Breakout

by Paul Herron

  “Is it locked?” asks Sawyer.

  “Nah, man. I can feel it moving. It’s like… someone’s holding it.”

  Constantine and Sawyer both grab hold of the handle. They give it a tug. Felix is right. It’s not locked, but something is stopping it. Maybe Kincaid has blocked it off.

  Sawyer frowns, straining her ears. The hurricane itself overlays everything: the constant wind, the battering against the roof, the creaking of the entire building as it strains to resist.

  But… somehow it sounds louder here.

  Felix pushes down on the handle and tries to pull the door open again.

  Sawyer suddenly realizes what’s happened. She opens her mouth to warn him, but it’s too late.

  The sound of the wind drops slightly, and the door flies open, accompanied by the howl and wail of the hurricane. Sawyer and Constantine slam back against the wall, and almost immediately Felix is yanked away, sliding toward the corridor. His gun flies out of his hand as he grabs hold of the door frame, screaming.

  The wind shrieks and the rain pummels through ragged holes in the walls of the staff corridor. The outside walls are breached. The wind is trying to pull everything into the hurricane outside.

  Sawyer and Constantine grab hold of Felix, bracing themselves against the door frame. The rain slams into Sawyer, into all of them. She can see Felix’s grip slipping.

  She lets go and scrambles behind the door, trying to push it closed. It bumps against Constantine’s shoulder.

  “What are you doing?” he screams over the noise.

  “Just get ready!” she screams back. She can see the door is now pushing hard into his shoulder. The wind is trying to pull it closed again.

  “Don’t let me go!” shouts Felix.

  Sawyer grips the edge of the door with both hands. The wind lessens slightly, just like it did before.

  “Now!” she screams. “Pull him in!”

  Constantine yanks Felix hard. Felix uses his own strength to help, clawing his way back against the door frame. Eventually Constantine manages to pull him around the side of the door and they both fall back into the corridor while Sawyer shoves the door shut. The wind sucks it out of her hand and it slams back into place with a loud crack.

  The sound of the storm drops slightly. Sawyer stumbles away from the door and stares down at Felix and Constantine lying in the water.

  “You two okay?”

  Constantine rolls over and glares at a shell-shocked Felix. “What was it you said about the staff corridor? No harm in trying?”

  Felix pushes himself to his feet. “Fuck off, Constantine. I’m not in the mood.”

  Sawyer holds her hand out to Constantine. He grabs it and she helps him up.

  “No, I’m serious,” he says, turning to Felix. “No harm in trying. That was what you said, right? Oh, hey, at least we’ve got guns now, in case anyone is in the corridor waiting for us. Oh, wait! You don’t, do you? Because the fucking hurricane just took it.”

  “Constantine.” Felix’s voice is low. “I’m serious. I’m about to blow, man. I’m not in a good mood right now.”

  “Will you two please just shut up,” snaps Sawyer. They both turn to look at her. “We have to go through the units now. It’s the only way.”

  Felix and Constantine exchange uneasy looks, but they shut up long enough for them to retrace their steps back to the door leading into Unit 1.

  It’s unlocked. Sawyer pushes it open to reveal a passage running to either side of them. To the right is the door leading into the staff corridor, and to the left the door to the inmate corridor.

  Constantine heads left and cups his hands against the glass, peering into the inmate corridor. His shoulders slump and he returns to the others.

  “Didn’t believe me?” asks Felix.

  “Just needed to check.”

  “And what did you see, my white friend?”

  “Broken walls. Lightning. Clouds.”

  Felix points his two index fingers at Constantine. “Exactly. Trust me when I speak, my young Padawan. Felix doesn’t lie.”

  “No, but he makes stupid fucking decisions,” mutters Constantine.

  An open door leads into the sally port, basically just a long corridor that ends at a second door leading into Unit 1 of General Population. About a quarter of the way along the corridor is the security room that Sawyer used earlier that night.

