Early Release

by Jason Michelsen

  "Shots fired at the gym," he began in a voice he hoped didn't sound as nervous as he felt. "I'm going to tell...Prophet?"

  The sheer size of the man before him left no doubt as to his identity. When the trio moved close enough to distinguish, his confusion shot up to record levels. What Adam had assumed were bodyguards of the boss were no such thing. David Saul stood behind the big man, pistol trained steadily at his back. The third, if his tired eyes were to be believed, was one of the most notorious guards at Tanlau. This was like the start of a bad joke, and Adam could only hope he didn't end up as the punchline.

  "I suppose I should congratulate you son, you seem to have found the man I sent you after." The Prophet's drawl was as confident as ever, despite hands that appeared to be bound.

  Thompson raised his gun, prompting the young felon to do the same. This was not a standoff he wanted right now; he had places to be.

  "No one shoots!" As usual, Saul's voice carried an air of command that was near impossible to defy. "I told you Thompson, we rescue hostages before we fight. If you pull that trigger now and draw attention, I'll drop you first."

  Thompson's nostrils flared, his gun quivered, but it slowly lowered. At just a word from David? Interesting.

  "Your turn Adam."

  Adam looked into his former mentor's eyes and knew that there would be no more faking his way through this confrontation. No more switching sides, no more path of least resistance. For possibly the first time in his young life, he had to choose between two equally challenging options, either of which could lead to his death.

  A rising din materialized into a crowd stumbling out of the trailers to his right and stole everyone's attention. The dozen or so newcomers came to a halt, trying to take in the situation with bleary eyes. Somewhere outside of town a coyote cried into an empty, still world. It wasn't until the last note had drifted off into the darkness that a frantic energy took over the gathering.

  David pressed his pistol into the base of Prophet's skull before addressing the mob. "Back off, all of you, or your leader's brain matter becomes your war paint."

  Thompson had his weapon raised again, weaving madly between targets, eyes wild, probably with delight at so many of his former charges to kill.

  Adam had watched a few westerns in his day, but this was his first real-life standoff. He wondered if it would be less terrifying if he knew which side he was on.

  Guns pointed everywhere: David's at Prophet; Adam's at Thompson; Thompson's at the crowd; and the crowds' at David, Thompson, and Adam. Ironically, the one person without a gun seemed the most relaxed. Actually, Prophet was starting to chuckle into air so filled with tension that it had become difficult to breathe. All eyes turned to the big man as the chuckle escalated to a roar.

  An air of anticipation spurred the people to silence, and when the laugh finally died, Adam could taste violence drifting as if on the wind. A slow smile spread across the madman's face; his mouth opened to speak.

  His words were drowned out by an exploding trailer directly behind the mob.

  Hitting the ground for cover, Adam couldn't help but think the rain of flaming debris was a sneak preview of Armageddon.

  97

  When he struck the dirt, David initially thought he was experiencing another flashback, only the English screams and curses distinguished this hellish scene from those he endured half a world away. A moment was spent confused by the blast until he remembered Eve with the bag of explosives. He thought of the propane tanks that sat outside many of these trailers.

  Please, God, don't let her blow herself up! he prayed earnestly.

  Before he could check on the answer, however, he needed to get himself out of this mess. Terrified men and a few recently recruited women scrambled through the smoky haze, clearly not the hardened badasses they saw themselves as thirty seconds ago. None were prepared for the explosion, but some recovered quicker than others. Prophet, for one, gained his feet at the same time as David, and swiftly disappeared into the gloom between one damaged trailer and the damaged ground where another used to sit.

  Among the scattering crowd were three of Saul's fellow inmates, men who were only spurred into a frenzy by the flames. Their eyes found him through the confusion; any thoughts of pursuing the Prophet turned to just surviving the next two minutes. With no clear firing lanes available in the ruckus, the men charged him, swinging clubs that were once shotguns, or pipe wrenches.

