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

be surprised if the guards vanished completely, to be replaced with angry inmate leaders and their surveying goons who selected who they wanted to release, leaving those who had no allegiance to rot in their cells. Max would definitely be left to rot.

Without guards, a five-minute scuffle could turn into a ten-minute beatdown. Max wouldn’t survive a ten-minute encounter with Colin. The anxiety in his stomach flared into something frantic, making him feel like a dog trapped in a too-small cage. Without that protection, Colin could easily kill him. This wasn’t about him serving a sentence. He was battling for his life.

Max swallowed hard. He closed his eyes again and told himself to sleep. Hopefully, these thoughts would go away with rest. But there was still no guard. There was still no food.

He needed to escape.

The thought arrived out of nowhere and felt ludicrous. Something out of a movie. How the hell could he even think about getting out? The cells still had physical locks that required a key. The guards shackled everyone any time the inmates went anywhere. Before Eric, the last guard who’d entered his cell block—it had been late lunch yesterday, had he really missed dinner?—had given Max a look of hidden terror before handing Max his food tray.

As he put things into perspective, he realized that these might very well be his last days on earth. So far, he’d spent them wishing he could find a dark hole to crawl into and hide. Yet some part of him kept screaming at him to break the rules again.

Taking another deep breath, Max dug deep to find steel in his constitution. He thought of Kathleen, how they’d been so stupid and brave when they were young, and figured enough was enough. He could either die here, or die out there. He’d take his chances out there.

After his breakfast didn’t arrive, his decision to escape had hardened into something that must happen. Now that he knew something was wrong, he couldn’t unsee the problems. Each passing moment made him even more concerned for his life.

It took three days for Max to finally figure out the current prison rotation schedule. Eric was one of the remaining guards who seemed to have a family. By the dark circles under Eric’s eyes, Max figured the poor man would have vanished too if he wasn’t banking on a paycheck. A couple of the other remaining guards were mean and tough. Definitely ones that Max didn’t want to have a scuffle with. None of them gave friendly advice like Eric did, or waved hello like Eric did whenever Max’s food tray was finally brought to him. Eric was a good man. A kind man. The one that Max would have to take advantage of.

He knew Eric would be on morning rotation that day. As soon as Max knew Eric would be coming down at any moment with his breakfast, he flung himself onto his bed and began to clutch at his stomach and moan as if in agony. The other inmates down the row yelled at him to shut up. Max ignored them and continued to fuss.

He had to be careful. There was only one opportunity for him to do this. He wouldn’t have another shot. Eric, while being a kind guard, was still a guard. Given the chance and the realization of Max’s intentions, he’d beat Max to a pulp or even shoot him if it came down to it. To the guards, Max was just another bad dog. If he put together that Max was trying to escape, Max knew Eric would throw him into the dark pit of solitary confinement. Then, who knew how long he’d be stuck down there? Probably forever. No one would remember he was down there to pull him out.

Max let out another long, dramatic moan. He heard the jingle of keys and the clunky footsteps of a man wearing heavy boots. Max peeked out to see Eric standing in front of his cell with a tray in hand.

Max moaned once more.

Eric paused and then said, “Hey, are you okay?”

“Something doesn’t feel right,” Max said through gritted teeth. He twisted too hard to the side and let out a real gasp of pain. Not everything was faked. “My stomach hurts really bad. I think Colin ruptured something.”

“Where’s the pain at?” Eric asked. The keys were poised in his hands.

“Everywhere,” Max said and realized that would be unlikely to get someone’s help, “but mostly in my lower stomach. Like near my kidneys. Do you think I have internal bleeding?”

Eric’s face looked panicked.

“You gotta take me to the hospital,” Max urged. He sensed victory. “Something is really wrong with me. I could be dying.”

“Okay, okay, hang on.”

“Hurry! I feel my whole body is seizing up!”

Eric muttered frantically under his breath and set the food tray on the floor. He fumbled with the keys and opened up the cell door. He rushed inside and knelt next to Max, putting a hand on Max’s shoulder. “Hey, you’re gonna be okay. Let me help you up and—”

Max grabbed Eric’s head and slammed it into the concrete wall. Eric let out a soft gasp before Max repeated the action. Eric crumpled down into the bed and halfway on top of Max, his eyes rolling up in the back of his head.

“I’m so sorry,” Max whispered as he eased out of the bed. He pulled Eric into the bed and covered him up with the blanket. “You’ll be home with your son soon. I promise.”

Then he slipped to the cell door and closed it behind him, locking Eric in his place. When he pulled it out of the lock, the key bit into his palm. There was no going back now.

4

By the time they rounded the corner and the hotel came into view, Matthew had recounted everything that had happened to him and his father during their journey to get back home. Kathleen had listened to his whole tale with wide