by A. R. Shaw
Kent finally eased up on his clasp over Ace’s hold but didn’t let him go entirely. It was too risky. The dog was pissed. He could tell by the intermittent slap of his tail on the ground and the occasional low growl. He was probably wondering why Kent wouldn’t let him bite the bad mans.
Quietly and with fleeting hope, he issued the command to stay several times and prayed the dog would comply. He added petting and stroked his fur as an additional incentive. This was going to take some patience. He should have left the dog on the other side of the fence when he had the chance…that was clear now, but it was too late to turn back now.
His next plan needed Ace to work properly anyway. The dog knew Wren and Sloane’s scent and he was going to lead Kent right to them, with any luck. He reasoned that luck was like hope and Ace was like a guarantee…he hoped having an Ace was better than not.
24
Sloane
Physical torture came in many forms: burns, piercing injuries, asphyxiation, involuntary human experimentation, amputation of tissue and appendages, beatings, electric shock, sexual assault, hangings, and mock executions.
Those were only the physical forms of torture and by no means an exhaustive list…the evil mind is quite creative when it’s focused on cruelty. Sloane tried to wipe away the blood and fluid from Rose’s piercing wounds with a ripped-away, cleanish part of her own gown. Looking around the dreary room, the walls were a dirtier shade of gray than intended. Water had seeped in long ago, leaving dark moldy blooms. “There’s nothing in here that’s remotely sanitary. We need to get you help,” Sloane whispered.
Rose didn’t respond. She was no help at all. Only a few grunted sounds indicated that she’d withdrawn into herself, a place lacking in even a sliver of hope.
Sloane thought that place she existed in was probably the worst form of torture. Mental tortures were heinous acts including shunning, sleep deprivation, shaming, solitary confinement, specific phobias, gas lighting, blackmailing, long interrogations, the threat of physical torture, music torture, Chinese water torture.
“I’m sure there’s more…but that’s all I can think of for now. They’ve used some kind of piercing physical torture on you and I suspect long interrogations are part of mental torture as well. I’ll get you out of here, Rose. Just hang on. Don’t give up all hope. Fight for it,” Sloane said, feeling the heat radiate off Rose’s fevered skin. The increasing heat worried her. The infection was spreading. There wasn’t much more time for Rose. And the woman didn’t seem to have any fight left within her.
Sloane stood and waited until she thought enough time had passed into night. Earlier, she barely heard some commotion but had no idea what was said or where the voices came from.
“Time to find out where the hell we are,” Sloane said and made her way to the door. Placing her hands flat on either side of the cold door crack, she pressed her ear against the painted metal and listened. At first, she only detected her own pulse. Then she heard what sounded like a door slam far away and footsteps on a concrete floor descending in the distance.
Taking a deep breath, Sloane slid her right hand down along the painted door and clasped the unyielding doorknob. Instead of trying to turn the knob, she took a little step back and simply pulled the handle in a little to see if the door actually gave…and while she held her breath, the door pulled free.
“Thank the freaking gods...” Sloane said, barely audible.
Looking back at Rose, though she couldn’t see her form lying on the mattress much in the darkness, she detected no movement from her anyway.
“It’s now or never,” Sloane said and let out the breath she held. The first thing she noticed was how much fresher the air was out in the hallway than inside the cell. The draft hit her nose and she breathed in…freedom…just down the hall. Resisting the urge to flee, she opened the door just a little more and listened for any sounds again. Detecting nothing, she opened the door a little wider and peeked outside. Nothing. Only a light beam coming from one end of a very long hallway.
“First things first,” she said and tried the door handle on the opposite side of the hallway. It opened freely. Once the door closed, no one could open it from the inside but anyone on the outside could open the door. That meant Sloane only needed to keep the bandage ball in the strike plate opening of her own door to save the latch bolt from locking into place. “Should I take it with me?” she thought. “Nah, I might lose it.”
She pulled the door closed. Pushed the door out again to see if it worked and reclosed it. “Enough of this…where is Wren?” she said now that she knew her trick worked.
She started on the right of her own cell door. Easier to keep track that way since there were no numbers indicating what room it was. At one time, there were nameplates since the old brass slides still remained in place. This was some kind of office hallway, she imagined.
Continuously checking up and down the corridor, she tried the door next to hers and it opened. She knew it was occupied by the noises she heard through the wall. What she didn’t know was what she might find inside. How deranged where the prisoner occupants? Were they as bad as Rose? Worse even? Deranged enough to attack her? Pushing the door in carefully, she detected movement to the left, then a moan. “Wren?”
“Who…who’s there?”
It wasn’t Wren’s voice. Someone older with a slight Hispanic accent. Sloane gently closed the door again but not before the person asked again.
This is a problem, Sloane thought. Too much activity and they’ll catch onto me.
She tried the door down from the last one, again pushing the door inward. This time she didn’t call out Wren’s name. Opening the door wide enough, she let the dim light shine inward to flash on those lying on their cots. Neither of the two inside, were Wren either. Next one down, she did the same thing. This room contained men. Very thin emaciated men. She closed the door quickly when one of them opened his eyes to look out on her. Those eyes reminded her of holocaust pictures. They were also starving people to death in there. Which reminded her that no one had brought them any food in over a day.
