Frozen Embers, D. S. Novis [best pdf ebook reader .TXT] 📗

He would cut off the wires to all the motion activated lights that hung over their front door, now whilst it was light out. There were also ones at the side gate and one in the garden that he would disable. Then he’d go back to his car to wait.

Night fall would be his queue. He’d step out of his car and silently walk round to the garden, greeted playfully by the guard dog he knew so well.

Here he could see into their living room. The family would be eating a mouth watering dinner on their dining room table. Two young girls would be sitting opposite each other in the middle of the table. Both with red hair that matched Kevin’s exactly. At least he shared one thing in common with his daughters. At the bottom of the table would be a skinny, pretty woman with dark brown hair,  smiling her dazzling smile, her bamboozling eyes gleaming. This lady was Kevin’s ex-wife. At the top of the table, in Kevin’s spot, would of course be Mr. Stevenson, the head of the back stabbing family.

They would finish their dinner, unaware of watching eyes, and make their way to bed. Kevin would then open the back door, using the key hidden under the plant pot Kevin had given his ex-wife as a thirteenth anniversary present.

This is the part where Kevin wasn’t completely sure about the details. Sometimes he would find a knife in his right hand, other times it would be a gun but for the most part, he saw petrol. He saw fire and flames, just like the ones burning away in his chest.

The Stevenson’s would regret ever turning their backs on me, Kevin thought.

One mistake, one moment of indiscretion and they’d thrown Kevin aside like he was something filthy they’d found on the ground. Kevin couldn’t help it that he liked fire, liked to watch things burn.

He thought back to a night, almost two years previous, to the night he’d been arrested. He stood, unshaken, watching the old retirement building crumble before his eyes. Whether or not he'd known there were people inside at the time Kevin couldn't remember. It didn't seem significant at the time.

A deafening horn sounded that brought Kevin’s day dream flying back into his head, back into his cell. The horn was the sound to tell the prisoners that it was now lunch-time. Kevin caught his ball and got to his feet as the bars were mechanically opened. He and the other two hundred or so inmates, escorted by dozens of heavily armed officers, made their way to the cafeteria.

The smell of rotten fish filled Kevin’s nostrils as he stepped into the cafeteria. He made his way over to a corner he knew wouldn’t get him into any trouble. Convicts, wearing orange prison uniforms matching Kevin’s, filled the eating hall. The cafeteria was covered with invisible territories belonging to the prison gangs.

Kevin knew these territories well now. On his first day in prison, however, he had been unaware that such rules existed. This had lead to a large and heavily scarred man to smash mash potato into Kevin’s face.

This incident had gone unnoticed by the guards because they did not eat with the convicts. They ate in their own fully furnished, separate compartment in the cafeteria. Completely cut off from the riffraff of the prisoners. This meant that lunch time was where most of the drug deals occurred.

Kevin found he wasn’t very hungry at the moment so instead of eating he stared out of a barred window, into the yard. It was about an acre of open concreted land, enclosed by high barbed wired fences with four tall watch towers on each corner. The watch towers were manned with trained snipers on 24 hour a day look out.

Kevin sighed. The only way he’d ever be getting out of this place was in a body bag, he thought miserably to himself. Then he noticed something. Surrounding the walls of Greyside were dozens of large, black vans. Kevin couldn’t work out why they were there. After a few moments of staring he concluded they would be for some kind of delivery. He pulled his ball out of his pocket and started looking for a good place to sit and play with it when he saw something else that was odd. Through the windows of the guard’s dining room he could see a faint red smoke filling the room. Kevin got to his feet and began to walk warily towards the room. It seemed to be emanating from an air vent in the far corner. The guards had realized too and were now, one by one, scrambling off of their chairs and backing away hurriedly. They rushed towards the door but it was locked. Several guards began trying to smash the window with chairs and tables but to no avail.

The mist was slowly filling up the room now. The panic that was etched on all of the guards’ faces seemed to fade away as the smoke reached them, replaced by stupid, dopey looks. Then, like a house of cards, they all fell to the floor. The mist consumed the room and the bodies till the windows were opaquely red.

Kevin stared worried. He worried not for the welfare of the guards. He had no inclination in the slightest of trying to help them. Neither did Kevin worry for his fellow inmates. No, Kevin was worried about Kevin. He knew something very big was about to happen.

