by Lou Cadle
There was an LED lantern on a counter behind the mesh window. That’s all the light there was in here. Farther down the hall, it grew dimmer and dimmer. A second locked door was at the end of the corridor. It had a tiny window in it. They made it that far, and Sierra took out the flashlight again and shone it through the window.
“Last door. No one in sight back there,” she said. She took out the keys, and Dev held the flashlight for her while she found the right key. When the door snicked open, he heard the prisoners inside, grumbling, yelling, rattling something metallic in an angry rhythm. “We want food!” five or six of them were yelling in unison. From another door, someone else was yelling for everyone to shut up.
These had to be good thick doors in the holding area, for he’d heard only a soft murmur of voices before this. So much for the concept of distracting the guard with noise.
Murphy’s law, as Jackson had pointed out. But no matter that his plan hadn’t worked, for they’d found their way in here anyway.
There were eight locked doors visible, four on either side. As he looked in the first, he was shocked by what he saw. There were twenty men in here, and the place stank. A toilet was piled to overflowing with shit.
So crowded! But then he realized, if there were only eight cells like this, there were fewer than two hundred Payson men left alive—out of maybe four thousand living here in May. That was stunning, a terrible loss.
Sierra brought the keys up to the door, ready to try the locks, but he grabbed her wrist. “Wait.”
“Why? We have to let them out.”
“There’s two hundred of them and two of us. They’ve been locked up a long time. They’re going to come boiling out of there. We’ll be trampled to death.”
“Who is that?” he heard a voice ask. “Is that a woman’s voice?”
Sierra brought her hand back from the cell door, her face now showing uncertainty.
“Who’s out there?” And then there was a cacophony of voices, everyone shouting and asking questions at once. Dev tried to shout them down, but it was useless. He shrugged at Sierra. He hadn’t thought this far. Like...how do you actually release these guys? Okay, clearly one cell at a time. But then what? They needed toilets, showers, food. He remembered a book he’d read about the liberation of concentration camps in World War II, and how disastrous that was—almost as bad as the conditions they’d been liberated from until the Allies had figured out what to do after some terrible weeks.
Sierra leaned close to his ear. “I’ll try and shut them up,” she said. She pulled off her pack, reached in, and got out the bolt cutters. She swung them hard against the first door, once, twice. “Shut up, everybody,” she yelled.
She had to do it on every door twice each to get the noise down to a low roar. And then she started talking. “Listen to me. We’re here to rescue you.” When the voices rose again, she yelled over them. “We don’t have much time. So shut up and listen. My name is Sierra Ash.”
“Sierra?” The voice came from a middle cell.
She went over to it. “Who is it?”
“Mr. Alvarez. Your science teacher.”
“Mr. Alvarez, hey,” she said. “Glad you’re still alive.”
“Is my family?” he said. “Sierra, do you know anything about my family?”
“We don’t know about your families,” Dev called. “Any of your families.”
“Who’s that?” a voice came.
“I’m Devlin Quinn. My family lives outside of town. A few neighborhoods got together and came to free Payson.”
“I know you,” a new voice came. “You did 4-H a few years back, right? Rabbits. I’m Don Lambert. I raise peacocks. Or did.”
“I need to get back to my boy,” a voice shouted.
“Shut up!” Sierra screamed, and she banged the bolt cutters on a metal door again. “Look, there’s a problem.”
“Fuckin’ A, well told there’s a problem,” someone shouted.
Sierra yelled back, “No, listen to me. We have a lot of people out there with guns, in a coordinated attack, trying to free your city and help your families. We can’t just let you out to go running home.”
“Why not?” came a voice.
“Because we all have orders to shoot any grown man we see, unless that man is with us. So no one can go out there until we have the town secured.”
Dev hadn’t thought of what this was going to be like.
“What do we do with these guys?” she said to him.
He pulled her by the arm back toward the door. “I think we have to wait for the others to come down here, for the town to be free, before we can open any of these cells.”
“What if they don’t come? They won’t come running our way. They’ll be moving slowly, clearing the town, making sure they don’t get shot from behind. I would, and Wes is smarter than I am.”
“I guess we wait here?”
“Can you bring us some food?” a plaintive voice asked.
Sierra said, “That, we can do, if there’s any here. We’ll check the kitchen.”
“No, don’t go!” called another voice. “Tell us what’s happened. What are they doing in town? Are people leaving? Fighting back? How many dead?”
“I want to know about my kids,” yelled a voice. “Let me out of here.”
“Soon,” Sierra yelled back. But the voices were escalating again. “I can’t hear myself think,” she yelled at Dev. “C’mon.” She pocketed the keys again.
He left the flashlight there, on, balanced on its end, a light to give the imprisoned men some hope. He and Sierra went back through the steel door and shut it, drowning out most of the voices.
“Holy crap, I hadn’t even thought about how they’d react,” she said.
“Yeah, really. Let’s go talk to my mom about—no, wait,” he said. “I just got a brainstorm.”
“Like one of mine?”
He gave her a look. “Yes, but watch what I do with mine. We’re going to share it with my mother and discuss it first. I won’t go do something unilaterally.”
