(2014) Deep Inside

by Jack Parker

  He looked up and their gazes met; a hard-set green seared into her skin and he released the bar, turned, and walked away. And only when he had gone and she had sat down again, resuming with her waiting, did she notice the single item lay between the bars, just near enough for her to reach.

  A chocolate bar.

  CHAPTER 20

  An alarm rang.

  Lia awoke, jolted from her sleep. Light from the glass was stark, orange.

  It was dawn.

  She pulled herself up, shook herself awake and made to the bars. Hands grasped over steely metal and she waited. There was shouting outside now, as the guards raced to the source of the alarm. How stupid could they be? Didn't they realize that if they all went to check it out there would be no one to guard the prisoners and anyone could just randomly come in and help them escape? The door opened and light pealed through.

  Speak of the devil.

  "Jack."

  He put a finger to his lips, made to the cell and pulled out a key, then began to fumble with the lock. Alarm bells rang in the distance –heavy footsteps – and a click. The door swung open.

  She made her way out, tasted freedom. It had only been a week or so, yet it felt like an eternity. Eyes fell to the pane of glass; snow continued to crash against its exterior in a tumble of white.

  She wanted to see the snow so badly.

  Jack made to the door and Lia followed. "What's the plan?"

  Jack shuffled his feet, scratched the back of his neck. "Well…"

  "You have got a plan, right?"

  He rolled his eyes. "Duh. I'm not twelve-years old anymore, Lia. I wouldn't go into this without the plan."

  The alarm continued to ring. She felt rushed. "What is it, then?"

  He shoved some paper into her hands and she ran her eyes over it, quickly. "Can you –"

  Lia nodded, hurriedly, shoved it back into his hands. "Burn it. Otherwise, it could be used as evidence."

  He crumpled up the paper, took out a lighter. "You always had a good memory."

  She hurried to the door, pushed it open and was met with an empty corridor. The alarm bells pierced at her eardrums, so she tuned them out –attempted to – and using the information he had given her, formulated an escape route. Jack had never been a good planner –she had been prepared for that – and there were many flaws in his plan. After all, he did come up with it in one night.

  He made his way into the corridor, wavered. "I –"

  She understood, nodded her head in affirmation. "I'll meet you outside."

  Jack grinned. "Yeah. I'll see you there." He left down the opposite way.

  If he went with her and she was caught, he would get into trouble. She couldn't let that happen, and she couldn't let herself get caught. It was her last chance.

  She wasn't going to blow it.

  Lia made down the corridor, quickly, yet stealthily, the building's layout that Jack had just shown her imprinted clearly in her mind. Soon the guards would realize that the alarm was a fluke, then they would be returning to their posts. And then – She had to get out before then; otherwise, she would be caught again.

  So how was she meant to manage that?

  An idea suddenly occurred to her.

  Lia hurried back to the cell, backed herself against the door and waited. It was a risk but it was the best she could think of. And the guard would check to see if she was still there; there was no doubt about that.

  Approaching footsteps. Her chest tightened.

  The door slid open and someone came through, gold light dancing over dirty floors from a torch bracket. His figure was silhouetted in the darkness, one big mass smothered in a green uniform. The guard peered round, once, twice, then realization.

  He pivoted, about to call the alarm again, and she rammed into him.

  He fell to the floor in a heap, his head hitting the wall, rendering him unconscious. She was glad of that; it meant she wouldn't have to do anything else. The torch had fallen to the floor and Lia retrieved it, quickly, before the fire had any chance to spread. She then eased off his coat and hat, draped herself in them and pushed her tangle of black hair into the cap, then made to the corridor again, locking the door –with his key – behind her.

  It would be a while until they noticed that anything was amiss.

  But until then…

  Lia pulled the cap further over her features, allowing it to shadow her face. If they saw that she was a Cadlian, questions would arise. It was a well known fact that, even though there were some Cadlians who worked in this part of LAFFAT, the number was very small and, therefore, questionable.

  She continued to walk, casually, seemingly in no hurry at all. There was a gun in his pocket, and for that she was glad. If she ran across any trouble, there would be no problem. They were only Elonsicans, after all.

  Lia had been walking for what seemed like aeons now –the alarm bells had stopped long ago and the corridors were filled with a deathly silence. The silence was unnerving her, heightening a sense of paranoia. Where was everyone? She pushed it to the back of her mind. After all, this only made her job easier, right?

  There was another corridor before her, followed by an office, another corridor, a door, then freedom. By now she could almost taste the snow. The feeling was exhilarating. It was hard to think that only a week ago –maybe less – she had been out there, walking over grass and tasting fresh air.

  The corridor came to an end and a door stood, beckoned. Excitement fuelled her and she put her hand to the handle, slid it open and stepped through. The door stood at the other end of the room, behind a neat desk, beside of which was a chair. Someone was sat at the chair and, not knowing what to do, Lia saluted, spoke.

