Chapter 11
STONE
The bricks around the old opening for the sewer line tear into my skin as I squeeze through the small gap.
It was tight for Aria to get through, so for me, it’s almost impossible, but I didn’t get this far just to give up now.
Besides, if a riot of prisoners and a walk-in fridge aren’t going to slow me down, then a few bricks aren’t going to be a problem.
“Shit,” Aria gasps, watching as I force myself through the gap, adjusting my shoulders to fit. “You’re cutting yourself.”
I ignore her concern. Pointing out the obvious isn’t helping the situation, and quite frankly, every time she opens her mouth, it just about sends me into a blind rage, because how the fuck can she stand next to me, look me in the damn eye, and claim that she doesn’t know who I am or what kind of history we have?
Fucking bullshit is what it is. One thing is for sure, I’ll be getting the truth out of her one way or another, and only when I have her full confession will I put her out of her misery and end her life.
Getting through the small opening, I glance over my torn shoulders and shrug it off. I’ve had worse. The only problem is that being in an old sewer line with open wounds isn’t ideal. It’s a bacterial feeding ground, so the sooner I can get out of here, the better.
Turning around, I peer back through the hole and into the kitchen that I vow never to set foot in again. “Yo, Doc. I’m gonna need you to push this fucker back into place.”
Doc sputters. “What now? I couldn’t even budge this thing if I tried. You’re on your own, Blackthorne.”
“Don’t give up on me now, Doc. You’ve got this,” I tell him, knowing he’s going to need far more convincing than that, but I don’t have the time to fuck around with this guy.
The sooner Aria and I start making our way out of here, the better.
We need to get as much distance as we can between us and the prison.
It won’t be long before they realize we’re missing, and when they do, all hell is going to break loose. “Are you ready? On three.”
I reach through the hole and go to grip the back of the fridge to close up the gap, when Aria shoves her head through. “Wait. Wait. Wait,” she rushes out. “You there, Doc?”
“Is that you, pretty girl?” he questions.
Her face scrunches, and I can basically see the words who the fuck else would it be circling her head, but she bites them back and forces a smile.
“Sure is, Doc. Before you go ahead and show me how strong you are, would you happen to have any food or water you could toss back here? Maybe a first aid kit?”
Banging from the jammed canteen door draws his attention, and he pauses. “Uhhh . . . I don’t know.”
“You’ve got time, Doc. Don’t worry about them,” I say.
“I . . . I don’t think this is a good idea.”
Fuck. We’re losing him.
“Oh, I have an idea,” Aria chimes in, leaning around the opening to smile at Doc.
“You and I both know that Stone here isn’t planning on letting me live for long once we get out of this sewer line, so what if he promises to send you my uhhh .
. . liver, perhaps? He could put it in one of those vacuum-sealed bags to keep it fresh so that you could do .
. . uhhhh, whatever it is you like to do with it. ”
“A liver?” he questions, still unsure.
“Which organ do you want, Doc?” I push.
“Intestines? They’re like slippery worms. Lots of fun to play with.”
“You got it, Doc. One set of intestines coming right up.”
A shrill laugh booms out of him. “Okay, okay, okay,” he says, rushing around the kitchen and grabbing all sorts of supplies, tossing them at us, piece by piece. A bag would have been nice, but beggars can’t be choosers, and I’ll take it any way I can.
Doc squeezes right down to the opening of the sewer line and pushes through a small first aid kit. “I’ll be seeing you soon, pretty girl,” he says to Aria. “Bits of you. Real soon.”
“Oh, umm . . . yeah,” she awkwardly agrees as though talking about her impending death is normal breakout conversation. She takes the first aid kit and looks over everything else. “No water?”
“Only water fountains in here, pretty. No bottles allowed.”
“Shit, of course.”
“We don’t have time for this,” I say, inching Aria away from the opening. “Get in front of the fridge, Doc. We’ll put it back on three. And remember, this is our secret. Give us away, and there’s no intestines. Understood?”
“But—”
“No intestines.”
“Fine. On three.”
I nod, and as Doc gets into position, I push my arms back through the opening and grab hold of the back of the fridge. “One. Two.” I dig my fingers into the metal. “And three.”
