27011 (Welcome to Whitlock, book 3)

by A. A. Dark

  “What’s happening? Did someone break us free?”

  “Fuck no,” he said, tugging at the door and throwing himself against it to shut us in. “There are weapons everywhere. Looks like population control to me. The prisoners are killing each other. Help me!”

  Features tightened as he locked his leg against the wall. The door opened an inch, only to slam back shut against whoever was trying to get in. I didn’t wait. I surged forward, putting myself where his leg had been only a split second before. Our feet planted, and we braced our hands on the wall as loud banging reverberated the metal at our backs. There seemed to be more people trying to get in—more force behind the pushing.

  “We can’t let them get it open. We—” A deep yell broke free as a face as young as mine drew in from exerting so much strength. Fear was there, but also something else. Was it a will to survive? It was all I could imagine as the seconds torturously drew out and the door opened the smallest amount again.

  “We’re not going to be able to hold it much longer. They’re too strong.”

  Volume from the chants outside rose. Laughter joined in, and me and my fellow slave flew forward at the explosion of weight we were hit with. Managing to get footing, we pushed back, but the door was opened a good few inches. An arm reached through, clawing at my neighbor’s gown with blood-drenched fingers.

  “Keep holding! Don’t…let up.”

  The order was almost drowned out by the increasing frenzy on the other side. Somehow, they were gaining on us. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t stop my locked footing from sliding against the cement floor. And they shouldn’t have been. Despite the frigid temperature, I was perspiring enough to give me a solid foundation against the weight being applied. It wasn’t enough.

  A sound pushed through my throat. The man next to me sliced at the arm, but it didn’t let go. Blood streaked and soaked into his hospital gown and howling suddenly filled the air. The hair on my arms rose and strength I didn’t know I possessed rocketed through, helping me to close the distance on our side. With one hand on the wall and the other in the air, my stare couldn’t leave the blade as the slave man next to me thrust down, embedding it into the forearm moving wildly against his stomach. Another howl, this one different and pain-ridden, rang out just behind the door. Fingers seized at his waist, jerking back and disappearing as my neighbor pulled the blade free.

  And just like that…everything stopped. The door slammed shut and the yells moved farther down the hall. Chaos still reigned, but the attack wasn’t focused on us anymore.

  “Don’t move,” the man breathed out. “Keep yourself ready. It may be a test. They may come back.”

  “I’m not fucking going anywhere.”

  And I didn’t. A million lifetimes could have passed as the minutes stretched on. How many actually did, I would never know. It wasn’t until the red glow flickered and the overhead light returned that my neighbor straightened and dropped his leg from the wall. Even then, he kept his back plastered to the door.

  “Am I supposed to go back to my cell?”

  “Don’t leave,” I rushed out. “What if it happens again? You can’t go. Without each other, we’re doomed. They’ll kill us. We need to come up with a plan. We have to get out of here.”

  There was no hesitation as he nodded. Sweat dripped from our faces and a cold like nothing I had ever felt began seeping into my bones. Still, we stood at the door, waiting. Cautious. When clicking automatically tightened and sealed the door, the bolt set. Then, the shots began. Bang. Bang…Bang…Bang. Bang.

  We threw ourselves at the metal, frozen in terror, confused. I prayed whoever was out there wouldn’t try to get inside. For the first time since I had been taken from Athens all those weeks ago, I felt a sense of safety within a cage. My cell was suddenly my salvation, but for how long?

  Chapter 11

  Scout 19

  Tragedy. Life and death situations. Fear. They always pulled people together. The extreme emotions brought on by the realization that life dangled by a delicate thread had a way of warping people’s minds to the point of them overlooking the most obvious clues that something wasn’t right. I counted on that with Eleven. To merely pray I didn’t come off as knowing too much was a risk I couldn’t take. He had to believe I was his only hope. That without me, he couldn’t make it out of here alive. He needed to trust me. With the events playing out as disturbing as they were, I knew as long as I stuck to pretending to be a slave, he’d bond with me.