  "May I get through the door, please, Sir?"

  Hopefully he wouldn't recognize her.

  The chair wheeled round and she saw his face.

  Shock.

  "Leanora Alexandra Relanne, what a pleasant surprise."

  Kayden Porter.

  * * *

  Jack toed the carpet, gazed at the window. "Seb, what happened to my parents?" The tone was wistful, the question one which had lingered, festered, awaited abundance but found no release for so long.

  The figure smiled down at him, pulled up the blind and sunlight spilled through. "You've read the article."

  Jack blinked, felt embarrassed, searched for an excuse, "Seb, I –"

  "You could have asked me." Seb moved from the blinds, sat on the floor and fixed him with a hard stare. "I wouldn't have to forbid you. Hell, I would've given you the newspapers myself."

  Jack bit his bottom lip, unsure as of what to say. "Seb, it's –" He stopped himself, felt annoyed at the subject and had no wish to continue. "My question, though." He waited.

  "You've read the articles. You know what happened."

  Jack shook his head, furiously. "There's got to be more than that." There had to be more than that. "My parents weren't terrorists."

  Seb stood up again and made to the window, peered out. Sunlight illuminated his face. "Your parents –" He wavered, searched for the right words. "They weren't exactly terrorists, but –" He stopped himself again, cast his gaze towards Jack. "They were involved in similar…proceedings."

  Fists clenched over a bed-sheet, knuckles polished a stark white. "Tell me." His voice was hard, immobile.

  Seb pulled something from his pocket, tossed the article to Jack and he skimmed his eyes over black print. He'd read this one before, way too many times. He looked to Seb, questioningly.

  "Your parents were part of a rebel organization within Cadlia who were, supposedly, campaigning for 'peace'. They carried this out through similar methods as those used by the rebels within this country –bomb blasts, high-profile murders, the likes."

  Jack cut him off. "My parents worked with the government."

  Seb smiled, lightly. "It was a cover. All those late night parties, the long-hours, they were all for one purpose." Seb paused, then continued. "Loscia Tower."

/>   Jack's grip tightened. Everything was beginning to add up: the way that they sometimes came home from work really late and didn't tell him and Lia where they had been, they way that sometimes they would be talking and when he and Lia walked into the room, they'd suddenly stop, the way that –

  "However," Seb's voice cut him from his reverie. "Your parents realized that what they were doing was wrong and they had blueprints, plans, concerning the Loscia Tower. They travelled to Elonsica in secret to deliver said plans to LAFFAT. But, of course, the rebels caught wind of the plan. Do you remember the night your parents died, Jack?"

  A wave of memories that blurred, rocketed, and faces, so many faces. But he would always remember that one face, the hood that fell off and the pulling of the trigger that cut through his mother's flesh, sent screams ululating across the walls.

  A Cadlian.

  "Cadlians shot my parents."

  "They made a diversion near by," continued Seb. "Something to distract Elonsican officials who were meant to meet your parents at the exact time. A bomb. The bomb blast that killed your sister and twelve others." Seb stopped, cast his gaze towards Jack and regarded him. "Your parents wanted peace, Jack. They wanted equality, equality between Cadlians and Elonsicans and The Gredge and Lycani and everyone. But they went about finding it the wrong way. The best way to attack a system is from the inside. I'm giving you that opportunity, the opportunity to carry out your parents' wishes. So –" He stopped, smiled. "What do you say?"

  Jack nodded, slowly. "I'm in."

  * * *

  The corridors were empty and the alarm had stopped ringing long ago. So where was everyone?

  A hand grabbed his arm and he jerked around, abruptly. The grip was strong. "Miss Coles wishes to see you."

  He didn't wait for an answer, merely dragged him through the corridor. Jack fell in step, wrenched out his arm and followed him. It wouldn't do to be in too much of a hurry; that way, they would catch wind of the plan. They entered a room and the guard left, stationed outside the door. Jessica Coles was sat at a desk, a big, fat brown book snuggled deftly between a stack of documents and behind her, a television screen.

  She clapped. "So glad you could make it, Harlton." She bent down, pulled out a mug and two cups. "Tea?"

  "No thank-you."

  Jessica shrugged, poured some in for herself. "Whatever suits you." She took a sip and put it back onto the table. "Far too hot. But the wait for it to cool down is ever so annoying, don't you agree?"

  "What do you want?" His voice was short, curt.

  "Why, Harlton." She tilted her head to the side. "You were released from hospital a few days ago and I was worried about you." A finger coiled over white-blonde hair, curtained a lucid grin.

  He sat down, swung his legs beneath the table. "It –"

  " –have you noticed," she cut him off. "How, whenever we're in a meeting, the rest of the Sector heads are always so…scared?" There was something in her eyes, something he couldn't quite catch.

  He nodded, numbly. How did she always manage to make him so nervous –so afraid? She pulled open a drawer, took out an article and tossed it to him. Jack caught it, looked at her questioningly.

