A New World: Awakening (37 page)

“I’ll submit.
 
I submit.
 
Just please stop,” the woman cries out through her tears.

“You’ll submit alright,” the speaking man says with a smirk.
 
I hear a few chuckles from the larger group.
 
The men behind the one speaking eye the crowd with narrowed eyes.
 
They must be his bodyguards or something.
 
They appear to be looking for any dissension within the crowd.

The whip flies through the air again and snaps against the man’s back.
 
There is no resulting scream this time except from the woman.
 
The man’s legs give out and his body slumps further.
 
The two holding him are now supporting his entire weight.
 
They lower him to the floor with the woman wailing non-stop.
 
She thrashes against those holding her wanting to reach her husband.

“Take him back to his room.
 
You may share the woman,” the preacher says stepping off the boxes and walks across the room to a door to our left.

The entourage of ten men follows in his wake.
 
Two men pick up the man lying on the floor and drag him in the opposite direction.
 
They carry him through a door at the far end.
 
The woman is dragged screaming and thrashing through the side doors the preacher exited.
 
The crowd breaks up and heads into those same doors.
 
The room empties and falls silent.
 
The only evidence that anything took place is small patches of red on the waxed wooden floor where the man was held.

“Again, I say that was majorly fucked up.
 
This place is all kinds of fucked up,” Greg whispers through clenched teeth.

“Agreed.
 
Let’s go get those people out of here,” I say.

“What are you thinking?”
 
Greg asks as we continue lying on the grating looking out over the now empty room.

“Well, they dragged that poor soul through those doors taking him back to his room,” I say nodding at the doors to the right.
 
“The others left through the ones on the left so I’m guessing they keep their rooms separate from the prisoners.”

“Yeah, I noticed that as well.
 
That is with the exception of that woman,” Greg comments.

“So we get those we can to a safe place and see,” I say.

The two men who dragged the either dead or unconscious man emerge from the doors and cross the room.
 
They are casually carrying their carbines and their murmured conversation drifts upward from the room.
 
They disappear through the left hand doors.

“Shall we,” I say after they leave the room below in silence once again.

“Lead on,” Greg replies.

We crawl backward, close the door, and don our goggles.
 
Stepping over the body once again on our way down the stairs, we emerge into the hall.
 
At the double steel doors leading into the humongous room, the hallway branches left and right.
 
We silently step to the corner and peer around.
 
Another security door sits twenty feet down the hall to the right.
 
A similar door sits in the hall on the other side.
 
I move down the hall to the right with Greg keeping an eye on the door behind.
 
A darkened hall stretches away before arcing to the left and vanishing out of sight.

I swipe the card to open the door and we are swiftly through.
 
The corridor is empty without any doors leading off. We creep quietly down the pitch black stretch, seen only in a green glow.
 
We follow the arc around to where it ends with another security door.
 
Light shines through the inset window.
 
I’m not worried about cameras in the darkened areas of the building.
 
They have to be up and running in the lit areas as part of the security system though.
 
Whether they are being watched is something altogether different.
 
The one good and bad thing about having thick walls and so many security doors is sound doesn’t carry far.

At the door, I look quickly inside.
 
I can’t see much due to the restrictive nature of the small window but it appears to be another hall.
 
This must be the hall between the wing buildings and where they dragged the poor bastard.
 
The actual building with the cells, radiating outward like tentacles, must be to the right.
 
If the prisoners are being held there, then I assume there are also guards with them.
 
Even though the cell doors, where I again assume they are being held, must be locked, they would also post guards.
 
That only makes sense.

The images of the scene in the large room flash through my mind.
 
I feel a deep, cold anger settle.
 
I cannot fathom the reason people can be so cruel when the rules are lifted.
 
Vengeance is mine saith the Lord
, the line trickles through my head.
 
Not today.
 
Today it walks on two legs and will be delivered by a messenger of steel
, I think nodding at Greg as we get ready to enter the lit hall.

I ease the door open after hearing the click and seeing the green light.
 
Peeking quickly in both directions with the mirror, I withdraw it and ease the door closed.

“Hallway with a security door at either end.
 
There’s a camera mounted above the door on the right.
 
We’ll have to move fast.
 
There is most likely a small room with other security doors that allow only one to be open at a time.
 
There may be a security station set up off that room that overlooks a larger congregation area,” I say.

“How do you know that?”
 
Greg asks.

“We had to study prison systems in detail as a lot of other types of secure buildings are set up in a similar fashion.
 
A prison is one of the most secure facilities around.
 
Well, there are those that are more secure, a lot more, but the premise is the same,” I answer.

“We’ll move quickly down the hall, have a swift look in the window to see what we see, open the door, and move inside.
 
Once inside, we’re trapped until that door closes, assuming it is set up that way.
 
You help it along its way.
 
It may be pneumatic so there may not be much you can do.
 