  Hours had past, and sleep wouldn’t come. Not only for me, but for Eleven. It took an extended period of silence to convince him to leave the door. Now, he lay on the mattress as I used his blanket to rest on the floor. The cement was colder than the air biting into my exposed arms and legs. It seeped through the thin material underneath me, causing my entire body to tremble. And Eleven wasn’t doing any better. Even on his back, staring up at the ceiling, he shook from the temperature.

  “I never got your name.”

  “Aamir. Yours?”

  Dark eyes glanced over, but returned to staring up.

  “Dakota…or Nineteen. That’s what the guards were calling me. I sort of like it more than my real name. My life was shit. It’s always been shit. You’d think I’d be more nostalgic, given the circumstances, but I won’t delude myself. I’ll take Nineteen over Dakota any day. At least with a new name, I can pretend I can make a new life when we escape. Dakota wouldn’t have been able to do that. Dakota was weak. He was trapped in a mundane life with no expectations for any sort of future worth a shit.”

  Rapidly, Aamir blinked, touching against the gown covering his chest. “They call me Eleven. I hate it.”

  I didn’t push for him to accept who he was. “Then I’ll call you Aamir. You can call me Nineteen.”

  There was no argument or inquiring questions into who I’d been, only silence as he disappeared back into his thoughts. Sleep beckoned, but stayed just out of reach as he began to talk.

  “I’ve been thinking…we won’t make it through the main door. There are too many guards. It’s locked from the other side and controlled electronically just like these are. If we could find another way…”

  His eyes never left that dreaded ceiling as he spoke. It was cement as well. Like a cube of impenetrable force, sealing us in. There was no breaking out of the White Room. Not without help from the outside. I knew this, but I couldn’t tell him that.

  “Maybe there’s another entrance. The hall goes on forever, but it does end. There was no door that I saw. I did notice a hall to the right three quarters of the way down. I don’t know where it leads, but I’m not sure we should find out. At least, not yet. If we go out, we may not get back in here alive.”

  “But if we stay, we’re dead anyway. One more person helping those lunatics, and we would have been overtaken.” His head turned as he stared at me. “We’re screwed no matter how you look at it. Our only chance is to try to break out of here. Can you fight? And I don’t mean that as a macho question. It’s okay if you can’t, but I have to know. Truthfully, can you protect yourself?”

  Internally, I laughed. On the outside, I let concern show. I knew of this slave’s training, but only by chance. Mateo had mentioned it as a warning when he first came into the room. “I think so. I’ve had some MMA training. A few years. Nothing consistent, but I’ve never lost a fight.”

  Eleven’s eyes widened as he sat on the edge of the bed. “But you have had lessons? You’ve fought against people?”

  “Yeah. I was amateur, but I think I could have gone pro. I was getting pretty good there for a while, but life took over. You can’t eat if you don’t work.”

  Full lips pressed into each other as his head nodded in a slow rhythm. For minutes, his hands clasped each other, flattening on his knees, only to go back to wringing as he stayed lost in thought. He did this before when we first left the door. I was beginning to see it was something he did during deep calculation.

  “If we’re smart, if we mo
ve fast, we might stand a chance. We have to see if there’s another way out.”

  “But what if the cell doesn’t open again? What if the red light doesn’t come back on?”

  Worry crinkled his brow. “If they did it once, they’ll do it again. It makes no sense for it to be a one-time thing. Besides, these…prisoners…they seemed to know what to do. I didn’t. I didn’t know what was happening, but it was like they were ready. The moment the lights changed, chaos took over. That’s not the reaction of confused people. Not to mention, they immediately started running around killing each other. That doesn’t just happen. The red light represents something. What, I don’t know, but I don’t want to find out either. We have to leave. We have to find a way out of here.”

