Stone Cold Fear | Book 1 | Powerless

by Fawkes, K. M.

  And if he does, I’m going to make sure I don’t wind up on that assignment. I’ll break my own damn leg if I have to.

  “The documents require your signature as well, Ms. Simons,” Andersen said, speaking over Sadler’s gratuitous babbling and snapping Pete out of his reverie.

  For a couple of seconds, he thought Marie was going to say she wasn’t going to sign, just to further protest the shock collars, but she didn’t.

  Chapter 6

  “Take him to the showers,” Andersen said to Dean. “He stinks.”

  It seemed to be a simple enough command, but something strange passed between Andersen and Dean that had Pete thinking hinky again. Before he could spend another second wondering what was going on at Mueller, Andersen invited the three of them to follow him. Pete, who couldn’t remember the last time he’d emptied his bladder, asked where he could find the nearest bathroom.

  “There’s one here, Lieutenant,” Marie said in a rushed way. “I’ll wait for him, Warden, then we’ll both come to your office.”

  Sadler didn’t look pleased, and neither did Andersen, but he relented without comment.

  What’s the big deal? Pete wondered. Surely it wasn’t the first time a visitor had asked to take a piss in the prison.

  “Don’t dick around, Lieutenant,” Sadler said. “We have a plane to catch.”

  Now he’s worried about the plane?

  “Never do, Captain.”

  Pete entered the washroom Marie had pointed to, and it was as clean and white as the rest of the medical facility. He did what he’d come to do, went to the counter to wash his hands, and got his first look at his cheek in the mirror above the sink. There was some bruising showing around the edge of the tape. Since the tape was waterproof, he took the opportunity to splash cold water on his face and run his wet hands through his dirty hair. A hot shower. He could do with a long, hot shower. He aimed the air hand dryer at his face for a few seconds, then left the bathroom.

  As soon as he stepped back into the medical area, Marie pounced.

  “You saw the collar,” she said. “We need to confront Andersen about the abuses going on here.”

  “What?”

  Sweet Jesus. Another complication.

  “My brother was an inmate here and died under Andersen’s watch.” Marie hissed the words between clenched teeth. “You have men with you. You can stop him right now. Take over.”

  “Take over?” Pete scrubbed his hands over his face. “I do have men with me. Men who spent the whole day moving rubble in Anchorage, and who were then reassigned to transporting David Clyde without the least bit of preparation. We came under attack.” He touched his cheek. “Men died. Good men with families. We’ve been up for more than twenty-four hours and we have one opportunity to get out of Alaska for who knows how long.”

  “Figures,” Marie said.

  “Figures, what?”

  “That you’d come along and then be just another guy.”

  “Listen, lady. You don’t know me. At all. I’m sorry about your brother, and while I might agree that something needs to be done about Andersen, it doesn’t need to be done this minute. It definitely doesn’t need to be done by me. Your brother will be just as dead tomorrow and the day after.”

  “Nice. That’s very sympathetic.” Marie’s eyes welled, though no tears fell. “Please, help me.”

  He hated it when a woman cried. It made him feel helpless. It made him want to help, no matter how unwise that would be. But he suspected she assumed it would make him feel that way, and was doing it on purpose.

  “Look, we can’t stay in here. They’re waiting for us. And my captain is—” He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. Let’s just get in there and play out this charade. After that, I’ll try to figure something out.”

  She looked disappointed, but nodded and led him out of the medical unit, then down the hallway to Andersen’s office. The heavy wooden door resembled something you’d pass through to get to a boardroom, not a warden’s office, making it one more bizarre detail among so many others.

  As Marie raised her hand to knock, Pete’s tired brained snapped out of its fugue long enough to wonder about Andersen. Like really wonder. The fact that he’d allowed them, as outsiders, to witness the use of electric collars without batting an eye was odd. He was either stupid or arrogant, or knew something they did not. He grabbed Marie’s arm.

  “Hey!” she said. “Let go.”

  “Do you have access to firearms?” he asked in a low, intense tone. “Preferably a handgun.”

  “Of course not. I’m a j— A nurse.” Then she gave him a look full of understanding. I finally get it, that look said. She hadn’t considered the risk to herself when she’d come to Mueller, but at Pete’s words, she started to sort it out. Started to see the danger.

  If she was right, and Andersen was responsible for her brother’s death and found out that she was here trying to uncover the truth, there was no saying he wouldn’t kill her to prevent her from going public with any accusations. Especially if she found proof.

  “I’ll be right back.”

  She jogged away, heading back to the medical unit, and he watched her go, wondering how a woman like her had had a brother who wound up in Mueller. She was a professional. She’d gone to school and made something of her life. She also seemed smart. Idealistic, but definitely sharp. How had her brother gone so damned wrong? Because if he’d been in Mueller, it wasn’t just for stealing his mom’s pain pills and selling them on the street.

  Pete looked at his watch again. He didn’t have time for this. The window for extraction was shrinking, second by second, minute by minute.