I pull with everything I’ve got, knowing damn well that Doc won’t be able to do this on his own, but with just enough pulling force from me, we might be able to rock it back into place before the other inmates storm the kitchen looking for us.
Fuck, it’s a must. I can’t have anybody know about this.
If they knew we’d found a way out, they’d be coming right along for the ride.
Aria wouldn’t be safe, and there’s no way in hell we’d even make it to the other end of the sewer line before being captured, cuffed, and escorted right back into the deepest pits of Hell.
While I can’t completely trust Doc, I’m hoping with the promise of receiving an organ, there’s a chance he’ll keep his mouth shut. Not that I ever intend on keeping that promise, but by the time he figures that out, I’ll be long gone, and I’ll no longer need his silence.
Hearing the roar of the angry prisoners making progress on the canteen gates, I pull harder, giving it everything I’ve got until the fridge finally begins inching back into place. “Come on, Doc,” I grunt, clenching my jaw as my muscles strain. “Push!”
“I’m trying,” he grunts right back.
I hear the moment the chains break on the canteen gates, followed by the loud clang of the gate being ripped open. The inmates flood through the canteen, their feet pounding against the linoleum as Aria hastily collects all the supplies in her arms and madly begins pacing.
If those assholes get even a hint that we’re hidden behind here, it’s over for both of us.
“Come on,” she groans under her breath.
I mentally track the prisoners’ movements. We have only a few seconds before we’re well and truly fucked, but I’m not giving up yet. Getting out of here and tying up loose ends is too important. This is my one and only shot, and it’s not about to slip through my fingers.
I pull, my fingers digging painfully into the metal, and finally we make proper progress, the mere feet turning into inches, then just as the prisoners storm into the kitchen, I close the gap, securing us in the old sewer line.
“Where are they?” someone spits, standing right on the other side of the massive walk-in fridge.
“Where are who?” Doc says, his tone so perfectly even that if I didn’t know better, I might start wondering if he thought this was all a dream.
“Blackthorne and that bitch,” the inmate demands. “Stone’s had more than his fair share. It’s about time we get a crack at her.”
“For fuck’s sake,” Aria mutters in disgust.
There’s a roar of agreement from the other prisoners, but Doc stands firm. “He ain’t fucking here,” he spits, deep irritation in his tone. “Now, if you wouldn’t mind, I would like to prepare myself a meal.”
There’s an edge to his tone, and not a moment later, the other prisoners scurry away.
I can only imagine what they’re thinking.
Doc has a reputation around here, and if they were smart, they’d leave him the fuck alone.
If you don’t have the ability to protect yourself, then Doc is not a man you want to be left alone with.
“Come on,” I murmur, keeping my tone low as I peer down the length of the sewer line, not able to see an end in sight. We could be walking for hours, or it could be days. Either way, we need to get moving. “No point hanging around. Let’s go.”
I take off at a good pace as Aria scrambles to catch up, having to move her legs twice as fast to keep up with just one of my strides. And if I weren’t so hell-bent on ending this woman’s life, I might even find it amusing.
We walk for an hour with no end in sight, but the eerie echo of the prison’s alarms continues wailing through the long tunnels. There’s no denying it, though, the sound isn’t quite as obnoxious as it was before, giving me just a little peace to be able to think.
I don’t know what will happen from here.
It’s always been my plan to break out of Hartley Creek Penitentiary. I’ve been working on it for the past two years, but I didn’t expect it to come so soon, and I sure as fuck didn’t anticipate it to be with none other than my little menace.
Once the guards regain control of the prison, headcounts will be done. They’ll search for survivors, and when they realize Aria Ashford is missing, they’ll know I’ve taken her.
I’ll be the world’s most dangerous fugitive.
My face will be splashed across the front of every newspaper, television screen, and telephone post. There will be no escaping this.
And while I might be the only person who’s escaped today, there will be bodies unaccounted for, and that might just be my saving grace.
They will assume anybody unaccounted for escaped alongside me, thinning out law enforcement resources.
That fucker in the crawl space who attacked Aria will be left to rot there, at least until his body begins to decay and the smell becomes too much to avoid an internal investigation. Only then will they realize that he hasn’t escaped with me, but by then, I’ll be long gone.