  The first to reach him fell quickly, left knee folded at a grotesque angle after a snap kick from Saul. Before he stopped screaming in agony, David knocked him unconscious with a 9mm pistolwhip. No sooner had he delivered the blow than the next man crashing into him like a freight train with a drunk conductor.

  Losing his grip on the gun, the soldierly instincts took over and David grappled with his attacker. This man was larger than him, but the difference was negligible and canceled out by too much alcohol and not enough training. In no time David placed him in a rear naked choke, a hold he only had to maintain for seconds to cut off the blood to his opponent's brain and render him unconscious.

  The resistance was flagging when the boot came from his right and caught him squarely in the temple. Colors swirled and the earth lurched to throw him to the ground. Through blurry eyes he watched the biggest Indian he had ever seen shove his semi-conscious partner aside and loom over him. Fists the size of dumbbells began to rain down while Saul feebly held his arms over his face in a pathetic attempt at protecting himself.

  An abrupt crunching sound signaled a reprieve from the assault and David lowered his arms to find Adam holding a pipe wrench over the large man, who now appeared to have a broken orbital socket. Only when he lay still for a few moments did Saul's sometimes friend finally turn and look at him with eyes full of sorrow, shame, and fear.

  David raised himself up on his elbows and slowly shook his head to clear the haze, then reached out a hand in a silent gesture of thanks, acceptance, and a hundred other emotions that only a poet could describe. With the hesitant motion of a man doubting his own redeemability--a feeling Saul knew as well as anyone--Adam took the hand and pulled him to his feet.

  "Thank you, does this mean you're back with the good guys?"

  "It means I'm just as confused as ever, but I can't watch any more good people die," Adam replied.

  "Yeah, that's a good guy thing. Where's Thompson?"

  "He took off into the trailers, looked like he was chasing Prophet."

  David cursed under his breath. Some people you just don't want running around loose on a battlefield.

  "Alright, we can't worry about him right now. Eve. We have to find Eve."

  "Who's Eve?" Adam inquired. "I thought you were here for the nurse."

  "The girl you spared. Her mother is being held with Lisa--the nurse--and the others."

  "Wait, you brought a ten-year-old with you on a suicidal rescue mission? Are you insane? I bet you gave her a gun, too!"

  "Of course I didn't give her a gun! Just some explosives.... But it's not like leaving her behind was an option; that kid would run through a firefight to save her mother."

  As one, the convicts turned toward the staccato sound of gunshots to the north.

  "She won't wait for me, she'll go after her mom and Lisa." There was no question in David's voice, only cold certainty icing over a quiet dread.

  Adam dropped the wrench and removed a smooth black Glock from his belt. "Well, I'm basically screwed when they see her, so I guess I'll have to finish what I started. Might as well go out doing something good for once in my life."

  David located his own pistol and wiped the dirt off of it. He took the .38 from the first man that attacked him and shoved it in his pocket. Pulling his hand out, he felt something catch at his finger and smiled. He removed it from his pocket and tossed it Adam.

  "Thought you might want this back."

  Adam held the cross at arm's length in the glittering starlight, looking unsure what to do with it. He held it with the despe
rate grip one might hold a thrashing viper.

  "Saul, I can't wear this again. What they did to her--"

  "Is just that, Adam," David interrupted, "it's what they did to her. We've all run wild with the devil in our lives, but the fact that we can come back from it is what makes us different from the one's who committed those atrocities."

  For long seconds the felon stood silent, staring at the cross. Finally, with a solemn nod, he slipped it back around his neck.

  When he looked at David again, there was a new determination in his eyes. "Let's go find some redemption."

  98

  Lisa's eyes stung from the gun smoke filling the hall where she and three riflemen held their ground. Surprise, as much as anything, had allowed them to break the gang's initial charge. Unexpected resistance at the door, plus well placed sniper fire from the roof, had driven the attackers out of the open and into the trailer park. An explosion somewhere to the south had panicked both sides of the fight, and now neither was eager to charge a group that may have bigger weapons. She knew the hostages had nothing that could produce that kind of damage, but where would the convicts get that kind of firepower?

