A sharp, metallic sound came from the cell door. The warden said, “Okay, I’m unlocking the door. Do not linger.” They both did an about-face, ready to leave and go down twenty flights of stairs to the ground floor and into a possible prison riot or perhaps just a runner, according to Winslow. Who could know?
Draeken Phoenix had told Jack what a runner was. That meant someone was tired of living at the Galactic Gulag XkR-9 and had chosen either fire or ice as a way to end his prison sentence. The hard way.
No one survived fifty or so steps beyond the prison grounds. At least not for long.
The moment the door was unlocked, the warden pulled it open and they both exited quickly.
The warden locked Winslow’s cell door and hurried down the hall toward the elevator that was, it seemed, locked down and unusable. The doors were lined in a thin red light that flashed like a heartbeat. It was unnerving.
Jack decided it was better not to have been on the way down in the elevator when the klaxon went off, trapping them inside.
Small victories.
They still faced a long walk down. Draven veered to the right, down a short hallway beside the elevator. He got to a large wooden door with a metal grate at Jack’s eye level. Jack could see the door was about six inches thick.
The warden pulled a big key ring from yet another tactical pocket and flipped through several keys, unlocking not one but four locks to open the large door. All the while, the klaxon blared and the red lights blinked.
With the big heavy door opened, Draven went through and motioned for them to hurry. He pointed around the curved hall to the staircase, which was surprisingly wide, maybe five or six feet and made of gray and maroon stone. It looked solid. Jack hoped it remained that way as they descended the next twenty flights.
He heard the big wooden door close behind them and turned, expecting to see Draven.
He wasn’t there.
“Warden?”
Jack and Madeline exchanged a look of “what the heck!”
Draven’s face appeared in the eye-level grate. “You should get moving,” he said.
“You’re not accompanying us?” Madelaine asked.
Draven pointed up and gave an exasperated look like Jack and Madelaine should already know the answers their own questions. “Well, the alarm screaming above our heads changes things, at least it does for me.”
“Seems like even more reason for you to hang with us and ensure safe passage out of here.”
“Not possible. But you two should get moving.” Draven seemed off—not that Jack really knew this guy, but his attitude was odd. What was he hiding?
“Why?” Madelaine asked. “What’s waiting for us down there?”
Jack was thinking the same thing.
The warden frowned. “I don’t know thatanythingis waiting for you down there. But staying up here is not a good option for the two of you.”
“Yeah,” Jack said. “But I thought you were supposed to escort us while we were on the gulag’s grounds, right?”
“I never guaranteed safe passage out. Besides, it seems as though things have been taken out of my hands. Trust me, you’ll have better luck if you take the stairs.”
“Well, I don’t trust you.” Jack was done with this man. He turned away, grabbed Madeline’s hand and walked toward the stairwell as the warden laughed.
Madelaine didn’t stop him or try to slow him down, but her expression said she might be considering it. He squeezed her hand twice and led her to the top of the circular steps.
Jack and Madelaine started down as the warden continued to laugh behind them.
“Now what?” she asked as they carefully made their way down the steps, hugging the wall as the staircase grew darker the farther they descended.
“In a few more steps,” Jack said, “I’ll fish out my mini Maglite.”
“Awesome. I forgot you were a Boy Scout. Always prepared.”
