Iris (The Color of Water and Sky Book 1)

by Andrew Gates

  “No elevator,” Tracey said.

  “Okay, okay,” the guard continued, trying to think on his feet, “uhm… then we’ll have to go the long way around. It will take us right through the guards though and the armory. They’re sure to set up some kind of defensive perimeter there.”

  That did not sound great either, but it was the best bet so far. This was the only solution that did not end with his back against a wall.

  “Take me there,” Tracey said.

  “Alright,” the guard continued, “it’s the last right turn just before the stairs. At the end of the hall. You see there,” he said, pointing.

  “Keep your hands up in the air,” Tracey demanded.

  He passed by the hall to the elevator on his left and saw the staircase straight in front of him. This was the same staircase he remembered walking down on his way to the cell. Directly before reaching the staircase, the hall opened up to the right.

  “They’re down here!” he could hear someone shout from the top of the stairs. A loud beating of footsteps followed.

  They’re here.

  “Come on, pick it up,” Tracey said as he started running. The guard ran with him. It was difficult to carry him and run at the same time, but the guard was trying his best to match the pace. Tracey passed right in front of the staircase and saw armed men running down to meet him. As he turned right down the hall, he switched positions, running backwards so that the hostage was facing the armed men at all times.

  “Where now?” Tracey asked.

  “Uh, at the end of the hall, take a left. I mean you’re right. Or, you know, that way!” he said, jerking his head towards the corridor.

  “Don’t move your head! Are you fucking stupid? I have a goddamn spike to your fucking throat you dipshit! I get it, left at the end of the hall.”

  They both picked up the pace as the armed men reached the floor and raised their weapons. At first Tracey was worried the guards would catch up at any second, but it quickly occurred to him that the armed men were pursuing at a very slow speed. It did not seem like they intended to chase after them, but rather to block off his escape. At least that bought him some time.

  Tracey followed the man’s advice and turned left at the end of the hall. This area was empty for now, but he could hear more footsteps nearby, which meant it was not going to stay that way for long.

  Tracey was about to ask the man for more directions, but that was when he saw the door marked Armory.

  “I need you to get me into that door,” Tracey said, pointing towards it with his free hand.

  “The armory? Are you kidding, that room is not going to be empty. There are going to be guys with guns in there. Lots of guns, too.”

  “Yeah and did you forget I have a fucking hostage? They won’t shoot as long as you’re in front,” Tracey said. He pressed the tip of his shiv into the man’s skin, not enough to kill him, but enough to make him bleed, enough to remind him who was in charge. “I own you. So do what I say.”

  “You don’t have to remind me that I’m your hostage,” he explained. “But I know you won’t kill me. If you kill me, you’re on your own. You wouldn’t dare risk it.”

  “I’ve lost everything already,” Tracey said. “I’m risking everything right now with this escape. So before you start acting all smart, consider that I’m clearly prepared to do what it takes.”

  In truth, Tracey doubted he could go through with killing this man. He was the only one to show him any kindness during his time in prison.

  “True, true,” the guard said, clearly falling for his bluff. “If you don’t mind me asking, how did you get that spike anyway?”

  “The toilet was broken. You’d think with all those inspections you guys would’ve noticed. But enough about that. Tell me how to get inside this fucking door,” he said as they stopped by the armory entrance.

  “I have the key,” the man explained, “back pocket. It’s marked with a red piece of tape.”

  Tracey leaned down and felt the man’s back pocket. Sure enough there was a large ring inside with rudimentary keys attached to it like something from the surface. He had no idea how they worked.

  “You do it,” Tracey said, handing the man the ring of keys.

  The guard placed a pointy end of a key into a small hole on the door and turned it 45 degrees. Then he pushed down the handle and the door came open. Tracey had no idea how those old fashioned keys worked, but sure enough it got them inside.

  The room was small but covered from left to right in racks of guns. As promised there were five men inside, each carrying what appeared to be shotguns, facing the door.

