Breakout Paul Herron (books to read in your 20s female .TXT) 📖

I should feel… something, surely? Relieved? Proud? But I don’t. I feel nothing. Just… empty.

And then it’s just me and Sawyer left. She stares at me slumped against the wall.

“You okay?”

“Not really.”

She nods. “You waiting here to drown, or you coming?”

I don’t answer. She waits, watching me.

Then holds out her hand.

I look at it, and the tears that have been threatening finally fall. Why does she care if I don’t? Why does she give a shit after what I did to her brother?

I hesitantly reach out and she clasps my hand tightly. She smiles, and we move into the dark corridor. Once inside, I let go so we can pull the door closed. Water trickles through invisible gaps between the door and the frame. We’re not safe yet. We still have to get to the actual storm drains.

Someone has given Sawyer a flashlight. She shines it around as we walk. The corridor is lined with avocado-green tiles. There’s hardly any dirt on them. No one has been down here for half a century.

We reach a long flight of stairs. At the bottom of the steps is a tunnel that looks more like an aqueduct, an arched passage about ten feet wide with raised walkways to either side. We’ve caught up with the inmates now, and follow them until the tunnel finally opens into an old-fashioned control room. We push through the crowd to get inside. It looks like something out of a sixties science-fiction movie. Hulking machines and analog control panels.

There’s no power down here. Inmates shine their flashlights around, beams of light picking out computers and file cabinets.

Leo stands in the center of the room, looking around with satisfaction. He sees me and nods toward a metal box mounted on the wall. “Jack? If you please.”

I pull it open. There’s a huge circuit-breaker switch inside. I push it up and a loud hum vibrates through the air.

Dim lights flicker to life, but not only in the control room. The walls are lined with viewing glass, and beyond it distant lights switch on, revealing what I can only describe as a cavern.

I peer through the window. The space below is utterly massive. Easily a hundred and fifty feet high and a hundred wide, an enormous concrete room that disappears into the distance, the arched ceiling supported by huge, hulking pillars.

“This is the final flood chamber,” says Leo, appearing at my side.

“You weren’t lying when you said it was big,” I say softly.

“There are five more just like it heading north. All connected by about twenty miles of tunnels.”

“Watertight?”

“Watertight.”

We leave the room and descend the steps into the vast chamber. Leo leads the way, heading toward a service door about fifty feet ahead.

“That door connects to the storm tunnels,” he says.

“Why don’t we just wait in here?” asks Felix, his head arched back as he tries to make out the distant roof.

“This place wasn’t finished,” says Leo. “I don’t think it’s sealed properly. Look around. There’s been deep water in here.”

He’s right. The walls are covered with tidemarks and old algae stains.

He kicks at the ankle-deep water covering the chamber floor. “See? Already filling. The storm drains are watertight, though. We can wait there till the floodwater recedes.”

“How long will that take?” asks Sawyer.

Leo shrugs. “Your guess is as good as mine. Might be a couple of days. You got any better ideas, though?”

She doesn’t, and so the inmates trudge wearily across the chamber floor, remove the heavy bar locking the door, and file into the storm tunnels beyond. Despite the uncertainty, there’s a feeling of relief in the air. We all thought we were going to die tonight. This is a second chance.

The four of us hang back until the last of the inmates have gone through. Leo goes next, Sawyer close behind him. Felix glances over at me. He opens his mouth to say something—

—and the top of his head bursts into a fine red mist.

The crack of automatic gunfire erupts, the chamber amplifying the noise to ear-shattering levels. The echo makes it sound like a hundred rifles are going off at once.

I feel a massive punch to the back of my ribs. I stagger and look down, staring in amazement at the blood spreading across my prison scrubs.

Felix topples over. I drop to my knees, see Sawyer’s shocked face as she watches from inside the storm tunnel.

The shooting stops. Sawyer hesitates, then steps forward as if to help. Gunfire erupts again, chips of concrete exploding around the door. She yelps and ducks back inside.

I turn painfully around.

Kincaid strides toward me, a Ruger rifle raised to his shoulder. He fires at the tunnel again. Sawyer has no choice but to yank the door closed.

I fall back against one of the massive pillars, slumping down into the water, my hand going to my ribs. I can feel my blood pulsing, pumping from the wound.

Kincaid keeps his gun trained on me as he approaches the door and slides the bar back in place.

“Better,” he says. “We don’t want any interruptions.”

He backs up a step and leans against a pillar. I can’t take my eyes off Felix. His face is turned away from me, the wound submerged in water. Maybe he’ll get up. Maybe he’s fine…

“We were interrupted earlier,” says Kincaid casually. “Back when we were cleaning the cells. There was something I wanted to talk to you about. To tell you.”

I wrench my attention away from Felix. Kincaid cocks his head to the side. “You took my wife from me.”

“You… already told me that,” I say, gritting my teeth against the pain.

“I know. But I didn’t get to tell you everything. I wanted to savor it.” He smiles briefly. “See, I couldn’t let it pass. I had to return the favor.”

I frown. “The hell you talking about?”

“You think Novak, Wright, and Tully just happened to be at your house that night?”

I stare at Kincaid, struggling to understand the words. He can’t be saying…

“I see your mind working. Wondering. Let me clarify.