NINE
Kaylan
Not here. Not now. Not yet.
When I woke up, there was this calming feeling I couldn’t shake off. Despite it, I knew I couldn’t afford to let my guard down, not today. Tonight was the night Logan and I were escaping.
The day passed with an unusual quietness. Martha chatted about a new recipe she’d come up with, but I barely listened. My mind was occupied, tallying up the risks, turning over every possibility of what could go wrong. After breakfast, I took a stroll across the front lawn, making my way towards the storage building with a calculated casualness.
From my previous recon, I knew there was about a hundred feet of open stretch that Logan and I would need to dash across to reach the car. The possibility of getting caught during that sprint was alarmingly high.
God, I just hope Logan has recovered enough to run.
While keeping my expression indifferent, I surveyed our escape route. The car would be parked behind the storage building, and I was aware that guards were usually scattered across the lawn to the north, possibly within sight under the three lamps that lit up the hundred feet stretch from the main door to the car.
My plan was to get Logan and then cut the power to the external lights through the switchboard located in the level one basement. Once that happened, it would trigger an alert, and everyone would be on high alert—that would give us less than five minutes to make it to the car.
Noel had given me the key to the basement door earlier today. During my visit to the infirmary, day before yesterday, I had grabbed potassium chloride that was locked in an old safe. I didn’t have the key so I had broken the lock the old fashioned way. I just hoped nobody saw it between then and now.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, its last rays cast an orange glow that oddly soothed me. Tonight would be the last time I’d watch the sunset confined within these dreary walls.
Dressed for dinner with Garret, I descended to the east wing where he usually entertained. Tyka and Noel were already there, lounging around the table, waiting. I managed a quick, tight smile at them before taking my seat beside Noel, my stomach twisting with nerves.
Garret swept in moments later, his usual smug expression plastered across his face. As he settled at the head of the table, he snapped his fingers, summoning the chef to start serving. He liked to have the chef present, ready to criticize or compliment the dish directly.
The entrees were served, and despite my usual lack of appetite, tonight I found myself hungry. There was a sense of finality, of needing strength for what was to come, and I ate with purpose.
Dinner proceeded in a quiet rhythm, only the soft clinks of cutlery punctuating the silence.
I looked at Tyka, eating like an animal starved for months. He had no poise. Noel, however, was better at being a bit civilized when he needed to be. The loud sounds of chewing and food smacking in Tyka’s mouth had my face twist in disgust.
Garret smacked his steak knife and lodged it into the wooden table, clearly frustrated.
“Eat like a human, will you?” He sneered at Tyka.
Tyka choked his food down and smirked, “Yes, boss.”
The chewing sound faded a bit, and Garret turned his attention to me, “I hear you have been quite attentive with 424. You suck his cock yet, darling?”
The question had me reeling with anger.
“No,” I kept my voice steady, “I wouldn’t do that to you.”
Garret nodded at his plate and pressed his rare steak so the red liquid oozed out of it. He dipped his finger in it and smiled at the liquid’s resemblance with blood.
“You know, I knew you were good at your job,” his voice was a low rumble as he sucked his finger off the red, “but you do it so well that I can’t tell if you’re saving 424 for me or for yourself.”
“It’s all for you, Garret,” I said cautiously, “he’s an asset to you. I intend to save him until he can tell you what you need.”
He smiled with a satisfied grunt.
“I was just jealous, darling,” he said, his tone vicious, “but you shouldn’t have made me jealous. Everything has consequences.”
My body trembled at his insinuation. What had he planned to punish me this time?
The rest of the dinner passed in an uneasy silence.
After dinner, we did our usual rounds of the dungeon cells. Logan was there, resting. Seeing him brought a mix of relief and renewed determination.
Back in my room, I waited. Waited for Garret to come and claim whatever twisted penalty he thought I deserved. But tonight, he followed his routine without deviation: fucking me until I was limp, and then he left as soon as I pretended to pass out.
???
It was now 2:12 AM. In approximately forty-five minutes, I’d put my plan into motion. I had to wait, ensure Garret was asleep in his west wing room, and then I’d make my move. Tonight, it all changed.
Under the cloak of night, I slipped into my old black cargo pants and tattered t-shirt, the ones I hadn’t worn since I first arrived. They were frayed but perfect for tonight’s mission. At 3 AM sharp, I rose from my bed, careful not to disturb the sheets, and tiptoed to the door. As I turned the knob, a faint click sounded as it opened.
My heart pounded as I made my way down to the kitchen, then to the dungeon door, avoiding the cameras. I slid the key Noel gave, into the lock, holding my breath, praying it wouldn’t make a sound. The door unlocked with a soft snick, and I descended the stairs to the familiar cells.