  “Don’t shoot!” the guard hollered as they entered. He put his hands back up in the air again. “He’s got a spike.”

  Tracey slowly walked the man inside. He stepped forward ever so slowly, waiting to align his body up with one of the racks. As he walked forward, he kept one hand with the man, keeping the shiv to his neck, but he reached out with his other hand towards what appeared to be some sort of assault rifle. He grabbed it in his hands and felt the weight of the gun.

  Too light, he realized. It’s not loaded.

  “Now don’t you try anything foolish,” one of the men with the shotguns said. Clearly this man was trying to act like the gun Tracey had grabbed was still dangerous. But Tracey was not stupid. He would not fall for it.

  “Give me bullets,” Tracey said, continuing to walk further and further into the room. “I can feel the gun. It’s too light. Where are the bullets?”

  One of the men cocked his shotgun. Tracey knew he had to act fast. The guards from the hall would be in here any second and he would be surrounded.

  Tracey searched around some more and noticed a bin of grenades. Flash bangs, perfect. He dropped the gun and grabbed one. These were riot control grenades. They were non-lethal, but produced enough light to blind someone for a few seconds. It was exactly what he needed.

  “Now you put that down, sir,” one of the armed men said.

  Tracey held the grenade in front of his hostage.

  “Hold this end in your teeth,” he said to the man

  The hostage nodded and bit down on the pin. The other men all cocked their shotguns too. Everyone in the room knew that in just a few seconds all hell was about to break loose.

  And it did.

  Tracey pulled his arm away from the hostage, releasing the body of the grenade from the pin. He tossed it forward into the room and ducked down, letting the man go. Suddenly the world was engulfed in light. Tracey closed his eyes and ran towards where one of the armed men had been standing. Fortunately the man was still in the exact same place. Tracey slammed into his body and knocked him onto the floor. The man instinctively fired his gun, missing Tracey entirely. Instead, he heard another man shout in pain as the gun went off.

  This guy just shot another guy by accident, Tracey realized. Holy shit.

  Soon the light would be clearing up and everyone would be able to see again. Tracey needed to act fast. If he was unarmed by the time visibility came back, he was a dead man.

  He punched the guard in the face and pulled the gun from his hands, cocked it and shot straight down. He felt warm liquid splash against his face.

  Slowly his vision came back to him and he was able to make out vague silhouettes of the other guards. Tracey wasted no time blasting away, taking them all out before they realized what was going on. By the time the light went away, and Tracey’s vision was clear, all five men were dead.

  Tracey heard heavy breathing from the direction of the entrance and raised his gun to find his hostage standing there with an automatic rifle aimed right at him.

  For a second they both paused, staring at one another.

  “Don’t do it,” said the man who had once been his hostage.

  “I don’t want to kill you,” Tracey replied.

  “I don’t want to kill you either. So let’s not do anything stupid,” he said.

  Tracey looked at the gun and realized
it was identical to the one he picked up earlier. It’s empty, he realized. This guy is bluffing. That’s why he hasn’t shot me yet.

  “Okay,” Tracey said, lowering his gun.

  The other man lowered his gun too. Tracey slowly walked towards him, with his shotgun facing down the entire time. The other man remained still, his gun facing the floor as well.

  When he was close enough, Tracey reached out his hand, as if to suggest friendship. The man reached out his hand too, but instead Tracey swung his shotgun in the air and used it as a club to knock him unconscious.

  “Sorry,” he said to the now incapacitated man, “I really did like you, but you were in my way.”

  He could hear more men coming. There were shouts and footsteps echoing through the halls. Fortunately, Tracey now had a room full of guns all to himself. It was the perfect stage for a firefight.

  “Thanks for the ball, by the way,” he said again to the unconscious man as he pulled more flash bang grenades from the shelves.

