A New World: Awakening (38 page)

Our lasers streak through the room as we search for any other guards.
 
The room is empty.
 
Walking around the perimeter, hidden in the shadows to a degree, Greg and I approach the first lit window.
 
We passed by one darkened window but found it vacant.
 
It could be that they are all empty but the odds are that the ones with the light are where the current prisoners are housed.

A look in each of the doors reveals a long hall with rows of solid steels doors to the left and right down its length.
 
Each door has a very small window and the cinder block walls are painted a drab cream color.
 
At the far end of each, a guard sits in a plastic chair against the wall, each one looking bored and not wanting to be there.
 
One guard is leaning forward with his elbows on his knees staring at the ground while the other leans back with a book.
 
Neither is being attentive to the door or those most likely behind the locked doors.
 
Both have rifles leaning against the wall beside them.

I stand next to the wall adjacent to the opening of the door.
 
Greg swipes and pulls the door outward on the click of the magnetic release, holding the door with his foot as he focuses on the other lit door.
 
I step into the opening raising my M-4.
 
The first guard lowers his book to look at who is intruding upon their moment.
 
Centering the crosshair on his center mass, I pull the trigger twice feeling two light kicks against my shoulder.
 
The two projectiles streak down the hall, the first tearing through the pages of the book before impacting his chest with a solid thump.
 
The book is torn from his hands and flies through the air.

The second round arrives on the heels of the first smacking into his neck.
 
The wall behind him turns red with a spray pattern of blood.
 
The guard reaches up with his hand to his ruined throat and launches back in his chair.
 
Jets of blood arc into the air through his fingers with the rhythm of his heart.
 
He slams against the wall, knocking his gun to the ground with a clatter, spins to the side, and falls off his chair hitting the floor.
 
Continuing to grasp his neck with both hands, his feet kick out repeatedly before slowing to an occasional twitch.
 
One last twitch and they become still.

I race up the hall keeping him covered.
 
A large red puddle forms on the floor beneath his head.
 
I reach the body and kick the rifle away.
 
It skitters across the floor leaving a streak of red behind.
 
The guard’s eyes stare blankly at the ceiling above, any life they might have once had is gone and they’re glazed over.

The sound of the shots barely echoed down the hall.
 
The solid doors must have kept even the muted gunshots from entering as there are no faces peering out of the windows.
 
I look quickly in each on my way back out finding men lying on double bunks in several of the rooms.
 
I reach Greg’s position aware of our need to be swift.
 
Anyone could come through the entrance at any time or see us through the window if they drew near.
 
They can’t get in with the door wedged but they certainly can raise the alarm.
 
I don’t know the guard’s rotation so we need to make this fast.

Greg closes the door and we creep to the second door.
 
In the same positions as before, Greg swiftly opens the door and I send two rounds down the hall once again.
 
The guard looks up from his leaning position, his face registering surprise at a figure at the door aiming a carbine at him.
 
His shocked look changes to one of pain as the bullets punch through his shirt, one just to the right of his sternum in the center of his chest and the other into the sternum itself.
 
He is thrown upright and from his chair into the wall.
 
He falls heavily to the floor scooting the chair across the floor away from him.
 
The chair hits one of the security doors and topples over.

I hear a gurgling wheeze as I approach.
 
His eyes seek mine and lock onto them as I reach and stand over him.
 
Fear is written in his eyes as he tries to catch his breath.
 
He knows he is dying.
 
His eyes plead with mine for a second and then he looks away with resignation.
 
His red plaid shirt puffs as I pump two more rounds into his chest which then falls inward.
 
The wheeze of him struggling to breathe falls silent.
 
I turn and see the face of a woman staring out of the small window of the door that the chair crashed into.
 
I nod at the woman and head back to Greg.
 
We rapidly check the remaining wings without seeing guards or lit rooms.

“There should be switches in the guard post that will open all of the doors,” I say as we finish with our checks.
 
“I’ll unlock the doors if you’ll gather everyone.”

“Gotcha,” Greg says.

I head into the room, having to go through the musical door thing again.
 
Checking on the hall leading to the other building on my way, I find it still clear of others.
 
Within the room is a console and control panel for the doors.
 
The console allows for each door to be opened individually, a wing at a time, or the entirety of the doors.
 
I unlock the two wings that have the lit hallways radioing Greg that they are open.
 
I then move to the small room to keep watch on the hall.
 
I open and wedge the door again.

Greg appears in the room with men in tow and then heads into the second hall, returning shortly with women behind.
 
I wave them over to my position noticing more than a few eyes wandering to the blood smeared window of the control room.

“I hid the bodies in cells,” Greg says as he comes to stand next me.

“Let’s drag this other one into a cell before we leave,” I say nodding toward the control room.

“Is this everyone?”
 
I ask the group knowing there’s at least one women missing.

One of the women looks around at the others before speaking up.
 
“There are four women missing.
 
The guards take some of us at night,” she says.

“Fucking great,” I say quietly.

The man who was beaten just a short while ago is with the men.
 
One of his eyes is swollen completely shut.
 
