Hideaway (Book 2): An Emp Thriller

Home > Other > Hideaway (Book 2): An Emp Thriller > Page 8
Hideaway (Book 2): An Emp Thriller Page 8

by Hayden, Roger


  Larry and Carol moved ahead, eager to escape, and Marla followed. Any second now, inmates would be barging inside the room, ready for blood. They heard shouts from the inmates, demanding to know what had happened. “How’d they get out of their cells?” one man shouted.

  “I don't know. Come on. There's more this way!” another voice answered.

  Hearing footsteps approach, James pushed the door open and pulled Marla inside. Larry and Carol stumbled inside after them and shut the door, locking it behind them. He hoped it would buy them some time. Once inside, he listened to the faint sounds of inmates charging into the room.

  “That was close,” Larry said with a sigh of relief.

  They entered the pitch black before them, the tiny flashlight their sole guide. They probably had the only key, or at least James hoped so. Inside the large, windowless room, they saw industrial washers and dryers along both sides of the wall. Giant wheeled hampers were lined up in the middle. They moved quickly together, hoping to reach the exit. Though the inmates were on their trail, James hoped that they'd shaken them for now. From the lobby, there were many rooms to choose from. He felt safe for the time being. Once they got outside, it would be a different story.

  “Right here,” Larry said, reaching an exit door. A big red EXIT sign was posted above it. They gathered together, prepared to emerge from the darkened tomb of a prison as Larry hesitated. “Stay close. These guys are everywhere, and we've sure riled them up now.”

  They all knew it was better to take their chances sooner than later. By dawn, escape would be near impossible. Larry stood aside as James moved forward to open the door. They listened for a moment, pressing their ears to the metal, alert to any persons who might be outside. For all they knew, inmates might have been posted right outside, but it seemed unlikely for such a remote section of the prison.

  “Okay...” Larry began with another deep breath. “This is what's going to happen. We move out together just as I said. James, you cut the fence. Marla and Carol, you keep watch. Our goal is to be unseen, but now we know they're looking for us. If anyone threatens us, shoot him.”

  “I don't have a gun,” Marla said.

  “Then you just take cover,” Larry remarked. Carol suddenly leaned closer to him with a hug and a kiss on his bushy cheek.

  “I'm ready,” she said.

  James held Marla's hand as he carefully opened the exit door with the push of the mid-section bar. Normally, alarm bells might be sounding. A cool night breeze welcomed them as they stepped outside, cautious and alert. James squinted ahead and saw that they were on a cement loading dock with three closed roll-up doors. There were even a few white cargo trucks backed up against the dock, apparently loaded or ready to be loaded. They didn't see anyone around.

  Beyond the loading dock was an open field with a fenced-in electrical transformer in the middle. Beyond the transformer, James saw the other side of the prison fencing in the horizon. Escape was within their grasp. They stepped off the loading dock and hurried through the grass, staying close together in their hasty retreat.

  “We're almost there,” James said to Marla with excitement as he held onto her hand.

  Carol and Larry kept careful watch of their surroundings as they drew closer to the fence. Their pace quickened the closer they neared the fence with concertina running wire on top. Larry tossed James the cutters. The gesture was clear enough.

  “Did you meet Julian Monroe?” he asked Marla.

  Marla and Carol exchanged glances as Marla answered. “He's a cult leader.”

  “He was very polite to us,” Carol added. “But I didn't trust a word he said.”

  They reached the fence, exhausted and not out of the woods yet. James went to his knees and began cutting, squeezing his hardest against the thick metal. Marla crouched closer to him as Larry and Carol went low, weapons drawn in opposite directions.

  James cut a small section of fence, not nearly enough for them to squeeze through. It seemed a miracle that they'd made it this far. Marla offered James help, but there was little she could do beyond watching. Clamping the thick, spiky chain-link was a one-person operation. Every so often, James had to shake his hand out to keep it from cramping.

  “We went to his office, but he wasn't there,” Larry said.