After two more doors, she heard murmurings from the first cell she’d tried. Someone wanted out. There was scratching on the other side of the door now. And there was no way she could let them out yet. She needed to find Wren first or the whole place would become a zoo.
Sloane continued down the hall, all the while feeling as if she was going to be found out at any second. There were three more doors to check before she had to make a right-hand turn and continue on. This might take all night, but she had to find Wren before they found out that she was loose and roaming their halls at night in search of her daughter.
25
Wren
“I hear you…you monster. Come and get me,” Wren said as she braced herself against the inside wall behind the doorway. With eyes swollen shut, had there been any light at all to see from, she could not have detected even the brightest beam.
Several doors opened and closed slightly nearby. She knew the same guy was coming again to check on her, though these footsteps were lighter. Perhaps this time, she’d surprise him instead of the other way around. He’d have to walk inside a little farther this time, once he saw that no one lay inside. She could surprise him then. Maybe take his flashlight. Beat him over the head with it. Swell his eyes up like melons for a change. But I can’t see a damn thing. How am I going to fight them off if I can’t see? Give it your best…
I’ll get out of here or I’ll die trying. It wasn’t out of the realm of things to die trying. She’d come to that conclusion as her sight totally disappeared. I’m sure there’s worse ways to die. At least an attempt at escape was somewhat honorable. If she could set many of the others free, that would help, too.
More steps outside her door. Another step from flashlight guy most likely…her hearing seemed to supersede all senses now that she applied it.
A lump formed in her throat and her fists formed tight balls when she suddenly had an
idea. She sat up slightly and pulled her thin mattress out, then shoved the thick material underneath and against the door crack in hopes of barring the flashlight intruder’s way inside her room. If I can’t go out…they can’t come in.
26
Kent
Kent waited another half hour for the guards to become complacent again. It was only a matter of time. They bored easily, it seemed. Already he spied, from his low vantage point beneath a broken-down dump truck, the guard from before smoked the same stub he’d rolled up inside his shirt sleeve earlier. Perhaps he was a slow learner. The glowing end showed Kent that the guy also listened to tunes, since his head and hip bobbed up and down to a silent beat with an occasional swing of his arm. It was so apparent, Kent began trying to guess the song. Gotta be that Skynyrd song…Simple Man? Not a bad choice. I kind of like that song but he should heed the lyrics. The boy had one earphone in and had let the other dangle down beside him. Distracted. That’s what Kent needed. Distraction…lots of distractions. Now if all of them followed suit at the same time, luck would favor him.
Wind blew in gusts. Waves crashed on the shore in the distance. Sand fleas began infiltrating no-go zones of his clothing, while he waited for weakness. “Dammit,” Kent said after enduring a sand flea bite in a particularly valuable area, and Ace kept jerking in his own torment, unable to bite at the opportunistic bastards. There was no way he could keep Ace calm for much longer. The dog was even letting out deep huffs of boredom between the assaults. “Time to manufacture a little distraction. Enough of this.”
If a deer rubbing against a fence caused them to freak out the first time, he’d take advantage of that and see what else might work. Reaching his hand inside the bag, he pulled out a small ordnance Sloane had made from scavenged materials they’d run across on one of their many searches.
The object of his affection was lightweight and it fit in the palm of his hand. “Here goes nothing,” Kent said to Ace and looped one hand underneath the dog’s collar and shifted out from under the truck slightly; with the other hand, he lobbed the ordnance far up to the right, landing it where a stack of crates stood.
He rolled his eyes slightly as he felt Ace tug on the collar. “I knew it. You would have run after that. Not time to fetch, Ace. Big dummy.”
He didn’t want this one back. After a few seconds, he didn’t hear an explosion but rather the predicted oomph. The entire stack of wood crates jumped about a foot and settled back down again.
“What the hell was that?” yelled the sentry on the right. Unbeknownst to him, the guard nearest him still bobbed up and down with the tunes. Simple Man never heard the suppressed explosion.
“Hey nimrod,” the right sentry yelled, drawing out the insult.
Still nothing.
These guys were great, Kent thought.
Boot-falls scurried over to the right sentry guard and after the guy rammed his rifle butt into the guy’s back, soon shouting ensued.
“What the hell, man?” the distracted guard cried after his earphone popped out of his ear in the scuffle.
More shouting and then shoving.
That’s when Kent decided there was enough of a diversion to make the short run to the building. The third guard was only just checking out the small explosion, poking the stack of crates with his boot as the other two guards continued to scuffle.
“Hey guys,” the guard said. “Stop that, probably an animal over here.”
Those were the last words Kent heard as he hustled Ace into the opened door. The door shut with a slight click behind them.
Inside, the dark hallway provided little light. Peeking inside one darkened doorway, he pulled out a penlight and shined the beam inside above his handgun. He saw a large commercial sink, a wall of cabinets, a metal kitchen island, but no one present. Clicking off the penlight, he headed back into the darkened hallway.
