The nightmare struck again.

I was back at Union Station. With a few exceptions, it was set up the way it had been the day of the massacre. Only this time, I was the only human soul on the premises. Shadows reigned over the space. Terror fueled my movement as I dashed down an aisle, slipping on the tiled floor. Every time I slipped, I kept upright by sheer determination. I didn't dare look behind me to track the source of my fear. It would steal precious milliseconds away from my escape. Nor could I hear his stalking footsteps—the threat was incorporeal. He always was.

I slid again when I was near the coffee shop. My attempts to remain upright failed. I landed on the ground and slid until I crashed against the wall. Terrified, I scrambled around and sought the monster. His smoky form was slowly approaching. I cowered against the wall. Suddenly, I was no longer an adult in Union Station. I was back to being my eight-year-old self in Galileo's already destroyed cabin. The monster's smoky hand reached out for me—

I came fully awake to the sound of hurried footsteps. Blinking the disorientated daze out of my eyes, I sat up with relief at being out of that shattered nightmare. My heartbeat was still accelerated. My forehead was sweaty while my arms were extremely cold. I tried to get my breathing under control. The night lights reflecting against the cell's hard surfaces reminded me exactly where I was at. The echo of footsteps alerted me that the graveyard officer was completing his interval welfare check. It's just a nightmare, I reminded myself. The same one you've been having for your entire life. Or at least, since the death of my mother. The massacre had only amplified it.

The reoccurring nightmare had been especially prominent when my mother died. For months, my mind just didn't want to release the memory of being terrorized in Galileo's school cabin by the same thing that had killed her. Every single night, I would wake up screaming and thrashing around the bed. Galileo had tried to help me through it in daylight. It wasn't easy, for during the day, when he wasn't training me to become his agent, I struggled with my grief. It wasn't until his nine-year-old nephew Kit shared a bed with me that the attacks dwindled. He would embrace me and talk nonstop whenever I came out of it, shivering and terrified. He wouldn't release me until I had laughed over something he had said.

The nightmares still happened as I aged, albeit rarely, as if they were reminding me they still existed. Even Xavier was present for one, though he thought it was a simple nightmare. Yet, after the Union Station Massacre, they evolved to include the recent incident. When I was at Pueblo for my mental health evaluation, I discussed this with the psychiatrists. Besides verbal counseling and another prescription for sleeping meds, they could not eradicate the nightmares. If I had only one for the week, then that week was considered a good one.

"Central, Roberts, another inmate is out of his cell. He's running down B-Hall." I heard the approaching officer's radio echo nearby; panic and excitement escalated the words. Distracted from my musings, I strained to hear more radio traffic. The message was unusual—there shouldn't be any inmates leaving their cells at this time of the night. The facility's housing units were on complete lockdown. As I focused on hearing more, I noticed two sets of footsteps. There were two officers conducting the welfare checks, an urgency in their steps. Frowning, I perked up more; something was up. There was only one officer assigned to the pod during graveyards.

"Roberts, stay in the tower. We’ll send help when it’s available. Sergeant Canton, what’s the status on SORT activation?"

"I’ve contacted the on-call SORT sergeant. He should be notifying the team. Patrol has been contacted for resources, too."

"Central, Kozlowski, I have about seventy-five inmates out of their cells. Some of them have entered the main part of the facility. I have a couple fighting in the dayrooms! Oh fuck! One is trying to get into the tower! Stay back—"

"Kozlowski, don’t do anything. Stay where you are. Central, do not open that tower door!"

"Copy. Sergeant Canton, maintenance has been called and is standing by in the employee parking lot until it is safe to respond."

"Have all the nurses left the facility yet?" The radio traffic became louder as the officers entered my dayroom.

"Yes. They are all accounted for and waiting in the employee parking lot."

The graveyard officer assigned to the pod for the night, Barragan, appeared right outside of my window. He tugged on my door to verify it was secured, shined his flashlight into my cell, and made eye contact with me. He looked partly surprised to see I was awake. Still, he said nothing and moved onto Mousey's cell. I heard him tugging on her cell door, too. Intrigued, I got up and crept to my door's window. I could see the other officer pulling on cell doors and conducting welfare checks on the lower tier.

When Officer Barragan had reached the end of the upper tier, he started his descent. He keyed up on his radio and advised, "Central, Barragan, all the doors are secured in Adam."

