Catharsis (Book 3): Catastrophe

by Campbell, D. Andrew

  And then the Darkness whispers to me that there is another option. A better option. A preferred option. If I’m already going to resign myself to fighting my way out of here, it tells me, then why not go the other way? Into the prison. If I go deeper into the prison then I will have more inmates than guards around me. And the risk of hurting innocents is considerably lessened.

  Cocking my head to one side, I stop and consider this. If I do have to hurt people, then wouldn’t it be better if those people were deserving of it? Although there may be a few individuals in the waiting and reception areas that are not wholesome individuals, they are much closer to being innocent than any permanent resident inside this place. And there must be others like Chadwick in there. Other people that are just evil and horrible and don’t deserve to draw breath. I just haven’t met them, yet. But they’re close. The Darkness assures me of it.

  With the oxygen tubing no longer filtering the air, I draw a deep breath and relish the scents around me. I can taste evil and hatred and wickedness lingering on every surface. There are inmates here that are giving off a scent that just begs me to hunt them down and end their existence. I can quickly and easily accomplish what the state has been unable to do. I can execute those who have been deemed unworthy of society. I can be their final judge, their temporary jury and their righteous executioner.

  Maybe this hadn’t been the escape route I had originally planned, but I believe events have led me here for a divine purpose. I am going to make the world a better place by opening the door next to the unconscious guard in this room and stepping through it. I will hunt down the undeserving and rain vengeance down upon them. I will be hailed as a hero after today.

  And the men who told Chadwick about the lawyer are in there, too, the Darkness reminds me. I smile. Of course they are. And they are directly responsible for the threat on my parents. I will find them, I tell the Darkness, and I will punish them.

  Turning around, I step quickly back towards the heavy metal door that separates this visiting room from the rest of the general population of the prison. Using my foot, I nudge the crushed guard away from the door so that I can open it.

  You will need energy, the Darkness whispers to me, and I pick up on the hint. It would be awful if I ran out of fuel in the midst of what I’m preparing to do. I’ll need as much as I can get before stepping through this doorway. Better not to waste any opportunities.

  Lifting the unconscious and wheezing guard up to eye level, I tell him in a husky voice, “I release you from the burden of this life.” His eyelids barely flutter as I tear into his neck and begin swallowing as quickly as his heart will feed me.

  As his internal muscle pumps its final time and seizes up, I release him and leave his body to slump down onto the floor.

  The buzz of excitement and energy that surges through my veins from my two most recent fills is almost palpable. The combination of my system being full of nutrients and the presence of the Darkness inside me guiding my actions is thrilling. I’m not sure I’ve ever felt so alive and unstoppable.

  This is what you am meant to do¸ the Darkness tells me. This is why you exist. Embrace it!

  Grabbing the heavy, steel handle of the door, I give one last exhalation of air and then breathe in as much as I can to get a feel of what I’m about to face on the other side. People. Lots of them. And several of them are just on the other side of this door. The mingling scents of their excitement, nervousness and fear is almost intoxicating. My head spins slightly from the thrill of what is about to happen.

  Yanking the door open, I drop into a low stance as soon as it clears my body. Standing in the short hallway in front of me are four of the DCF guards holding a variety of weapons and looking entirely surprised by my sudden appearance.

  Baring my teeth in a wicked smile of expectation, I growl out, “Let’s dance!”

  I allow the two guards nearest to me a moment to look at each other in surprise with widening eyes before I launch myself at them and smash into the man on the left like an enraged baby tiger that’s just been propelled out of a jungle-cat-firing-canon. He whoofs out all of the air inside of him and collapses as I pivot and leap onto his neighbor.

  Giggling with near maniacal joy, I dispatch all four men in under ten seconds.

  I then turn my attention to the rest of the prison laid out before me and set about my task with a murderous and methodical glee.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  I am in the Duncan Correctional Facility for less than an hour. That is all it takes for me to accomplish my goal and get out again. I am spectacularly efficient even by my own standards.

  At one point in the midst of my rampage, the prison went into a lockdown in an attempt to slow the carnage. It worked, but only to a degree. My progress was hindered but not halted. It was frustrating, but the challenge also increased my level of joy. Unfortunately it also eventually led to my running out of viable targets before running out of energy and I was forced to flee before my mission was completed to my satisfaction. Sacrifices had to be made. In order to help facilitate my own escape over the twenty-foot high security fences surrounding the place, I had to abandon some of my newly-discovered targets. Much like I managed to escape the net that was closing in around me while I worked, these men managed to escape the justice I was handing out.

  The prison was well-designed and well-suited to prevent most escapes, but I don’t think any architect had somebody like me in mind when building the place. Once I realized that my time was running out inside of the facility, I simply had to wait for one of the locked doors to pop open as it allowed more guards in as they attempted to subdue the impending chaos. I’m pretty sure for most of the time I worked, the warden and guards were under the impression that the inmates had instigated the rioting. They didn’t suspect that most of the men were actually running for their lives from me. They may have, in fact, been fighting with each other at times, but I suspect most of the violence was intended to help assure their ability to get far away from the whirling ball of Hispanic terror that was dropping men faster than they could say, “Shank a prison snitch.”