“Now, where the hell is Chuck?”
27
Sloane
After a few more door checks, Sloan had more than one prisoner suspecting she wasn’t a guard and the murmuring at their doorways became audible. Worse than that, the door scratching became nearly unbearable. She’d hate to see what marks they left on the inside. This was becoming a problem. “Wren?” she forced her own voice to a whisper and just when she knew she was running out of time, suddenly alarms went off like all hell as she reached for yet another closed-door knob in front of her. Had they found her missing?
Startled, Sloane said, “Son of a…” and she ran back down the hallway to her own room in hopes they wouldn’t detect her missing. Peeking around the last corner before her hallway to see if the coast was clear, she began to hear a commotion far down the passage and sped up. She reached her own door and nearly spilled herself into the adjoining wall. Shouldering the door open and slamming it behind her, she couldn’t help the ironic feeling of seeking safety within her cell walls.
With her heart beating out of her chest, she heard people running, voices yelling, and she had no idea what was going on, but a few feet ran past her own door and she was sure, after a while, she wasn’t the source of the alarm.
“What in the hell is going on, Rose?” She finally turned around to check on her cellmate. “Did you hear all of that?” Taking a few steps toward the cots, she was stunned to see an empty space where Rose should be. She wasn’t there in the dingy space Sloane had left her in. “What have you done, Rose? Are they looking for you?” Sloane suddenly brought her hand to her mouth in fear. Had she caused this?
Rose knew the door was open. Knew she could escape. And she was in no condition to run from them. God help her. Rose would never make it. Not in her condition. She was as good as dead now. And Sloane was responsible for her death more than anyone else. She should have helped her.
How selfish she felt; for her own desperate needs she’d deepened another’s.
Except that now…Rose had given her a gift. A well-needed distraction.
28
Wren
Someone came clear to her door with light footfalls. Probably one of those guards meant to torment her without anyone else knowing, or that asshat Boyd. She’d heard them even beyond the insistent throb pounding behind her eyes. And as soon as she thought they might enter, she steeled herself to clobber them with all her worth, but Wren’s hearing alerted her to another sound then, too. Something farther away, and then the footsteps by her door faded in haste. He ran off? A mere second later, alarms blared, startling her, and heavy boots ran down the hallways, echoing in the distance.
“What’s happening?”
Wren sprang to her feet and yanked the mattress out from under the doorway in haste. Could there be a fire? She smelled no smoke. Perhaps someone escaped. Or…more likely, Kent. Kent was there to save her.
“Kent!” she screamed at the top of her lungs with the slightest hope he’d come to rescue her. She pulled on the door and yelled for him again. “I’m in here! Kent! I’m in here!” Her voice went unheard over the alarms blaring throughout the building.
Then suddenly, she gasped as the door swung open.
29
Kent
“Watch out for Chuck.” Kent found himself talking to Ace now as if he were human. Chuck had entered this way earlier and he would probably be pissed for being rudely woken again in such a short time span. Kent really didn’t want to run into that guy. He didn’t seem to have much of a sense of humor, despite his lecture to the other guards.
Kneeling down, he said, “Where is she, Ace?” while pulling out one of Sloane’s socks. He wasn’t sure why, but the dog loved her socks and underwear. The dog couldn’t get enough of the smelly things. They’d made a joke of it at times. Since they carried quite a lot of her scent, he figured the small article was an easy thing to carry around with the most scent power.
Rubbing the garment around the dog’s muzzle, he waited and hoped Ace got the idea. “Let’s find her,” he said expectantly and waited for the dog to make some kind of movement. One Mississippi,
two Missipp…went by.
Ace didn’t budge. Instead, the dog looked up at him…like, What, man…do you have bacon? His tongue hung out. He seemed thirsty and bored.
“Great, some help you are, dude.”
Then Kent detected voices coming from behind him and before he could take off, Ace did. Kent whipped his head around and watched the dog run like hell down the dark hallway, leaving Kent standing there in the dark. After a prolonged second, Kent ran after the dog, only catching glimpses of his hind end from window light. “Ace! You jerk!” he yelled out in a pissed–off, hushed tone.
Ace hauled ass. Kent saw the whites of his eyes look back at him occasionally, but Kent had no way of catching up to him that fast. Then he realized a door had opened behind him and one of the guards immediately yelled, “Chuck! We have a situation.”
Kent stopped and ducked into one of the rooms before the guard caught a glimpse of him. Fearing they were going to detect Ace, he peeked down the hallway quickly after the dog. There was no sign of Ace.
“It’s not a joke, Chuck. I swear to god!”
Kent backed up into the darkness and slunk down the darkened hallway after the missing dog as the guard and now pissed-off Chuck went to see the remains of the ordnance he’d just detonated.
That meant Kent had little time left before all manner of alarms and gunfire went off, he imagined. The unmistakable paraphernalia was certainly evidence the small explosion was not caused by an animal, unless small animals combusted on occasion. He hoped they’d form a committee before deciding what their next move was. Kent needed time. They certainly came to conclusions quite slowly in his opinion. Hell, Sloane would have blown the whole group up by now.