The other convicts were getting to their feet now and looking over in curiosity. For a moment or two there was nothing but silence. What followed this silence was the most ear splitting explosion Kevin had ever heard in his life. He dived to the ground and covered his head. Rubble and dust rained down over the prisoners. Kevin raised his head, trying to find the source of the noise and what he saw made his jaw drop in astonishment. One side of the enormous cafeteria wall had completely been blown away. As the dust settled he could make out a single figure through the hole that had been formed. The figure walked through the hole and, walking with both grace and authority, made their way calmly to the centre of the cafeteria. It was a man. The man had smartly combed blonde hair and deep penetratingly blue eyes. Brushing deb-re off of his fine black suit, he stood in the centre of the chaos and rotated around, marveling at the mayhem. A small smile spread across his handsome face.

“Hello gentlemen.” He had a strong Irish accent, Northern Ireland Kevin supposed from the sound of it. He spoke with a friendly tone. “My name is Alexander Doyle. I’m sorry for the sudden intrusion but, as I’m sure you’ll soon agree, it was necessary.”

He allowed the convicts to get to their feet. Some, like Kevin, looked worried, but most just looked annoyed.

“We are going to make history today, gentlemen. I am here to return you fine men to freedom.” This turned the faces of the convicts to pleasantly curious.

“Never before has there been a prison break out of this magnitude. Now, as you have probably already seen, your security guards have been... immobilised. This hole here has saved us breaking through several dozen looked doors. I’ll ask you now to follow me out to the yard, where your transport awaits.”

The man walked through the crowd of gawping convicts and out of the hole he had made in the wall. There was a brief silence where all the convicts looked around the room, as though they would see a sign on the wall reading 'Freedom This Way'. Then, almost in unison, all began to climb through the hole in the cafeteria wall.

Kevin was one of the last to climb through. They were lead through to the yard where they all walked with an eerily quiet. There were guards’ bodies laying all around. They were not dead. Kevin could tell from the way their chests still pumped up and down. No, they were unconscious.

Kevin looked up to the guards’ towers. It was unmanned. Kevin felt excitement. An anxious chill rose up his back. Was this real? Could it really be this simple? Was he really about to just stroll out of the prison a free man?

An image of the Stevensons' front steps flashed more vivid than ever before.

Once the crowd had reached the end of the yard they stopped and gathered around the Irishman, listening eagerly. A large portion of the fence had been removed. Through the gap Kevin could see the dozen or so large vans he'd spotted previously. The van's rear doors were open and facing the group.

“These, gentlemen-” Doyle gestured to the vans. “-will take you to your safe house. Once at the safe house, you are free. You will be given a change of clothes and can rejoin the outside world.” A smile spread across his face. “Now if you would all please climb in.”

Without hesitation, the group of convicts began to climb inside the vans.

Kevin looked around. He noticed that there on the far end of the row of vans was a smaller, red van. This was where the Irishman was standing now. He was talking to some prisoners that Kevin had never seen before. There were seven of them, dressed in bright green uniforms. They were all Eastern European with hard, viscous faces. All had long black hair with matching beards. They must be the Underground Bombers, Kevin Supposed. The Bombers were arguing with Doyle. They seemed to be unwilling to get into their van.

Kevin did not care and went back to minding his own business. He followed a group of convicts and climbed into the back of one of the vans that had the least harmful looking occupants.

The inside of the van was dark. What little light there was came from several small lights on the ceiling. There were no chairs so Kevin remained standing. He was forced further in by convicts behind him. Around thirty men were crammed into the van, leaving them stuffed together like sardines. But Kevin didn't care. He was about to be a free man again. He could have screamed he was so jubilant.

The inside of the van grew even darker once the doors of the truck were closed. The slam of the doors was followed by a harsh locking sound. The van started and they began to move.

Kevin had just begun to fantasise about his new found freedom when he noticed that the convicts in the van were forcing him to move again. They were beginning to make a fuss over something in the corner that Kevin couldn’t see. Kevin got on his tip toes and looked over the heads of other convicts. It looked as though the convicts that were in the far corner were lying down. He couldn’t believe it. There wasn’t enough room to stand as it was, let alone lay down. But then Kevin looked closer. There was a faint red mist covering the bodies.

The convicts were falling like dominoes. Fear hit Kevin like he’d ran face first into a brick wall. He started to push himself through the crowd. He climbed over others and knocked smaller men carelessly to the ground. With no regard for anyone else he desperately scrambled to the doors of the truck.

How could they have been so stupid? He’d walked willingly into a gas chamber. He had been so enthralled by the promises of the Irishman that he had not questioned one thing about it. Shepherded like sheep for the slaughter.

The red mist was now consuming the majority of the van. Though Kevin knew his fate was sealed, he still scrambled away. He reached the door to the truck and smashed fist after fist into the metal till his hand bled. It was no use. The red mist invaded Kevin’s lungs and he instantly dropped to the ground,