As I approached, I spotted Noel patrolling the corridor. His gun was holstered, his keys jingling faintly with each step. He was the first obstacle between Logan and freedom. I needed the key for cell twenty-nine.
I intentionally shuffled my feet on the stairs. Noel spun around, his gun raised. Recognizing me, his expression shifted to a smirk as he lowered the weapon.
“Well, well,” he drawled, his voice a low rumble. “Ready to say hi to mom and dad?”
I stepped closer, my heart thumping. He nodded toward a lone key on his chair. “That’s 241’s cell key. You’re welcome,” he grinned smugly.
I forced a smile and closed the distance between us, stopping just inches away. “I’ll be back soon, Noel.”
His hand dropped to his side, and he reached out to cup my cheek. “I enjoyed our night, sweet Kaylan. But I’m not stupid.”
His face hardened with suspicion. As he began to raise his gun, I acted fast, plunging the syringe filled with potassium chloride into his neck.
“Fucking bitch,” he cursed, his eyes rolling back as he collapsed. I gently lowered him to the floor, snatching the keys from his belt as he took his last breath.
With Logan’s cell key in hand, I raced to cell twenty-nine. Logan was sleeping, in only his white boxers, face peaceful in the dim light. I unlocked the cell, and his eyes fluttered open, wide with shock and a flicker of fear.
He scrambled up, brandishing a stolen scalpel. “Stay back!” he warned, his voice rough with sleep and confusion.
I raised my hands in a gesture of peace. “We’re leaving now, Logan. I have a car waiting for us outside. We’re leaving ,” I whispered urgently.
His expression shifted slightly as he slowly lowered the scalpel, stepping out of the cell to join me. Together, we trudged down the corridor and I grabbed Noel’s gun and two magazines, securing them in my belt.
Logan’s only weapon was his scalpel. When we reached basement level one, I walked to the switchboard, and prayed I had found the right switch to turn the external lights off.
“Please, please, please,” I muttered under my breath and flipped the switch.
“C’mon,” I waved at Logan and he followed me, his face one of confusion and measured suspicion.
“Step where I step,” I whispered, my voice low and firm. “Follow my trail exactly—I’m avoiding the cameras.”
Without waiting for his nod, I led us upstairs and reached the empty hall. Walking towards the front of the mansion, we crossed the solarium and then reached the main door, all while avoiding the cameras as much as we could.
“Outside, there’ll be guards, but the lights are off. They’ll be alert, though. We need to run left, towards the storage building—it looks like a large brick warehouse. Our escape car is hidden behind it,” I explained in hushed tones, mapping out the plan.
Logan exhaled sharply, a silent nod his only response. I eased the door open; distant shouts echoed as guards scrambled in the darkness caused by the sudden outage. We dashed towards the storage building, but as we neared, the lights snapped back on, flooding us with harsh, yellow illumination.
Fuck!
“Run,” I hissed and raised the gun I had.
Bullets pelted the ground and walls around us, the sound terrifyingly close. Logan was now ahead of me, with no glance backward he ran and circled behind the building. I fired back, trying to cover our escape, when a bullet grazed my arm, searing pain shooting through me.
Ignoring the pain, I pushed forward and reached Logan, who had ducked behind the building. He touched my wounded arm, concern etching his features.
“You’re hit?” he asked, his voice steady despite the chaos.
I turned back to shoot. The guards were closing in; the car was tantalizingly close yet blocked by a hail of gunfire. An old gray sedan was right in front of us, just ten steps away.
“Run and get in the car. I’ll cover,” I croaked.
He nodded and as he took one step towards the car, bullets peppered near his feet.
We were trapped.
I closed my eyes, and then looked at him.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, my breathing erratic, “I’ll shield you. You run, okay?”
“You have a death wish?” He said sardonically.
“I have the gun. Now, go!” I urged irritatedly.
The shooting abruptly stopped. Confused, we paused, listening. Footsteps approached—two men in tactical gear, recognizable even in the chaos. They halted before us, lowering their rifles.
“Targets secured,” one of them said, his voice muffled. “Healer, Gunner, let’s go!”
Relief mixed with disbelief flooded through me. After months, hearing my call sign felt surreal.
Someone is rescuing us.
They flanked us, providing cover as we dashed northward, towards the thicker conflict at the mansion’s front. More guards emerged, their guns blazing. Despite the circumstances, the two men’s presence gave us a sliver of hope.
I held tight to the belief that tonight wasn’t the night we’d die. Somehow, Logan and I would escape this hell.