control Teams up to their assigned gates.
Warden William Vandehoef was about to tell a lie and administer the death penalty to one thousand, nine hundred eighty-seven convicted felons.
*
Richard Dupree wiped the ash from his bald head and took off his shirt. He tore the shirt down the middle, urinated on it, and wrapped his head like he was standing in the Sahara Desert. The three skinheads with him watched him with interest; Spider even laughed like Richard was playing a perverted dress up game.
“Should I ask why you did that? What is wrong with you?”
“Protects your nose and mouth from breathing in smoke,” Richard explained.
“You stayin’ out here? What’s wrong with you?” Head’s large eyes looked at him in confusion and disgust.
“Suit yourself, not asking you to do it,” Richard said calmly.
The three Aryans mimicked his action, minus the urination.
“Fuck this, I’m going inside,” said Head, hoping for support
“Quiet. Just stay there, keep quiet and let me think.”
“Look around Richard! We ain’t got no choice! We stay out here, we dead!” Spider turned in the direction of their block, hoping the others would do the same.
Billy “Tank” Bratchett, the six foot nine, three hundred twenty-five pound monster, spoke an octave higher. “Richard, we gotta go man, I can’t stay out here! My eye is hurtin’ like a bitch!”
Richard knew all too well why Tank’s eye was causing him agonizing pain.
Tank’s eye was only one of the many injuries on his massive, linebacker frame. A few months after he and Richard starting running on the track together, Richard would ask him about the scars on his body and how he got them. The stories surrounding each scar finally answered the question of the extremely offensive tattoo on his right bicep and why he still had it, the one showing a black man hanging dead from a tree with three hooded Klansman looking up at him.
Every morning when they hit the track, Richard noticed that the black inmates were terrified of Tank; most wouldn’t even look him in the eye. Nearly every black gang in the prison had tried to murder Tank and cut the racist tattoo off his massive arm. Tank had the scars to prove it. One scar cut across Tank’s chest, severing the arm of Hitler. When he realized the damage done to Adolf, he proceeded to break every bone in the hand that wielded the offending knife. The most gruesome scar on Tank’s body was on his left cheek. A large chunk of flesh had been torn away and damaged his left eye, leaving the pupil with no pigment. Tank was already a terrifying monster to look at before the damage to his eye; now he looked like some sort of demon. If he were walking the streets as a free man, the sight of him would no doubt make a small child cry and grown men cower. The eye was very sensitive to heat. Tank countered the heat with sunglasses, and in the scorching heat of the summer, he had to wear an eye patch. Richard could only imagine what the heat and smoke was doing to him. Probably felt like a hot poker being driven into his brain.
The final attempt on Tank’s life pretty much ensured that no one would ever bother Tank again. In his last gladiatorial match, it was four Gangster Disciples against Tank. Tank managed to kill two of them before the bullets from the guard tower started whizzing past his head. One of the unlucky fools thought he had beat Tank when he managed to stab Tank in the thigh with a shank. Tank responded by pulling the shank out of his own leg and thrusting it into the Disciple’s chest, piercing his heart and killing him. After the fight, no one dared give Tank so much as a disrespectful glare.
Richard could handle his own without a doubt, but Tank was too important an asset to just ignore. He was an important tactical advantage that Richard couldn’t pass up. Tank gave one last look at his cellmate for some sort of answer.
“Billy, trust me. We let them lock us in our cell and we’re dead. Them too,” Richard said, pointing to Spider and Head.
“Dumbasses, get back here!” Tank screamed at the confused pair ten yards away. When Tank yelled, you obeyed.
Think, Richard, think! What are you not seeing?
Richard had listened very intently to the warden when his choice of words set off alarms in his head. He knew something wasn’t right. Richard was no expert in ventilation, but it was just something about the warden pleading with them that struck a chord. He was desperate. The safety and well being of the inmates under his care was not the cause of his desperation; it was more. Richard tried to imagine how the ventilation system would work. He guessed that the system was designed to pull smoke out of an area and keep them from dying from smoke inhalation. He figured that being in the desert, the air filters had to be pretty top notch to keep the dust and dirt out.
He was forgetting one very simple thing — the ash.
The ventilation system would never be able to protect them. The ash would clog up everything, including the motors for the air handlers that were on the outside of the cellblock wall.
What was the warden so desperate about? Think. Why is he so desperate to get us inside? He could leave them on the yard and they would die regardless. Then it hit Richard like a bolt of lightning.
They were going to abandon the facility and leave them to die.
The only problem was they had to get the inmates to go to their cells and lock them in before they could make a break for it. Then every staff member would high-tail it to the front gate and flee home to their families.
This is not good, thought Richard. Think!
Then he saw the answer. He squinted his hawk-like eyes to the other side of the yard.
“Follow me.”
Tank, Spider, and Head started to follow him as Head shouted towards Richard, “Where are you going? Our block is back this way!”
Richard confirmed what he thought he had seen. Four utilities foremen were pushing a cart to Cellblock A.
“We have to get inside Cellblock A. It’s time for us to leave.”
