by Jim Roberts
Joe reasoned it out. The cameras would make escaping through the cell doors improbable. The moment they opened them, the Olympus soldiers would know, making things quickly untenable. They needed to escape another way.
Danny spoke up, answering Joe's unasked questions, "We need a tool Joe. Something to open that grate."
"But where do you think it leads?"
Danny shrugged, "Who knows. Probably to the basement. It'd be a start."
Joe agreed, "OK. I think I have an idea to get something that'll do the trick."
Chapter 6
A Kingdom for a Nail
IT WAS actually closer to an hour when the Centurion finally returned to collect their trays. The trooper looked through the window. Danny sat on the cot, looking forlorn. Joe was nowhere in sight.
"What the...where's the other guy?" asked the bewildered trooper.
"He left. Didn't like the rent," replied Danny, his raspy voice sounding completely unsurprised.
"You stay put," said the trooper, working the key in the door.
The second he heard the door unlock, Joe acted. He had splayed himself neatly against the side of the door, waiting for the right moment. As the cell door opened, he threw himself full force against it, sandwiching the trooper against the frame. The trooper was stunned for a precious half-second. Spinning around the door, Joe launched himself at the Centurion in a faux football tackle - throwing both of them outside of the cell to land in the middle of the corridor. Joe hauled himself up and, cupping his hands together, brought both fists down on the trooper's helmet as hard as he could. The Centurion was dazed, letting out a loud groan as he went limp.
Joe checked the trooper for a weapon. Nothing...only a large taser, useless for what he had planned. Of all the damn luck!
Joe jumped to his feet and took off down the hall. He heard Krieger yelling after him, "Ha! Go tovarisch!"
Joe ran for all he was worth, looking wildly around him for something he could use. He had run about fifty feet down the prison corridor when he heard the sound of approaching guards directly in front of him.
Think fast!
Joe could vaguely hear the footsteps of the trooper he had knocked down approaching from behind him. He would be boxed in another few seconds. Joe looked around in vain for...something, anything!
Then his heart leapt as he spotted the perfect tool. A small, thin nail protruding from one of the old cell doors. He bent down and tried to pry it off. He looked around. No one in sight yet.
Come on! Loosen dammit!
He worked at the nail, moving it back and forth to loosen it. The footsteps and shouting of the troopers were getting closer.
He pulled with all his might, his fingers screaming in pain.
The nail came free.
The elation of his success would soon be kicked out of him, he was sure. Hide it, or they will find it. Joe grimaced as he jammed the nail into his arm. It was already so full of scrapes, no one would notice another. He pushed the nail completely into the fleshy part of his upper arm, gagging in pain. Blood spewed from the wound. He would need a tetanus shot eventually, but Joe hoped against hope that this idiotic idea would work.
"There he is! DON'T MOVE!"
Joe saw three troopers coming from the opposite end of the prison corridor, fully armed with XM8 Carbine Rifles and shouting for him to halt. They charged towards him, running with practiced precision: sweepers, Joe told himself.
Joe tried throwing his arms up, but it made little difference. The trooper he had knocked over finally reached him and delivered a powerful blow to the back of Joe's head with his armored glove. Joe was knocked to the ground dazed, but not unconscious. Great, he thought, I get to feel everything coming.
The troopers laid in on him, kicking him everywhere that could hurt and in places, he didn't know could. He covered his head with his arms, praying they wouldn't notice the fresh wound on his arm. The beating lasted an agonizing half minute before a familiar voice shouted behind them.
"That is enough!"
A nasty cut above Joe's eyes began oozing blood, blinding him temporarily. He could barely see Dante walking towards where he lay; like a massive bear eyeing a fresh meal, "Get back!"
The troopers did as they were told, scared of the massive goon. Dante trudged to where Joe lay in a bloodied heap and knelt down.
"What in the world were you trying to accomplish, my boy?" He looked around quizzically, "I told you before there is no hope in this place. There is no cavalry coming. You are well and truly fucked."