  He located the clips for the automatic rifle and stuffed them down his shirt, along with the grenades. In a weird way, Tracey had never felt as alive as he did right now. Here, on the brink of death, facing the government assholes in the black walled prison he hated so much, he felt truly alive. Funny how shit works like that, he thought.

  For a brief period of time Tracey stopped and held still, taking in the scene. He felt himself breathing heavily. He felt the sweat drip down his face. He had never killed another person before, but after losing everything in this prison, Tracey felt strangely calm about what he had just done. This is the only way to see Ophelia again, he reminded himself. They will not let me see her as long as I am here. This is the only way.

  He tore a piece of thread from his shirt and tied one end to the bottom of the rifle, checking to make sure it was fully loaded and ready to go. Then Tracey retrieved two flash bangs from his shirt, pulled the pins on both of them and lobbed them down the hall, one to the right and the other to the left. The guards in the hallway shouted unintelligible orders as light lit up the area. With a smile on his face, Tracey wrapped the other end of the thread around the trigger of the gun and tied it back around so that the trigger was constantly firing and slid the weapon out onto the floor.

  Tracey did not know which way the rifle was facing when he slid it out into the halls, but the direction did not really matter. The confused guards on both sides of the door heard the sound of gunfire coming from the center of the hall and immediately fired their weapons towards that point. Tracey could hear shouts of pain as bullets hit other guards in the crossfire. Most of them probably had riot shields, but Tracey guessed an occasional bullet still got through once and a while, wounding one of their own.

  As both the light and gunfire died down, Tracey picked up a shotgun from one of the dead men, cocked it and leaned out of the doorway. Sure enough, guards on both sides, armed with automatic rifles and shields, had their weapons aimed up at him. But now they were confused and out of bullets. Tracey aimed his shotgun and got three shots off before the men reloaded their own weapons and returned fire. He quickly pulled himself back into the room, unscathed.

  Fuck, he thought, this is exciting! Tracey could not quite tell whether or not he had hit any of the guards, but his shotgun was powerful enough to knock over one of those shields, so it was possible he had dealt some serious damage.

  Tracey stuck his head out just enough to get a view of the hall, but just as he got a view, the gunfire continued and he pulled his head back in. As far as he could tell from his brief glance, he had not caused any damage whatsoever.

  Shit, he thought to himself, this plan is not working. Holding up in this armory and shooting a crowd of guards was not an efficient plan. If he kept this up, he would be here all day in a standoff and eventually run out of bullets.

  Cool air blew against the back of his sweaty neck, causing the hairs on his skin to stand up. Cold air. Suddenly Tracey had an idea. Somehow they have to get filtered air into this room. He turned around, looking for the source of the air. It only took him a few seconds to spot a ventilation shaft on the ceiling of the armory.

  Tracey smashed into one of the racks until it toppled over, sending weapons all over the floor. Then he pushed another one on top of it until he was able to stand on top of the horizontal racks and reach the ceiling. He picked up another assault rifle, this time from the floor, loaded it and shot the grate on the shaft until it came right off. It made a lot of noise. He hoped the guards would not figure out what he was doing.

  In an attempt to hold them off for a bit longer, Tracey tore another piece of thread from his shirt and performed the same trick again. He threw two flash bangs down the hall, one in each direction, and slid the assault rifle onto the floor. But this time when all hell broke loose, Tracey jumped up in to the ventilation shaft, carrying a small pistol with him.

  The interior of the shaft was cold and metallic like his cell, but at least back there he could actually move. Tracey was not sure which way the shaft led, so he simply went forward. He could hear the gunfire coming from the hallway so he figured he had a few moments to make a lot of noise before being discovered. He started crawling as fast as he could, pounding against the metal, shifting his legs left and right. After what must have been five meters, the gunfire stopped and Tracey slowed down, proceeding as quietly as he could. It was not long before he approached his first turn. He could either go straight or right. Not knowing which the better choice was, Tracey chose to go right.

