Hell Breaks Loose: A Devil's Rock Novel (2 page)

Oh, God.
With those words, her fate was sealed. Her last scrap of hope that they didn’t know who she was died a swift death. Grace’s
heart twisted, an aching mass in her chest. Longing to go back, to retrace her steps and order room service with Holly, surged
within her. She could be in her pajamas eating a mediocre burger and lukewarm fries watching TV. Maybe a
Modern Family
rerun.

Greasy Hair stopped smiling. His lips flattened into a thin line that peeked out of the patchy beard on his face. He looked
utterly, frighteningly serious as he stared down at her. He reached out a hand and she flinched, trying to back away, but
the two men behind her prevented her from retreating. She stopped. Nowhere to go. Nowhere to run. He fingered a lock of her
hair as though testing its texture, marveling at its cleanness. Then he released it abruptly. Holding his hand midair, he
snapped his fingers. “Take her.”

They grabbed her, hard hands bruising where they dug into her arms. She struggled and opened her mouth to scream. The sound
never escaped her lips. Something gouged into her ribs. For one terrified instant she thought it was the barrel of a gun.

A jolt of pain punched her. She went rigid as fiery-hot waves rippled over her. They didn’t stop. Her teeth clamped tight.
She couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. It was the strangest sensation. She was conscious of the men, their voices, their sweat-doused
stink, a hard object digging into her side.

Tires squealed and a van peeled in front of her, filling her vision. A sliding door swished open, revealing a dark gaping
hole. She was picked up and tossed into that shadowy maw.

The door slammed shut and the pain suddenly stopped. The men crowded into the small space with her, the smell of them bitter
copper in her nose. Her body went limp. Her jaw relaxed. She gasped for breath, intelligible words tripping from her lips.
Shaking, sprawled on the hard metal floor of the van, she tried to lift her head to look around. The van accelerated, rumbling
all around her.

There were high fives and triumphant exclamations. She felt her lips moving and knew she was speaking, but nothing sounded
right to her ears.

A guy looked down at her and laughed. “You Tased the shit out of her, Zane!”

“Yeah.” Greasy Hair laughed once. “Easier than I planned. Didn’t expect her to stroll outside all alone.”

Grace shook her head, fear like metal in her mouth. Her one and only act of rebellion and this had happened.

She reacted, her leg lashing out, managing to kick one of her assailants. Her efforts were rewarded with a slap to the face.
Her head struck the steel floor of the van. Stars danced in her vision. Whimpering, she lay there, the scald of tears filling
her eyes. The men around her laughed.

Did anyone even realize she was gone yet? Was Holly still talking to her boyfriend, oblivious to her absence? For once, Grace
wished that she had just stayed put and accepted her fate. Marriage to Charles wouldn’t be so bad, she reasoned. She could
do worse.

Because this fate? It was so much worse.

Deep shadows blanketed the hospital room. A dim glow radiated from the panel above his hospital bed, saving the space from
complete blackness. Not that Reid minded the dark. He was accustomed to it. There weren’t any nightlights in a prison cell.
And his stints in the hole had shown him just how dark darkness could be.

Someone outside the room laughed as they passed his door. The footsteps faded. Otherwise the hospital was quiet, with that
humming quality of a building that never shut off. Like him. He was wired tight. Tension knotted his shoulders as he reclined
in the bed. He never shut down. Never turned off. He couldn’t afford to. Not until he was a pile of ashes in a box. Then,
he’d rest. Hopefully that wasn’t happening any time soon.

Doctors, nurses, and other personnel worked the six floors of Sweet Hill Memorial with seemingly little thought to the felon
in Room 321. Exactly the way he wanted it. He’d been here eight days. Eight days since he was taken from Devil’s Rock Penitentiary
in an ambulance. In that time, he’d been an exemplary patient. He withstood all the poking and prodding without complaint.
He slept and ate his fill. You could say whatever you wanted about hospital food, but compared to prison food it was five-star
cuisine.

He’d used this time to store up energy and plot his next move. He had only one chance and he couldn’t fuck it up.

He’d be sent back soon. He wasn’t hooked up to any beeping machines anymore. His wounds had pretty much healed, leaving only
the black lines of stitches and fresh, itching scabs. No threat of infection or continued bleeding. His arm sling could come
off in a few days. According to the doctor, he was lucky to be alive. Half an inch to the left and the shiv would have hit
his heart.

Reid had said nothing when the doctor told him that, looking at him so expectantly. As though he might express relief or gratitude.
He might be alive and breathing, but he had died a long time ago. He was nothing but a walking ghost now.

A ghost with nothing to lose.

Still, starting that fight had been a gamble. He winced, recalling how quickly everything had escalated and turned into a
full-on riot. He’d only meant to get himself injured. Instead, inmates had died. Guards were injured. He’d seen North go down
in a shower of blood. He felt like shit about that. He’d promised Knox he would look out for the kid. After a few inquiries,
he’d learned that North was in a room somewhere else in the hospital. Thankfully, he would recover, but that face of his wouldn’t
be so pretty anymore.

