Page 12 of No Way Back
Harkins
The released inmates are all over the place, attacking anyone in their way as they stampede toward the next cell block. I see Naya Costa cowering in front of a cell, clutching her knees to her chest and keeping her face hidden. Hands grope her from inside the cells, petting and touching her while she remains unmoving.
I’m in front of her in three steps, aware that speaking to her might reveal too much, but not keeping her safe isn’t an option. “Go back to block A. Shut yourself in a cell.” I grab her by the arm and bring her to her feet, throwing her back in the direction we came from.
She trembles, giving me a vacant look so filled with terror, I pity her.
“Go!” I bark, giving her a light shove to get her feet working.
I wait until I see her press the buzzer to open the door for cell block A again. Once she’s through, I direct my focus to the front. Camila swings the ax with ease, the head of it small and not too weighty for her to handle. It slices through the midsection of a guard like butter, his stomach pouring into his hands. He looks in terror for only a brief moment, attempting to scoop it back inside him with his fingers before she sends the blade down his head. That’s where she struggles, having to wait for him to fall so she can put her foot on his shoulder to get the ax free.
She loses too much time that way. I swing a baton I stole from a dead cop in cell block A and crack open the skull of another guard. He’s stunned, eyes not quite right, like they’re struggling to stay in their sockets. The guard staggers toward me, and I swing the ASP once more. It hits his mouth, teeth flying freely, bouncing off the plastic shell of my mask. His head swings a full 180 degrees, there’s a satisfying crunch right before he falls to the ground.
My girl dances through the female inmates and paying customers alike, clanging the wood handle of her ax along the bars. She’s dangerous, buzzing with energy and ready to rip through Kyle Danvers.
“Bring me those ruby slippers!” Camila’s voice is a theatrical rasp, a haunting cackle leaving her throat as she quotes the Wicked Witch of the West. “Do what you want with the rest of them! Now fly! Fly! Fly!” She's sticking the key into every cell'slock and twisting before she skips away. Every cell begins to slowly roll open, her maniacal laughter causing hesitation from every inmate behind bars.
But still, they come out, none perceiving her as either friend or foe as they rush past her into the next cell block. “Darkling!” I call for her attention.
She throws a hand straight into the air and waves.
I chuckle in disbelief, shaking my head as I push my way through the crowd to get to her. There are three, maybe four people between us. I extend my hand to reach for her when an inmate grabs her by the waist and throws her in a cell. I’m blind with rage when she hits the ground, her ax falling a few feet away.
“Move!” I yell, forcing apart the useless bodies keeping me from her.
It feels like time is standing still. Too many inmates and scared civilians are pushing me in the opposite direction. I watch him step toward her, kicking the ax away. Camila crawls back, but she’s cornered in the cell.
My vision goes white.
I know I’m screaming, but whether any of it is intelligible is beyond me. I pull the chainsaw strapped to my back and lift it above me, flipping the safety off and turning on the electric motor. Screams fill the air, but it’s not enough to make the crowd move, so I charge, bringing it in front of me.
The inmate’s hands wrap around Camila’s neck.
I bite my tongue between my teeth, and I just push forward. The saw grinding in front of me, I push forward until there’s nothing left between me and my girl. A hand grabs at me as I hack through them but before their grip can steady, the top half of their torso falls to the ground. Blood coats the visor of my mask, truly making it impossible to see anything.
“Darkling!” I roar.
It’s all red, but I can’t remove the mask. I know I’m in the cell, but I can’t see her.
Her shout draws my attention into the corner. I run my fingers over the mask, trying to wipe away some of the blood before I cock the chainsaw into the air. It sputters but doesn’t give up, the buzzing steadying in my hands. The inmate lifts his hands from Camila, his blurred image still difficult to make out but enough to know there’s distance between them now.
I step closer.
“W-wait,” he shouts.
Camila sits upright, lifting her leg into the air before sending her boot into his chest. “You got the keys?” she asks me, but I know her focus is still on the creep who was just minutes from overpowering her.
I give a singular nod.
“Good. Close the cell.” Her voice is cold, a tone that makes the hair on my arms stand.
I reach behind, and with a heave, I pull the bars, the loud slamming of the metal followed by the clicking of the lock.
“I-I wasn’t gonna do anything.” The inmate shakes his head, but I’m preoccupied.
Too busy cleaning the blood off my mask so I can see again. His eyes widen at getting a look at my face, but it makes no difference. Even if he could see me in the darkness it wouldn’t matter.
He won’t leave here.