  Once I was outside the building and into the yards, the locked fences merely became hurdles to be clambered over and scaled while I leapt from one enclosure to another. It wasn’t until I hit an unexpected series of electrified fences that I had to get creative in my maneuvering. Following the “live” fence line with my eyes and rerouting my path to avoid it became a simple enough matter, though.

  After finishing off the last of my approachable prey in the outer yards, I made a direct line for the fences that separated the perimeter of the Duncan Correctional Facility property line and the parking lot and made my way towards the cover of its automotive forest. It wasn’t as easy as I had hoped it would be since the vast crowd of people standing around became unwilling witnesses to my approach. Escaping the yard and its many fences may have been a minimal challenge, but doing it without being seen by the growing crowd was nearly impossible. I could see the expressions of the people in the parking lot as they watched the small, nimble, spider-like girl scale one fence after another and leap miraculously from one tall structure to another. I’m sure I made quite the awe-inspiring site.

  Landing on the still warm evening pavement of the parking lot in front of a small group of astonished bystanders, I scanned the crowd for anyone wearing something that might help me disguise myself. I needed to change how I looked and fast. At some point during my adventure I had either lost or abandoned the dress that Ren had picked out for me, and I was now walking around in my skintight Lycra body suit that I had worn underneath it. The bodysuit might have been comfortable and unrestricting while I was leaping from one inmate to another inside the prison, but now it was making me stick out like a cat in a mouse parade. People couldn’t help but notice me.

  Everyone was staring at me with mouths open and slowly backing up to make a circle around where I stood when I noticed a man at the edge of the crowd wearing my favorite item
of clothing: a hoodie. Even better, it was a dark one at that. The graphic on the front wasn’t one I immediately recognized, but my guess was that it might have been a sports team.

  It didn’t matter. All I cared about was the fact that it was a hoodie.

  Walking across the open and empty circle in the crowd, I made my way straight up to the man and removed him of the sweatshirt before he could even react to what was happening. Standing in front of him, I just grabbed the bottom hem of the hoodie and yanked it upwards and forward over his head and it came off in one quick whifft. Beneath the sweatshirt he had been wearing a pink t-shirt with a picture of a little green bear riding a unicorn. Not what I was expecting, and it made me chuckle out a small smile.

  “Thanks,” I tell him. “I needed that.” Then clutching my newly acquired clothing to my chest, I take off sprinting across the parking lot and ducking behind cars in an attempt to disappear and blend in before anybody has a chance to figure out what just happened.

  Keeping the sweatshirt inside out, so that I hopefully don’t match any description the people back there could give of me about the logo they may have noticed on the front, I pull it on over my head. Reaching up to my hair as I walk, I notice that somehow it had stayed in a tight braid the entire time I had worked.

  How did that mange to happen, I wonder, but I don’t challenge the arrival of the small gift. Tugging the elastic band free of the end of my hair, I shake my head back and forth a few times to let the braid loosen and the hair to open up and obscure my face. One more small piece to my disguise. It might not amount to much, but I only need it to help me escape the immediate parking lot. If I can accomplish that, then it will be a win.

  Pausing for a moment to examine my surroundings, I notice that my effort in disguising myself may have been misplaced. There is nothing but chaos around me. Fire trucks, police cars and assorted emergency vehicles are everywhere with their lights whirling and the people who once arrived in them are scurrying in every direction in futile attempts to figure out what is happening. It appears the biggest issue at hand is getting non-guard personnel out of the building and out safely. The parking lot I landed in just happened to be one of the centers of the safe zones where they were shepherding people. The main focus of the people in charge seems to be getting anyone they find away from the building and into the relative safety of the parking area. They don’t seem all that concerned with preventing any of us from leaving. My escape will just consist of me walking away.

  It’s a bit anti-climactic after what I just did inside the prison, but I’m in the mood for a bit of simplicity. And I could use a rest. I’m exhausted. Oddly enough, the exhaustion feels more mental than physical. It isn’t that my body is sore or worn out, but I can feel a headache creeping on and I wouldn’t mind closing my eyes for a few hours. Or days. It just feels like I want to stop thinking for a while.

  But that will have to wait until I’m back in the security of the warehouse. It wouldn’t do me any good to crawl under a car and take a nap regardless of how enticing it is beginning to sound.

  Now that I’ve acknowledged the exhaustion’s existence, it hits me harder. It’s almost as if it was just waiting for me to notice it hanging around, and now that I have it won’t be ignored.

  “Ugh,” I mumble as I make my way through the parking lot and head towards the main exit of the Correctional Facility. “This was unexpected. Maybe it’s a side effect of embracing the Darkness. I’ll have to remember this next time.”

  Pausing on the side of the road to watch as a militarized and armored vehicle roars past me and up to the front of the prison and a group of men wearing body armor pour out of it and run up the steps, I think, “If there even is a next time.”

