Scarlen felt sick to her stomach at what would happen next, and she could see others were as nervous as her, as not all enjoyed hostility and turmoil. She figured if the prison was run appropriately, many inmates would simply complete their sentence without animosity, but the bitterness she inhaled each day was now too strong to ignore.
Dionne moved a piece of chicken around her bowl, her breathing a wheeze, her hand tight around her spoon. ‘The waiting is making me worse.’
Scarlen glanced across the table to see Kylar’s eyes on Judd, who was chatting quietly with his group, making everything seem normal, but she knew it wasn’t, and she couldn’t work out why the guards hadn’t noticed the tension, although Kane was more interested in his reflection in the window. Either that or he was lost in thought.
Binnow wasn’t in sight, and Lackly was behind the food counter, sampling a roasted parsnip.
Dubious about moving from her seat, Scarlen simply stared at Dionne’s bowl, the untouched food going cold.
A clatter made everyone turn to the tray Varklee had dropped on the floor. At first, no one said anything, as the assumption from the guards was Varklee would pick it up, but when he stood feet apart, arms folded, and head tipped to one side, it was clear he was making some sort of statement.
‘Pick it up,’ said a nearby guard.
‘Come on, Varklee,’ called Mr Lackly. ‘You don’t want to be in the pillory tonight. It’s pouring down.’
Varklee uncurled his arms and bent to lift the tray, but as he straightened, he whacked it into the guard’s stomach, sending a whoosh of air from the unsuspecting man’s mouth.
‘Oi!’ yelled Lackly, but as he rushed forward, the Flames were up, so were the Pirates, then most of the inmates roared as they fled into the corridor, tearing into anyone in their way.
Keys were ripped from the guards’ belts, and the supply rooms were unlocked in no time. More guards ran into the canteen from all directions, lightning rods fully charged and in constant use. Screams and yells were deafening as bowls and spoons were tossed through the air, tables upturned, and more trays used as weapons.
Dionne grabbed a startled Scarlen by the arm and made a dash for the corridor that led to their block, ducking and avoiding swinging fists and broomstick handles.
Scarlen searched for Bear, but it was hard to see anyone clearly as she got squashed in among the fighting, taking a few wayward hits to her back as she pushed through with Dionne still latched on to her.
As they turned a corner, Miss Harnish was being attacked by two female Pirates, and Scarlen felt her blood boil at the assault on someone so kind.
‘We have to help her,’ she said to Dionne, tugging free of her hold.
‘Scarlen, no. We need to get to our cell.’
But there was no way Scarlen could ignore what she was witnessing. Miss Harnish was outnumbered as two more women approached her, one holding a bottle of cleaning fluid, another wrenching open Miss Harnish’s mouth.
Pushing her way through the bodies fighting, running, making a mess of the walls, the floor, Scarlen slammed into two of the women attacking Harnish, knocking them both sideways. She placed herself in front of the guard, her teeth bared, her spoon her only ally.
Someone threw sticky liquid in her face, and jeers banged on her eardrums, but Scarlen stood tall, knowing whatever happened she couldn’t let them take her to the floor, else she’d never get back up.
A small woman flew at her, but Scarlen used her head to bust her opponent’s nose, the blood splattering out onto her top, then she grabbed Harnish’s baton, threatening all who dared close in on them.
The bleeding woman was being helped by her friend while the other two backed off before turning to fight a female Flame, and Scarlen reached for Miss Harnish, dragging her along the corridor, catching sight of Dionne waving them over.
‘If we take her to the infirmary, she can lock herself in,’ was Dionne’s suggestion.
Scarlen needed to find Bear, but she wanted to make sure Miss Harnish was safe first. ‘Come on,’ she yelled, hurrying the guard along, the lightning rod ready for action if anyone should attack.
The noise of the riot fizzled out a little as they approached Posla’s domain. He poked his head around his door on hearing the pounding of feet.
‘What in the name …’ His attention was on Miss Harnish, her hair pulled from its tight bun, her cheeks pale, and eyes watery. ‘Quickly, quickly.’ He waved them inside and locked the door.
‘There’s a full-on riot,’ Dionne informed him.
‘Then you are to remain here until it is under control.’ He sat Harnish on the bed and brought her some water.
A hundred reasons to stay put washed over Scarlen, but only one told her to find Bear. For all she knew, he could be hurt, bleeding somewhere. He might need her. It didn’t make sense to leave the haven of the infirmary, but the pull of energy was stronger than her logic.
She passed the lightning rod to Dionne. ‘Look after yourself. I have to make sure Bear is okay.’ And before anyone could stop her, Scarlen turned the key in the door and ran, Dionne shouting after her.
In order to get to Amber Block Two, she had to go through clusters of fights, triumphant huddles, and beaten guards, uniforms torn, batons missing, faces battered. She had to remain focused on Bear. He would be searching for her, as promised. As dangerous as it was, she had to be with him while the riot went on, only then would she know for sure he was alive at all times.