"They show secure on the monitors as well," the person working central advised.

There was a pause before the officers got their next set of orders. "Officer Barragan and Officer Hollins, respond to the EOC."

"You want both of us?" Barragan questioned after exchanging a look with Hollins.

"Yes. While it’s safe enough to extract you. We’re going to need your assistance."

"Copy."

The two officers departed the dayroom and disappeared from my line of sight. Although I had nothing to do with the ongoing incident, I felt a flare of excitement and adrenaline. From what I could piece together, the electronic system securing cell doors throughout the facility had crashed. Some cell doors, securing some of the state’s most violent predators and psychotic individuals, had opened in the middle of the night. The facility’s doors that controlled traffic throughout the facility were unsecured as well, giving the inmates full access to the rest of the building—potentially giving them an opportunity to escape if they were lucky enough to navigate through its maze.

Graveyards had a lower number of staff on duty because of the nightly lockdown; if inmates—especially those inmates who were predators or had mental health issues—had escaped their cells, the officers were going to need reinforcements. A handful of officers were not enough to manage the inmates who had gotten this taste of unexpected freedom. It could take a while to put those inmates back into their cells.

They had put too much trust in an electronic system to keep them safe.

Sighing, I returned to the bunk and sat down on the edge of the mattress. A failure of the electronic door system had not happened before in this jail—at least not in the past four years since I became a resident. This was an emergency, and the jail would not return to normal procedures for at least a couple of days. I expected I would miss a couple of hours out, mealtimes would be random, and my transfer to the Department of Corrections would be postponed until they got the system fixed.

I was about to lay back in bed when I heard my cell door's motor buzz; the buzzing was from the activation of the door’s locks. I flung myself into a sitting position just as the door slid open. It opened to reveal two inches between the door itself and the doorframe. I froze and stared at the opening. I watched as my cell door slid further open—until it ran out of track. From the silence occurring throughout the unit, I didn’t think any other cell had been unlocked.

The night lights in my cell and the tier hallway provided enough illumination to see that nothing stood in the shadows just outside of the threshold. A chill radiated down my spine. Preparing to fight, I set my feet down on the ground. My heartbeat was frantic in my chest. I strained to see what lurked in the shadows; my mind insisted something was there. My instincts screamed of another presence.

Nor was the presence the monster who suddenly barged into the cell.

I do not remember taking the quick lateral lunge over to the other side of my cell as the monster flew into the cell. I only remember the alarm and disbelief exploding in my head. The monster was simultaneously animalistic and humanoid. The main portions of his body resembled a man’s. That was the extent of the monster's human qualities. Long horns erupted out and upwards of where a human’s ears would have been. There was another horn on the crown of his head. Long, ugly wings erupted out of his back, the tops of which were folded in on themselves because of the cell’s ceiling. The man’s skin was ashy white, vividly contrasting with his open wounds. Lines—like claw marks—wrapped around the man’s arms as if they were decorative. They also extended down the man’s chest and legs. The markings were not new. They seemed to be worn with pride and purpose, as if exposing your insides with gaping wounds was the fashion in Hell. His eyes reflected hellfire and brimstone.

The monster leapt for me. His claws arched downward. I squealed and slid down the wall until my upper body was crunched over my knees, my arms rising to protect my head. I heard the scraping of his claws against the concrete wall above my head as he approached. His legs and feet—which were built similarly to a canine’s—barricaded me in the corner. Still, past them, I could see the open cell door. Panic drew me towards it. I fell forward onto my hands and knees, landing just to the side of the monster’s legs. I scampered past him. Half of my body had cleared his form as he turned around awkwardly in the cell’s tight confines. My peripheral vision warned me of his arm rising high in the air before swinging downwards at me. My body hunched over itself before twisting for cover under the bunk. His claw landed right where my back had been and instead slammed against the bunk. Unable to breathe for moments, I saw the long, knife-edge hooks sprouting from his claws. They could have been made of titanium.

"Disraeli! Are you all right?" I heard Mousey squeak. I couldn’t answer her, distracted as I was with trying to plan my next move. The demon’s knees were bending. Soon he would be peering straight at me. My eyes searched through the darkness underneath the bunk and landed on my facility issued white bucket. I kept my commissary food items stowed in it. My hands fumbled with the items within, seizing anything. I came away with bags of circus animal cookies and dried plantains chips. Just as his head cleared the bunk’s steel bottom, I hurled the bag of cookies at his face. They bounced off his face, harmless. I was already army crawling out from underneath the bunk. When I cleared it, I was in between the cell door and demon.

