Breakout, Paul Herron [chrome ebook reader .txt] 📗

a roar that is shaking everything. Books fall from the shelves, splashing into the water.

I pull the library door open. The water in the passage outside surges back and forth in waves, whitecaps breaking against the walls and surging up into the air.

I think I can hear the sounds of screaming above the roar.

I lean out and peer along the corridor just as the door we used to enter this part of the prison bursts inward, pulled from its hinges, flying through the air and banging against the wall. Water explodes into the passage, a torrential flood that pummels and slams into every corner. The walls themselves start to buckle, then sag. Holes open up, jets of water spraying through before the walls give way under the pressure and collapse.

I slam the library door shut. Sawyer and I move back against the far wall, but we’re trapped. No way out.

The door slams open like it’s been hit by a battering ram. Water roars inside, a gushing, surging flood that instantly engulfs and swallows us.

My feet fly out from under me. I go under, the crosscurrents tossing me around as if I’m a leaf in a gale. I’m thrown against the wall. My head cracks into a shelf, then I’m yanked away and thrown sideways as the floodwater surges into every corner of the library.

I try to right myself, try to fight the raging currents. My lungs strain for air. I need to climb, to break the surface. I try to swim upward, but I can’t get anywhere. I can’t escape the water. I stop fighting, whirl around in confusion. I think I can make out lights beneath me, on the floor. But that can’t be right. Why would there be lights on the floor?

No. I realize I’ve been turned around. I’ve been swimming in the wrong direction.

I kick off toward the lights, clawing with my hands, trying to fight the swirling currents. I finally break the surface, gasping in lungfuls of air. I’m about three feet from the ceiling, and the water is still pouring inside.

I turn in a frantic circle, searching for Sawyer. I can’t see her anywhere.

The water surges over my head again. This time it goes in my mouth, up my nose. I cough and splutter, feeling my lungs constrict. I panic, take another huge breath, swallowing more water as I’m pulled under. Dim pools of light flash and flicker behind my eyes as I try to find my way back to the surface. I’ve been tossed around again. I can’t tell what’s up and what’s down.

I try to force the water from my lungs, but I just end up coughing, sucking more in. My throat constricts. I gag, but there’s no air. My lungs spasm. Panic wells up and I frantically pull myself in any direction I can, hoping it might lead me to the surface.

Something grabs me by the hair. Instinctively I lash out, trying to escape, but then I realize it’s someone trying to pull me up. I stop fighting and push off with my legs and arms, finally able to figure out which way is up.

I burst through the water and slam my head against the ceiling tiles. I suck in air and reach up, trying to stabilize myself against the roof. The water swirls fiercely around me. I wipe my eyes and see Sawyer treading water next to me, trying to steady herself against the wall and the ceiling.

I look around desperately. The water is boiling and frothing by the door, although the doorway itself is now completely submerged. There’s no way we can fight the current and get out. And even if we could, so what? Where can we go? The water is everywhere. A Wing is the lowest set of buildings in the prison compound. It’s being swallowed up by the hurricane.

Then something catches my eye. Where my head hit the ceiling tile, there’s a small gap. My eyes widen. Of course, the library is supposed to be staff only. No need for concrete ceilings in here. I push up, shoving the ceiling tile in. A dark space greets me. I wave at Sawyer, gesturing upward. She clambers through first, then I pull myself up after her.

The actual roof of the prison is about four feet above us, forcing us to stay hunched over. Pipes and cable-tied electrical wires cover the walls. I balance on the metal support struts so I don’t fall back into the room below.

The sound of the hurricane is deafening up here. The screaming of the wind, the rattling and pounding on the roof itself, the roaring of the water below. It’s hard to even think straight. Adrenaline surges through my body. It feels exactly like it did when I was in Marjah. That urge to act, that need to keep moving, to fight. To survive at all costs.

Sawyer and I start to move. It’s not totally dark. Some of the downlights are still working, their illumination shining back up into the ceiling space. It won’t last long. The water is going to trip the electrics soon enough.

I think we’ve been moving for about a full minute when Sawyer stops. I get close to her, shout in her ear.

“What are you doing?”

“Listen!” she shouts back.

I tilt my head, trying to hear anything different in the sounds of the hurricane. I think I can hear screaming coming from down below, almost hidden beneath the thunderous boom of the water.

Sawyer kneels down on the struts and slams a few of the ceiling tiles out. They drop a foot into the water and are swept away by the current. Through the gap I can see some inmates struggling to stay afloat in a room. I think I recognize one of them. Castillo. A lieutenant in the Latin Kings gang.

“Leave them!” I shout.

“No!” she screams. “We can’t.”

She leans down even farther and holds her arm out.

“Hey!”

Castillo turns in her direction. Sawyer gestures for him to swim toward us. He looks