  My eyes lifted to the tiny window on the door and moved down to take in the slot below where I knew the food would be distributed. It was good for me to stay close to Eleven, but it was also a risk. The guard who had come in to beat me early left a message. An important one from the Main Master. Staying here would make communication hard, but was there really any other way? I was told to take care of the slave. To protect him until new orders were issued, which were in the works. It would be dangerous to follow Bram Whitlock’s orders if we separated. Even more so, if I wasn’t fast enough. The red lights were random. What if I was asleep? What if one of Forty-two’s followers got to him before I did? I couldn’t shake all the questions. This place wasn’t safe. If we didn’t figure something out, I wouldn’t just have to worry about failing my Main Master, I’d lose my life.

  “Those gunshots. I think the guards were killing whoever was left out of their rooms. If we do try to find a way out, we can’t be caught out there when the lights come back on. We have to search and return as fast as we can. How long would you say the red light was on?”

  “Five? Maybe ten minutes? It’s hard to say. The entire thing’s a blur.”

  “For me too. Let’s say five minutes to be on the safe side. We would have to fight our way through the hall, make it down the other to see if there’s an exit, and then back. That’s really pushing it. A shit-ton of things could go wrong. We could come back to a room full of those psychos. And that’s if we make it back.”

  “We don’t have a choice. We have to risk it.”

  “Well, we can’t right now. All we can do is rest until it happens again. We’re going to need our strength.”

  “But it will happen,” Eleven argued. “And when it does, I’m getting a weapon as fast as I can, and I’m finding that hall. You can stay in the room if you’d like, but I really think we stand a better chance if we stay together. Are you with me?”

  Before I could answer, voices echoed in the hall. Eleven and I rushed to the small window, taking turns to peek out. Just as I was about to pull back, I saw an all-too familiar face. A face that had my heart racing. And he was coming right for us. Cold, blue eyes locked right to mine, and my breath caught as I stepped back, pulling Eleven with me to stand by the bed.

  “What it is? Who is it?”

  “Shhh. Just—”

  The bolt shot back, and our Main Master didn’t wait to throw the heavy door open. Two guards stood just behind him, holding their weapons as they glared in our direction.

  “You.”

  My hand shot to Eleven, fisting the back of his white gown as Bram’s eyebrow rose at the slave’s anger.

  “Would you prefer it be someone else?”

  Eleven shifted, relaxing his shoulders as he shook his head. “No. I’d like to get out of here. We both would. Can we go back to the other cells?”

  “Slave Row?” The Main Master’s head shook. “I’m afraid not. You killed one of my guards. You’re lucky I’m not here to take your life.”

  “I…I couldn’t help it. I wasn’t in my right mind. I see that now. Please. It won’t happen again. Just let us go back. We’ll be on our best behavior.”

  “I’m sure you would be, but the board has decided. You’re to remain here for the rest of your days, however short lived those may be. It was that, or death by execution. I convinced them you’d enjoy a little more time.”

  “No. You can’t do this! I have no time left if I stay. It’s your fault I’m here to begin with. You did this. You brought me here.”

  “I did, and there’s no changing any of it. You’ll stay.” Blue eyes swept over to me. “I don’t believe this is a double occupancy cell. Guards.”

  “Wait. Wait!” Eleven locked around my arm, pulling me back as the men surged forward. “Do you know what happens here? Do you know about the red lights? We’ll die if you separate us.”

  “Then you better learn to fight harder. Learn to survive, Eleven. That’s all you can do at Whitlock.”

  Chapter 12

  Bram

  What I said was the truth in more ways than Eleven knew. The White Room wasn’t the only place one had to fight for their life. Corruption ruled at the highest levels. No one knew that more than me. Everleigh’s words wouldn’t let me forget. Her pleas for the safety of her slave were a reminder that none of us had time if we didn’t fight. I needed to fight, and not just to get back the woman I loved. I had to fight for my position as Main Master. Blood may have given me the title, but bloodshed could take it away. Everleigh hinted as much. I knew she didn’t trust the men I had placed at the top. Now, I just had to figure out who to keep my eye on, and which ones I could trust.

  Eleven’s yells came from next door, but I was more focused on Nineteen as I moved in and lowered my voice. He was awaiting instruction. He knew we needed to talk, but what I was about to say wasn’t going to sit well with him anymore than it did with me.