I twisted around just in time to see the demon lunging for me again. Trying to be as small as I could be, I pressed my back against the concrete ground. I threw the plantain bag at him before seizing my shampoo. I quickly opened the lid and aimed the opening at the demon's eyes. It squirted towards his face before I threw it at him. Hoping that the shampoo had sprayed in the demon’s eyes, I didn’t wait to see if it was effective. I pushed up on my legs and hands and crabbed-crawled backwards.

The demon wiped the shampoo away from his face. He blinked his fiery eyes, bent his knees, and then left the ground. Fear immobilized my backwards escape, and I could only watch as the demon hurled towards me. My bucket of commissary was too far away. The demon was going to land on me, his claws right by my face.

Mid-flight, the demon’s direction changed. I felt a gust of air fly over me right before the demon altered direction. It was strong enough to propel the demon to the back wall and keep him there. A loud slam and enormous vibration I felt underneath my back came from the force. For a couple of seconds, I watched, gaping, as the demon struggled with whatever invisible force kept him against the wall.

I righted myself and scampered out of my cell. Right as I did, I noticed fresh blood droplets sticking to the doorframe and the floor. Confusion mingled with my adrenaline; I didn’t let myself ponder the blood’s source. I hesitated outside of my cell door, considering the best escape route. Did I run down the dayroom’s stairs—which were on the other side of the dayroom—or in the other direction and into the bordering dayroom—into an unknown? My eyes fell onto the steel bars forming the almost-ceiling high railing. Without a second thought, I started climbing. If my plan succeeded, I would have a lead on the demon when he freed himself from the force.

"Disraeli!" one of the female inmates in my dayroom yelled.

"What is she doing?"

"That girl is crazy."

The seventeen other girls housed in the administrative and disciplinary segregation dayroom stood at their locked doors—their faces pressed against their cell windows—and watched me as I climbed to the top of the railing. The jail's intention had been to build the railing up to the ceiling for suicide mitigation. They had left about a foot in between the highest bar and ceiling. It would be a tight fit.

"Oh my god, she’s not going to jump, is she?"

"Officer Barragan!"

"What the fucking hell is that?"

I was dragging my body onto the top bar, laying horizontally, and swinging my legs up, when the titanium claws slashed at my leg. The demon’s claws dug into my calf and yanked downwards. Trying to keep my precarious balance on the bar, I attempted to dislodge his claw. The demon held on tighter and pulled, digging into my muscle. Screaming out from terror and pain, I felt my body shifting towards him as I strained to keep my balance. I gritted my teeth and kicked. Some of the kicks hit pure muscle—it was as if I was kicking a rock. The movement was enough to force his grip to slip down my calf. I crushed my teeth together against the pain as his claws lacerated my skin further.

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The demon suddenly flinched in immense pain and briefly released my leg. He released a fierce snarl, swung one of his arms backwards before lunging for my leg again. He got the bit of sock that had bunched around my toes as I kicked my leg upwards. My heel banged against the ceiling. The demon's frustrated snarl was louder this time. Yet, before he could retaliate, he was hurled backwards. I swung my legs to the other side of the bars and straightened my body. My back was pressed against the railing; my hands gripped the bars; and my feet used one as a ledge. My left leg was shaking from the demon's lacerations. I looked down at the dayroom's concrete floor and felt a flair of panic. The jump was higher than I had estimated. If I fell wrongly, I could crack my skull open. Yet, I had been higher than this. I had jumped from hoops to trapeze swings to silks. I had been taught how to fall.

I ignored the demon behind me. The screams coming from the inmates blended into cacophony. I took a deep breath and pushed away from the railing. During the fight with gravity, I focused on controlling my body. I knew that gravity would contort my body in whatever way it wanted if I allowed it. Time was on its side; I had milliseconds to play with. I braced for impact when the concrete floor approached. My legs and knees were loose. I landed on the balls of my feet and had an outstretched hand to balance me when my body shifted forward.

