Early Release

by Jason Michelsen

  Adam had received the necklace just three months ago, a gift from the Chaplain in recognition of completing the institution's introductory Bible study. Those were the days before the Prophet had sunk his claws into the impressionable youth; back when he seemed destined for a life of redemption. Now only one question remained: Did he take the cross of voluntarily, or was it forcibly removed from his neck?

  8

  Adam rushed along at the head of the pack, still on cloud nine after his personal pep talk earlier this afternoon. If Prophet was noticing him, after all, it boded well for his future with the gang. Maybe he could finally belong somewhere after all these years of searching for his place. There was a time, not so long ago, that he thought he had a place like that. But church? It seemed silly, in retrospect. How could a free spirit like his belong anywhere with so many rules and regulations? Of course, the people were nice enough, but not exactly the crowd he'd be partying with when he was back in the real world.

  Now, Prophet and his gang? That was a crew he couldn't wait to throw a few beers back with! These guys knew how to have a good time, and they didn't let any rules or fears of eternal damnation get in the way. Man, how did he ever think they were that bad?

  Still, he wondered what had come of the guys that first took him in and lifted him up to the church. Creepy and his friends had been among the first to make him feel like someone--not just another numbered inmate destined for a life spent in and out of the system every few years. He almost laughed as he caught himself praying they were alright.

  Must be just the thought of those old fanatics brings back old habits, he thought as he turned into the visitation lobby. I wonder what happened to them and--

  "Saul!"

  9

  Caught up in his own memories, David heard the approaching crowd only a split second before Adam entered the room. Caught in the open over the Lieutenant's body, he had nowhere to retreat to. Seeing his young friend walk in was simultaneously relieving and terrifying. If he was walking around freely, why was his cross on the remains of this tortured woman?

  That question was answered a heartbeat later when a mob appeared behind him. With the look of a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar, Adam shied away from the hands on his shoulders almost imperceptibly. As the crowd around him grew, David was even more confused by its diversity. He couldn't imagine what could bring together some of the worst each race and gang had to offer; these guys would never run together of their own accord! Worse, Adam would never have joined any of them. Unless....

  Prophet stepped out of the shadows at the same instant David realized who must be responsible for this all-star team of ruthlessness. Suddenly, coming after Adam seemed like a very, very bad idea.

  "Well, well. My favorite caretaker," the velvety voice greeted him. "And how are your geriatric patients doing in all of today's excitement?"

  Ray.

  David's mind had blocked the implications until now, but the Prophet's mocking tone brought it all crashing back to him with terrible certainty.

  "You killed them," he replied, amazed by the iciness of his own words. "You went out of your way to seek them out and execute them. Why?"

  "Let's just say we didn't see eye to eye at times. I looked for you too, you know, but I didn't think you could possibly be alive under all that wreckage in your cell. I'll admit, I'm impressed."

  The calm manner in which he discussed the murders chilled David's soul. He knew the guy was twisted, but was he really this psychotic? The situation was getting more complicated by the second; it was time to get going. Without taking his eyes off Prophet, the soldier began planning an escape route. He knew the facility layout well, but the widespread destruction of the 80 year old structure added a degree of unpredictability to the corridors behind him. He needed more time to find an advantage, so he turned to engage Adam.

  "Did you take part in this?" he asked quietly.

  "No!" the younger man replied too quickly, "I didn't touch her!" Then, in a shaky voice, "What happened to the others?"

  David looked into his eyes and saw the same scared kid that had shown up in the unit what seemed like a lifetime ago.

  "They're dead, Adam. John and Slim were killed in the collapse, Creepy and Doug were nearly decapitated by your new friends here."

  Something in Adam's eyes changed. It was like a part of him snapped; the part keeping him stable. Emotions flashed through him vividly -- sorrow, anger, confusion, anger, disbelief, fear, anger, anger, anger. Then stillness.

  A quiet but horrifying laugh escaped his lips before he spoke. "Saul, why do you hate the Prophet? Why would you even accuse him of unprovoked murder?"

  David almost choked on his amazement.

  "Seriously," Adam continued, "he may not chain himself to your old-school values, but that doesn't make him an evil person."

  Nodding toward the defiled remains of Garcia, Saul responded incredulously. "And her? You didn't touch her, but did you watch? You can't tell me he had nothing to do with that!"

  "She was part of the problem, holding us here against our will," he replied weakly.

  "I hate to interrupt this little reunion," Prophet interjected, "but we really have places to be. Namely, out of here. Now Davey, I'd love to take you with us, but I suspect it's not really your scene." A sinister grin curled his lips and David's heart froze.

  "Of course, you understand I can't exactly leave you roaming these parts unrestrained, either."

  Well, David told himself, I guess it's time to make life interesting.

  10

  Adam knew he was facing a critical moment, but his mind was too scrambled to consider it clearly. The things Saul said made sense--in a way--but he couldn't believe Prophet would perform such vicious acts. More accurately, he couldn't believe he would side with a man capable of those acts. Now the gang stood behind him with anticipation rising; they would revel in the type of brutality the leader would unleash on Adam's old mentor.

