by Paul Herron
“Felix,” one of them says, nodding as though greeting an old friend.
Felix sighs. “Cassidy. You still alive, huh?”
“Still alive.” Cassidy waves the gun in a “come here” motion. “Why don’t the two of you just step into Kincaid’s office? I’m sure the big man will want a chat.”
Sawyer glances at Felix. He nods subtly but urgently in the direction of Unit 4. She gets the hint. They need to get out of the corridor in case Constantine comes back. At least if he’s free, he might be able to do something to help.
Cassidy nods amiably at her as she approaches. “We haven’t had the chance to properly introduce ourselves yet. I’m Cassidy. This is Veitch.”
The other guy lifts the barrel of his gun to his forehead, like he’s touching the brim of a hat.
“If you’ll be so kind as to step this way.” They move aside to let Felix and Sawyer go ahead of them into the sally port. The door at the other end stands open.
“All the way through,” says Cassidy.
Sawyer and Felix step through the door into Unit 4. There are two men sitting opposite each other at a table in the exact center of the rec room, easy for everyone to see.
Kincaid lounges on a chair close to them. He looks… bored. His eyes briefly come alive when he sees the newcomers, but the spark quickly fades when they’re followed into the unit by Cassidy and Veitch.
“Where’s Constantine?”
“He wasn’t with them,” says Veitch.
“He’s already dead,” says Felix. “One of Castillo’s guys—Ramirez—took him down.”
Kincaid stares at Felix, trying to figure out if he’s telling the truth. Sawyer quickly scans the rec room. It’s mostly empty, except for the two seated men and a bunch of terrified inmates crammed inside one of the lower-level cells. They don’t seem to have anything in common apart from the look of fear on their faces. They’re from all races. Some have gang signs, some don’t. Some are in their sixties, while a couple look barely out of their teens. None of them try to step out of the cell, despite the fact that the door stands wide open.
Her heart starts to beat faster as she focuses on the two men. An old-fashioned revolver lies between them. There’s blood all over the table, some of it sticky and old, some fresh and dripping over the edge into the water.
Kincaid turns his attention to her. “I wasn’t sure if my eyes were playing tricks on me. You know how it is. Age. Creeps up on us all. I thought, that can’t be a woman running around with Constantine. And yet here you are.” He chuckles. “Bet you’ve had a helluva night.” He stands up and approaches. Sawyer tenses as he walks behind her, leans close to take in her scent. “How do you still smell so nice after everything that’s happened?”
One of the men at the table tries to speak. “Kincaid—”
Kincaid turns to him. “You want to say something?”
The man nods gratefully. Kincaid steps away from Sawyer, approaches the table. When he gets there, he casually picks up the revolver and shoots the man in the head. His head jerks sharply to the left as the gunshot echoes around the confined space.
Sawyer screams in shock as the body slumps sideways into the water.
Kincaid bursts out laughing. “Jesus Christ, that is one unlucky guy.”
He holds the gun out. Veitch takes it and slips a single bullet inside the chamber.
“Where did you get that?” asks Felix.
“Sheriff’s office. You never see him carrying this thing around in his holster? Guy was stuck in the past. Thought he was in the Wild West or something.”
Veitch hands the gun back to Kincaid. He spins the chamber and snaps the gun closed. “Bring another one.”
Cassidy and Veitch hurry over to the cell. There’s jostling and fighting inside as everyone tries to move out of reach. A skinny guy is shoved forward. He looks like he’s in his early twenties, sobbing and begging them to pick someone else. The two men ignore him and drag him to the table. Cassidy shoves him down onto the bench, while Veitch grabs the body in the water and starts dragging it toward the stairs leading up to the second level.
Sawyer watches him shove it behind the stairs. Her eyes widen. There’s already a pile of bodies dumped there. There must be about twenty of them.
Kincaid passes the gun to the skinny inmate. “I think you’ve got the idea by now.”
The young man takes the gun in trembling hands. He looks at the guy sitting opposite him. He’s older, Mexican. His eyes don’t hold the same fear as the other man’s. He just looks angry.