  "Hey," Rachel whispered as she crept to the nurse's side. "Any ideas yet? We can't hold here forever."

  Lisa was all too aware of their diminishing ammo supply, and knew her friend was right. "We need to get out of this gym, it's a deathtrap. There are extra guns in the hand's of all the guys we took down, but going out there after them would be suicide. That explosion would have been our perfect chance, but what are the chances of another distraction that good?"

  "Do we know what they blew up yet? Or how they did it?"

  "No idea. Actually, I'm not even sure it was them--at least not intentionally."

  Rachel looked at her with questioning eyes, but said nothing.

  "Think about it," she continued, "they haven't made another push since the blast, and if I'm not mistaken, they fell back to the next row of trailers. It's like they're afraid that we have explosives." Lisa took pride in the nearly imperceptible nods of the men at the door; maybe she had a future in strategic planning after all.

  "So if not them, and not us, who?"

  "If I knew that, our prospects would be a lot brighter. For now we have to assume it's a hostile force. Better safe than sorry." The nurse chuckled quietly. "'Hostile force.' I'm starting to sound like David."

  "Rachel gasped, hand covering her mouth like a child caught blurting out a cuss word.

  "What is it?" Lisa asked.

  "I didn't tell you; in all the excitement I forgot to tell you!"

  "Tell me what?"

  "David. He's free, he has Eve, and that guard thinks he's coming to rescue you. Maybe all of us?"

  Neither of the women could keep the grins off their faces. Lisa mentally doubled the odds of their survival at the news. If anyone could be expected to bring bombs into this standoff, David Saul could.

  "Rachel, I think our chances just got a lot better. Go get three volunteers--fast ones--and bring them here. If David is out there, he'll cause enough of a scene for us to get to those weapons."

  The blond ran off toward the crowd of townsfolk, a bounce in her step that could only come from hope. Lisa turned to the guards and waved their weapons down.

  "Save your bullets, if we make a run for more guns, we'll need heavy covering fire."

  "Yes, Ma'am," the men responded in unison.

  That was weird, she thought, but turned quickly to hide the smile that she was pretty sure famous generals didn't show every time they were obeyed. For a girl pinned down by the gunfire of psychopaths, she had to admit she was elated. If David came back for her, she would marry that man. Well, maybe not, but kiss him at least. Now, for the first time since the ground started shaking in her office at the clinic a few days ago, Lisa could imagine that she might have a future after all.

  Rachel returned with five of their ablest men--calling the last two backup plans--and briefed them on the goal. Within another minute they were lined up against the wall looking equal parts scared and ready.

  "Remember," Lisa said, "you move on my signal. Grab the guns and get back in here. If they start shooting, hit the ground and crawl this way. We'll cover you from the door.

  "Rachel, pass word to John. He needs to be ready to provide cover from--"

  Her words were cut short by a screech that immediately chilled Lisa's very being. The wide-eyed horror on Rachel's face let her knew she heard the same voice under the scream. Her heart beat twice before their fears were confirmed in one shrieked word.

  "Mommy!"

  99

  Whispers had escalated to a howling whirlwind of voices in his head. Officer Thompson was the sole survivor of the Tanlau Massacre, and avenging his comrades was his calling now. Even more sacred that the duty of punishing the damned souls who passed through that institution's doors, this mission of vengeance must be completed at all costs.

  To that end, Chris had three of the charges he had pilfered from the little girl demon before they left the crumbling house where he had been forced to pretend they were on the same side. Those tiny cylinders of death were stuffed in his waistband, just waiting to do their part in the eradication of evil from this beautiful new world. Even now, he knew he was closing on the ringleader of this cult of vice.

  A young girl's scream--or that of a devil in a little girl's body--pierced the night like an unholy beacon, drawing the saintly executioner to his demonic quarry. He peeked around the corner of a rust-brown single-wide at the east end of the park; as if in answer to his unspoken prayer, the object of his hatred stepped to the edge of the firelight across from the school's door, about twenty yards north of his position. As a bonus, he held in his arms a squirming little bundle of blond devil. The elation of his coworkers at this turn of events gave him chills that ran delightfully up and down his spine. The feeling was so sublime he wanted to save it for eternity.

