Chapter Thirty-Two #3
“Just like old times, huh?” I grunt as they pat me down aggressively.
“He’s clear,” one guy announces. Then he whips his mask off, and I let out a gust of relief when I see Hancock.
He brushes his sweaty hair away from his face. “We were wondering where you were…”
The other guy finally gives up aiming his gun out into the woods, turning it on me again. “What the hell are you doing here?”
Now that I’m up close, I recognize the voice. That, and his being with Hancock, I’m sure I know who this is…
“Yo, Jasper, how about you get that thing outta my face?” I hiss, shoving the barrel aside.
He lowers it stubbornly, removing his mask. “I’m serious, Kang. Why are you here?”
“Chill, man.” Hancock jabs him. “Maybe he was stuck out there. Give people the benefit of the doubt…”
“Right,” Jasper huffs, glaring at me. “He’s freshly showered and those are Velle’s.” He points at my shoes.
I mean, Velle’s shoes.
Sue me. I needed some clean sneakers.
“Okay, fine. You win, detective,” Hancock mutters, rolling his eyes.
“You’ve been in the mansion,” Jasper rumbles in obvious suspicion. The relief I was feeling when I first saw them is definitely drying up quickly.
“Listen, man, shit’s been crazy out there. I don’t have to tell you that.” I rub my eyes. “Just… where’s Velle? I need to see him and Joy.”
Jasper continues to glower at me. “Why?”
Resentment is boiling for this goddamn situation I don’t want to be in, and the distrust they’ve all been throwing at me, since even before the fall.
I push up to him, getting in his face. “What the fuck is your problem?”
“My problem is that we’re under attack while you’re over there, tucked in and cozy with the enemy!” he hisses. “Now you wanna stroll over here, demanding things??”
My jaw clenches with my fists. I’m gonna lay this dude out.
“Alright, enough,” Hancock sighs, getting between us. “We should move anyway. It’s not safe over here.”
Jasper is still mean-mugging me, looking at me like I’m responsible for what’s going on out here… Like he hasn’t known me for three fucking years.
This is some bullshit.
“Fine,” he eventually growls. “Follow me. And stay close…” He shoots Hancock a look before stomping off, pulling his walkie off of his holster and rumbling into it, “Heads up. We’ve got a visitor.”
“Home sweet home,” Hancock says on a tired breath, shining his flashlight into the darkness.
Keeping up with Jasper is difficult. Not because he’s moving too fast or anything, but because he’s familiar with the updated layout …
And I’m fucking reeling . The place is completely demolished.
You’d have no idea this was once the East Wing.
It’s nothing but rubble now, wide-open and exposed to the elements.
There are remains of some ceiling, but it’s all cracked and smashed through, broken pipes hanging down with water leaking.
Only dimmed red light—and their flashlights—illuminating what’s left of the halls.
“No power?” I ask, taking in the destruction while trying not to trip over the large heaps of concrete and rebar.
Hancock grunts in lieu of an actual answer. “The main power supply was damaged by the fall. The generators are technically working, but it’s not doing much…” He gives me a hand, helping me climb over a huge pile of debris. “No lights, or hot water…”
“Nothing like sleeping in a king-sized bed in a mansion stocked with food, huh?” Jasper sneers over his shoulder, oozing hostility. “Chef been making that roast pork stir fry, or what?”
“Fuck off,” I snarl.
He shakes his head, continuing to lead the way through corridors that run around solitary. I’m guessing because solitary doesn’t exist anymore…
It’s been days since the fall, but dust still hangs in the air. Now I understand the need for masks. Breathing this shit in has me coughing, attempting to cover my face with the collar of my shirt.
Never in my wildest dreams could I have imagined Alabaster Pen being any shabbier, but this is next level. It’s a shell.
Deep pools of water have gathered in certain spots. The smell of the ocean is a hundred times stronger than it ever was before, now combined with that of wet stone, smoke and gunpowder.
And blood. Lots of blood.
I’m not trying to dwell on it, but there’s a faint smell in the air that I can only assume is death, blood trails on much of the floor that isn’t covered. My insides feel hollow from the knowledge that people definitely died here, either from the accident, or after…
“We’ve been trying to locate and identify as many bodies as possible,” Hancock tells me, reading the mourning on my face. “Bring ’em outside and burn ’em, but we don’t have the manpower—”
“Simon!” Jasper snaps. “For the love of God, shut your mouth!”
“Fuck you…” Hancock mutters.
“No, seriously! Stop telling him things!” Jasper teems. “For all we know, he’s working for that prick! And I don’t want him running back there, telling him we’re struggling.”
