The Condemned (7 page)

   As she spoke her fingers worked at unattaching the card from the small clip on the strap and she held it up with something like triumph when it came away, free from the burden of the body it had been attached to.

   Unceremoniously kicking aside the dead man; he was no longer burning, when the flames had reached the suit he wore they had died and since Alecia had no interest in keeping them active when he was already dead, there was nothing to reignite them. His body slid easily across the well-polished marble floor of the narrow corridor and back into the doorway of Alecia’s own cell. She slid the card from top to bottom in the slot and stepped back.

   Nothing happened.

   Beriael was more muttering angry threats and curses now instead of yelling and creating a lot of noise but she knew it wouldn’t be long before somebody else arrived and when they did, not only would chances of freedom vanish...

She would be punished painfully for the death of the prison employee and perhaps too for whatever damage was done to the Clone. Though, she reasoned, that was sort of irrelevant since he was only a Clone and he wou-

   ‘THE OTHER WAY. TRY THE OTHER FUCKING WAY YOU STUPID CUNT!’

   She jumped in surprise as the agonised man’s words cut off her thoughts. It took a moment to realise what he meant before
she turned the card and slid it down again with the darkened strip facing the other side, casting him a slight scowl and muttering to herself.

   ‘No need to speak to me like that, you fucking dick.’

She didn’t think he heard her over his own pain, that was probably a good thing.

   The door issued the familiar whirr-click and smoothly opened inwards, as it did Alecia was struck with an idea and ran back to her own cell. She stepped over the motionless body in the doorway.

   Gathering up the discarded hood and glove, the removal of which had been the downfall of the idiot guard; really, what had he been thinking? Risking his life for a prisoner? He had to be new to the system. Couldn’t have known who she was or what she could do. She doubted any of them who really knew would’ve ever been so moronic. They were stupid, yes, but they weren’t suicidal.

   Turning back to the door, she half expected it to have swung shut behind her, cutting off her escape and thwarting what now appeared to be the only chance she’d ever have to get out of here. Instead she was met by Beriael staggering towards her, arms thrust outwards as though he were reaching for her in some sick parody of a lover’s embrace. Ducking beneath his charred limbs, she swung the bulky glove up and pulled it over one of his hands. It reached up to his shoulder and she patted
the material down against his skin, damping the flames and putting them out.

   She quickly pulled off the glove and repeated the manoeuvre on his other arm. She wasn’t tall enough to reach up and tug the hood down over his head to douse the flames around his shoulders and neck and so she tossed the article to him. He tried to catch it, managed to get a grip briefly, but then it fell to the floor with a wet sound.

   Alecia glanced down and frowned.

   The hood was on the floor but beside it was a strange black glove...

Realisation dawned and she curled her upper lip in disgust. The skin of his hand had slid away from the muscle and bone, when he had caught the hood the charred flesh had fallen away like a mitten. The arm of the suit still covered the other hand but she knew it couldn’t be in any better condition. Beriael seemed unable to feel the pain anymore and had fallen silent, which she was thankful for, though she was acutely aware that they were taking far too long. Should’ve been out of here by now.

As escapes from prison went, this was her first one, she didn’t have a guidebook, wouldn’t have been able to read it if she had. She was acting on instinct and adrenaline and praying that the combination would be enough.

   They had a key, if they were careful they may be able to
get through the entire prison and to whatever freedom lay beyond the walls.

   Ok, so she knew she was kidding herself. A naked woman and a char grilled man wandering through the prison were not apt to go unseen for long.

   The Clone had patted out the remaining flames using his gloved hand and she met his gaze as he stood watching her. She knew the look in his eyes. He was trying to decide whether to kill her now or wait to see if she could be any use getting him outside, then do it. She held up the key card so that he could see and watched as he nodded slowly and then turned.

   ‘Let’s get the fuck out of this place.’

   ‘You’re hurt.’

He turned back to look at her, curiously, as though she were some interesting bug caught under a little kid’s microscope.

   ‘What are you, some kind of fucking genius?’ He sneered.

Leci bit her lip and held back the snappy reply, offering help instead.

   ‘I mean, you’re hurt... I can... If you want I mean, I can, you know, help you get better again?’ Her words were uncertain and though she had meant it to come out as an offer she knew it sounded more like a question, as though she were asking his permission rather than making a useful suggestion.

   Beriael knew immediately what she meant. She could finish the job, burn him some more, kill him and get rid of this
damaged, useless body, let him regenerate a new one.

He lunged for her and she instinctively backed away, her hands raised defensively in front of her, he caught himself before he reached her but the look in his eyes scared her.

   ‘You fucking touch me and the second I’m back I’ll rip your heart out and shove it down your throat you nasty little fire-starting bitch.’ He snarled, holding her gaze for another second before turning away again.

   Leci blinked, shocked at the ferocity of his outburst but not really surprised by it. After what he’d been through at her hands it made sense he’d rather stay injured than endure another second of what she could mete out. She let it drop. If he was happier this way then that was his choice.

