Breakout by Paul Herron (notion reading list .txt) 📕

Felix throws a surprised look in my direction. “You said that?”

“Uh… yeah. But I’d nearly just died. You can’t hold me to it.”

“You soft motherfucker.”

“Listen,” I say urgently, “we’re heading to the Glasshouse. Sawyer has a keycard to get out of the Northside staff room. We’re going to wait till the eye of the storm passes over, then head for shelter. You in? Because I really don’t think this place is going to last.”

“This is very true.” He squints at me thoughtfully. “How you planning on getting to the staff room?”

“The inmate corridor,” says Sawyer quickly.

Felix shakes his head. “No chance. It’s gone.”

My stomach sinks. “Gone? What do you mean, gone?”

“Gone. As in absent. Not there. Vanished. Kaput. It has ceased to be.”

“How?” asks Sawyer.

“How you think? Same reason you saying this place isn’t going to last. The hurricane destroyed it. Heard some people talking. They said it came down the same time A Wing was taken out.”

Shit. My mind races. There has to be another way.

“Constantine.”

I glance over at Sawyer.

“Kincaid’s guys?”

Christ, yeah. “Felix, we need to get out of here. Kincaid and his boys are after me.”

“Right. Just let me finish these.”

“Felix. For fuck’s sake…”

“Calm your pants, man. Fine.”

He gets to his feet just as the door slams open and Adler, Carter, and Sullivan enter the cafeteria.

I exchange a brief glance with Felix and Sawyer; then we all turn and sprint toward the kitchen at the back of the cafeteria. I leap over the closest table, sliding across the top and landing in the water, still moving.

We burst through the open doorway. The kitchen is a large square room, red bricks laid into the floor, black-and-white tiles, stainless-steel worktops and huge ovens with gas stovetops around the walls.

I grab Sawyer’s ax from her. She doesn’t protest, but keeps moving. I take a step to the side of the door and swing the ax in a wide arc. It connects with Adler’s midriff as he sprints into the kitchen. I feel it cut through his jumpsuit, slice through the skin, and dig deep into his stomach. I twist and pull it out again.

Adler gives out a weird burp, an expulsion of air and pain, and staggers to a stop, staring down at his own intestines as they loop slowly out of his stomach, spooling in the water like sausages thrown into a pot.

Carter and Sullivan barge into the back of him, shoving him forward. Adler drops to his knees. I swing the ax over my head, aiming for Carter, but he sees it coming and raises his arm, blocking the shaft before it can connect.

I hold on. We stand frozen, both pulling as hard as we can. Carter raises his other hand and hits me in the face. He loosens his grip on the ax as he does so, but so do I. It splashes into the water as I stagger back, trying to evade Carter’s punches.

We move deeper into the kitchen. I keep my arms raised to protect my face, but more and more blows are landing. I hit up against the kitchen counter and attempt to fight back, but every time I lash out, Carter uses the gap to land a blow. The guy has boxing training. I haven’t.

Then suddenly Carter stiffens, his eyes going wide. I straighten up, see Felix standing to the side. He’s just rammed a knife into Carter’s ribs. I’m not sure if he had it all this time or found it in the kitchen.

Doesn’t matter either way. Carter roars and slams his elbow into Felix’s face. Carter is big, even bigger than Felix, and Felix goes down, hitting the water and slamming his head hard on the tiles.

Carter lumbers toward Felix. I go after him, reaching out to twist the knife still sticking out of his side. But just as my fingers graze the handle, Sullivan grabs the collar of my prison uniform and yanks me back. The material digs sharply into my throat. It feels like someone has rabbit-punched me in the larynx. I’m jerked off my feet and land on my back, breath exploding from my lungs.

Sullivan drops to the ground behind me, wrapping his arms almost gently around my throat.

I gasp for breath, but I can’t get any air into my lungs. I reach up and grab Sullivan’s head, pull him closer by his ears. He tries to jerk away, but I hold on, crabbing my fingers around his face until I find his eyes.

I dig my thumbs in, pushing as hard as I can. Sullivan screams, his grip loosening. I smash my head back into his face. He cries out again and lets go. I lunge forward and stagger to my feet.

Sullivan is on his feet too, lurching around blindly. I grab him and slam his head as hard as I can into the metal countertop. He drops immediately.

I turn around and see Sawyer trying to pull Carter away from Felix. She looks tiny next to him. Carter turns casually toward her, grabs her hair and uses it to toss her sideways. She slams into the oven. She tries to steady herself, then cries out in pain and snatches her hands away. The gas rings are burning and a pot of oil still sits on the heat. Felix and his French fries.

Sawyer grabs the pot and spins around with it, throwing the whole lot into Carter’s face.

Carter screams in agony as the boiling oil coats his skin. His face and neck instantly turn red, angry welts and blisters flaring up. He staggers back. His eyes have gray-white films over them. He carries on screaming, arms outstretched, flailing around. Sawyer is pressed up against the counter, trying to avoid his swinging arms.

I dart forward and pull the knife out of Carter’s ribs, then jam it into the back of his neck. His screams stop and he drops into the water.

I grab Sawyer. By this time Felix is back on his feet, and we hurry back to the cafeteria.

We lurch