  “Probably sleeping in his incubator,” James added with a nervous laugh. He was halfway through his circle in the fence. Thoughts of the open road flashed through his mind, driving far away from the prison and the town that accompanied it.

  Larry turned his head and aimed his rifle toward the prison. Carol went quiet as Marla stared off, concerned. Noticing their cautious stances, James turned his head to look but saw only darkness beyond the transformer unit.

  “What is it?” he whispered.

  Larry held a hand up, urging patience. “Thought I saw movement.”

  James squinted, but his eyes seemed to play tricks on him. From all corners of the prison walls, he thought he saw movement. He finished clipping, then bent the fencing back and made a hole for them to crawl through. “Let's go! Let's go!”

  Larry lowered his thermal binos from his eyes. “They're outside now.” A shock ran through all of them.

  Wasting no time, Marla crawled out first.

  Carol soon followed as Larry kept watch. James squinted again and saw slight movement near the loading docks, just as Larry had pointed out. It looked as though they had made it out just in time, and it was clear that the inmates were on the hunt. Marla and Carol escaping would only compound their ire.

  “Go!” Larry said, nudging James with his shoulder.

  James crawled out beyond the fence and, still on his knees, he found Marla nearby, and they clung together, relieved in having reached safety, if only for the time being. Larry crept up close by, his rifle slung around his back, his eyes scanning ahead. The ground was moist in the early morning dew. The sky was gradually turning a tepid gray. They were losing night cover with every minute of the approaching dawn.

  Larry rose to his knees and looked cautiously around, taking in their surroundings. They had parked a safe distance from the prison, but danger and capture and death still weighed heavily.

  “It's all open field out here,” Larry said, concerned about their visibility. “It'll be daylight before we know it. Let's keep moving.”

  He rose to his feet, helping Carol up as James and Marla moved forward hunchbacked as fast as they could. Far beyond the prison in the distance, James saw movement, but not that of the inmates or any human threat. He gripped Marla's hand and pointed, urging her attention. She turned just in time to see a herd of deer gallop through the field and into the brush, vanishing as quickly as they had appeared. For a moment, it seemed that all was at peace. By the time they looked away, Larry and Carol were already hurrying toward the street. James kept hold of Marla’s hand, quiet and lost in their own thoughts as they tried to stay alive.

  For a moment, he thought about the cabin. He hadn't told her about the fire yet or about his fractured relationship with Larry and how they would need to go their separate ways. At that moment, he was just glad to be alive.

  The gap between Larry and Carol and themselves extended, then shrank. They soon reached the front side of the prison, following Larry to a patch of forest that gave them plenty of bushes for cover. The gated prison entrance was about fifty feet from where they stood. James saw at least ten men pacing outside it. His own footsteps through the brush gave way to the crackling sound of sticks underfoot. He hoped that the sound didn't carry.

  The four of them watched the front gate, eyes glued to the threat. As they advanced, no one seemed to notice them. Unseen birds began their morning calls, chirping and fluttering. A faint gray haze permeated the former evening sky. Colors were starting to appear. The sunrise was on the horizon. Larry urged them to hurry, even as they made it out to the street.

  The two lanes were clear both ways and the group ran across the road at their fastest speed yet. Larry continued toward th
e other side of the road with Carol and up a grassy hill, followed by James and Marla. As he ran, James kept Marla in his sight, ensuring that she could keep up, but she was doing fine. The hill became increasingly challenging as they ascended its rocky path. James glanced back and saw the prison in the distance. They had covered considerable ground and made it a good distance away from the imposing facility. Its various buildings and fences, taller than any James had seen, seemed to lose their threat with each dangerous step away. No sooner had they reached the hill, Larry then took another path, veering down and to the right. But James knew where he was going.

  The wagon was parked nearby in the ravine. No singular outcome was guaranteed. So far, however, they were safe. Faint gunshots in the air got them moving faster. James watched his step along the rough terrain, where holes riddled the ground everywhere. When it was all over, one thing was certain, James knew he'd have a story to tell.

