Breakout

by Paul Herron

  I try to push Sawyer through the door, but Silas elbows me in the head. I stumble back, stars exploding across my vision. Silas shoves his back up against the door, pushing it closed with his weight.

  Castillo comes for me, empty magazine in one hand, Beretta in the other. I glance around the gym, doing a quick count. There are about twenty other guys in here. All of them ready to fight. If I take my own gun out, I might fire off a few rounds before I’m overpowered. But it would be a waste of a gun, and a waste of all our lives. Better to keep it for when I really need—

  Castillo hits me in the face with the Beretta. My cheek smashes up against my teeth and I taste the metallic tang of blood in my mouth. I stagger back, shake my head to clear it.

  “You think you can mess with me? Seriously?”

  I spit the blood into the water, probe the inside of my mouth with my tongue. Tooth’s still there. That’s something at least.

  “Where are the bullets, Constantine?”

  Sawyer is busy helping Felix to his feet. She looks sharply at me.

  Castillo hits me in the head with the butt of the gun. I drop to my knees.

  “Where are the bullets?” he shouts.

  I don’t know what to do. There’s no way I’m going to get away with not handing the bullets over. Can I lie? Say I didn’t bring them? No. Castillo won’t believe me.

  He looks over at Silas. “Grab one of them,” he says, indicating Felix and Sawyer.

  Sawyer is closer to him. Silas’s hand closes around her arm. “What you want me to do?”

  “That depends on Constantine.”

  Castillo pulls me to my feet and shoves me toward Sawyer. Her eyes are wide, but she’s trying not to show fear.

  Castillo takes a knife out of his pocket. Silas yanks Sawyer’s hair, pulling her head back so her neck is stretched tight. Felix takes a step forward, but Castillo waves the knife at him.

  “Just… don’t. Okay? Or I’ll kill you both.”

  Felix freezes. Castillo turns to me, waiting. He doesn’t say anything this time.

  I sigh. “The closet. About four doors down.”

  Castillo nods at a few of his guys and they hurry out of the gym. While they’re gone, Silas pushes the three of us up against the wall close to the door. Sawyer is on one side of me, and Felix on the other.

  “Do we have a game plan here?” asks Felix. “Because I’m pretty sure these guys are gonna shoot us in the head soon.”

  He’s right. I realize I’m going to have to risk the gun. Best to do it now, when the Kings are five men down.

  I wait until no one is looking, then quickly reach into my prison scrubs and pull the gun out, hiding it behind my back.

  “Did I just see you pull a gun out of your ass?” asks Felix.

  “It was in my boxers.”

  “Same thing.”

  “It’s nowhere near the same thing. Resting a gun in your waistband and shoving it up your ass are so far beyond the same thing it’s not even worth talking about.”

  “Whatever, man. I’m not touchin’ it.”

  “I’m not asking you to touch it. I’ll touch it. You don’t have to touch anything.”

  “Will you two shut the fuck up!” snaps Sawyer. “Do we have a plan or not?”

  “I was thinking I’d start shooting and we make a run for it.”

  “Good call,” says Felix. “Now is—”

  The door surges open against the water, forming a wave that carries across the gym. The Kings who went to fetch the bullets burst through, panicked looks on their faces. They’re carrying some of the bullets in their scrubs and T-shirts, using them as makeshift sacks to transport the ammo. They look freaked out.

  “Preacher!” one of them shouts.

  Castillo frowns. “What?”

  The inmates rush forward and dump the ammo into the gun bag. Silas closes the door, a worried look on his face, while they start loading up magazines as fast as they can, ramming shells into shotguns.

  “Preacher. He’s here. He’s coming—”

  There’s a concussive blast and a massive hole appears in the door. Silas, who had been standing right in front of it, screams and goes down, his back shredded to pieces by wood, metal, and what I’m assuming are shotgun pellets.

  The door slowly moves inward to reveal Preacher standing there, holding a shotgun.

  I shove Sawyer to the right. Felix follows and we duck down behind a shoulder press machine.