  Even as he mentally urged Marie to hurry, he told himself he was overwrought. Nothing was going to happen. They’d sign the papers, gather the men, load themselves onto PM2, and drive back into Anchorage, where they’d joke about how they’d almost missed their flight, though everyone would be hard-pressed to laugh because of the men they’d lost.

  Marie was back quicker than he’d expected, panting and showing him a couple of syringes filled with clear fluid. “Tranquilizers. Best I could do.” She gave one to Pete and pocketed the other.

  “We’re going in there,” he said, “and we’re going to sign the papers. Then you’re going to come with us to the transport. I’m not leaving you here with him.”

  First, she looked like she would argue, but then she nodded.

  Pete raised his hand and knocked, three staccato bursts from his knuckles. Andersen called out for them to enter. As Pete reached for the doorknob, he said, “Remember, we’re in his house.”

  I should remember that, too.

  Marie inhaled, squared her shoulders, and nodded for him to open the door. He held it for her to go first, and they passed over the threshold into Andersen’s sanctuary, which was the only way to describe the office. The man had obviously funneled a large portion of the funds he’d received into transforming this place into his own personal haven. The walls were paneled with gleaming wood, the chairs upholstered in rich brown leather, and on one side, there was a fireplace framed in marble. Real or fake, Pete couldn’t say for sure, but he guessed it was real.

  Burning wood for non-essential reasons had been outlawed several years ago as a climate initiative, but there was a stack of real logs inside, waiting only for a match to set them ablaze. Considering the man used shock collars on his prisoners, Pete shouldn’t have been surprised by the wood, and then angered when he thought about what it implied, but he was.

  In a few months’ time, the president and other higher-ups—the mucky-mucks, as Dean had called them—would come here to see Clyde executed, and they would see Andersen’s wood-burning fireplace, which meant he wasn’t worried about it. Which meant they probably broke the rules they made for others all the time. Even the president, who seemed so concerned about the state of the world.

  It was so typical, and it wasn’t like Pete didn’t know how the world worked. It was just that seeing it
on display right in front of him was as offensive as a slap to the face, especially when he was so damned tired.

  There was a large window behind Andersen, but the curtains were closed in front of it. Based on the layout of the prison, PM2 would be visible through the window. Pete would have liked to have seen it. To make sure it was still there. He had such a bad feeling brewing inside, and had to fight the temptation to ask Andersen if he’d mind opening them.

  God did he want to get out of here.

  With a gesture, Andersen invited Pete and Marie to step closer to his desk. Sadler didn’t require an invitation. He was already pressed against the edge of it, eager to be first in line.

  “Everything in triplicate,” Andersen said. “You know the government.”

  The pen he took out of his desk drawer looked like it had cost at least a month of Pete’s pay. Andersen signed the document on top with a flourish and slid it toward Sadler, handing him a different, cheaper pen to use.

  Sadler signed and then scooted the paper to Pete—who was frozen now, staring at the panel of screens built into the wall behind the large wooden desk. His heart tripped painfully in his chest. The view on each screen changed at regular intervals, showing different parts of the prison. One of them revealed the corridor where they’d passed the working prisoners. Another showed a cell with a prisoner lying on his back, staring at the ceiling. Yet another, the men from Pete’s unit, some eating, some asleep at the table on folded arms.

  But one of screens was on the medical unit. Was the system wired for sound? If it was, Andersen may have overheard his and Marie’s conversation.

  Pete clenched his fists but quickly released them, not wanting to give anything away.

  “Wakey-wakey,” Sadler prompted.

  Pete shook himself, signed the document, and passed it to Marie. “Do you mind if we speed this up a little, Warden?” he asked. “We need to get going if we’re going to catch that plane.”

  Andersen pulled out his phone and touched the screen a couple of times, and the drapes behind him slid open. “I’m afraid it’s not looking good, actually. The weatherman is predicting a record-setting dump of snow.”

  Outside, visibility was virtually nil through the thickly falling snow. If PM2 was still down on the ground, Pete couldn’t see it. From where they were, at the top of the facility, it looked like they were disconnected from the ground, floating among low-hanging clouds.

  “Oh, crap,” Pete muttered. There was no way they were driving in that.

  No way they were getting back to Anchorage. And if this storm was over Anchorage as well, then them not arriving wouldn’t be a problem. Because that plane was going to be grounded in visibility this bad.

  “It’s no problem, Lieutenant,” Andersen said. “We’ll be able to accommodate you and your men until the storm passes.”

  “That’s very gracious,” Sadler said.

  “Since you’re stuck here,” Marie said, and took a step sideways away from Pete, as though she knew he wanted to clap his hand over her mouth. “There are some things we need to discuss with you, Warden.”

  God save me from this woman, Pete thought as his heart lodged at the back of his throat.

  And then the lights went out.

  Chapter 7

  If it weren’t for the open drapes, they wouldn’t have been able to see a thing. Andersen reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone.

  “It’s dead.” He sounded confused. “How can it be dead? I had a full charge an hour ago.”

  “Maybe it’s another attack by Clyde’s followers,” Pete said.