  Constantine tests the door that leads into the unit. It’s unlocked, but he doesn’t open it. Instead, he inserts key after key from Montoya’s key ring until he finds the one that works. He then takes the key off the ring and slips it into his pocket.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I don’t want to be fumbling around looking for the key if things get hot.” He looks at them both. “Ready?”

  Sawyer and Felix nod. Constantine takes a deep breath, and then pulls the door open.

  The entrance into Unit 1 is totally sealed off. Tables, broken desks, smashed-up chairs, all the pieces jammed together like a puzzle blocking the doorway. Sawyer can’t see a single gap through the barrier.

  Constantine kicks at it, but it holds firm. Felix joins him, but their kicks do nothing at all.

  “What the hell have they shored this up with?” growls Felix. “Okay, step aside.”

  Sawyer and Constantine move up against the wall as Felix takes a running start and hits the barrier with his shoulder. He bounces off and dances around in agony. “Motherfucker!” he shouts. “Christ, that hurt.”

  Constantine tries to pull something out of the blockage. Sawyer thinks he’s hoping it’s like Jenga; that if he yanks something free, the whole structure might weaken. As he’s pulling on a table leg, a wooden pole emerges from somewhere and thuds into his chest.

  “The hell?” He moves back a step, but the pole has vanished back inside the unit. He reaches out again. As he does so, the pole slowly emerges, like a turtle peering from its shell. Constantine stops moving. So does the pole. He takes a step forward. The pole inches farther out.

  “Touch me with that again and I’ll break your jaw!” shouts Constantine.

  “Fuck off and leave us alone.” The voice from the other side of the barrier sounds scared. And old.

  “Don’t tell me to fuck off,” snaps Constantine. “Let us in. We need to get through the unit.”

  “Son, there’s more chance of whoever that woman is getting on her knees and sucking my shriveled cock than there is of me letting you in here.”

  Sawyer’s eyes widen in embarrassment. Felix chuckles, but quickly stops when she throws a glare in his direction.

  “You’re starting to piss me off,” says Constantine.

  “Ooh, look… I’m trembling. I’ve made the man angry. You think I give a shit? Just leave us alone. We don’t want any part of whatever’s going on out there. We’ve already had to let Preacher and his men through. No one else.”

  “You let Preacher through? When?”

  “About ten minutes ago.”

  “Why?”

  “Why? I’m not arguing with him. He’s a goddam psycho. Easier to just let him through. Now fuck off!”

  Constantine growls and kicks out. Felix joins him, and the two stand together, lunging in and hitting the barrier while trying to avoid the pole jabbing at their faces.

  This goes on for about thirty seconds before Sawyer sighs and steps forward, putting a hand on Constantine’s arm. He looks at her in surprise, and she gently shakes her head, then steps closer to the barricade.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Carl.”

  “Carl. I’m Sawyer. What are you actually doing in there?”

  “Hiding.”

  Sawyer glances back at Felix and Constantine. They both look surprised.

  “Hiding from what?”

  “The hell you think? You actually seen what’s going on in this place? We let anyone get in here, we’re all dead.”

  “You let Preacher in,” she points out.

  “Yeah, bu
t he swore on the Bible he’d leave us alone.”

  “Who are you? Are you a gang?”

  “Yeah. The over-seventy gang.” The voice chuckles. Sawyer thinks she can hear appreciative laughter from inside the unit.

  “So… what are you saying?”

  “I’m saying me and everyone else who is too old to fight the psychos have all taken shelter in here, and we’re not gonna let anyone in.”

  “But what about the hurricane?”

  “What about it?”

  “Well… this place is falling apart. It’s not going to last.”

  “And what do you suggest as an alternative?”

  Sawyer glances at Constantine. He shakes his head and mouths, “Don’t you dare.”

  “We’re going to make our way to the Glasshouse. It will hold—”

  She’s cut off by the voice bursting into laughter. “The Glasshouse? Jesus, woman. I’ve been there. If this place goes down, there’s not a chance in hell the Glasshouse will stay standing. At least in here we’re dry.”

  “Can you just let us through, then?” asks Sawyer. “We’re not going to do anything. We just need to get to Northside.”