The inmates' screams and shouts blended into one sound. I risked looking over my shoulder to see the demon pressed against the railing. His murderous red gaze was on me. I heard his growl over the inmates’ screams. I pushed myself up from my kneeling position, lunging forward, and fled from the dayroom.

I wobbled with the first couple of steps. My legs were still recovering from the fall, and my left leg was figuring out how to support my fleeing, despite the injury. I felt blood dripping from where he had clawed at me and resisted the urge to touch it. The concrete floor was freezing—which I felt every time my left foot touched down and took that as a good sign that my injuries were just superficial. I half-limped, half-ran towards the dayroom exit.

It led to a circular room hosting eight other entries. Five of them were thresholds into other dayrooms, dead ends. I knew from my attorney visits that the one with the long hallway led to the visitation area. Another egress led to the confined yard. My eyes fell on the only viable option to create as much distance as I could away from the demon: the doors to the main facility.

A hallway separated the doors. The doors were secured. Frantic, I put both of my hands up against the first door and tried to slide it open. It was a hopeless effort. The electronic system still controlled these doors. I dared to glance behind me. The darkened sally port was empty. I was aware of how many seconds I was losing waiting for the door to open, hoping against reality. My mind was scrambling for options, escape routes.

The door slid open. Shocked, I almost didn’t rip my hands from the glass window in time. I darted down the hall. The second door was opening by the time I had reached it. I twisted sideways to slip through. I raced down the exterior hallway to the intersection that connected the pod to the rest of the building. During my imprisonment, I had walked down this hallway a million times. It was still the same dull façade with white cinder blocks. But this time was different.

I heard noises coming from around the corner. Human screams, animalistic sounds, and loud booms all intermingled with each other. I was prepared to walk into a battlefield when I rounded the corner into the hallway. I hoped that the potential predators all distracted each other while I remained under the radar. I didn’t dare to slow down.

Only one demon had found his way to my pod, while the rest of them had congregated in the hallway. Despite the terror amplifying in my gut at the sight of all these monsters, and the disbelief in my mind, I ran into the fray blindly. It became a game of dodging and remaining just a flash in others' peripheral visions as I ran. I saw more claws like the ones I had just dodged. Some demons were more animalistic than humanoid. One even had a foot-long tongue with what looked like a small human head at the end of it. I ducked and darted behind a creature with long, shaggy fur covering every inch of his body. He walked on all fours and was focused on a short, stocky inmate with an unruly beard.

Male inmates mingled with the demons in the hall. They were almost as terrifying as the demons, as if they had come from hell itself. A couple had tattooed their entire faces and necks. They had shaved their skulls and tattooed the area. Most towered over me and weighed at least twice as much as I did. A fair number of inmates were not frightened of the monsters. While I was desperate to flee from the area, they went after the demons with homemade shanks. One possessed a push broom and used it to whack anyone who got in his way. He was a giant, so there was a strength and force behind his strikes that neutralized threats.

I was watching one such person be shoved backwards when my forward momentum was halted, and I was slammed against the wall. My head banged against the white cinderblock; for moments, my vision wavered. When it returned, I saw my attacker. He was a gorilla-resembling human. His thick arms and hands applied pressure against my shoulders to keep me captive. There was a makeshift knife in his left hand. I could feel its edge pressing against my throat. He was shirtless, and tattoos covered every inch of his body, including his face and knuckles. Inked faces, words, crosses, and numbers swirled around each other in a cacophony of images. Even the man’s eyelids had been darkened with ink. His pants were red, informing me he had been designated as a facility threat. His breath still stank of the hot dogs we’d been served for dinner. Heart thumping, I stared up at the male. He was more than triple my size and weight, putting me at a disadvantage.

"You are the bitch who shot up Union Station," he snarled. "You got off on your sentence. They should have fried you. You should have been ashes that night. The system is weak. I don't mind being the executioner, though." The inmate lifted his left hand high behind his head as his right arm applied more pressure to keep me still. The jailhouse shank was dull in the hall light.

I refused to die by a jail stabbing. Without hesitation, I used the wall to brace myself and brought my right knee up in between his legs. The inmate grunted and stumbled backwards. "Bitch! Cunt!" he snapped. The strike was only good enough for a distraction, as I was already moving, slipping down the wall and thrusting myself forward. My legs tangled in his. I locked my legs around his and yanked as I twisted myself over onto my stomach. It pulled his feet right out from underneath him. He landed with a loud, vibrational thump. The shank bounced out of his grip and slid down the hall until it bumped against a monster’s hoofed foot. Curious, the monster glanced down at it before following its trajectory back to its origin point, landing on the inmate.