  “God has judged you all for trespassing!” shouts Preacher as he moves farther into the room. “You have come into the promised land as invaders. For did not the enemy say, ‘I will pursue, I will overtake, I will divide the spoil; my lust shall be satisfied upon them; I will draw my sword, and my hand shall destroy them!’”

  His followers step inside the gym behind him. They’re all armed with handguns, rifles, and shotguns. I count seven of them.

  “‘And I will bring a sword upon you, that shall avenge the quarrel of my covenant: and when ye are gathered together within your cities, I will send the pestilence among you; and ye shall be delivered into the hand of the enemy.’”

  There’s a moment of silence. The figure next to Preacher leans into him and whispers something. Preacher frowns as he listens, then pulls back to give the guy a look.

  “Man, do you not read the Bible? It’s a prerequisite for being in my blessed army. What I’m saying is kill these motherfuckers. They’re trespassing in my Canaan.”

  The guy hesitates again. Preacher sighs and pumps his shotgun. “Just shoot.”

  Preacher’s men open fire, muzzle flare lighting up their faces. Some of the Kings scramble for cover behind the weight equipment. Others rush toward the changing rooms and are cut down in midstride, blood spraying into the air.

  Preacher has his arms outspread, face raised to the roof. “For you know I am the Lord,” he shouts, “when motherfuckers spray bullets in my name— Oh shit!”

  His last words come in response to Castillo and some of his men grabbing the half-loaded guns and returning fire.

  The noise of shotguns and semiautomatic weapons blasts through the confined space. Felix lunges out from behind the cover of the weight machine, grabs a Beretta from the guy standing on the end of the line, and shoots him in the head.

  He then ducks down and darts through the gap that opens up, running straight through the door. Sawyer and I follow him. We sprint along the corridor as fast as we can, the sounds of gunfire echoing behind us as we go. I pause once to duck into the storeroom and grab the key ring, then we put as much distance between us and the gym as we can.

  Fifteen

  3:20 a.m.

  Sawyer feels like she’s losing control of everything.

  Wait—who the hell is she kidding? She never had control. From the moment she arrived this morning, events have just snowballed, and she’s been caught up in them, thrown about like a leaf in a… well, like a leaf in a goddam hurricane.

  Right now she’s utterly exhausted, freaked out, pissed off, fed up, terrified, and a lot of other things she’s too stressed to even attempt to label.

  “Man, I’ve never experienced shit like that,” says Felix excitedly.

  The three of them have ducked into what turns out to be a mail room. There are piles of letters everywhere, some bound by elastic bands, others piled up in wall nooks. Opened letters are spread across multiple desks. Magnifiers with lights attached and portable drug-testing kits stand ready to examine them for contraband. Some relatives spike the paper with LSD. Others spray Spice—synthetic cannabis—onto the pages; the drug soaks in and the inmates then smoke them.

  They came in here to hide in case Preacher came after them. And to discuss their next move. Which to Sawyer is totally pointless, because if their next move isn’t making their way through the prison units as fast as fucking possible, then they’re all going to die anyway.

  Constantine is sitting next to her on a desk chair while Felix has his face pressed against a crack in the door,
watching the corridor.

  “How long are we going to be here?”

  “We’ll give it five minutes,” says Constantine.

  Sawyer sighs and leans against the desk. She stares at Constantine for a long moment, a thoughtful look on her face. “Tell me about Amy,” she says after a while.

  He looks at her in surprise. “Why?”

  She shrugs. “We’ve got five minutes to kill.”

  He hesitates for a moment, his eyes distant. “She was… amazing. And a pain in the ass. Stubborn. But not arrogant. She could change her mind, you know? She didn’t think she was always right. If you could lay out your argument, and she saw sense in it, she would shift her viewpoint. I liked that about her. Most people just double down when they realize they’re wrong. They get defensive, argumentative. But Amy never saw the point in that.”

  “How did you meet?”

  “She stalked me.”