  “Through the prison units?”

  “It’s the only way.”

  “Then I’m saving your life by saying no. You try to go through the units, you’re all dead.”

  “We’re dead if we don’t,” says Felix. “Just let us through.”

  “Piss off.”

  Sawyer thinks about it. This isn’t getting them anywhere.

  “What about a trade?”

  “What kind of trade?”

  “You let us through, and we give you something to defend yourself with.”

  “What kind of something?”

  “A gun.”

  “Sawyer—” Constantine’s voice is urgent. She holds her hand up to stop him.

  There’s a long moment of silence from the other side of the barricade. Then, “Let me see it.”

  Sawyer turns to Constantine.

  “I’m not giving up my gun,” he says. “It’s the only one we have now.”

  “We have no choice. If it gets us through the unit, it’s worth the loss.”

  Sawyer can see Constantine doesn’t want to do this, but he reluctantly pulls the gun out of his waistband and hands it to her.

  “Hold it up,” commands the voice.

  Sawyer does as she’s told. There’s a noise from the other side of the barrier, and after a few moments, a larger hole opens up.

  “Pass it through.”

  “No way,” snaps Constantine. “Open up first.”

  “No. Hand it over first.”

  Sawyer ejects the magazine, handing it over to Constantine. She passes the gun through the hole and sees a liver-spotted hand pull it out of sight. “You get the magazine when you let us through.”

  “Give me a minute.”

  Sawyer hears whispered voices. Then silence.

  A few moments later, she hears the sounds of the barricade being taken down.

  “Go, Sawyer,” mutters Felix.

  Constantine doesn’t say anything. Sawyer glances at him, but he’s not looking happy.

  After a few minutes, the gap is wide enough for them all to squeeze through.

  Once inside, Sawyer straightens up and looks around the unit. It’s like all the others she’s been in. Two floors, with cells looking out over the rec area. The only thing that’s different here is that the unit is filled with geriatrics. It’s like pensioners’ day at the local mall, except instead of coupons they’re all holding weapons.

  One of the inmates, an old man around five-five in height, orders the others to fix the barrier again. This must be Carl. He has wispy gray hair and a beaklike nose that juts out from a hollowed-out face. He glares at them suspiciously.

  He finally turns his attention to the gun he’s holding. He racks the chamber and peers inside.

  “Ah, will you look at that? You left me with a bullet in the chamber.”

  He levels it at them. “A deal’s a deal, but if any of you make a move I even think is suspicious, the bullet goes in one of your heads.” He gestures toward the opposite end of the unit. “Move on. You’re so eager to go to your deaths, who am I to stop you?”

  Sawyer, Constantine, and Felix walk between the lines of inmates. There are already three of them dismantling a small section of the barricade at the exit, pulling out what look like sheets of corrugated metal from the roof, desk chairs, metal poles, and parts of bookcases that have been broken down and slotted into place like a jigsaw.

  “What’s going on in the next unit?” asks Constantine.

  “Gang war,” says Carl.

  “What gangs?” Felix asks.

  “First off, we thought it was East Bloods and West Bloods. You know, doing what they normally do.”

  “But it’s not?”

  “Nah. It’s the Bloods against the Woods. As far as I can tell, they’re fighting over control of units 2 and 3.”

  Sawyer thinks back to the intelligence pack she received when she got the job at Ravenhill. The Woods are white supremacists. The name is an acronym for Whites Only One Day. And if the Bloods have squashed their own intra-gang beefs to take the Woods on, it isn’t going to be pretty.

  The inmates quickly open up a three-foot hole through the barricade.

  “How am I supposed to get through that?” asks Felix.

  “Crawl,” says Carl. “And while you’re down there, you might as well start praying too. You’re going to need all the help you can get.” He holds out his hand. “Magazine.”

  Sawyer is about to hand it over when Felix makes a sudden lunge and snatches the gun right out of Carl’s hand. He points it at the old guy. To give him credit, Carl doesn’t panic. He just takes a step back.

  “We had a deal.”