I was already on my hands and knees, crawling out of range of the immediate danger. I scurried towards an inlet in the hallway. The inlet led to a door blocking yet another side hallway. I was able to claw the door open and slip inside, away from the chaos. Stumbling forward and upward, I used the wall for balance as I got to my feet again. The hallway continued straight for some yards before it veered to the right. My only option was to follow its path. My footsteps were relying on memory. This was the same path I’d taken for court. I didn't know what else to do. A part of me considered hiding in a closet somewhere and hope that no one discovered me until the officers had reclaimed the jail. Yet, that was too passive, and I couldn’t trust the fact that I wouldn’t be located by more threats. I had to remain on the offensive.

The stairwell door and two elevators met me at a dead-end as soon as I rounded another corner. I hesitated in choosing which one to trust, and then eventually went for the stairwell door. I would rather have free range of movement than be trapped in a box. The stairwell door yielded under my touch as I pushed against it with all my strength, the security lock failing. I slipped inside and pushed it shut.

I took three flights of stairs down to the basement of the building. Weirdly, the stairwell was vacant. I didn’t dare to stop, though. The door to the housing units could yield to anyone... to anything. Just as the door at the bottom of the stairwell buzzed in response to my approach. I rushed to it and pulled the handle before the buzzing stopped. It spat me out into the book and release section of the jail.

I ran past the property room’s windows and strip search rooms, straight into the booking and release area of the jail. I faintly remembered posing for my mugshots and allowing the officer to collect my fingerprints when I had first arrived. Then, the area had been swarming with officers. Each had attempted to help with my processing. Now, the area had been overwhelmed by evil. A couple of inmates scurried around in the area in the attempt to evade the monsters. The demons remained focused on maiming and destroying. If humans were not available, they went after technology and equipment. They tossed the fingerprint machines to the ground. Computers were ripped from their wiring and thrown against the wall. Cell doors were ripped from their hardware fixings. Paperwork was ripped to shreds and thrown about like confetti.

I ducked behind the work area and hurried towards the exit sign hanging over yet another door. It, too, had been left unsecured. I darted into the opening and veered right into the hallway.

I immediately regretted my decision. I had shot out right in the middle of a battlefield. On one side, there was a small army of officers suited up in riot gear and armed with intimidating weapons. With the helmets and shields blocking their faces and bodies, I couldn't identify any of the officers. Those on the front line were shuffling forward with tactical shields. The hallway was like a service corridor at a hospital. There were boxes of equipment and supplies pushed up against one side of the hall. Further down, I could see carts of folded clothes and bins of dirty laundry lingering around where the laundry room probably was. The stainless steel carts used to deliver our food were around the kitchen area.

"Disraeli is out of her cell!" one of the masked officers shouted.

A deafening growl pulled my gaze to the other side of the hallway. I froze for moments as I took in the menagerie of demons trampling down the hallway to meet the officers head on. One of the shaggy wolf creatures roared, reared back onto his hind legs, fell forward, and ran straight at me. There were several like the demon who had attacked me in my cell. The giant ones made of purely muscle fell to the back of the horde, as their gait was slower. There was no way I could outmaneuver all of them. Behind me, I heard a bean bag gun erupt. I felt the rush of air against my arm as the blur of a bean bag hurled past me. It pitifully thumped against the hawk-nosed demon’s chest and bounced to the ground. The bean bag gun ineffective, the officers switched to their other tools. My insides twisted when I saw the muzzles of firearms pointing around the shields.

I realized I stood right in the middle of the gunfire. I gasped and fell forwards towards a random door. It gave a couple of inches until it wouldn’t budge. It was locked.

The officers started shooting. The gunshots were loud and echoed in the enclosed hallway. From my lack of injuries, it was clear that their intent was to keep the demons at bay, although my welfare wasn't too important either. After all, in their perspective, I was now a convicted mass murderer attempting to escape. They had the prerogative to fire at me.