  Sawyer looks at him in shock. “She didn’t.”

  He smiles. “No. Well… kinda. I was coming back from my veterans’ support group meeting. I was on the train, just sort of… zoned out. You know how it gets when you have to deal with emotional shit. You’re just mentally exhausted. So there I was, sitting there, minding my own business, staring at my hands, and I get this feeling someone is watching me. I look around, but I don’t see anything suspicious. No one really paying me attention. Just normal people doing normal things. I look down again, but I can’t shake the feeling. So I whip my head up and I catch her.”

  “Amy?”

  He nods. “Staring right at me, but, like… intensely. Like she was concentrating on some math problem or something. I wasn’t even sure she was looking at me. I thought she was just distracted—you know when you stare at nothing?”

  Sawyer nods.

  “But then she got up and came to sit next to me.”

  She laughs. “Just like that?”

  “Just like that.”

  “What did she say?”

  “Hi.”

  “What did you say?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Nothing?”

  “I may have grunted or something. See, back then I wasn’t the suave ladies’ man you see before you now. I was pretty screwed up. I was in the middle of realizing that I hadn’t actually come back from my tour without any issues. Not like I first thought. I wasn’t in the best of spaces.”

  “What did she do? When she sat next to you?”

  “She stared at me.”

  Sawyer laughs again. “You’re kidding. Like, from right next to you?”

  Constantine nods. “Like she was trying to memorize my face. I could feel her looking. Then I start to go red. I can feel the color creeping up my neck.”

  “And she still kept staring?”

  “Still kept staring. I finally turn to look at her. I can’t take the social embarrassment anymore. And she breaks into this smile…” He trails off, remembering. “Her face just transformed. She has—had—these laugh lines around her eyes. They made her look like she was about to break into laughter even when she wasn’t. But when she did… man, those eyes just lit up the room.”

  “What did she say?”

  “She said, and I quote, ‘You look like a puppy that’s been yanked from a kid’s warm bed and kicked out into the rain.’”

  “What did you say?”

  “Nothing. Then she asked if I wanted to go get a drink.”

  “Did you go?”

  “Honestly, I don’t think she’d have let me say no. So yeah, we went to a dive bar, played pool, talked about life. It was the first time I’d smiled since I came back from Afghanistan. Looking back on it now, I think it was the best night of my life.”

  Sawyer is about to respond when Felix closes the door and turns to face them, interrupting their conversation.

  “Coast is clear. I guess they’re all still busy killing each other.” He shakes his head in amazement. “Man, did you see that guy? I heard stories about Preacher, but that shit was crazy.” He holds his arms up in the air. “And you know I am the Lord when motherfuckers spray bullets in my name.”

  Sawyer glances at Constantine. He shrugs and smiles. So much for conversation.

  Felix turns his attention to her. “What’s the word, little lady? You doing okay after all that?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Good to hear. You’re tough, yeah? Or are you like my ex-wife? Hides all her emotions till they explode out and she comes at me with a knife.” Sawyer doesn’t even get a chance to answer before he turns to Constantine. Jesus. It’s like he’s on speed or something. “So what’s the next move?”

  Constantine suddenly holds a finger to his lips. They all fall silent as the sound of people wading through the water passes outside the door. He waits a couple of moments, then gets up, opens the door, and ducks his head briefly outside. He closes it softly. “Preacher and his men.”

  “They heading the direction we want to go in?” asks Felix.

  “Looks like it.” Constantine glances at Felix and then breaks into an unexpected grin. “I’d heard stories too, but, man… none of them do him justice. That guy is intense.”

  There’s something off about Constantine, thinks Sawyer. He seems different since he came back from the armory. Somehow… lighter? She’s not sure if that’s right. But there’s a barely suppressed energy about him that seems like it’s about to burst out at the slightest chance.

  “You sure the inmate corridor is out of commission?” he asks Felix.

  “Saw it myself. Highway to the danger zone.”

  Constantine sighs and looks over at Sawyer. “What do you think? Stick to the plan? Go through the prison units.”