Joe gurgled, spitting out a mouthful of blood, "Then kill me already."
Dante smiled, "As fun as that would be Joe, it appears the President still has some use for you for the time being. Your presence here proves many things and he wishes to make use of you, for all the good it will do him," Joe wasn't quite sure he had heard the last part. The hell does that mean?
Dante stood up, looking at his men, "Check him over, make sure he didn't take anything he can use and put him back in his cell," He turned to leave, saying over his shoulder, "Try and make him stay there this time!"
WITH HIS escape attempt behind him, the troopers dumped Joe roughly back into the cell, letting him crash in a heap on the floor. They locked the door behind them and closed the metal grate over the window. Joe could only lay there, hoping that the pain he was in would be worth it.
"Joe, are you all right?" asked Danny, getting up from the cot to blindly make his way over to check on his friend.
Joe sputtered, coughing at the new pain in his ribs. As if one broken rib wasn't enough, it felt like another had fractured. Damn.
"Just...ducky," he replied, trying to pick himself up from the ground.
Danny pulled Joe's arm around his neck and hoisted him roughly onto the cot. Joe slumped over, his whole body screaming in pain.
"Did it work?" Danny murmured quietly.
Joe murmured an affirmative before drifting off into an unconscious stupor.
IT WAS late in the day when Joe awoke. The familiar jolt of pain was somewhat lessened. I must be approaching a threshold, he thought to himself. Over the past few days, he had endured more pain than ever in his life and was becoming rather proud for still being able to function. His Ranger training was definitely paying off.
Danny heard his friend stirring and spoke from where he sat on the floor, "Joe, are you awake?"
"Yeah. I can't move, though," his body seemed to be refusing to act in any way. Oh well, what was the hurry, he thought grimly.
The cell had begun to cool as evening crept closer. Joe finally managed to pull himself to a sitting position. His head wound had stopped bleeding, but he could only imagine the scar it would leave. His arm hurt like a sonovabitch. His skin surrounding the wound where the nail had been shoved was grisly and scabbed. Joe knew it would have to be treated properly soon, or he risked major infection. Desperation often leads to crazy ideas. He just prayed this idea would work.
"Anything happen while I was out?" Joe asked.
Danny shook his head, "Not really. You've been unconscious for the better part of two days."
That explained the massive hunger pangs that immediately twisted his stomach after waking up. Expecting this, Danny held forward a fresh protein bar. Joe took it gratefully, barely waiting to unwrap it before biting into the revolting K-ration. As he chewed, Joe looked at his sightless friend, sitting on the floor. He seemed unusually passive to Joe as if all of this was just another day for him.
"Do you think command will have attempted a rescue yet?" asked Joe.
Danny reached up to his neck to clasp the Inuit charm that no longer hung there. He dropped his hand back down before answering, "Maybe, but with the withdrawal, who knows if they'll ever find us."
Joe nodded grimly as he began the repugnant task of pulling the nail out of his arm. He had managed to push it in quite deep. Gritting his teeth, Joe focused on his friend's words to keep his mind off the pain. He winced as he eased the nail
gingerly forward. Blood dripped from the wound, careening down his arm in a stream of red.
Finally, enough of the nail had been removed that he could grip it between his fingers. He pulled it the rest of the way, gasping in pain as it came loose in a spurt of blood.
"Goddamn it!" he almost cried out.
"Did you get it?"
Joe took a halting breath and held the nail up to inspect it, "Yep. This had better work, or I don't know what else we're gonna do."
He cleaned the grisly tool off as best as he could on his T-shirt. It was around two and a half inches, but it was a decent iron nail, hopefully up to the task he needed it to perform. Danny moved out of the way as Joe gingerly pulled the cot out from the wall, careful to not make noise. Callbeck moved to the door to keep an ear out for any sound in the hallway. He gave a thumbs up to Joe that no sound was forthcoming.