“Let’s go,” says Kincaid. He’s still standing by the table. “We don’t have all day. Do it or I do it for you.”
The young man slowly lifts the gun toward his temple. His hands are shaking so hard Sawyer is surprised he doesn’t drop it. Kincaid watches from about two feet away, positioned directly between the two men.
Then the young man turns suddenly and points the gun at Kincaid, pulling the trigger.
The gun clicks.
Kincaid doesn’t even flinch as Cassidy lunges forward and grabs the inmate’s arm. He turns to Veitch with a grin. “How many is that now?”
“Four.”
“Four out of… what? Twenty?”
“Nineteen.”
“Nineteen? Shit. Guess I’m just a lucky guy.”
Cassidy tightly grips the man’s hand, lifting the gun up to his temple.
“You are going to feel so stupid if the bullet is in that chamber now,” says Kincaid.
Sawyer doesn’t want to watch. She turns back to Kincaid, grimly fascinated by what she’s just witnessed. She’s sure she saw a look of disappointment on his face when there was no bullet in the chamber.
The young man is sobbing and begging, pleading with Kincaid to pick someone else.
“Either you pull the trigger or I shoot you in the stomach and let you bleed out,” says Kincaid. “You’ve got three seconds to choose. One…”
The young man squeezes his eyes shut.
“Two…”
His finger curls around the trigger.
“Three.”
The gunshot echoes throughout the rec room. The inmate’s head jerks to the right, blood and skull fragments exploding outward.
He falls into the water. Kincaid turns his attention to the Mexican guy sitting on the other side of the table. “You sure you’re Mexican? You not messing with us? Because you’ve got the luck of the Irish, my friend. Get up.”
The guy looks at him in confusion.
“Get up. Go back to the cell. The fuck you staring at me like that for? Go!”
The guy stands up hurriedly, tripping over his own feet and sprawling into the water in his haste. He pushes himself up and scurries back to the cell, trying to burrow as deep into the press of bodies as he can.
Kincaid turns his attention to Sawyer and Felix. “Your turn.”
Veitch shoves Sawyer forward. She stumbles and catches herself on the table. Cassidy tries to do the same to Felix, but the big man doesn’t budge.
Kincaid sighs. “Jesus, must everything be difficult? Sit or I just shoot the woman in the face.”
Veitch grabs Sawyer’s arm. She tries to fight him off, but he punches her in the side of her head, hard enough for stars to erupt across her vision. He pushes painfully on her shoulder and she falls onto the bench.
Felix reluctantly sits down opposite her. Kincaid hands him the gun.
“You first.”
Felix takes the revolver. He glances at Veitch and Cassidy, then over at Kincaid.
“I’d think about that very carefully,” says Kincaid.
Sawyer shakes her head in an attempt to clear it. She glances around unsteadily. At Felix. At Cassidy, at Veitch. At Kincaid. She feels a moment of utter depersonalization. What the hell is happening? Why is she here? Everything feels so surreal. She can feel her breath coming in short gasps. Panic wells up inside, rising from the depths of her soul into her tightening chest. Tears sting her eyes, blurring the image of Fel
ix sitting before her. This isn’t fair. None of this is fair.
A loud bang echoes from somewhere overhead, a heavy thump, then the sound of rolling and crashing. Sawyer jumps, whimpering in fear, but is unable to look away from Felix. His eyes stay locked on hers, but everyone else glances upward, making sure the roof isn’t about to come down on them.
Sawyer takes strength from Felix’s implacable gaze. She quickly wipes her eyes. Pull yourself together. Don’t you fucking dare let them see you weak. You can get through this.
She almost bursts into hysterical laughter. How? They’re not getting out of here. Constantine was right. She was a naïve idiot for ever hoping they could. They’re all going to die tonight. The only thing she can control is how much dignity she has when the time comes.
She straightens up in her chair, staring at Felix. The banging sound shifts from the roof and seems to drop down to echo from somewhere over in the staff corridor. More walls being torn down by the hurricane, probably. She wonders which would be worse. The gun or the hurricane. Probably the hurricane. At least the gun is fast.
