Page 10 of No Way Back
A gun goes off, and I don’t need to look back to know it’s Demetri causing a distraction. I’m holding my weapon directly behind my back, and with both hands, I raise it up above me, swinging the flail overhead. The ball lands with a sickeningly dull thud, the crunch of the guard’s skull a delicious sensory experience.
“Shit.” I struggle to pull it free from his head, his eyes bleeding freely down his face. He lifts his hands, as if he’s trying to help me with it. “By all means, buddy, grab the handle, not the chain if you can.” I cackle, glancing away for just a split second to seemy ghastly inmate companion on the other guard’s back, ripping his ear off with her teeth.
I hear another gun, this time to my left, and I’m suddenly flooded with concern for Harkins.
I want to call out to him.
That would be a terrible idea, though. It would cost us everything.
I look down at the guard’s uniform, and his name tag says Julien. He’s still desperately gripping at the handle of my flail, but he can’t get the right hold on it to pull it from his face. The more we yank, the more blood that runs down his cheeks, and I’m almost positive neither of us are really making it better. “What if you get on the ground and I use my feet for leverage? No?”
I know he’s shouting, but I can’t hear a goddamn thing in this fucking zoo.
“Honestly, my mistake, Jules.” I sigh, reaching into his holster. “I really thought this flail was gonna have me feeling bad bitch as fuck, but clearly, it’s all theatrics, mediocre execution.” Before he can react, I’ve pulled out his gun and flipped the safety.
Rushing to act before he goes for his taser, I unload two rounds into his face. The recoil is hard, knocking me back to the ground on my ass when I feel the warm blood hit me in what little skin is still exposed between my mask and neckline. I glance over to Julien, who has two new holes in his face: one where his nose used to be, and another two inches to the right.
The rest of him is dearly departed.
There’s a million screams in the air, and because no one can see anything more than three feet from their face, nobody knows to stay the fuck away from me.
Hi, I’m the danger. Please back the fuck up, because I’m easily overstimulated.
Another body knocks into me from behind, shoving me to my knees. With an aggravated screech, I don’t bother to see who they are before I shoot them too.
I hope it was the Ohio State girl.
People are moving like cattle in a stampede, aimlessly pushing into each other and so filled with panic and fear that they don’t care where they go, just as long as they keep moving. I shove against the current, squeezing through each person until I feel a strong hand pulling at me.
It’s when I’m locked in Harkins’ embrace that I can breathe again, separated from the crowd and brought into an empty cell as the herd scrambles to get out of this block. “Fuck.” I struggle to catch my breath, my heart so violent, I can feel it hammering against my ribcage. “What is it about killing someone that makes me want to fuck your brains out?”
He lets out a low chuckle, pressing his mask to mine as if it were our foreheads. I want to kiss him, to feel his lips on mine and to never have the moment end. But he steps back and it suddenly ends too soon.
“We have an advantage; they don’t know the power outage is real. The guards think it’s part of the event,” Demetri explains.
“So, they have no idea we’re coming until it’s too late?” I laugh, realizing how much more time this actually gives us to play.
He just gives a slow nod of his head.
“Did we get all the guards on this block?” I check, looking over my shoulder like I’m gonna be able to see anything.
“I don’t want to take all the credit here, but your Mike Tyson inspired friend left me with all the work.” He’s amused, fingers gently tracing the skin on my arm. “But yes, they’re all dead.”
My moan is painful; I’m desperate for him, wet and aching between my legs with a need only he can satisfy.
“Where’s the flail?” He’s looking at my hands, surprised to find a gun in its place instead.
The half-embarrassed laughter bubbles out of me. “Not great for a quick kill.”
He tsks. “The guns are too loud. We’re gonna draw too much attention, and in a few minutes, the inmates are gonna be taking down the guards in cell block B. We don’t wanna end up getting caught with a gun.” He takes the weapon from my hand and wipes it with the sleeve of his jumpsuit, like he’s removing the fingerprints.
I pout but don’t protest because I know he’s right. He’s always right; he always keeps me safe. Without him, I’m just aimlessly orbiting closer and closer into the Event Horizon. I know it’ll suck me up eventually, but for some reason, I’m compelled to push myself the rest of the way. Harkins is there, somehow singlehandedly fighting the gravitational pull of the void, letting me dip my toes just enough to satisfy the urge.
He doesn’t let me drown in it, doesn’t let me lose myself to my own delirium.
This time last year, I walked into a corn maze ready to leave in handcuffs, if I even got the chance to escape at all. Instead, Demetri was there to show me a better way out. So, when he sets the boundaries, I don’t push.