  “I’m aware of that,” says Felix. “I’m also aware that we might need the gun more than you guys.”

  “I couldn’t give a shit. You gave your word.”

  “Felix, back off,” says Sawyer.

  “Me?” says Felix in surprise. “The fuck you talking about? We need the gun.”

  “Like the man says, we made a deal.”

  “And that matters how?”

  “It just does. Don’t be an asshole. Constantine? Tell him.”

  Constantine sighs. He tosses the magazine to Carl, who catches it in one hand.

  “Are you insane?” shouts Felix.

  “No. Just being practical. We don’t have time to screw around here. And Sawyer’s right. We made a deal. Give it to him.”

  Constantine turns and gets down onto his hands and knees. The water touches his chin as he pulls himself through the small opening they’ve cleared in the barricade. Sawyer waits for Felix. He hesitates, then grudgingly hands the gun over to Carl.

  “After you,” says Sawyer.

  Felix glares at her. “You’re a pain in the ass, you know that?”

  Sawyer shrugs. “So my ex-husband says.”

  He shakes his head and pulls himself through the gap. Sawyer gets down into the water and is about to follow when she feels a touch on her shoulder. She looks up to find Carl holding the gun out to her.

  “They’re right. You will need it. But I think you should be the one to keep it. Don’t let them know. In case you need to use it against one of them.”

  Sawyer hesitates, then takes the gun. “Thank you.”

  Carl nods amiably. “Now fuck off so I can close up.”

  She turns back to the hole and starts crawling. She’s barely through before she hears Carl ordering the others to plug the opening up again.

  Sixteen

  3:45 a.m.

  I crawl through the hole in the makeshift barricade, my mouth dipping into the warm water. I straighten up in a corridor identical to the one outside Unit 1. It travels about fifty feet to both left and right, ending at the doors leading into what were once the staff and inmate corridors. There are doors to offices and rooms alon
g the wall in front of me, as well as the re-inforced door that leads into the Unit 2 sally port. Lots of doors. Lots of corridors. I’m sick of them.

  I can hear screaming and shouting coming from Unit 2. Felix straightens up beside me and gives me an “I told you so” look when he hears the sounds of fighting.

  “Don’t blame me,” I say. “You think I wanted to give up the gun?”

  “It was the only way,” snaps Sawyer, pulling herself out of the hole.

  “Not true,” says Felix. “There was the option of violence. Violence solves many, many problems.”

  “And causes even more.”

  “How? Those guys were nearly eighty years old. I could have whistled in Carl’s direction and shattered his bones.” He turns his glare to me. “Why did we listen to her? Is she suddenly the boss now?”

  “Why are you so obsessed about who’s the boss?” asks Sawyer. “No one’s the boss. I saw a quick way out of the situation and I took it. Time is ticking, in case you hadn’t noticed. Now stop being a little bitch. You’re so tough, you don’t need a gun. I’m sure you can handle anything that comes at us.”

  Felix looks at her in shock. I kind of want to laugh, but on the other hand, I agree with Felix. I feel naked again without a weapon, and it sounds like we’re about to walk into a war zone.

  We approach the door to the sally port. I pull it open against the rising water, then pause, surprised when the screams and shouts don’t grow much louder. I exchange a puzzled look with the others and pull the door all the way open, revealing the corridor and, at the opposite end, the open door leading into Unit 2.

  From what I can see, the entire unit looks deserted.

  We move cautiously along the passage and peer inside. Unit 2 is indeed deserted.

  But it’s not untouched.

  There are bodies everywhere. Floating in the water, draped over the hexagonal tables, even hanging over the second-floor railings.

  “Jesus,” mutters Felix.

  Most of the bodies seem to be white guys. There are a few darker skins among the dead, but I’d say seventy percent are white. Which means the Woods lost big time.

  I step nervously into the rec room and pause, waiting to see if anything happens.

  Nothing.

  One thing becomes clear, though. The noises we’re hearing are actually coming from Unit 3. And they don’t sound like screams of pain. More like the shouting you’d hear at a sports event.