  “You’ll return to him at your first opportunity. I cannot give you good news. As of now, this is where you both will stay.”

  “But, Main Master.”

  At the hard jerk of my head, he stopped.

  “The board has decided. It’s final. Because of Eleven’s link with Everleigh, they wanted him dead. I refused to allow that to happen. I am here personally to tell you the verdict. Now…” my voice lowered even more, “if, at some point, the door to the south wing just happens to be unlocked, there are no rules stating a prisoner isn’t free. He’s to remain in the White Room until death. If he escapes the White Room, well…he’s no longer a prisoner, is he?”

  “A loophole?”

  “One I mean to write in as soon as I leave here. The Whitlock Bible is always in need of new rules and regulations.”

  “But doesn’t the board and High Leader have to sign off on those?”

  “Leave that part to me. I was a lawyer, Nineteen. The best damn one money could buy. I know what I’m doing.” Stepping back, I kept my face devoid of emotion. There were no parting words for the guards to hear as I left the room. As far as they were concerned, I was returning a slave to his rightful room. Even if they did suspect something, they’d know nothing.

  Silence met us at the main door, and I pulled it open as it unlocked. When I walked into the security room, the guards were already standing in respect.

  “The slave has been notified. I’ve separated the two prisoners, but they’re free to return to the same cell on the next red light. Is there anything to report to your Main Master?”

  The three guards looked at each other and quickly shook their heads.

  “No? Nothing?” Their unease was apparent as I took a seat in one of the chairs and crossed my arms over my chest. “Don’t hold back,” I said, encouragingly. “I know I’ve been preoccupied lately, but that doesn’t mean I’m not your Main Master anymore. You report to your high leader, but I am never more than a question or concern away. You know this, right?”

  Two nodded while another’s mouth opened, only to close as he joined in.

  “Good. How is working under your high leader? Do you believe him fit in his position?”

  “Oh, yes. Absolutely,” one rushed out.

  “What about the two of you? Know there are no consequences for speaking the truth. Wh
at is said in this room stays between the four of us.”

  “Well...” The oldest in the room, a man with dark skin and short hair, shoved his hands in his pockets. He kept his focus on me, refusing to look at the other two guards who were staring at him almost surprised. “I think there’re some issues that could be addressed.”

  “Is that so?” I sat up straighter, glancing at the surname on his shirt. “Please, Makely, continue.”

  Hesitantly, he glanced to the men. I could tell it was hard for him to go further, but whatever it was had him finally nodding. “It’s no secret the guard is divided. First, when…West Harper was in charge with the old ways, and now with your return. Mistress…slave…”

  “Everleigh,” I supplied.

  “As you wish. With Ms. Everleigh gaining guards in her favor, a lot of us are at each other’s throats. Some like her. Some don’t. Whitlock has been a rollercoaster ride of authority in the last year. I’m not sure the high leader is handling it appropriately.”

  “What’s your overall take of that, Johnson? Where do you stand? What do you believe should be done?”

  His lips pursed through his unease. “I stand where I should, Main Master, with whatever you wish. But no one knows the entire story like I do. To choose sides over a situation without having seen it first-hand doesn’t accomplish anything. I was one of the main guards detailed to her and West Harper. I was there with Mistress…Ms. Everleigh, through it all. When she was lashed for trying to save a little girl, I watched her refuse to break. She didn’t beg her husband to stop. She didn’t cry for mercy. I ain’t ever seen strength like that. Ever. What she did, she did for—” He paused. “I know the slaves play a role here, and I’m not saying anything about what this place is, but that woman was looking out for all involved. To have a place like this run smoothly, there has to be someone who sees all sides. And yeah, she escaped, and that makes her a traitor, but…but…you’re trying to bring her back. She left because…well, who wouldn’t after all she’d been through? For the high leader to make her out to be some monster is not right. If she’s a monster, I’m Santa Claus. I hold no fault to anything she’s done. Hell, she killed West Harper. She needs a medal, not a death sentence.”