EMP Catastrophe , Hamilton, Grace [phonics readers txt] 📗

7

Max tightened his hand around the guard’s key ring so it wouldn’t jingle. He gave one last look at Eric, who was still slumped and motionless in Max’s bed, and locked the cell behind him. Max swallowed hard and turned away from his cell, hoping no other prisoners had noticed his escape.

Calmly, he walked with purpose down the cell block and stuck to the shadows. He carefully tried to avoid the cells he knew held other inmates who might cry out and ask where his escort might be. For a brief moment, he considered letting everyone out and escaping during the mass confusion and chaos, but he rejected the idea. He didn’t know who might now be working for Colin. It would be better if he found his way out all on his own.

He quietly descended the stairs to the first floor and headed in the direction of the exit. It was strange, but a lot of the cells were empty already—as if the prisoners had been let go. But where would they have gone?

Worry knotted his stomach. He hadn’t seen a single guard yet. If Eric was the only guard on duty, who was taking care of the other inmates? Was the state just going to abandon the prisoners? If he got caught, there would be absolutely no hope for him. He saw that with crystal clarity. Somehow, the power outages had caused the guards to disappear, and if Max’s gut was right, soon enough the prisoners would be taking over. If that happened, there was no doubt in his mind that he would be given over to Colin’s people and killed.

The sound of a commotion floated out from the direction of the cafeteria, and Max flattened himself against the wall, holding his breath until the voices seemed to slip away. His stomach let out a growl. His heart pounded in his chest. As he continued on, no one emerged or noticed him. Somehow, he was still moving undetected.

Maybe Lady Luck was finally on his side. He slipped past the rest of the cells and down the small hallway to the big main doors barricading the block from the rest of the prison where people could walk freely. He pulled out the key ring again, ready to test whether the skeleton key worked on these locks too, when he saw a figure slouched in the kiosk on the other side of the gate. A sharp gasp escaped his mouth, and he flattened himself back against the wall. He waited for sirens, for shouts that he get back, that he was dangerous. As the silence continued, he peeked around at the kiosk and saw that the same slumped figure hadn’t moved. Swallowing hard, he looked at the desk, and tried not to think too much about the dark stain on the desk’s top. Had the prisoners already started a coup?

He thought about Eric stuck in Max’s cell. He hoped the guard would be able to escape and get back to his family. Max felt terrible about what he had done, but he knew he had to do everything in his power to survive. There was a good chance that if the prisoners took over, the rest of the world wouldn’t even care.

But he had a target painted on his back, put there by the cartel. It was stay and be killed, or risk getting out and being free.

He slipped the key in the gate and opened it carefully. He pushed the gate to the side and then opened the next barrier. Could it be this easy? His heart sped up and he whipped around, looking to see if anyone was behind him. His sudden bravado now seemed like familiar arrogance. He didn’t want to think it, but…perhaps this was a trap.

The dark hallway before him now looked like a tunnel without a light at the end of it. Even with the generators, these lights had somehow been fried. Maybe, instead of following Lady Luck to the gold at the end of the rainbow, he was more like a cow being led to slaughter. Or an ambush. His stomach dropped as he imagined being used as an example for others thinking to betray the cartel, that his welcome surprise would be much worse than he’d ever thought. They wouldn’t just want to beat him. They’d want him to cower and beg for his life. They’d want to toy with him. The sensation of doom inside him built.

Nothing happened.

Just your imagination, he thought. Keep cool and get out.

Turning, he bolted down the hallway and crashed through a series of doors that were checkpoints for visitors. He swore he could hear people following him, the slip-slide of their prison slippers against the laminate. When he looked behind him, he saw nothing. Just your imagination.

He ran through the empty lobby, turning a blind eye to another slumped, motionless figure on the gray carpet. Maybe whoever he imagined was following him was waiting to jump him.

But then he saw light.

He tore through the prison’s front door and blinked in the sudden light of the slowly descending sun. His legs burned as he ran across the parking lot—and then he spotted Kathleen’s abandoned red SUV. Why was that still here? Why were everyone’s cars still here?

Where had Kathleen gone when she’d left the prison without her car?

Everything was eerily silent—no flashing lights indicating an escape, no gunshots, no barking dogs. He crouched against a car, his breathing coming out as a wheeze. Any sort of order he’d known had been destabilized, both inside the prison and out. For a moment, he felt overwhelmed with everything. The fear nearly paralyzed him.

He heard the sound of pounding feet behind him. Maybe that was just his heart still.

He leapt to his feet and maneuvered around a series of cars, frantically thinking of where he should go. If Kathleen’s SUV hadn’t been moved, maybe she hadn’t gone to Levi’s Warehouse to take his