  8

  Moving On

  The station wagon was parked where they had left it. Marla and Carol were shocked at seeing the familiar car, now with the windows shot out and glass on the seat. There was much they did not know, including how Larry and James had retrieved the wagon in the first place. No one had mentioned the cabin yet or how it had practically burnt down. Even if they were to rebuild it, the inmates knew where to find them. Their isolated refuge wasn't so hidden after all. Their safe house was no longer safe. The most they could do was to move on. Fortunately, they still had a vehicle in which to do that.

  Larry opened his door and brushed more glass from the seat. Carol got in the front as Marla opened the door behind her. James watched them all, amazed for a moment that they had managed to save their wives. Another part of him reveled in the satisfaction of the prison cult realizing that they had escaped. He then hurried to the opposite side of Marla and jumped inside. In their moment of calm, Larry sat and clutched his chest in pain.

  “Are you okay?” James asked, studying him.

  “Yeah,” he answered, rocking forward. “I just gotta take a breather.” Carol placed a hand on his shoulder, urging him to take it easy. He nodded, pulling the car keys from his pocket. “I'll get us home. Don't worry.”

  James leaned closer, confused. “Where are we going?

  Larry turned his head to the side. “Back to the cabin. There are things there, things we left behind that we need.” He paused and glanced at Carol in the rear-view mirror. “Honey, prepare yourself.”

  Carol rocked back in her seat, her voice starting to break. “All those years... All that work. It can't be,” she said, just above a whisper.

  “I'm afraid so,” Larry said. “We can rebuild though. We can get it back up and running in no time.”

  She lowered and shook her head with her eyes closed. “Just drive, Larry.”

  James and Marla exchanged glances. She remained quiet, not wanting to add to their misery, but James could sense her deep sadness. Larry turned the ignition, and the engine responded, not with its former vibrant roar, but a pained sputter and wheeze, followed by an incessant clicking sound inside the steering wheel. “Oh no...” he began, face awash in dismay. “Don't do this.”

  For a moment, James didn't even think the reliable old car would fail them. The station wagon had gotten them this far. How could it suddenly stop working? None of it made any sense. Something was wrong. Maybe Larry wasn't turning the ignition correctly. Maybe he wasn't giving it enough gas. Somewhere, there was a trick to starting it that Larry wasn't getting. But he tried it again, and they heard the same clicking sound as before. James and the other passengers remained quiet, brought to silence by their own panic at being stranded.

  With the hood open, James tested the wires and connections to no avail. He examined the battery, the spark plugs, the starter, and anything else that came to mind. Whatever had kept the old station wagon running since the EMP strike was no longer working. And with each passing minute, the inmates were doubtless spreading out and widening their search. The gray sky was considerably lighter, though a welcome overcast kept the rising sun at bay. No one wanted to abandon the station wagon, but they had little choice in the matter. The battery was dead. There was even acidic foam leaking from the connectors.

  They made one of the hardest decisions of all and abandoned the wagon, continuing through the woods toward an uncertain destination. Not having a vehicle had changed everything. The danger to their lives was far greater now. The cabin was miles away. Winslow was even farther. Their hopes of survival had nearly vanished with the devastating turn of an ignition key. As they walked away from the car, charting a new path, James glanced back and saw the branches again covering its hood and roof.

  James suggested the possibility of finding a new car, but no one seemed taken with the idea. Larry and Carol marched ahead with a widening gap as they led the way. James wasn't sure what they were going to do. He asked what Larry’s plan, but he gave no response. When he tried to ask again, Marla touched his arm, stopping him.

  “Give them time,” she said.

  “We need to find another vehicle,” he said. “Those lunatics will be hunting us down soon.”

  “I know... I just don't want to push them. We need to stick together.”

  James nodded in understanding. “There's not much left of the cabin, as you can imagine.”

  “I'm just glad you two are okay,” she said.