Kincaid claps his hands together once. “Let’s go. If this place is going to come down around our heads, I want to see one of you shoot yourself first.”
Felix doesn’t hesitate. He moves so fast Sawyer barely has time to register it, raising the gun to his temple and pulling the trigger. He doesn’t even blink.
No gunshot. Just the click of the hammer striking the empty chamber.
“Jesus, Felix,” says Kincaid as Felix slams the gun down on the table. “What’s the rush? Give it some buildup. Some drama.” He shifts his gaze to Sawyer. “Your turn.”
Sawyer hesitantly reaches out for the gun. As her fingers curl around the grip, Felix lunges for Kincaid.
Kincaid is expecting it. He slams a fist into Felix’s face, then launches an uppercut as Felix falls. Cassidy and Veitch grab him and yank him back into the chair.
Kincaid has a glint in his eye as he bobs around like a boxer, striking the air with his fists. “Still got it. That’s the problem with you big guys. You don’t think. You think your weight is all you need. See how wrong you are? That’s a lesson for you. Free of charge. You’ve got about three minutes to ponder it.”
He stops bouncing around and squats down, leaning his elbows on the table as he turns his attention back to Sawyer.
She slowly lifts the gun, tilting it forward to locate the bullet in the chamber.
“Uh-uh,” says Kincaid, pushing the gun sideways. “No peeking.”
She takes a deep breath and slowly raises the gun to her head. The tears start flowing again. This time she can’t stop them.
“Look at me,” says Felix. “Sawyer. Look at me. Keep your eyes on me, okay?”
She nods and takes a shuddering breath. She focuses on his eyes. They’re actually quite kind. She’s never noticed before.
He nods gently.
Sawyer pulls the trigger.
The click is so loud in her head she thinks for a moment it really is a gunshot. But then she hears Kincaid laughing and she realizes she’s still staring into Felix’s eyes.
He looks briefly relieved. But the look quickly fades as he stares at the gun, knowing it’s his turn next.
There’s a screech of rending metal coming from somewhere in the staff corridor. The whole unit shakes. It feels like an earthquake, the water surging and slapping up against the walls.
Kincaid waits until the rumbling dies down, then smiles expectantly at Felix.
Sawyer can see that Felix fully expects the bullet to be in the chamber this time around.
He curls his fingers around the grip and slowly raises the gun to his head, his eyes never leaving hers.
Eighteen
4:20 a.m.
It’s been five minutes since I acted like a four-year-old kid sticking his head through the railings at a shopping mall and got my arm trapped. Five minutes. And no one has come to look for me. Which means Sawyer and Felix are in trouble.
I’ve managed to pull the sleeve of my prison suit up over my elbow, but it hasn’t done anything to help. The rubble itself is weighed down and off balance. No matter how I move my arm, the concrete and metal shifts and settles again.
The outside wall of the corridor, the part that has fallen diagonally over the passage to my left, is making ominous grinding and crumbling noises. Every thirty seconds or so, I hear concrete splashing into the water and the wind in the corridor increases in strength.
This is probably the stupidest thing I’ve ever done. And I once tried to leap over a pickup truck coming at me at 40 mph after drinking half a bottle of Jack. But I was hoping there would be a way through. If I’d just been able to get past the debris, we could have avoided Kincaid altogether. There might even have been a clear path along the inmate corridor all the way to Northside. I could have made it easier for everyone.
Could’ve, would’ve.
Moron.
I need some kind of lubrication. Water sure isn’t doing it, but blood might. I steel myself, take a deep breath, then start pushing and pulling my arm against the jagged concrete. I wince at the pain. My arm isn’t actually moving; just the skin, shifting and scraping and tearing. I grit my teeth as the concrete digs in. I can already feel blood, warm against my arm. I keep sawing it back and forth. I don’t want to go too deep, just enough to see if it works.
After a minute or so, my forearm is slick with blood. I brace my shoulder against the rubble, pushing up in an attempt to lift it slightly, and pull. Pain explodes through me, slicing up my arm as the broken concrete digs in. But I can feel my arm moving slightly.
I can also hear the rubble shifting. Stones tumble from somewhere deep inside the huge pile. A few small rocks fall and hit me on the head.