She was teasing when she said, “Don’t lecture me. I’m older than you.”
“But not wiser.”
“That remains to be seen,” she said. “Gosh. Mr. Alvarez. Seems like I knew him in another lifetime, you know?”
“I know. Like me and 4-H.” He grabbed up the LED lantern and they passed through the outer doors to the foyer. His mother was there where they’d left her. “We need to get Jackson inside here,” he said. “And I have an idea. Sierra, tell her what we saw, and what they said.”
Carefully, he eased open the front door to look out. There was nothing moving out there, and he couldn’t see Jackson tucked up behind the low shrubs. He clicked a signal, and then waved for Jackson to come. He kept the door open just a half inch and waited. He heard the stress on the fence as Jackson climbed the gate, and his footsteps approaching, and Dev swung the door open for him and then shut it, letting it lock again. The enemies would need a key to get in here. They might have one, but the sound of them using it would alert them.
“There are about a hundred fifty, two hundred men in eight cells back there,” he said. “Maybe more, if there’s another holding area than the one we saw. It’s a mess. Our plan isn’t going to work.”
“They’re hungry,” Sierra said. “But mostly they’re worried about their families and anxious to get out. If we let them run home, they might get shot. Not only by the invaders, but by our guys, who are looking for males to shoot. Right?”
“Right,” said Jackson.
Dev’s mom said, “I’ll send Arch another text, explaining. If he has a chance to contact the others, he can pass it on.”
Jackson said, “No, wait up on that. There are more than a few invaders in that building over there.”
His mom said, “I know. I saw heads passing by windows. At least a dozen.”
“We saw the guards we passed on the street before we came to the jail,” Sierra said. “I wonder where the rest of
them are.”
Dev cleared his throat. “I have an idea.”
“Which is what?” Sierra said.
“We ask the men which left women alone, and find a few who can shoot really well and live nearby. And we go knock on a few doors and hand out guns.”
“Man, that’s chancy,” Jackson said.
His mother said, “They couldn’t have little kids at home and leave them. So you’d have to ask that too.”
“Or,” said Jackson, “we could stick to the original plan: get four men out here, hand them the weapons, and take them across the street with us. See what we can accomplish there.”
“I’m afraid to try and let four out,” Dev said. “I think you’d stand a good chance of getting trampled to death by the others.”
“We don’t have to open every door,” Sierra pointed out. “Just one.”
Dev’s mother said, “You can use your rifles to enforce the order to move in an orderly line.”
Dev shook his head. “I don’t think that’s going to work. They’re on the verge of rioting in there.”
“We keep the outer door locked, and they can’t go anywhere,” Sierra said.
“Except at us,” he pointed out. “And I don’t know about you, but I really don’t want to shoot one of them to make a point to the rest.”
“Well, crap,” Sierra said. “And I thought the hard part was going to be breaking into jail. That was easy, compared to this next step.”
Jackson made a sound at that, just thoughtful, not argumentative. “No woman in town would have had a chance to go to the firing range lately. So while I appreciate your thought, Dev, I don’t think that’s the way to do it.”
Dev’s mom said, “Nor would the men. Whatever the invaders think about male and female competency, I know that sex doesn’t determine the ability to fight. Look at Sierra and how quickly she’s learned.”
Sierra said, “Another thing is, the men aren’t in great shape. Some of them look banged up. Maybe they were beaten by guards.”
Dev said, “Or they’re so crowded, they might have turned on each other.”
Jackson said, “No offense to you, Dev, but I don’t like the idea of wandering around on the streets, knocking on doors. We run the risk of the roaming guards finding us. Or of people not answering. Or of some terrified woman jumping out with a butcher knife and slicing one of us up.”
“Maybe Kelly and me should do it,” Sierra said. “Women wouldn’t scare them like a strange man might. Kelly, is that guard still unconscious?”
“No, I killed him,” she said.
“How?” said Jackson, leaning over the man to look. “There’s hardly any blood.”
She said, “I’ll show you how one day, if we get through this night.”
Sierra said, “We have to decide now. Time is not on our side. As far as we know, there’s a guard shift change in five minutes. Or they’ll bring over dinner.”
“If it’s one guy bringing food, that might be okay,” Jackson said. “We could cope with that.”
“One guy not returning to wherever he came from will bring more to see what’s delaying him.”
“Maybe we should do that, then,” Dev said. “Wait here. These doors are solid. We can stay safe behind them until he comes.”
“Remember the grenade launcher,” his mother said. “They could have a second one.”
“Or a rocket launcher, for all we know,” Jackson said. “Tear gas. Flash-bangs. Extra keys, certainly.”
“Tick-tock,” said Sierra, pointing at her wrist.
Everyone turned and looked at her.
“Sorry,” she said. “But we do need to decide. Even if it’s wrong. Out at the other end of town, everyone else is acting. We told them we’d be quick at this.”
“No, no,” said Dev to Sierra. “That’s the problem with your thinking. Has been all along. It’s better to think things through.”
“Remember what Von Clausewitz says,” she began.
He cut her off. “Von Clausewitz is dead. And I don’t want to join him.”