   Though she had no desire to argue with him or provoke him further, there was one thing she wanted to do before they left. Let him protest if he wanted, she had the key, he wasn’t going anywhere without it and so help her, if she had to set him on fire again to keep it then she would.

   ‘Wait. I need to...’

   She moved past him and out into the corridor, using the light spilling from the open doorway of her room to guide her towards the cell beside Beriael's.

   The man inside could not possibly have missed the noise of what had been going on and she couldn’t leave him here, couldn’t leave without him. Something inside tugged at her,
told her that her fate and the fate of this man were intertwined somehow and she didn’t fight the instinct. He was coming with them, no question of the matter.

   She fumbled briefly with the card.

   The Clone stood impatiently, watching her, clearly irritated but having the sense not to argue. When she disengaged the lock and the door swung open she felt her breath catch in her throat while she waited for her first real glimpse of him. He moved quickly but with a grace that seemed surprising for such a well-built man, he was tall and broad with rugged, square features, a kind of chiselled look.   Stepping out of the cell, he looked at Beriael, took the man in with a cursory glance and then turned to Alecia. He shook his head sadly at the sight of her and pulled off the loose prison shirt he wore. He passed it to her gently and with a smile.

   She almost wept at the gesture and the compassion it represented. It had been so long since another human being had looked at her like she was anything other than a test subject or a ruthless killer, let alone done anything nice for her. She caught her emotion and put it into check.

   Soppy shit could be saved for later.

   She grinned her thanks and quickly covered herself. The man surprised her by heading backwards and entering her cell instead of following Beriael towards the end of the short
unit. Curiously, she followed him, stood in the doorway and watched as he tugged the uniform from the dead guard. Stripping himself naked, he passed his trousers to her. They were too long and she had to hold them bunched at the waist to keep them from falling around her ankles but they were better than nothing. He quickly dressed in the flameproof suit.

   ‘Give me the key.’

   It was not a question. It was an instruction and she accepted it without hesitation, handing the card to him, though she would have killed Beriael before she had allowed him to take it from her.

   His face could not be made out behind the hood of the suit and he looked eerily just like one of them. Could’ve been the same person who had led her to the examination room for the last four years, could've been the dead man who lay on the floor after foolishly attempting to taste the forbidden fruit.

Standing on tiptoes she peered through the narrow window but could not even make out his eyes.

   ‘Come on Firebug; let’s get our asses outta here.’

   He took hold of her by the arm and led her from the room. She was quite content to allow him to take charge of the situation. She didn’t trust Beriael in the slightest and she knew that she wasn’t capable of orchestrating their escape.

   It seemed to make sense that the other prisoner would lead the three of them to safety, he had an authoritative air about
him and she was perfectly happy to fall in line.

   They met Beriael at the end of the corridor, although badly burned and intensely agitated the Clone was still able to spare a rough burst of laughter when he saw the two of them and realised that there just might be a chance after all. There was much less of a chance them getting stopped or questioned if they were perceived only as a guard escorting two prisoners. They could perhaps even rely on the ensuing panic once it was noticed that there had been a breach. If the Officials were running around like headless chickens looking for their lost Clone, Firebug and... um... other guy, they may overlook another guard. It was a long shot but it was the only one they had.

   Beriael nodded his approval and handed over the glove he had been carrying. Alecia noticed that he had torn away a strip of his shirt and wrapped it around the raw flesh of his arm. She felt a pang of guilt knowing she was the cause of his pain but pushed it aside, she had offered to help and he had refused, right now it was as simple as that. If they made it out, if they lived long enough, then she could feel guilt, shame, gratitude, relief and whatever other assortment of emotion there was welled up inside of her.

   But not right now.

   Right now their main concern was survival.

   She really hoped one of them knew the way out.

Chapter 7

He was silent as he led them through the prison, using the key card, which thankfully seemed to access all of the doors they came across. She didn’t know if he knew the way or if he was just guessing but she didn’t question his direction. If it had been left to her they’d probably have ended up getting themselves deeper into the maze of corridors and cells and end up horribly lost only to be recaptured.

   He kept a grip on her arm as they moved and she was forced to trot along beside him to keep up with his stride. She figured it helped with the illusion that he was a guard and she his prisoner.

   Beriael trailed along behind as though distracted. He occasionally stopped to study the words that were printed on some of the walls. Alecia had no idea what they said, learning to read had never seemed important, it still didn’t. She could recognise a few of the symbols and knew they formed words that some people, apparently Beriael was one of them, could read, but she had no interest in them.

   Twice they passed other people. The first time an unsuited man walked past them without a second glance.

She itched to set him on fire.

   He could only be wandering freely if he were one of
them
and not a prisoner. They had clearly reached a part of the compound where Firebugs were not an issue and guards did not require protective clothing. The man she had put her faith into to get her out of this place must’ve sensed the aching desire in her and he squeezed her arm. Not roughly, more as though he were offering strength by reminding her that she was not alone, urging her not to do anything that would draw suspicion onto them.

   The guard paid them no attention; he simply walked to the other end of the corridor and disappeared around the corner. Alecia let out her breath without realising she’d been holding it and after that a good deal of her tension eased. If they had fooled one man they could perhaps fool them all.