  When the pressure behind him crossed the threshold, Adam only managed one step before Saul's foot sent a plastic chair flying into the crowd. He ducked to avoid the projectile, but there was no stopping the momentum of the group behind him and he was thrown off balance in the stampede. Tumbling to the ground, he felt several successive blows to his midsection and legs as the fervent rush of Prophet's men tripped over him. Between his fall and the airborne chair, the gang ended up in a limb-tangled pile up to make the Three Stooges proud.

  From the volume of the Prophet's roar, David Saul had disappeared.

  11

  Sprinting deeper into the compound, David said a silent prayer of thanks. Divine intervention was the only possible explanation for such a pathetic plan working so well. Now, faced with the choice of a dead end he knew back to the northern wing units and a possibly clear path he didn't in the administrative wing, the recovering gambling addict rolled the dice and headed into the unknown. Logically, since it was the hub of the complex, this area provided the best chance of an escape route. That only worked, of course, if the path he was taking to the hub was clear. If not, he had stubbed his toe on a chair for no good reason.

  Lungs burning, Saul tore around the corner without slowing. A collapsed section of cinderblock wall caught his foot and took his balance, but his training returned an instant later and he executed a textbook combat roll, popping back to his feet without losing any significant speed. Velocity proved to be a problem, however, with the admin wing door less than ten feet in front of him. The securely locked, structurally sound, steel barred admin wing door.

  David's world exploded as he slammed into the door, barely managing to twist his body sideways before the impact. That twist allowed his shoulder and hip to take the brunt of the impact, but his arm wasn't quite quick enough to protect his head from connecting with hard metal. He dropped in a daze, fighting to maintain consciousness, as the horrifying reality of his situation settled over him.

  I'm being chased by a gang of violent felons. That gang is
led by the most psychotic man I've ever met, who happens to have a personal grudge against me. The only friend of mine they have not killed has joined them. They are chasing me through a federal prison that looks like it just hosted the opening battle of Armageddon. And I just ran full speed into a wall of steel bars that seems to be blocking my only route to freedom.

  Sometimes I hate my life.

  The soldier tore himself from this most recent bout with self-pity and shook his head to clear the cobwebs. The motion just made the pain worse, but he could not let that stop him. He got to his feet as the sounds of pursuit began to register, closing in on him fast. Scanning the area, he searched frantically for a way to prolong his run at freedom, and more importantly, life.

  There! The collapsed wall that upended him earlier left what appeared to be a David Saul-sized gap at the top. He scrambled up a pile of concrete and rebar to drag himself through the hole, scraping what felt like half his flesh off along the way.

  As David hit the ground on the other side, voices reached him from the hallway he had just left. One of those voices--one he knew well--pained him more than all the rest combined.

  12

  "Dammit! He must've went back towards the units."

  Adam received a number of dirty looks for stating the obvious, especially when tangling up with him was--in their minds, at least--the reason their prey got away.

  "Relax, all of you." The Prophet approached the group from behind, having resigned himself to a steady, intimidating stroll instead of running with his crew. "We know the units on this side are a dead end. Half of you will stay here and work on getting us through those bars, the rest with me to hunt Saul."

  "How are we going to get through that door?" asked one terribly insignificant criminal. "That's solid steel, bro!"

  Prophet turned his hard black gaze on the tattooed man. "What is your name, bro?"

  "Reed. We were in County together back in--"

  "That's great Reed. You're in charge of finding a way to the other side of those bars. If you don't have one by the time I finish Saul off, I may try to knock it down with your face.

  "Adam, you're with my chief engineer here, maybe you can take down this obstacle like you took down my entire following!"

  With that, the Prophet stormed off with a dozen hastily chosen volunteers to kill a man who had meant a lot to Adam, and possibly still did. A very confused young man began wishing that he had been lucky enough to be one of those killed in whatever apocalyptic event had taken the lives of so many around him.

  13

  After hearing the group pursuing him split up, David began to take stock of his circumstances. He seemed to be in some kind of staff break room, featuring a few toppled vending machines and a remarkably pristine coffee pot. A few lightly padded cafeteria chairs littered the ground, and the central table was bisected by the fallen ceiling fan. What there did appear to be a distinct lack of was exits. Maybe he hit his head harder than he thought; he could not see a door anywhere. Although it explained the shiny new coffee pot, a room without exits was a bit too far down the rabbit hole for him. Saul moved quietly around the room, finally noticing a section of wall that had fallen almost intact, creating an illusion of completeness behind a well-stocked snack machine. Behind that wall he found a door, and an unlocked one at that. He slipped through and found himself in a service corridor reserved for prison staff. Three reinforced wooden doors led somewhere; security was clearly looser in an area that inmates should never know existed. That'll teach them not to plan for the end of the world when designing prisons, he thought with a wry grin.