Hancock is giving him a seriously strained look, reminding me that I’d heard they were in some kind of relationship. I haven’t seen them in a while. And I guess I’ve been distracted…
I swallow a lump, like a dry pill made of guilt.
“Are we…?” Hancock whispers to Jasper, who slows to a stop. They blink at each other. “Struggling?”
Jasper’s face loses a lot of animosity, anger fading into despondence as he reaches out, brushing some messy strands of hair away from Hancock’s eyes. In just that brief touch, in that lingering look, I see something that binds up my gut.
These are just guys; people forced into this fucked-up situation like the rest of us. I used to forget that all the time, because they were guards, and we were prisoners. They were above us.
But now, we’re all on the same level. If anything, I might be above them, being in The Ivory’s good graces.
No wonder they’re so pissed off. I know I was.
“Let’s keep moving,” Jasper murmurs softly to Hancock, who nods.
General population isn’t as torn to shreds, but it’s still a mess. Jasper and Hancock keep their guns up, moving around corners on high alert. My heart is rocking steadily, eyes jumping left and right, watching out for whatever danger could be lurking in these dark halls.
Jasper whistles, and someone in the distance whistles back. A signal. Once we’re closer, Peters comes into view. He looks surprised to see me, but doesn’t comment on it. Just nods at Jasper and Hancock.
“Any word?” Hancock asks.
Peters shakes his head somberly. He clears his throat. “Nieves made a break for it…”
The three of them share a knowing look, one that I can also read.
So, he’s dead.
“Sunshine here came to check on us,” Jasper tells him, eyes flicking to me. “We’re bringing him to Velle. Linetti and Brenner are on lookout, but you might wanna get down to the crash site just in case…”
“Ten-four,” Peters says, casting me one last glance before storming off in the direction we just came.
My thoughts are a jumbled mass of confusion and questions as we keep moving, passing a few more guards outside the cafeteria. They’re all armed with assault rifles, posted up like soldiers. I swear to God, we’re in Fallujah, not New York.
I realize that we’re headed into the West Wing when we reach the stairs. This part of the prison has minimal damage. Go figure, since it’s the Warden’s side. On our way upstairs, Jasper whistles again, which is met with another whistle. Followed by a familiar female voice.
“This better be good… You assholes are flaking on guard duty.”
We come around the corner and I’m flooded with relief, much more potent this time.
“What’s the—” Joy’s words cut out when she sees me, her eyes widening. “Oh, shit.”
Pushing past the guys, I race over to her, and she launches herself at me.
“Thank God you’re alright,” she whispers, hugging me tight.
I hold her back, absorbing the feel of her. Her friendship; a support I’ve missed more than I even realized until right fucking now. Everything has changed so drastically. Being back with Joy is settling me down to my core.
“I missed you, jeulgeoun ,” I hum into her silky hair, absentmindedly playing with her ponytail without even realizing I’m doing it. “I was worried…”
She pulls back to smirk at me. “ Worried ? Do you have any idea who you’re talking to?”
I chuckle, reveling in this feeling for as long as it’ll last. Which isn’t long at all, because she glances behind me, amusement falling away.
“Come on.” She drags me into a room I recognize… The Warden’s office. Except that it looks pretty damn different than the last time I was in here.
For one, Velle is sitting at the desk, not The Ivory. The room is illuminated only by lanterns and a few candles. Rook is on the loveseat, fiddling with a CB radio. He glances up at me, stress-lined eyes widening. But he says nothing, just nods, continuing on with his task.
“Look what the cat dragged in…” Velle mumbles, standing up slowly. He cocks his head. “You checked him?”
“He’s clear,” Jasper answers from behind me. “We’re gonna head back down… Cover Peters.”
Velle nods, though his dark blue eyes are stuck on me as Jasper and Hancock leave the room.
I look around the dimly lit space. “Finally got that corner office you’ve been vying for, huh?”
His gaze narrows, but he doesn’t respond. He’s grilling me, sizing me up, and I can’t say I blame him.
Velle is smart. Guard dog or not, he’s never been the brainwashed sheep I used to think he was. After the fall, it’s become clear that he had a plan all along, too. Whether or not it’s gone down the way he anticipated is irrelevant. He knows what he’s doing as much as The Ivory does.
So the simmering suspicion in his gaze is far from shocking.
“We looked everywhere for you, ya know…” Joy says. “You weren’t in the prison when the tower fell… were you?”
I gulp. “Trevel and I… got out.” Rook glances up in my peripheral. “The storm… I guess it knocked out the servers or something because the exit door in the East just… opened. So we—”