And that sucked. More guilt. More sins to heap at his feet. But it was done. He, better than anyone, knew you couldn’t change
the past. He just had to make sure it counted for something. That it wasn’t for nothing. Then he could go back to rotting
away for the rest of his life.

Reid took a deep, mostly pain-free breath as a nurse entered his room for a final bed check of the night. He was the last
to be told anything concerning himself, but he knew what was coming. Even if he hadn’t spied the paperwork on the doctor’s
clipboard authorizing his release, he knew. His time here was done. It was now or never. He had to act tonight.

“Are you comfortable? Can I get you anything? Another pillow?” Nadine asked as she adjusted the one beneath his head, bringing
her chest close to his face. It was a game she liked to play. Tease the hard-up convict. Lingering touches on his body that
didn’t feel quite so clinical. It’d been a long time for him, but he knew when a woman was into him.

The guard who’d accompanied her into the room snorted. Reid leveled his gaze on Vasquez. The man clearly found her compassion
toward a scumbag like him unnecessary. Unsurprising.

Reid looked back at the nurse. “I’m fine.” He smiled at her. It felt a little rusty. He hadn’t done a lot of smiling in the
last eleven years, but it seemed to work. She smiled back.

He picked up the remote control with his arm that wasn’t in a sling. “I might watch some television.” The more noise coming
from his room, the better.

He punched the on button and the TV flickered to CNN, the channel Landers, the day guard, preferred. It was a good thing Landers
wasn’t here tonight. He hung out in the room with Reid a lot so that he could watch TV. Vasquez, on the other hand, only entered
the room to accompany the hospital staff. The rest of the time he stood watch outside the door.

“Don’t stay up too late,” Nadine advised. “You need your rest.”

He nodded, training his gaze on the TV as if he cared about what was happening in the rest of the world.

Footage of a vaguely familiar female dressed in a boring gray suit rolled across the screen.

“. . . an inside White House source reports that the First Daughter has been missing for over twenty-four hours, ever since
Wednesday afternoon following a luncheon with the Ladies Literacy League in Fort Worth, Texas, where she delivered a speech
on the . . .”

Nadine tsked. “Can you believe it? Someone abducted the President’s daughter. What’s the world coming to?”

He shook his head as if this was indeed something he gave a fuck about.

“She probably took off for a weekend to Padre Island,” Vasquez grumbled. “Meanwhile, every law enforcement agency in the state
is on full alert, wasting time and taxpayers’ money searching for her.”

The timing couldn’t have been better as far as Reid was concerned. Deep satisfaction pumped through his veins, mingling with
the swelling adrenaline. That meant they would care less about one escaped convict.

He didn’t bother pointing out that the dark-haired female—who looked anywhere between the ages of twenty and forty—was the
least likely candidate for a wild weekend at Padre.

“Haven’t you been watching the news?” Nadine asked Vasquez. “They suspect terrorists,” she pointed out with an indignant sniff.

“What does the media know?” The guard rolled his eyes. “Watch. She’ll show up on Monday with nothing worse than a sunburn.”

Nadine shook her head, clearly not in agreement, and looked back to Reid. “Good night.”

Reid fixed a smile to his face as she slipped from the room, the guard close behind her.

The door clicked softly shut, and he sat there for a long while, letting the minutes tick past, letting the hospital sink
deeper into night, his hand twitching anxiously at his side. It was hard being inactive for this long. If you were idle on
the inside, you didn’t last very long.

CNN streamed a constant feed of First Daughter Grace Reeves while reporting absolutely nothing new or enlightening. Graduate
of some all-girls college. She looked uncomfortable in her own skin. She was dating the White House communications director,
with rumors of an engagement imminent. Surprising, since she didn’t look the type to be with the slick-looking guy mugging
for the camera.

They flashed pictures and footage of Grace Reeves from a braces-wearing awkward adolescent to current day still-awkward-looking
adult. You would think the President had someone on staff that could coach her on how not to look so pinch-faced. Maybe they
could dress her better, too. Not like a middle-aged bureaucrat.

When the clock on the wall read 12:34, he decided he’d waited long enough. They had left him unrestrained. Injured and wearing
a sling and with a guard standing watch twenty-four/seven, they deemed it unnecessary. Fortunately for him.

The trick would be getting out of the room—and out of the hospital—undetected.

He rose from the bed and slipped the sling over his head. Dropping it on the ground, he moved his arm gingerly, experiencing
only a slight twinge of discomfort from the deepest of the lacerations in his chest, but not the arm itself. The arm felt
good. He’d had worse.

He fashioned a lump under the covers, doing the best he could to make it look like a body. He turned off the light above his
bed. It might pass for him if someone took a cursory peek inside the dim room.

Moving quietly, he slipped the surgical scissors out from where he’d stashed them under the mattress and moved a chair beneath
the ceiling access panel.

A draft crept through the back slit of his hospital gown as he climbed up on the chair and lifted his arms, working two of
the tiny screws loose in the panel. It swung down soundlessly.