Joe got down on his hands and knees and inspected the grate. He judged he'd be able to squeeze through if he managed to get it off, praying the thing actually lead somewhere. He began to work the screws around the grate, using the nail to try and pry them loose. They were very well drilled, barely giving way even after ten solid minutes of work. His hands were torn and bloody by the time he managed to loosen the first screw.
Terrific, only seven to go.
Joe worked until his hands felt as though they would fall off. He sat back, gasping in pain. He was quickly reaching the end of his endurance; all of the pain he had been subjected to the past few days was finally getting the better of him. He closed his eyes, trying to concentrate - forcing himself to focus.
Danny placed a hand on his shoulder, "I'll take a turn at it, boss."
"No Dan, I've got it..."
"I'm not useless yet Joe. Give me the nail."
Joe looked at Danny's emotionless face. Callbeck's sightless, damaged eyes stared at him coldly. Joe expected this was something the Canadian had to prove to himself. He placed the nail in Danny's outstretched hand and moved to the other side of the room, collapsing on the floor.
Danny began to work. He moved his hands along the grate, finding the screws easy enough. It was agonizingly painful toil, but after a half hour or so, he had managed to release the other screws.
"Joe I did it. The screws are out," said Danny in his low-key murmur.
Joe leapt to his friend’s side, his pain forgotten. The grate was still fastened to the wall. Joe worked at it for a moment until the grate slide free. He patted Danny on the back, "Good work bud! I'm going through it to see where it leads..."
"...and I'm going with you," said Danny, adamantly.
Joe stopped short, "No way, it's too dangerous. I'll go first and make sure everything is clear and I'll come back to..."
Danny cut him off, "Sorry Joe, but I am coming too. If our escape presents itself, I will not be a burden; I will take care of myself."
Joe was heartened at his friend's courage, but this was the first thing Danny had said he could not agree with, "Danny, if anything were to happen, I'd..."
"There will be no more discussion of it Joe. You lead, I'll follow." He stood resolute; there was no way he would back down.
Joe shook his head, "Fine, stay tight behind me and be as quiet as you can."
Danny smiled, "Trust me, Joe, you don't have to worry about me making noise."
Joe sighed. He may as well have been arguing with a brick wall. Damn stubborn Canadians.
"Alright, come on if you're coming." Joe bent down and pushed his body through the grate; worming his way into the cramped duct. Danny pulled the cot over to cover the hole as best he could. It wouldn't really matter. If the guard returned and they were gone, the jig would be up. They would have to move fast and hopefully find a way out soon. Joe knew he was the only hope for his boys and whatever hope they had of escaping lay somewhere through this duct.
AT FIRST, it didn't seem so bad. The air duct was actually rather roomy, albeit dirty as hell. It had probably been built later in the fort's lifespan. If Joe had to guess, it was during the Russo-Afghan war in the 80s, perhaps for added ventilation or some such. Whatever it was used for, it had long been forgotten about now as it felt as though it had never been cleaned. There was little light so Joe crept forward cautiously; squeezing through the stifling duct in total darkness. He moved through at a good pace, feeling the duct twist and turn through the guts of the fortress. He slowed periodically to make sure Danny was coming along OK, but each time he checked, his friend was keeping up just fine. Joe was astonished at his friend's ability to adapt to his handicap so well. Danny hadn't complained at all or even asked for help once since they were reunited.
Danny Callbeck had been correct about one thing, however. Joe never heard him make a sound.
Joe tried to be as silent as possible, but knew if he made the wrong move at the wrong time, the duct could reverberate and some asshole down below would hear him. And then...lights out.
Still, the idea that this could lead them to their freedom gave renewed vigor to Joe's pain-wracked body. He moved steadfast and sure through the darkness, mindful of his tight surroundings. He thanked God he wasn't claustrophobic. As a kid growing up in Kansas, Joe delighted in crawling through abandoned farm houses, attics and other places 'playing soldier'. His adoptive parents would have been aghast to have known that, but he had been a careful child and they had never caught him. The memory made Joe smile in the darkness.