  After another minute of walking and dodging confused DCF employees, I clear the front gate and step out next to the small highway that connects the prison with the city. I don’t really want to run all the way home from here, but I’m not really sure what other options there are for me. I’m sure the emergency personnel behind me could devise a ride to get me home, but the less I interact with them the better.

  Remembering the earpieces I’ve been wearing this whole time to help filter sound, I wonder if Ren has been listening and might be able to help.

  “Hey Ren,” I ask. “Are you there? I could use a ride home.” I wait for several seconds for a response, but none comes. If he was listening, then he’d answer. Either we’ve lost the connection or he quit listening. Both are a bit disturbing as answers, but analyzing what they might imply is for another day. Not now.

  Then as I look around at the fleet of cars parked haphazardly in the grass around the entranceway and wishing for a glimmer of hope to make this trip easier, I find one. A car parked towards the end of one of the makeshift rows has a man standing in front of it and leaning against the hood while he watches the excited confusion rage several hundred yards away.

  “Lawrence!” I exclaim happily. The kind, old gentleman who originally gave me the ride out here is leaning next to his taxi with a look of genuine concern on his face.

  He turns in my direction when I say his name, and I watch as the expression evaporates from his face and is replaced with a humongous smile. “My dear,” he says loudly and starts hobbling towards me. “I been worried about you. Was ‘fraid what mighta happened to you in dere. It had me all worried sick.”

  Moving towards him smoothly and not worrying about the façade I had tried to create earlier, I smile with relief at seeing him. “You waited,” I say and smile. “I can’t believe you actually waited this whole time.”

  “Course I did,” he says and his eyes get big as I approach him. “I couldn’t just leave and not make sure you hadda way home.” Stepping up to him, I watch as his expression darkens a bit. “You look diff’ent,” he tells me. “You ok?”

  “I’ll be fine,” I tell him and wave away his suspicion and worry with my hand. “I’ll just be happy to get out of here.”

  “But your dress,” he begins and looks at my outfit. “And your ox’gen tank and them dark glasses?”

  “Oh yeah,” I say and look down at what I’m wearing. “They all got kinda lost in there. I had to make do with this,” and I gesture at my sweatshirt.

  “Ok,” he responds and shrugs, ready to accept my explanation. “Then you ready to get outta here and leave.”

  “More than you know, Lawrence,” I say. “More than you know.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  The drive back is fairly quick, and instead of having him take me back to the treatment center where he picked me up I give him directions to one of the abandoned homes near our warehouse. I figure the center would most likely be closed at this hour anyway and getting dropped off there might be suspicious. Plus I wouldn’t have a way home from there any more than I had from the prison. The home I tell him to take me to is one that is still in decent shape. It looks run down, but at least it looks habitable. Something that can’t be said for every building in this area.

  I offer to find more money to pay Lawrence for the ride home, but he refuses. He tells me that what I gave him earlier was plenty and covered his expenses for the entire day. Plus getting me away from that place was his good deed, and he wouldn’t have me ruin it by giving him money.

  Stepping out of the taxi and closing the door behind me, I thank him again for his kindness. He just smiles and waves and backs out as I make my way up the house’s short driveway towards the front door. I’m thankful Lawrence doesn’t try and wait around for me to actually enter the place before he pulls away. It might have become awkward. I’m not sure if the front door is locked or not, but I wouldn’t want to have to try and carefully knock out the lock while he hoping he doesn’t notice what I’m doing. But his pulling away while I’m still not even to the front walk makes it a moot issue.

  I’m guessing he was excited to get home and tell his family about what he witnessed out there today. Luckily he did most of the talking on the drive as he explained to me w
hat happened from his viewpoint during the excitement. I did my best to remain conscious and not fall into a slumber coma while he rambled. I picked up on some of what he told me, but most of my energy went to keeping my brain operational. Even that was more of a struggle than I was prepared for.

  Glancing in the direction of my warehouse, I consider how far away it is. Normally this house is only a short jaunt from our front door. Only a couple minute walk. But that is when I have energy and not when I’m having to avoid falling catatonic while out in public. Making it down the street and across the vast parking area and up the steps and down the hall to my closet seems like an overwhelming adventure. I’ll never make it without just laying down to sleep in some random front lawn.

  Turning back around, I look at the house I had just chosen as a random home address. It might be more useful than I had planned. I wonder just how abandoned this place actually is? Is it abandoned enough for a girl to find an empty closet to curl up in and lay down for a bit undisturbed? It’s sure a whole lot closer than the alternative.

  Shuffling up to the front door, I push it open and step inside. I guess it was unlocked after all.

  Inhaling deeply, I get a taste for the place and determine that no one has been in here for weeks. There’s a good chance I could take a nap undisturbed.

  With that in mind, I look around for the closest door and open it. It’s a hallway closet. I’m guessing it was once used to store coats or winter boots. Aside from some torn and ragged carpet, it’s empty.

  “Perfect,” I sigh and step in closing the door behind me. With the shadows of the small space enveloping me, I give in and close my eyes. My brain shuts down almost immediately and all conscious thought disappears.

  I sleep for the first time in almost two years.

  PART THREE

  -Forgiveness-