  “What about the staff corridor?” asks Felix.

  Constantine shakes his head. “We can’t.”

  “Why?”

  “Kincaid was there. He chased us out.”

  “Constantine,” says Felix patiently, like he’s talking to a kid. “What do you think is the most immediate danger to us? Trying to get through seven prison units with one gun, or spooky Kincaid, who I’m telling you right now is not sitting in that corridor like a creepy doll in a horror movie just waiting for you to walk by?”

  Constantine still looks unsure.

  “Come on, man. No harm in trying. We have guns now.”

  “Yeah,” says Sawyer. “But it seems everyone else does too.” She looks at Constantine. “What’s with that?”

  He shrugs. “We were attacked. Preacher’s guys got the keys, opened up the armory. I’m assuming it’s been emptied by now.”

  “And Ramirez?”

  “I killed him.”

  “You killed him?” asks Felix. “Why?”

  “He shot up a lot of unarmed people. Then he killed Henry. Right in front of me.”

  “Henry’s dead?” says Felix. “Fuck, man.”

  “Who’s Henry?” asks Sawyer.

  “The guy I worked with in the maintenance shed,” says Constantine. “Old guy. But he was one of the good ones.”

  “Oh… I’m sorry.”

  He shrugs. “We’ve all got to go sometime. I guess tonight’s as good a night as any.”

  She thinks this is an odd thing to say, but before she can question it, Constantine glances up at the old analog clock on the wall. “Five minutes are up. Let’s go. We’ve got two hours till the eye of the hurricane hits.” He hesitates, looking like he’s going to say something more. But he doesn’t. Instead, he opens the door and checks the hallway before stepping outside.

  They leave the mail room. Sawyer can hear gunshots echoing around the prison, but they’re not just coming from back in the direction of the gym. They’re coming from up ahead too, from far in the distance. From everywhere.

  The mail room is near the first door leading into the prison units. As they make their way through the corridors, Sawyer can’t help noticing that the building is not coping well under the constant barrage of the hurricane. Lights dim and flicker. The floodwater ac
tually moves, small waves rolling into the walls as the building sways and shudders. And the sounds of tormented metal, creaking wood, and rending concrete are constant. She’s not sure the place is going to last two hours.

  So where does that leave them? What the hell are they going to do?

  She takes a shaky, worried breath. They keep going. They keep trying. That’s something her mother taught her. You walk the highway and you keep going till it runs out. Then you drag yourself over the dirt until you can’t carry on.

  They move past the Unit 1 door and turn into the passage that eventually leads to the staff corridor. A hallway opens up to the left, and as they pass by, a quiet sound freezes them in their tracks.

  They turn to find a group of seven inmates standing in the semidarkness. None of the lights are working in the side corridor. They’re pressed up against the walls, tensely watching them.

  The two groups stare at each other for a long moment. Finally Constantine steps forward.

  “You guys looking for problems or just trying to survive?”

  “Just trying to survive,” says a voice out of the darkness.

  Constantine nods. “We’re gonna keep walking, then, okay?”

  “Knock yourself out.”

  He turns and gestures at Sawyer and Felix. After a moment’s hesitation, Felix starts walking. Sawyer follows, jogging to keep up with the two of them.

  “Good luck,” calls out the voice.

  Sawyer pauses and looks back in shock. The inmates exit the corridor and head in the opposite direction. Sawyer watches them disappear around the corner, then hurries after Constantine and Felix.

  After another minute or so, they arrive at the door to the staff corridor.

  “Okay,” says Constantine. “We open the door, do a quick check and see if the coast is clear. Agreed?”

  “So you the boss man now?” says Felix.

  “Nobody’s the boss, Felix. I just know Kincaid. He covers his back. I know he’s going to have someone watching the corridor.”

  “And I will shoot whichever unlucky bastard got stuck with the job,” says Felix.

  He grabs the door handle and pulls.

  The door doesn’t budge.

  “The hell?” he says.