Shit. No choice now. I pull as hard as I can, screaming against the pain. My arm starts to slide free, slowly, too slowly. Rocks tumble down, splashing into the water beside me. I pull harder, feeling my skin tearing away. I grit my teeth as more concrete falls. A huge triangular slab of roofing dislodges from the top of the pile, tumbling end over end to slam into the water about two feet from my legs. I pull harder. I can feel the whole pile shifting ominously. I yank my arm free and throw myself backward, scrambling through the water as the roof and walls of the inmate corridor slide and fall, the entire section of corridor tumbling down. The wind and rain roars inside, the destroyed corridor now completely exposed to the elements. I push myself to my feet and sprint back for the door, making it through just as the outside wall collapses inward. I get a brief glimpse of lightning and solid sheets of rain before I slam the door closed, holding it in place until I find the correct key to lock it again.
The wind buffets and shoves against the door, rattling it in its frame. I take a shaky breath and examine my arm. The skin has been ripped away, exposing patches of fat. The whole of my forearm is dripping with blood. I rip the right sleeve off my prison scrubs, wrapping it around my arm and tying a knot using my left hand and my teeth. Fuck, but it’s painful.
The passage is empty. I glance through the doors opening off the corridor. No sign of Sawyer or Felix. I check the door into Unit 3. There are three members of the Bloods smashing something into the glass, trying to force their way out. The door is still locked. Which means Felix and Sawyer can only be in one place.
I move along the sally port leading into Unit 4. I can hear talking as I approach. Low voices. I press myself up against the wall and peer through the door.
Sawyer and Felix are seated opposite each other at one of the tables. Kincaid watches them with an eager look on his face. Cassidy and Veitch stand to one side. They’re both holding guns.
And then Sawyer lifts a gun to her head and pulls the trigger.
My heart almost stops, but the gun doesn’t go off. There’s no bullet in the chamber.
She drops the gun onto the table. Kincaid turns to Felix, and Felix reluctantly picks it up.
There’s no time for thinking things throug
h. I sprint back to Unit 3, give the guys smashing the glass the finger, then use the key to unlock the door.
I run as the door slams open behind me. I hear excited shouting as the Bloods realize they’re free and spill out into the prison.
I burst into Kincaid’s unit. He turns, a surprised look on his face. Felix still has the gun against his head. He sees me coming. His eyes widen in surprise and he lurches to his feet.
“Move!” I shout.
I keep running. Felix turns the gun on Kincaid and pulls the trigger. Nothing happens. He tries again, but Kincaid is already moving, rushing toward Veitch and Cassidy. Felix keeps firing. The gun eventually goes off, but the bullet misses Kincaid and slams into the wall.
Felix throws the gun away and sprints after me. Sawyer is already moving. I hit the door and shove it open, glancing over my shoulder to see the Bloods streaming into the unit. Veitch and Cassidy start shooting.
Felix makes it through the door. Sawyer is still about ten feet away, some of the Bloods close on her heels. She rushes past me. I follow, trying to push the door closed behind me. Too late. The Bloods are already here. They slam into the door, sending me stumbling back into the corridor. Felix hits the closest guy in the face and shoves him into the others, then grabs me and pushes me ahead of him.
“Go!”
We sprint into the sally port and then straight through the door into the Transitional Care Unit.
It’s not like the others. The door doesn’t lead straight into the rec room, but rather into a corridor that splits left and right. We head right, the sounds of chaos and shouting close behind.
The health and security units are much bigger than the previous blocks we traveled through. They’re entirely self-contained, like mini versions of the admin building. They have office wings, their own infirmaries, cafeterias, changing rooms, the works.
Hopefully that’s enough to lose ourselves in. We turn left into the next passage, then take another random turn and just keep going until the sounds of pursuit finally die away.
We slow down, listening intently.
“I think we lost them,” says Felix.
We keep walking, trying to find our bearings. The unit is dimly lit. The lights pulse and fade, the generator struggling to do its job. I’m not sure of the exact layout in here, but I know we have to head north to the door that leads out of TCU and into the Mental Health Unit.