Tank had his hand over his left eye and was pressing as hard as he could. “What do you mean leave? You mean out there in that hell” How the fuck we doing that?”
“Let’s just say I have a little experience.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Chief Maxwell Harris was on the floor of the City Garage screaming in desperation. Roscoe Stern was pacing back and forth a few feet away, crying hysterically. The crumpled corpse of the gunman was at the foot of the stairs, minus most of his head.
“Elizabeth! Elizabeth! Stay with me! C’mon!” Max tore away Elizabeth’s shirt to see just how bad her injuries were. Her left shoulder was covered in blood and she was moaning. Max checked her pulse to find that it was racing.
Roscoe sobbed like a child. “Is she dead?”
“No, thank God she was wearing her vest. A few of the pellets hit her in the shoulder. Let’s p
ray they didn’t hit an artery; that’s her only chance. Elizabeth! Talk to me! C’mon!”
“How bad is it?” whispered Elizabeth.
“Dear Lord, woman! You scared the shit out of me!”
“Well I’m sorry, I was shot you know,” she managed a thin smile.
“Can you stand up?”
“I think so. Jesus that hurt so damn bad!”
Max managed to get her to her feet and helped her over to a chair. She sat down and touched her shoulder, wincing at the pain. “First you kiss me and then you try getting a look at the girls? Shame on you, Max, I’m not that kind of girl.”
“Real funny. Take the vest off; we need to see the damage.”
“Aren’t you just being fresh? Turn around, Roscoe. Stop crying, sweetheart, I’m fine.” The frightened mechanic wiped his cheeks and turned around.
Max helped Elizabeth unbutton her shirt, and he unfastened her vest and took it off. She was wearing a tank top and a bra. Max tried his best to remain professional but he couldn’t help but notice her perfect breasts.
“You’re blushing, Maxwell. Try not to hurt yourself; I’m sure you’ve seen boobs before.”
“Will you please stop, for crying out loud? You’re not making this any easier!”
“Sorry, bossman, I’ll be good.”
“Roscoe, we need to stop the bleeding; find some towels or rags or something!”
“Make sure they’re clean, please!” shouted Elizabeth.
“How you doing? You feel dizzy or light headed?
“No, just feel like I was run over by a bus.”
Roscoe returned with some clean towels from the break room. Maxwell took them and tenderly wiped away the blood. He could see two small holes just under her collarbone. “Can you move your arm at all? Try bending your elbow.”
Elizabeth bent her elbow and moved her forearm slightly. She wiggled her fingers and tapped her fingers to her thumb. “I think I’m okay. I can start to raise my arm but it hurts too bad.”
“That’s good, hold still.” Max leaned her forward in the chair and checked her back. “Both the pellets went clean through, so we don’t have to worry about getting them out, which is a good thing. We just need to get the bleeding to stop. Roscoe, find me a first aid kit. If you don’t have one in here, check one of the patrol cars.”
“Holy shit! What happened in here?” Max turned to see a group of rain-soaked people standing in the doorway, wide-eyed and slack jawed.
“Any of you trained in first aid? Nurse? EMT? Anyone?” Max was not getting their attention; they were shocked at the sight of the dead man at the bottom of the stairs.
“Hey! Listen! HEY!”
“Uh, yes sir, officer. I’m a pediatrician. I live down in Galveston but I came up here to help my sis…”
“Shut up and get over here!” Max screamed.
“Be nice, Maxwell. I’m sorry for my boss here, he’s a little freaked out right now,” Elizabeth smiled at the woman who had just spoken up. “Hey! Perv! What are you looking at! Stop staring at my tits before I come over there and slap you!” Elizabeth was glaring at a man in his late twenties who was practically drooling over her. Once he realized that she was talking to him, he turned his head the opposite way.
“Ma’am, I’m sorry I yelled at you. Please come and help me. The rest of you get in and close the door! If your vehicle is gassed up, you should hit the road while you still can; otherwise, please sit in the next office.”
The woman walked over to Elizabeth and looked at her injury. “Apply steady pressure on both sides. We need to get the bleeding stopped. If we can’t, we’ll have to stitch her up.”
“Can we move her?” asked Max.
“You haven’t been outside for a bit, have you sir?” the doctor asked.
“No, why?”
“I wouldn’t drive out there if I were you. The rain is so heavy you can’t see much more than a few feet in front of you. The wind is blowing so hard I’d be afraid it would blow a car off the road. The power is out for as far as we can see. We’re better off in here.”
“We don’t have much choice. We can’t stay here; this building is so old it’s gonna come down on top of us eventually. We have to get to the high school. I have a command post set up in the east wing near the gym. We’ll be safe there.”
“If you say so, we need to get moving now. I’ll stay with her but I need someone to help me.”
“Roscoe! Get in here and help the doctor!”
Roscoe entered the room and stared at the ceiling, trying as hard as he could not to look at Elizabeth’s chest. He bumped into a desk and grunted.
“It’s okay, Roscoe, don’t hurt yourself. Get over here and help this nice lady.”