He is shirtless and his face is smeared with dried blood as if he, or someone else, tried to clean him up.

“My wife,” he says; the words thick and slurred coming through broken, swollen lips.
 
Tears run down his cheek as he thinks about what she must be going through.

“We’ll get her,” I reply nodding.
 
“Anyone here know Allie McCafferty?”

An older gentleman, well, older being relative as he appears to be only slightly older than me, raises his hand.
 
His eyes light up and his face is written with eagerness and anticipation.

“I have a daughter named Allie McCafferty, sir.
 
Do you know if she’s okay?
 
Is she with you?”
 
He asks excitedly and looks around as if she’ll materialize somewhere.

“Assuming she’s your daughter, and the odds are that she is, she’s okay.
 
She and others will be waiting for us outside come morning,” I answer.

Tears flow down his face.
 
I want to ask about McCafferty’s mother but it’s not my place and time is not our friend.
 
We need to get these people to safety and quickly.

With Greg standing at my side, I whisper, “We need to get these folks back to the laundry room and maybe further into the building before someone shows up.
 
Possibly even back to the roof.
 
I’ll lead, you keep the stragglers rounded up.”

I think about staying here as there is only one entrance and we can keep the door closed by keeping another open but there’s no other way out.
 
If they come to check on the prisoners, like I’m sure they will at some point, they only have to wait us out at the other end.
 
We’d eventually have to leave for food and water.
 
In essence, we’d be trapped.

“It’ll be a little akin to herding cats but I’ll keep ‘em moving,” he replies.

“We may have to move them into the hallway in stages if they all won’t fit in the transition room,” I say to which Greg nods.

“Okay folks.
 
We’re going to get you out of here to somewhere safer.
 
I’ll be leading and Greg here will be behind you.
 
Stay together and behind me.
 
A lot of the route will be dark but keep moving as best you can unless I say different.
 
Keep absolutely quiet.
 
No talking,” I say.

“What about my wife?”
 
The hurt man asks.

“And the others?”
 
The woman who first spoke up asks immediately after.

“We’ll get them but we have to get you to safety first.
 
You first, then them,” I answer.

“Please hurry,” the man says with desperation and fear in his voice.

“We will.
 
You ready, Greg?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” he answers.
 
Greg and I move the body into an empty cell before returning to the group.

There are twenty-seven men and women not including Greg and me.
 
It’s one of the tightest squeezes ever, so tight that several pregnancies may occur, but we manage to fit everyone inside.
 
I swear the windows bulge outward and the oxygen is immediately consumed.
 
The door closes with a click.
 
We are so tight I am almost not able to raise my hand to swipe the card.
 
I’m also hesitant to do so as we may spill into the hall once the door unlocks.
 
Heck, I may fly down the hall from the pressure and impact the far door at close to Mach.

None of this happens as the door swings open.
 
I head down the hall keeping an eye on the opposite door until we reach the door we entered through on the left.
 
I enter with the others close on my heels in the hall.
 
I can’t blame them for bunching up and pressing close as they can’t see well, if at all, in the inky blackness of the corridor.
 
Greg notifies me over the radio when he enters behind the group.
 
Reaching the security door and the end of the hall, I clear the area before opening it and dart quickly down the hall branching off to the left.
 
I retrace our steps back into the longer hall.
 
The group makes more noise than I’d like.
 
They are trying to be quiet but it’s hard with a group of this size and they don’t really know how.
 
To me, we sound like a herd of spooked water buffalo.

I hear several gasps behind me as we pass the floor covered with blood and clotted with chunks of flesh and tissue.
 
There is a much defined iron odor of blood along with feces.
 
A faint lingering odor of gunpowder lies just below the other overpowering smells.
 
We pass through the door and into the laundry room without incident.
 
I’m not sure how long we have until our intrusion and the missing prisoners are noticed.

“What do you think?
 
Here or the roof?”
 
I ask Greg once we are all in the room with the laundry baskets.

“The roof will be easier to defend I think,” Greg answers.

“Unless they have grenades or mortars,” Greg continues with a chuckle.
 
“If they find us and come at us with grenades, then nowhere is really safe.”

“Alright.
 
Take them to the roof and hole up there.
 
I’ll join you shortly,” I say.

“And you’re going where?”
 
Greg asks.

“Back.
 
There’s a bill that needs delivering,” I answer.

“How come you get to have all of the fun while I babysit,” he says.

“Payback for all of the ‘running’ comments,” I reply with a shrug.

“Duly noted.
 
See you shortly.”

Replacing the clip with a fresh one, I head back, entering the long hall and proceeding down its length.
 
Keeping to the walls, I crouch through the dark shadows, scooting rapidly through the lit portions.
 
My nerves are taut expecting a cry of discovery.
 
Although we hid the bodies, the evidence of what transpired is readily visible.
 
And there’s the fact that none of the prisoners are in their cells.
 
It won’t take long for the alarm to be raised if someone ventures that way.
 
If it is sounded, I’m going to have to give up rescuing the other women and head to the roof.
 
We’ll be able to hold them off there for a good while with only one entrance.