  It must have been about one minute into crawling through the duct that Tracey heard someone yell an order followed by what sounded like 20 men walking forward at once. They’re onto me, Tracey thought, they’re going to look inside the armory and they’ll see I’m not there. He continued crawling slowly until he approached yet another turn. This time he could go straight, left or right and decided to go straight. They’ll never expect me to go straight, he thought.

  “He’s not here!” someone shouted from below. “He’s in the ceiling!”

  That’s when he started going fast again.

  Bang! Bang! Bang!

  His body slammed against the edge of the metal shaft with every motion. He ignored the pain. He just focused on moving forward.

  As he crawled further and further into the metal tunnel, he came across another grate leading down to what looked like a locker room. Tracey stopped above it and kicked it as hard as he could with his foot until it popped off. But Tracey did not go down the hole. Instead he continued forward down the shaft, hoping the open hole would provide a good distraction for anyone following behind.

  Many minutes passed. Tracey continued to pound his body against the walls of the shaft as he pressed onward without bearings. Each turn looked exactly the same and there was no pattern to his decisions. For all he knew, he could have been traveling in a giant circle. But after kicking open several grates and turning down more corners than he could remember, Tracey eventually realized that the noise behind him had disappeared.

  I must have lost them, he thought to himself.

  Tracey slowed down his crawl again, continuing as silently as he could. He even tried slowing down his breathing. If the guards lost his trail, there was no sense in making noise. Plus my body could do without all the banging.

  For the first time since his escape, Tracey felt safe. Not only was nobody shooting at him, but as far as he was aware, it seemed like he had completely lost the guards. He could stay up here in the ventilation shaft for an entire day if he wanted to and remain fine. But of course, that was not part of the plan.

  In his moment of peace, Tracey tried to envision the look on the bitch Parnel’s face when she learned of his escape. Just picturing it made Tracey smile. She’ll probably throw a fit, go on a fucking rampage like there’ a goddamn gun to her head. If he was lucky, she would be the one held responsible for his break from prison. He could only imagine what the bureaucrats would say to her.

  “You can’t eve
n detain a security breach. You’re unfit to run this investigation!” he pictured some slimy old suit and tie yelling to her in a dimly lit black room.

  As much as he wanted to see Ophelia one more time, pissing the fuck out of that woman made the success of this whole effort seem all the more enticing.

  She’ll probably shit through her pantsuit when she hears the news.

  After what Tracey guessed must have been a half hour crawling silently through the air ducts, he stopped above a grate overlooking what appeared to be a busy hallway. Tracey leaned closer towards it to get a better look and saw that the hallway was filled with regular pedestrians, not prison guards. The hall was incredibly wide and lined with what appeared to be yellow colored walls.

  It’s a transition zone, he realized. Holy shit, I’ve made it out.

  With a hall this busy, Tracey doubted he would have a private opportunity to pop open the grate without anyone noticing. He tucked the pistol into his shirt and started to kick it open. People looked up at the noise. Some ran away, but others just stopped and stared. As the last screw came out and the grate popped off, Tracey jumped down into the hole. The drop was far, much farther than he expected. After falling for what he guessed must have been about 10 whole meters, he heard a crack in his legs as he landed. He was able to stand, but with lots of pain.

  Shit, that’s got to be a fracture, he thought, trying to hold his body up. Adrenaline helped him stand.

  People gathered around him. Some just stared at him in fear, while others picked up their pods and started capturing video. Tracey quickly realized that he was still wearing his prison uniform. All these people must have known where he came from in an instant. Fuck, he thought as he stumbled out of there.

  Tracey pushed his way through the crowd and hobbled as quickly as he could to the first green zone he could find. When the halls changed colors, he started walking at normal speed, hoping to blend in despite his attire. The crowd started to thin out as he got further and further from the yellow and deeper and deeper into the green. Most of the shops around him seemed closed at this time of day, which meant there were far fewer people here than normal.