Once Roscoe took Max’s place, he walked to the doorway and counted three people. One was the perv that had been staring at Elizabeth; the other two were city employees whom Max had deputized that morning. “Okay people, it’s time to go. We have to head to the high school as quick as we can. Elizabeth, Roscoe, and the doctor will ride with me. The rest of you need to find a truck or an SUV and pull up to the front door. Let’s go!”
Max went outside in the wind and rain and was almost blown off his feet. The pelting rain stung like the spray from a thousand BB guns. He managed to find his SUV and pulled it up to the front door of the admin office. One of his deputies pulled up behind him in a full sized truck. They managed to get Elizabeth into the back seat and kept pressure on her gunshot wounds. Once the group was loaded up and ready to leave, Max said, “OK, just follow me and take it nice and slow. The high school is just a few blocks from here, should be there in two or three minutes.”
Once they were on the road, Max immediately began to question his decision to leave. He had to turn the wheel as far to the right as it would go to drive into the wind and stay on the road. Anytime the wind decreased or shifted slightly, the SUV would lurch to the right, coming dangerously close to the flooded ditch. He had the floodlights, the search lights, and the emergency lights on just to see a couple of feet in front of him. The SUV was being pummeled with flying debris. The rear passenger window was slammed by something and the window cracked. Thankfully the window didn’t shatter, but the crack was splintering and growing by the second. They managed to make it to the high school and pulled their vehicles right up to the double doors of the gymnasium. They entered the gym and quickly headed to the locker rooms.
Max closed the doors and looked across the gym floor. Roscoe was carrying Elizabeth in his arms. He ran up to Roscoe. “What’s wrong? Is she okay? Elizabeth!”
“Boss, I think she just fainted. We took two steps in the door and down she went.” Roscoe continued to walk to the locker rooms. “She’s still breathing, but the pain must have been too much for her.”
Max took hold of her hand and checked her pulse. Steady and strong. Roscoe was right, she just fainted. They all managed to get inside the locker room. Max turned on the battery-powered lanterns so they could see. Roscoe gently laid Elizabeth down on a cot and the doctor looked over her injuries.
“What’s the diagnosis, doc?” asked Max.
“Just what I was afraid of, the bleeding hasn’t stopped. I’ll have to stitch her up. Her pulse is steady and her breathing is fine. Good thing she fainted. It’ll make these stitches a lot less painful for her.”
“Good. Check that cabinet over there, should have everything you need.” Max took a deep breath and sat down in a chair. He reached into his pocket, pulled out the pill bottle and took inventory. Ten pills left. His hip and knee hurt worse than usual. He kicked back two pills and put the bottle back in his pocket. He was going to run out of pills very soon. He had a full bottle at the police station and another full bottle at his house. He was furious with himself for forgetting to grab one of them. His house would soon be underwater and he could only hope that the police station withstood the wind. He needed to figure out something quick. He looked to his left to see the doctor working on Elizabeth. He walked over to t
he supply cabinet and started digging around.
“Officer, I got everything I need, thank you.” The doctor did not divert her eyes from her patient but could hear Max rooting around in the cabinet.
“Thank you, doctor, please don’t let me distract you. I’m just taking inventory of our supplies.” The doctor didn’t say anything and continued stitching up Elizabeth’s wounds. Max fumbled with his keys, attempting to open the padlock on one of the drawers. He found what he needed – a ninety count bottle of Tramadol. The drug wasn’t nearly as effective as Vicodin, but it would do in a pinch. Max popped the top and filled up his pill bottle. He closed up the cabinet and turned around. The looky-loo who had been lusting over Elizabeth was watching him. Max couldn’t tell if the guy had seen him swipe the pills. “You need something, son? What’s your name?”
“Name’s Stew. No sir, just wondering if you know what’s going on.”
“Well, the worst of it isn’t due for a few hours. I can only guess that a few tornadoes were kicked up in our direction.”
“You mean this isn’t the worst of it?” Stew asked in a trembled voice.
“Not by a long shot. Count yourself lucky you’re safe in here with us.” Max turned and walked to the other side of the room. He needed to do a head count of his officers. He scanned the room, then exited and walked into the girl’s locker room. He saw two of his deputies trying to dry off. Max walked over to Deputy Shackleford.
“Gene, what happened to your people?”
“No idea, they took off and headed home. I tried to tell them to wait it out here, but they didn’t listen.”
“Well, son, I’m glad you were smart enough to stay here.” Max keyed up his radio. “This is unit 1-0; I need a status and location from everyone. Units 1-1, 1-6, and 1-8 are at the command post with me.” Max paused and heard nothing. “Kathy, you still at the station?”
One of his deputies was standing in the doorway. “Chief, Kathy is walking in with a group of people.”
Max walked to the doorway and saw Kathy. She looked like she had jumped in a swimming pool with her uniform on. She had a family in tow — a young couple with a toddler and an infant. An older, gray-haired couple walked in as well. Kathy led them to the locker room and told them to go inside and dry off.
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