If shit happens, we move back here and into the main building to find a place to lay low,” I continue.

“I’m right behind you,” Greg comments.
 
I would take out the lights with my suppressed 9mm but the lights are inset into the ceiling with wire mesh glass.
 
They are designed to not be broken.
 
I would also take out the camera but it is surrounded in a thick Plexiglas shield.
 
Again, it’s designed not to be broken easily.

“Here’s to hoping fat, dumb, and happy is supposed to be watching the cameras,” I say swiping the card.

We are in the hall in a flash moving rapidly to the door on the right.
 
Crouching and stealth are fairly moot at this point.
 
I thought about just walking up nonchalantly like we were part of the group, but with a group this small, they would most likely know each other and the ruse wouldn’t work.
 
I’ve actually done that in the past with some degree of success but there’s a time and place for it.
 
This isn’t one of them.

My heart is racing along with my feet.
 
We are now in the light and most likely being caught on camera.
 
Speed is of the essence.
 
The reaction will most likely be slow if we are seen on a monitor.
 
Chances are the operator will go through a small moment of “What the fuck?”
 
Trained ones will react instantly but these people are far from being trained.
 
I would have worked a different tactic altogether if we were infiltrating a secure building with trained security.
 
Back then, I also had different tools to work with.
 
These are a bunch of Yahoos who think they own the world.
 
They are lax in their security but it only takes one lapse on my part and even they will react.

I shoulder my M-4 and withdraw my handgun quickly peeking in the window while Greg crouches at the card swipe.
 
It affirms what I envisioned from experience and from Jim’s descriptions.
 
A small room with large wire mesh windows waits on the other side.
 
Two security doors lead out of the room, one to the left and one to the right.
 
The one to the left leads to a room that looks similar to the console room on the upper catwalks of the large room.
 
I can’t see all of it from my angle.
 
A large room filled with tables and chairs is beyond the small room on the other side of the door.
 
Four stories of catwalks surround the room with security doors leading to the four wings that radiate out from this building to the actual cells.
 
The room is dimly lit including the guard post to the left and I don’t spot any guards.
 
Time is of the essence.
 
I nod at Greg.

He swipes his card and I hear the now familiar metallic click of the magnetized locks releasing.
 
I sweep the door outward only enough to crouch through and settle by the door to the left.
 
Light from the hall fills the small room.
 
The bottom of the window in the door leading to the guard post is above my head.
 
I have my handgun pointed upward towards the window.
 
The round won’t go through the glass but if someone opens the door, their life will be measured in nano-seconds.
 
The light from the hall dims as the door swings slowly closed.
 
My heart is pounding in my chest.
 
I hate being exposed like this.
 
My body tingles from the sheer volume of adrenaline pouring through it.

Time moves slowly and it seems like it is taking the door way too long to close.
 
If someone is in the room, they surely would have seen us on the cameras and have noticed the increase in light.
 
I lift my signal mirror to one corner of the window, exposing only enough of the mirror to see inside.
 
A man is sitting inside with his feet propped up on one of the consoles and reading a book.
 
He glances over at the window briefly before returning to his book.
 
While I didn’t get my fat wish, I certainly received my wish for dumb and happy.
 
A rifle leans against a counter nearby and a handgun is holstered at his side.

The door behind us clicks as the door shuts and the magnetic lock engages, shading the room in the dim light from the room.
 
I watch as the man looks over to the door.
 
He removes his feet from the console and sets his book down.
 
Still looking at the window with a quizzical expression, he rises from his chair.

“Now,” I say nodding at the door swipe.

Greg runs the card through.
 
The door clicks and I push inward with my shoulder; my hand still holding the mirror.
 
I rise as I push sweeping my Beretta past the opening door.
 
I stop as the barrel aligns with his face, which registers shock.
 
I fire at almost point blank range.
 
Blood flies out from his head as my round hits on the side of his nose shattering it and the sinus cavity which lies behind.
 
My barrel aligns quickly again and I send a second round, on the heels of the first, into his already demolished face.
 
The round penetrates just below the inside portion of his eye.

The back of his head explodes outward with pieces of flesh and brain coating the side window.
 
He flies backward hitting the counter below the window and the ruined back of his head smacks against the glass.
 
He slumps and rolls to the ground.
 
The window is smeared with chunks which slowly slide downward; some of the larger pieces falling off to the counter.
 
Blood streams down the glass in rivulets.
 
The room fills with the smells of gunpowder and blood.

I crouch back down quickly looking around the room.
 
Greg is squatting by the open door looking outward.
 
Nothing moves.
 
I move back into the small room and allow the door to close.
 
We open the other door, wedging it to keep it that way, and enter the room proper.
 
It has the appearance of where meals are taken and free time spent.
 
A bank of phones line one of the walls.
 
The doors leading to the upper wings are dark but light shines from two of the doors across from us on the ground floor.
 
Makes sense they would keep them on the ground floor
, I think.