Sucking in a breath, he pulled himself up through the panel, grunting at the strain in his still sore muscles. The square
space was barely wide enough for his big body, but he managed to heft himself through, stretching to his full height.

Above his room, the space was dark and crowded with conduit pipes and hot water valves. He hunkered and ducked his head, walking
on pipes, carefully choosing his steps so he didn’t crash through the Sheetrock.

Light trickled in from another access panel ahead. Reid peered down between the slats, identifying the hallway outside his
room. He kept going, looking through the square metal panels until he finally came to one that overlooked a break room.

He listened to the rumble of voices below and glimpsed the top of one man’s balding head as he changed shirts. “See you tomorrow,
Frank.” A locker slammed shut. “Tell your wife to make some of those cookies again.”

“They’re supposed to be for me,” Frank complained.

“I’m doing you a favor,” the other guy laughed. “You’re fat enough.” He left the room and it was just Frank for a few more
minutes. He was out of his range of vision, but Reid could hear him rustling around. Soon, another locker shut and his footsteps
rang out as he strode from the room.

Reid waited a few seconds and then worked the screws loose until the panel swung open. He lowered himself down, clutching
the edges of the opening until his feet landed lightly on cold tile.

He moved swiftly, starting with the lockers, hoping there was one whose combination lock hadn’t shifted and would lift open
for him. He got lucky on his sixth try. Even better, a pair of men’s scrubs and a hoodie hung inside. Several dollars and
loose change littered the bottom of the locker floor along with a pair of tennis shoes and a pocketknife. Reid grabbed it
all and shut the locker. Arms full, he disappeared into one of the bathroom stalls to change.

The shoes were a little snug, but the scrubs fit. He tightened the drawstring at his waist and slipped on the hoodie, zipping
it halfway up. Snatching up his hospital gown, he stuffed it into a trash can on his way out.

He walked out into the hallway like he belonged there. Squaring his shoulders, he slipped one hand in the pocket of his hoodie
and immediately brushed the cold cut of metal. He wrapped his fingers around the clump of keys, thumbing the clicker. Sweet.
Lifting a car would be simple enough.

Reid didn’t pass anyone as he strolled down the hall. He dove through a corner door that led to a stairwell and hurried down
the flights. Vasquez could check on him any time. He needed to be far from there when that happened.

The first floor had a little more life to it. An orderly turned the corner before him, humming a tune as he pushed a cart.
A nurse passed him as he strode toward the front lobby. She barely glanced up from the chart she was studying. He felt the
stare of the camera in the corner but kept walking. It was like he was invisible.

Later, they would study the footage and marvel at him walking bold as day down the hall. But by then it wouldn’t matter. He
would be long gone.

He passed through a set of automatic doors and sent a smile to the woman behind the circular counter of the admittance desk.
She gave him a distracted nod as she spoke into a phone.

Only two people sat in the waiting area. One dozed. The other stared at the TV in the corner where footage of the First Daughter
ran in a constant loop.

His heart stalled and then sped up at the sight of the security guard near the door. His attention was focused on the television
screen, too. As Reid approached, he looked up and locked eyes on him. This was it. If there was going to be trouble it would
happen now.

“Evenin’,” Reid greeted as he neared the door. Almost there.

The guard glanced him up and down before nodding. “Have a good one.”

Reid didn’t breathe fully. Not even once he stepped out into the night. Every bit of him pulled tight. He didn’t let himself
feel free. Not yet. It wasn’t time to drop his guard. He still had a long way to go to accomplish what he needed to do.

Glancing around, he pulled out the keys from his hoodie and pressed the unlock button. A distant beep echoed on the night.
He moved in that direction, weaving between cars. He pushed the unlock button again and this time spotted the flash of headlights.

He advanced on an old Ford Explorer and pulled open the driver’s side door. Ducking inside, he adjusted the seat for his long
legs then turned the ignition on and drove out of the parking lot.

He headed east for thirty minutes, stopping at a gas station to fill up the tank with the money he’d found in the locker.
This late, the place was deserted. He kept his head low as he paid the sleepy-eyed clerk and avoided looking directly at the
security camera in the corner.

Reid pulled around the back, where a lone car sat parked beside the Dumpster, presumably the clerk’s car. He swapped license
plates with it. The guy probably wouldn’t even notice anytime soon.

He’d still have to get rid of the Explorer, but this would give him some time. He could ditch the vehicle after he got where
he was going.

Satisfied, he hopped back behind the wheel and drove a couple more hours through the night, putting Sweet Hill far behind
him. His adrenaline never slowed. He constantly glanced up at the rearview mirror, half expecting to see the flash of headlights.
They never appeared.

The highway was dark, the passing car rare on this isolated stretch of road. He rubbed a hand over his close-cropped hair
and settled into his seat. Desert mountains lumbered on either side of him, dark beasts etched against the backdrop of night.
He flipped through radio stations. No news of an escaped convict. It had been a long time since he was this alone. He still
didn’t feel free, though. He doubted he ever would.