  With some distance between himself and his hunters, David was more comfortable sacrificing silence for speed. Checking the first door, a lavatory offering more privacy than he had seen in three years, he performed a quick search for supplies. He found nothing, but took a moment to inspect his head for cuts in the cracked mirror, idly wondering who would get the seven years of bad luck. Satisfied that bouncing off tempered steel bars would not lead to a slow, bloody death, he moved on to the next door. A supply closet was akin to an armory if he were going to war with paperwork, but offered little to aid escape from sociopaths or post-apocalyptic survival. The final door opened into a well appointed reception area that Saul had to assume serviced professional visitors and others who required impressing. Bring a Congressman into this lavishly decorated waiting area with leather seating and carefully selected framed prints, and the Bureau of Prisons was sure to see glowing reports of their facilities and conduct. From here, doors opened to the main lobby, the executive offices, and the medical staff offices.

  With the lobby door being the only one standing, that path was immediately ruled out. The warden's office was a valid escape route with a window overlooking the rec yard, but it was too soon for that. Medical would likely be a treasure trove of supplies that would come in handy if he survived through this day. As he move through that door, David felt things were finally starting to go his way.

  14

  The Prophet returned sooner than expected. Reed's team had failed to penetrate the cage keeping them from the main hallway, and Adam noticed the troubled man receding quietly to the back of his crowd. Apparently the man did possess at least some intelligence.

  "Where is my engineer? Reed?" The Prophet's voice was not as friendly as it had been. Had Saul escaped him?

  Stepping forward more like a grounded adolescent than a convicted murderer, Reed tried distraction first. "How was the hunt? Did you kill that guy good, bro?"

  "Why are we not on the other side of these bars? Wasn't this a very clear goal of our little partnership?"

  "We're almost through, I think. Shouldn't be long now!" Reed was wringing his hands now, his fear apparent.

  Prophet glared at him. "I believe--and please correct me if I'm wrong--there were very strict conditions of your promotion. Do you remember those terms?"

  Standing frozen, sweat droplets dripped down Reed's bald head as he nodded.

  Adam slipped back to the wall as the dangerous man approached Reed. The dark eyes softened a bit as he put an arm around the visibly terrified convict's shoulders.

  "Look," continued Prophet, "I'm not judging you here. I'm sure the task was much more difficult than anticipated. Why don't you just tell me your side of the story."

  With renewed confidence in his voice, Reed presented his case. "I didn't expect you back so soon, really. We were just about to use some of this rebar to pry some space between the bars at their weakest point, bro."

  "That sounds like an excellent plan, bro. Show me where that would be," responded Prophet, guiding him toward the door.

  Caught off guard by a valid question, the heavyset felon hesitated before making an ill-advised and poorly-concealed attempt at faking it. "Right at the edge of the gate here it seems to be weaker. With the ceiling pressing down on it, it's more likely to crack when we--"

  His words cut off and were replaced by a sickening crunch as Prophet slammed his face into the bars once, twice, three times. Dropping the limp body calmly, Prophet took a deep breath and turned to the rest of his people.

  "I know my bro here didn't, but did anyone happen to notice that there is a pretty good sized hole in the wall next to the cage?"

  Adam panicked as he looked at the wall, searching for the hole. Convinced that his face was the next to hit steel if he didn't find it, he began to shake as the Prophet looked at him. No, not at him. Above him. Stepping away and looking back up at the wall he had stood against, he saw it immediately. And from this vantage point, he was close enough to see more than just jagged concrete.

  "There's blood on the edge. Saul must have crawled through here!" Even as he looked to the Prophet for approval, he marveled at how easily he was able to betray a man who so recently had been his only friend in the world.

  Prophet smiled knowingly at him, as if to say that no depths of human treachery were unknown to him.

  Stepping nonchalantly over a very still Reed, his t
one reverted to one of undeniable command. "Everyone through. He's leaving a trail and can't be too far ahead. Looks like things are starting to go our way."

  15

  Medical wing had taken more than its share of damage, by all appearances. Bodies scattered through the halls were evidence of a riot kicking off in the confusion of the collapse. Sick call would have been packed in the morning, a perfect recipe for disaster in a calamity. The medical department was understaffed as it was, and most workers were older or smaller females. A riot in medical would leave dead employees and convicts in numbers unrivaled elsewhere on the compound. Judging from the stillness now, it had been so violent that whoever won the battle must have succumbed to wounds before they could escape. Here there were no winners. David began picking his way warily through corpses and concrete, somberly searching for medicine and bandages.

  Basic first aid supplies were not hard to find; it seemed every office, bathroom, and closet contained full kits. In the first restroom he found, Saul hastily cleaned and bandaged a cut that had appeared on his leg at some point in the hectic day. He performed a cursory inspection to ensure he wasn't leaking anywhere else, finally deciding he was in fine health for someone who had just survived the end of the world.

  Returning to his supply search, he quickly amassed an impressive collection of painkillers, antibiotics, bandages, and various other pills with considerably higher street values. Snatching a doctors gym bag from one of the offices, he stuffed his haul into it and started for the door that led back to the reception area. A sudden crash froze him in mid-stride. Oh yeah, them.

  Time had just grown very short; David spun and took off down the hall looking for a way out. Trouble was, he was in the lockdown area between the electronically controlled main door--which was locked--and the broken down staff entrance. This last would be admitting about two dozen hardened criminals very soon, despite their lack of appointments. He had heard from his first month down that prison medical facilities would kill him one day, and he now considered it remarkably possible.