I lowered my body weight, yanking the door's handle, willing it to open. Shrieks and snarls came from my left. A quick glance in that direction revealed that the demons' chests and wings were riddled with bullet holes. Their wounds ejected foul-smelling substances. The ammunition proved ineffective. I could only stare with my mouth gaping and saucered eyes at the demons as they continued their approach.

I was distracted when the bean bag launcher emitted another shot. The ammunition plowed into my upper arm. I squealed and released the door handle. The bag landed by my feet. My blood was smeared across its surface. Grimacing in pain, I gripped my right arm. I shot an agitated look to my right and saw that the line of officers was advancing. The space in between the officers and demons was narrowing. "Disraeli! Get on your knees and face away from us! Put your arms behind your head!" someone from the front lines yelled. I didn’t move. I stared at them in disbelief. What were they going to do? Arrest me as a horde of demons was coming to claw out all our eyes? The officers continued to fire towards the demons. It did nothing to stop the advance.

"Disraeli! This is a direct order!"

A whoosh of flame came from the demon horde. I felt the heat of the fire against my back before it collided with one officer on the front lines. The officer faltered in his advance as the flame flared before extinguishing against his shield.

I felt nails scrape across my arm. Squealing, I stumbled backwards and away from the door and the pale humanoid creature who had crept up on me. He reached for me again with a horrifying extended arm. I flinched away, putting inches in between the pale creature and me. The creature only grinned, as if he enjoyed playing with his prey. I watched in horror as one officer shot a bean bag at the creature. It hit the creature right above the nose, and the creature stumbled backwards.

It quickly became apparent that the officers and demons were going to meet on this battlefield that I had somehow wandered in the middle of. I panicked, my eyes searching for some way to escape, searching for salvation. There was a peculiar sensation building in my chest, as if energy was accumulating in it. When the battlefield was about to collapse on me, I felt the energy detonate from my chest. My anxiety twisted my gut. The energy pushed the two battling armies away from one another and down the separate ends of the hallway. The momentum forced me to my knees. I gasped for air. I felt fatigued, weakened, as if I had just completed a triathlon that I had no business racing in. A fog hovered over my thoughts. I couldn’t think in complete sentences.

The hallway door clicked open to a crack. I stared at it, too dazed to realize what was happening until a hiss came from behind the door. "Briara!" There was no one in the doorway's vicinity, and yet, the door was still being held open. I remained where I was.

"Briara!" came the demanding hiss again.

There was enough energy in me to jolt me into movement with that second hiss. The officers and demons were stirring now. I didn’t dare to test my legs, and instead crawled for the meager opening promising safety. My arms and legs were trembling just from the movement. I was about to collapse onto the concrete in the narrow hallway when I heard the door slam behind me. It looked like an emergency corridor, perhaps for emergency evacuations. A warm, calloused grip tightened around my upper arm, just missing the bean bag impact site. There was enough force behind it to lift me up. "Come on, stand up," the voice urged. It was a deep masculine octave. I forced my feet underneath me, before stumbling forward, unsteady. The male retained my arm and helped me find my equilibrium again. I still felt unsteady—a bit loopy—as if I was quite inebriated.

His grip on my arm was sturdy as he led us to the door on the other side of the hallway—the one that entered a loading dock area. The September air was too hot to be comfortable, despite it being early in the morning. The man kept his grip on me as we walked down a ramp. He tried to maintain a quick pace, but my stumbling sabotaged any speed. All I wanted to do was lay down and allow oblivion to wash over me. Even the fresh late summer air against my face—which I hadn’t felt since I had been transferred back to the facility from the state hospital four years ago—and the bright full moon in the sky couldn’t revive me from the inebriated state.

The male led me to an idling vehicle parked at the bottom of the ramp. If I had enough energy to be impressed, I would have. The car's shape was sleek and small. It was meant for sharp acceleration and turns. The male opened the passenger side door for me and helped me sit down inside. I almost banged my head against the doorframe. The male shoved my head to the side to prevent the collision. My head felt heavy. I couldn’t lift it from where it rested against my shoulder.

"Put on your seatbelt," he ordered before slamming the door shut on me. I sank into the cool leather seats. My eyes were drifting shut when the male entered the vehicle on the other side of the car. I heard him grumble, "Or not." He fumbled around with my seatbelt before finally succeeding in latching it. He put the car into drive and sped off. The fatigue overwhelmed me and pulled me into oblivion before we had even left the facility.