  Of course, Marla was right, but James still couldn't help feeling frustrated at what seemed a hopeless predicament, as they trudged forward on foot. They were trapped. The station wagon had been pushed as far as it could go. They were out of options. The only hope remained in Winslow, which was the last place James wanted to return to. It seemed that Larry was headed back to the cabin.

  James spoke quietly to Marla. “We've got to go back to Winslow.”

  Marla looked at him surprised. “What about our stuff?”

  “I don't know if any of it survived,” James said.

  “What about our money? We had five thousand dollars in cash.”

  James shook his head. “I don't know.”

  Marla shook her head. “We're not splitting up.”

  Larry halted and turned around. “You don't have to go with us, James.” He resumed walking and took Carol's hand in his.

  James stood in place, trying to make up his mind. Marla stood patiently at his side, but it was clear what she wanted to do. He stepped forward, without further issue, as they followed Larry and Carol up another hill. Marla asked him about their rescue mission. She wanted to know every detail. She seemed amazed that they had even slipped through the gate. She listened as he explained how they got inside the prison, the dangers they had met at every turn. Some of the details, he kept to himself.

  They continued through the forest with daylight rapidly approaching and a chill in the air. They walked exhausted, hungry, and demoralized. But they weren't going to give up. They were going to find a solution and survive.

  The charred cabin lay in near ruin, an incredible sight. The massive holes in the roof and sides were even more startling in the daylight. A smoky haze still drifted above the embers. Carol stood with a hand over her mouth, staring at the destruction in shock. Larry squeezed her shoulder as tears dropped from her eyes. The cabin they had owned for five years, their personal refuge, was no more. It wasn't beyond repair, but without the means and resources to rebuild it, there was nothing they could do. The location had been compromised as well. Even if they were to fix it, the inmates now knew where they were. It was no longer safe.

  “I can't believe it,” Marla said as they stood in front of their former home. “Why?”

  “Revenge,” James said. “Bill Mosley, the man who I took the Dodge Challenger from… they were going to kill him. I intervened and... I guess this is what we get for that.”

  Marla turned to him with a blank expression. “Why didn't you tell us?”

  “I don't know,” James said. “I'm sorry.”

  Marla put her arms around
him, pulling him close. “It's not your fault.”

  James glanced at Larry and Carol, who were still facing away, toward the cabin. They hadn't moved for several minutes, but he could hear Carol sobbing as Larry rubbed her back. “We should check on our stuff,” he said quietly to Marla. She nodded as they walked ahead, passing the anguished couple.

  “You shouldn't go in there just yet,” Larry called out to them. “The whole roof could collapse.”

  They stopped and looked at each other. “I'll just run in and run out.”

  Larry shrugged as though knowing the decision was out of his hands. “Don't say I didn't warn you.”

  Carol's truck sat parked in front of the house, covered in ash. Its presence remained a constant illusion of false hope. They couldn't get it started before, and James doubted that would change. Still, it was worth another try. First, however, he wanted to know if their cash survived. There was no telling what kind of conditions awaited them at their next stopping point.

  “You stay here,” he told Marla.

  He stood back and observed the nearly collapsed roof as he moved inside. He slipped through the door frame and into the burnt cabin with its fallen beams and burnt wood. Half of the wall had collapsed directly inside the kitchen, where a light breeze swept through the open ruins. James walked carefully through the cabin with his attention on what was left of the roof above. It was hard to believe that only a few short hours before, the cabin was completely habitable.

  He walked down the hall, across the warped floorboards and into the bedroom where the roof had collapsed halfway. Entering the room in a hurry, he found their bags on the floor, sheltered under the dresser and unscathed. He grabbed the two suitcases and his backpack and rushed out of the room, feeling as though he had found an enormous treasure.

  Passing Larry and Carol's room, he saw that most of it had been burnt beyond recognition. He continued through the largely decimated cabin and made it outside with a suitcase in each hand. Larry looked at him, surprised to see that anything had made it through the fire, as Marla rushed toward him, reaching out to grasp his shoulders and pulling him close in a tearful embrace.

 

‹ Prev