Every twenty meters or so, he would come to a section of ducting that had several air ventilation slits cut into the side. The slits provided him with fleeting wisps of light from the mostly dark prison. Still, it was better than nothing. He stopped periodically to look through the slits, taking in the sights and committing them to memory for future use. Joe reasoned that every little bit of visual data he could get about the prison would be important if they managed to escape.
He had been progressing steadily downward into the lower depths of the prison. The cell he and Danny had been kept in must have been located near the top of the fortress. There wasn't much of note down here. He hadn't even seen any guards on whichever level this was they were on. The rooms were full of equipment and crates of supplies.
After moving for nearly ten minutes, the distinct sound of voices below made Joe stop cold. Danny followed suit, listening intently.
"...and I have told you several times, Sir, that we do not need her presence here."
The deep, baritone voice belonged to Dante.
You have the best luck, Joe Braddock.
Joe held his breath, listening to the conversation. He didn't hear an answering voice so Joe assumed Dante was speaking to someone on a phone or radio.
"Yes sir, I know...but the plan is too important. That idiot President still thinks that..." He was cut off in mid-sentence, "Yes sir, I am aware of your feelings about her, but I am well in control of this facility. I still submit that Agrippina is NOT required..."
Dante was getting progressively angrier; the other voice must be tearing him a new asshole. "You know I am loyal sir; don't mistake me for one of your minion Centurions."
Joe looked through the slits of one of the ducts and saw the giant pacing slowly, a phone held to his ear, "Yes sir, the Code is progressing as planned. The first half should be completed early tomorrow. After that, we will begin the evacuation towards Fort Liberatio to secure the second half"
Code is progressing as planned? Fort Liberatio? Joe listened eagerly, his mind screaming for more information, and praying that the big sonovabotch would soon move the hell on.
"Yes...Agrippina's suit is finished. Doctor Yune has proven himself useful again." He paused, listening to the other voice, "Yes, of course, he will be eliminated after the final suit is prepped. What about the captured Rangers?"
Joe listened, his ears burning.
"I don't understand Sir. Why move them? Please, allow me to...take care of them for you."
The caller didn't seem to like that alternative. Dante's normally pale skin beg
an to flush with rage.
"Yes sir, of course, they will be on their way to the alternate site by tomorrow morning. I hope you will let me in on your...plan, whatever it may be."
Dante was silent for some time, as the other voice finished off its commands. Joe wondered who the hell could possibly be pulling a giant like Dante's strings.
"Yes sir of course, I will contact you as soon as I leave. Goodbye." He hung up the cell phone and replaced it in his tan longcoat. Then he immediately slammed a massive arm into one of the large crates stacked against the wall nearest him. The crate imploded; crushed under the giant fist.
Christ what a monster, thought Joe.
He saw Dante raise a finger to the Bluetooth device attached to his ear and press it, "Centurion Commander Culpa, respond." Joe couldn't hear the response, but Dante did, "The Rangers are to be moved to Fort Liberatio tomorrow. However, the two men in the room across from the Russian...shall be processed at 07:00 sharp. Make their deaths...interesting," Dante sighed loudly, "It appears that it will be the only fun I'll have for some time."
Joe sucked at his lip, thinking quickly. So now he and Danny were to be executed at dawn. It looked to Joe that they had bigger problems than this Agrippina woman everyone was talking about. All the more reason to hurry up and find a way out.
Dante headed to the door of the room, speaking as he went, "I shall require rest before the morning. Do not disturb me until the Code is completed. What? Sometime around 07:30, or so the technicians tel...."
Whatever else he was saying was lost as he shut the lights off and closed the door behind him as he left the room. Joe turned to Danny, "Danny...we've got a big problem."
"No kidding."
Joe mulled over what he had just heard. His body was still tensed, and his heart was beating loudly. A ticking clock had just been set and they needed to be ready on time. Otherwise...God only knew.
AFTER A few more minutes of crawling, Joe came face to face with a rat. A really, really big rat.