  "Do you remember your first meeting, Harlton? You were so passionate," she stressed the words, made them sound so powerful yet at the same time so…mocking. "You had fire, enthusiasm, and I liked that." The words seemed familiar. "But at the same time, you were so naïve. It was cute. And our discussion, the idea of mixed schools and your input –" She smirked, lightly. "It took place a while back but it seems that, unlike you, most people just aren't prepared for change…"

  Jack looked to the article: FIGHTS BREAK OUT IN LOCAL HIGHSCHOOL. FOUR SERIOUSLY INJURED.

  She continued, noticed his gaze. "The Cadlians, well, the Cadlians think that we're mocking them, trying to prove to them how much better our children are to theirs by mixing their children –who have, up until now, undertook a lower class education – with ours. The end result being higher exam results on our part and, all in all, humiliation." An acerbic smile, then continuation. "The Elonsicans, well, they don't seem to be taking it too lightly, either. I mean, why should their children have to mix with, and be influenced by, would be terrorists. It's just." A gasp. "Outrageous!" She let out a dry laugh. "I could have told you all of that the first time you proposed it, but then, where would the learning experience be? Of course, we gave the 'founder' of this preposition all of the, what's the word? … recognition, he deserves."

  Jack skimmed his eyes over the print, found his name. They were blaming it all on him: the fight –the injured children. It was all his fault.

  She stood up, fiddled with a remote. "Do you remember Daniel Clifford, Harlton? He was the man whose post you took up after he met in an 'unfortunate' accident."

  Something clicked. "You killed him."

  "Like you," she supplied. "He had that fire and he just…refused to let go. So we let go for him."

  He was lost for words. "You –"

  She propped her chin on her hands, smirked again. "But you're not going to tell anyone, are you, Jack?"

  "Why shouldn't I?"

  She clapped her hands together, let out a dry laugh. "My favorite bit." The press of a remote, then the screen flickered, came to life.

  His eyes widened.

  "Ten minutes are nearly up." He offered her a light grin, then whispered, his tone hushed. "Tomorrow, at dawn, be ready."

  Lia blinked, nodded. "I will be." He opened the door. "And, Jack –"

  He stopped. "Yeah."

  A light smile. "I'm sorry…"

  Jessica shook her head, clicked her tongue and began to file through the book. "These books. So annoying. I mean, the least they could have is a contents page, but no, everything's in alphabetical order." She sighed, dramatically. "I mean, how are you meant to find the punishment for 'helping a murderer escape from prison?' What letter would that come under?"

  Jack watched, blinked, lost for words.

  Jessica shook her head, sighed again. "But they usually use loads of big words for these sorts of things, don't they? So how would they abbreviate that…?" She looked up again, regarded him acidly. "So nice talking to you, Jack. You can leave now."

  The words came out, choked, strangled, "But the tape –"

  "Oh, that." She waved a hand, absently. "No-one has to see that, Jack. I mean, I'm not that cruel. But, of course, we can't just let you get away with it, either." A light, cold smile, then her tone changed. "LAFFAT is mine, Harlton. The property of Kayden Porter and I. There are no Sector Heads; there is no democracy or decision making. Whatever we say goes and, most importantly, there's no opposition." Her tone adopted a light, sweet edge. "If anyone saw this tape, Jack…Well, let's just say that your job isn't the only thing you'll have lost. And now," a light smile. "You can leave." She waved. "Bye."

  A fire flickered, wavered, pleaded absolution.

  Then died.

  Jack left.

  * * *

  "Judging by the expression on your face, it seems you remember me."

  She stepped back, nearer to the door. If only she could reach it.

  "Don't bother." His voice was ice, searing through flesh, numbing the insides and tearing out organs that reeked, dripped with sweat and blood that screeched a plea and clotted over in an abrasion. "As soon as you step out," he supplied. "They'll grab you and take you back to your cell." A smirk. "Wouldn't you rather we talked first?"

  She mustered all the venom she could into her next words. "I can see why my father hated you."

  "The feeling was mutual." He laced his fingers together, regarded her with bemusement. "Take a seat."

  He was so calm, so passive. It made her burn. "I'm fine standing."

  Kayden clicked his tongue. "It's been five years, Leanora. You could be a little more polite."

  "I could," she bit. "But I won't. What do you want?"

  "Always so blunt." He stopped, sighed. "Just like your father."

&nbs
p; Lia blinked, confused. He kept referring to her parents as if –"You know something."

  "How did your parents die, Leanora? What led you to become what you have? I'm just so curious and we have so much time. Enlighten me."

  The mockery, the sarcasm of his comment and the way that he pushed together, undermined, five years as if they were nothing, set her on edge, made her blood boil. "Fuck you."

  He winced. "Crude. Another trait of your fathers. Didn't you inherit anything from Lessandra?"