  "Mommy!" howled the fiend in a voice that offended his piety with its feigned innocence.

  Hutchins clamped his hand over her mouth, forestalling any further outbursts. As he did so he stepped further into the light, holding the other beast ahead of him like a shield. An eerie silence settled over the town as both sides of the shootout waited with tangible suspense for the next words. Always the dramatist, the Prophet led that suspense build before he spoke.

  "Ladies and gentlemen of the jury--because, let's be honest, that's what you are--I stand before you today as the vestige of an entire world. Only you can decide if you want that world back.

  "As a federal prosecutor I held up plenty of innocent people, and allowed the jury to destroy lives in the name of 'public safety.' So now I find myself in the same spot, holding this child between you and what you perceive as your biggest threat. Safety is yours to be had, all you have to do is shoot me. Right through this innocent child."

  The little beast's struggling began in earnest again, a reaction Chris attributed to the appearance of a stunningly beautiful woman from the school. Even from this distance, the golden hair and confident posture trumpeted the family connection. There's an entire clan of demons here, he thought, I must destroy them all! Screams of agreement echoed through this mind at the idea. Still, he relished the thrill, and let the scene play out.

  "Let my daughter go," the woman said in a voice devoid of human emotion. As it should be.

  "I'm sorry, ma'am, but I can't let her go just yet. See, you're not the first mother to beg me to leave her child alone. But that's my job: I hold people accountable and protect the public from threats."

  "She's not a threat, she's just a girl. A girl you already tried to kill before your little mock trial."

  "Admittedly, I may have jumped the gun a bit on that one. I lost my cool and gave orders I shouldn't have. Incidentally, if anyone sees young Adam, please kill him for lying to me. But this young lady is now available, and she will serve as a fine object lesson.

  "For decades, small town America ha
s cried 'tough on crime' and 'family values' at the expense of justice. Rehabilitation has been dropped from our national vocabulary, and in its place has appeared words like punishment and control. Federal laws have circumvented the constitutional separation of powers by criminalizing socially unacceptable behaviors, then proscribing mandatory sentences and stripping the judiciary of their power to judge. We prided ourselves on statistics like conviction rates, knowing full well that they were only achieved through plea bargains we bullied people into accepting. It was common practice to make potentially innocent victims sign a deal by threatening their loved ones with trumped up charges. And if they still didn't give in, we offered time off to anyone already in custody who made up a convincing story about them. We just called it 'Conspiracy' to avoid the need for evidence. So in remembrance of those days, you now have the opportunity to sacrifice this innocent to free her loved ones.

  "I believe we have adequately showed ourselves to be beyond redemption, so you can rest assured that your preconception of convicted felons is spot on. You never hesitated to shatter lives before, so it shouldn't be hard to submit us physically to the savagery you were so adept at psychologically."

  Yes yes yes yes! Thompson's arousal at the idea was unmatched; the demons were practically begging to be exterminated! His excitement was getting harder to keep contained, and it was now almost impossible to hear the confrontation over the clamor of his dead comrades.

  "No one will be sacrificing my daughter. You want to blame your abhorrent behavior on us? The 'society made me this way' excuse has been played out, we won't feel guilty for making you do your time. But if you want to carry on this farce, put me on trial and release her."

  "Again, an offer I received countless times in another life. And again, an offer I must refuse. If I was to show any mercy, I would not be playing the part of the government very well, now would I? Mercy is not conducive to the public welfare. If it were, we would let punishment end with the sentence. Instead, we, as a society, have created laws to ensure that a man convicted of a crime can never put it behind him. As a convicted felon, we can no longer vote, own a firearm to protect our families, or be certified to work in most professions. About the only way we can still be a part of society is by paying taxes. Now, historically, taxation without representation has had less than stellar results."