“Are you guys always like this on a mission?” Jackson said. “Mom the silent ninja killer, and the two teenagers slap-fighting in the back seat?”
That made his mom laugh, but Dev was a little offended. “I’d never slap Sierra.”
“No, he’d strangle me from frustration,” Sierra said.
“I’m feeling some sympathy with that urge,” Jackson said. “Guys, come on. Focus. Let’s figure this out.”
The floor of the jail was vibrating. Dev felt it first. “I think the inmates have reached the end of their patience.”
“What?” Jackson said, who apparently hadn’t felt it, or didn’t understand what it meant.
Dev said, “You both go back there with Sierra, you and Mom. I’ll hold the front door. I need everybody to see what it’s like back there to see why we can’t just let them out as we’d originally planned.”
Dev waited for them to do that and tried to think. The others might be marching this way now. If not, it might be hours before the others appeared. He didn’t want to sit here and wait all that time. If only he knew for sure how many were in that building across the street. His mom said a dozen, but what if there were fifty? A dozen, he’d be willing to try and take out with the four of them. Twice that many, and it’d be like kicking over a hornet’s nest. Too many ifs.
They needed better recon, is what they needed. How to do that safely?
In less than ten minutes, the others came back, Jackson looking a little pale. “They are not calming down enough to talk to. Not even enough to ask for four addresses of potential female combatants. But you were right. We definitely can’t open those doors right now.”
“Yeah,” Dev said. “I think there should be more like ten of us here when we release them. And after we’re done. One cell at a time.”
“Our plan here was well-intentioned,” his mother said. “And we will get them out, and by tomorrow.”
“So attack across the street, or stay and wait?” Jackson said. “I’m good either way.”
“Attack,” Sierra said.
“I wish your father had found a delivery system for those grenades,” his mom said. “That would be ideal. I’d lob a couple through the windows.”
“Hey, hey,” Jackson said. “That’s it. We need to look around here. There might be riot gear to control the jail. Maybe flash-bangs or tear gas. We get a tear gas grenade through one of those windows over there, and they come out coughing, we can pick them off.”
“Let’s look,” his mom said. “But if we can’t find anything in five minutes, I say we should at least try to figure out how many are over there. One of us needs to go look. Less than twelve, we might be able to take them. More than that, and since we can’t recruit four of the prisoners, we should wait over here for reinforcements or go hunting for that patrol we saw.”
Dev felt pleased she was echoing his own estimate of their ability.
They tore the jail apart, using the dead guard’s keys to open cabinets, drawers, and closets. They didn’t find tear gas or rifles. They did find batons and one armored vest.
“Wearing the vest will give us more of an advantage,” said Jackson.
“Heavier than I imagined,” Sierra said, hefting it. “Not me.”
“It won’t feel so bad when—”
He was interrupted by a pounding at the front door.
Chapter 12
They all looked at each other.
Sierra mouthed, “What do we do?”
Dev’s mother elbowed him and pointed.
Dev eased closer to the door. In his fake hoarse voice he said, “Yeah?”
“It’s Al. I got the food.”
“Okay,” he said.
His mother was directing the other two where to stand. Then she mimed to him to open the door and step back. She said only one thing aloud, to everyone. “Keep him alive.” She retreated to the inner door and pulled it half closed, giving herself some cover.
>
There was one of those emergency release bars on the front door. Dev gave it a push and the door lock released. Then he flattened himself against the wall.
“Well, open the damned thing. My hands are full.”
Dev reached around with his rifle barrel and pushed the door another couple inches.
“Big goddamned help you are tonight. Take one of these, would you? They’re heavy.”
The door swung open more. The man outside caught it with his foot and pulled at it.
When Dev saw the man’s shoulder clear the doorframe, he lunged forward and grabbed the arm. The man was carrying two five-gallon buckets overflowing with vegetables. Dev gave the arm a mighty yank, forcing the man off balance. Sierra and Jackson jumped on him as he yelled.
Dev grabbed for the door, glancing around to make sure no one outside was watching. A third bucket of vegetables sat on the sidewalk. He reached for it, pulled it in, and pulled the door shut as fast as he could, though a heavy spring on it fought him.
Sierra had a hand clamped on the guy’s mouth, but Jackson’s rifle pointed at his head was probably what had quieted him down. His eyes wide, he looked from one to another of them. Dev’s mom came up. “You see anyone else out there?”
“No, it looked clear,” Dev said.
Dev’s mom circled around to look at the man. “You should be ashamed of yourself, the way you treat these prisoners.”
“What?” the man said, when Sierra let go of his mouth. He looked totally confused.
“But that’s neither here nor there,” she said. “What we need from you is not an expression of remorse, but information.”
“What?” the guy said. He looked around. “Who the fuck are you people?”
“Your judge, jury, and executioners,” Jackson said. “Shut up and answer the lady’s questions.”
“No,” he said. “I won’t do shit for you. And when I don’t get back over there, someone will come looking for me. And you’ll be—”
“Over there,” Dev’s mom said. “That’s exactly what I want to talk about. You’re meeting, it seems. No doubt over our bit of propaganda, our imaginary attack a few mornings from now.”