  If Andersen’s phone was dead, it was possible the situation went beyond the simple cutting of the power, but for right now, they only knew about power for sure. Everything had certainly shut down. The lights. The digital clock on Andersen’s desk. The bank of screens, which showed nothing except blank, black glass.

  And though that was disturbing, it was also a relief. Pete didn’t want to see what was going on in this prison now that the power had gone down.

  “Your clothes,” Marie said to Sadler and Pete.

  Pete looked down and held his hands out. The fabric of his suit, which had sported the usual green camouflage print, had turned silvery. It had also gone from feeling soft and yielding to stiff and scratchy.

  “It looks like the nanotech died,” Sadler said.

  Pete frowned. He didn’t even know that was possible. No, he didn’t know much about nanotech, but he was almost certain that the stuff was supposed to be self-supporting.

  “We need to get to the control room,” Andersen said. “If the cameras and other security measures are down—”

  What would kill the building’s power and our nanotech? Plus Andersen’s cell?

  Andersen unlocked a drawer in his desk, pulled out a small gun safe, and opened it. Inside was the latest Glock, which he looked at speculatively. He eyed Sadler, then passed it to Pete, who chambered a round.

  “It might be better if you stayed here, Ms. Simons,” Andersen said. “You can lock the door behind us.”

  “Not on your life.”

  “Suit yourself.” Andersen moved toward the door.

  But Pete wasn’t willing to give it up that quickly. “You should stay here,” he said to Marie. “There’s no telling what’s going on in the rest of the prison. You’ve been here long enough to know that the prisoners are unruly, and without power to keep them in their cells, it’s going to be even worse.”

  She shook her head emphatically, though, and Pete sighed, then ducked around Andersen to look through the door and check the hallway. It was pitch black out there, but his nanotech suit had come equipped with a flashlight, and he switched it on. Grateful to find that it, at least, still worked, he sent the beam skittering through the darkness.

  Nothing.

  “All clear,” he muttered.

  “We’re going to have to take the stairs,” Andersen said. “The elevators are obviously out.”

  He led them to a metal door, tried to open it with a keycard, remembered there was no power, and pulled a set of keys out of his pocket. He fanned through them one at a time.

  “Try that one,” Marie said.

  He looked annoyed but inserted the one she’d pointed to, and it worked. With a nod, he let Pete know he expected him to check the stairwell.

  Please and thank you.

  Pete also noted that Sadler was quite happy to take a back seat in this situation. No big surprise. It was how the guy had been operating since the day Pete had met him.

  “How far down are we going?” Sadler asked.

  “Basement,” Andersen answered. “Four levels.”

  Since Pete was going to take the lead, he held out his hand for the keys. Andersen gave them to him and they got moving, down one flight and then another, Pete’s flashlight illuminating the stairwell around them as they went. On what had to be the second floor they found a window in the landing and Pete stopped and stared out, holding his breath and praying for a change.

  But he saw the same wall of white. The same storm. The same lack of any help out there.

  With only one flight to go, Sadler stumbled and bumped into Pete from behind, nearly sending Pete down the three steps left until the next landing. Sadler was the one who should have stayed in Andersen’s office. Pete barely knew Marie, but it didn’t take much to figure out she was capable.

  They reached the bottom and Pete fumbled to get the key in the lock then swung open the door. The hallway ahead of them was illuminated by a line of emergency lamps. The lighting was dim, but after the darkness in the stairwell, it seemed as bright as the sun.

  And things were already going bad in Mueller Maximum Security prison. Outside of the stairwell, he could hear men screaming and yelling at one another. Then a gunshot.

  “Fuck,” Andersen exclaimed.

  He bolted in front of Pete and ran toward the end of the hall. Without understanding the instinct that made him do it, Pete sprinted after him, despite
Sadler’s order to stay put. Andersen grabbed another set of keys from his pocket, shoved one into the lock in the door and turned, then yanked the door open.

  Pete grabbed the warden’s shoulder and jerked him back. A gun sounded and a bullet shrieked by, right where Andersen would have been standing if not for Pete.

  “Warden! I didn’t know it was you,” someone called from inside the room.

  “What a bunch of idiots.” Andersen, looking startled from the close call, shook his head, then entered the control room, followed by Pete, then Sadler, then Marie.

  The same emergency lights were running in here, and Pete glanced at the room, taking it all in as quickly as he could. The door was situated on the east side of the room. Directly ahead, a large L-shaped melamine desk took up the whole of the wall, and part of the short wall to the left. On the wall above the long arm of the desk were about twenty screens, all of which were as blank as the ones in Andersen’s office. They looked like they’d been controlled through three separate computer consoles spread across the desk, with three chairs in front of them. The room was large enough to accommodate a rectangular table as well, which had only four chairs around it, though six would fit.

  A room for a lot of people to watch what was going on in the prison, Pete thought. How many people were generally in here running security protocols? Why was there room for so many at these desks?

  Once they were all inside, Andersen shut the door behind them and locked it, then turned to the people in the room. “Next time, look before you start shooting.”

  The man at the first desk looked sheepish, and before Andersen could ask for an update, the three men stationed there began talking at once.

  “Everything’s down. Even comms.”

  “The cell doors must have opened.”