Milan leaned over the desk, his eyes scanning the map. There were six floors, some of them dedicated areas for educational programs, dining facilities, medical units and inmate housing. On this floor — the second floor — numbered cells from one hundred to one hundred and thirty-one lined up. Milan and Eli’s cell was the last one on this floor.
On the first floor, the map showed the cafeteria. Further to the left, a small corridor led to a couple of unnumbered rooms. So, they weren’t cells. The last room was positioned under Milan and Eli’s cell.
“These rooms aren’t labeled,” Milan said. “We’ll need to take a look if we want to know what it is.”
“That’s what we planned from the get-go.” Eli stuck her tongue out, sitting amid blankets and sheets, tying the ends together.
Milan trailed his eyes down the map. The exit was on the right side of the cafeteria, through a corridor leading to the yard. They knew that. That was where they were led through when they were allowed ‘outdoor activities’.
Milan tapped his finger against the desk. What was the time? He threw a glance at his wrist. Right. He didn’t have his wristwatch anymore. They had confiscated it. Milan and Eli needed to wait until nighttime to begin their investigation. If they came in now…
Milan’s heart sank. “Hurry up.”
“Chillax.” Eli tied the end of the DIY rope to Milan’s bedframe leg, pulling it. “Is it gonna hold our weight?”
“We’ll go one at a time. When the lights are switched off.”
As if it were a sign, the room submerged in darkness, any source of light vanishing. Milan blinked. He reached for the flashlight on the desk, while Eli removed the floorboards.
“Imma go first,” she said. She dropped the rope of blankets and sheets through the hole and clung onto it, climbing down.
“Hold your breath,” Milan said. “There’s a lot of dust.”
Eli sent a ‘thumbs up’, as she disappeared between the layer of darkness.
“Send a signal when you’re down.” Milan craned his neck, shining the flashlight above his head, but the dark was too thick. He counted the seconds in his head, pricking up his ears to any sound, but only silence enveloped his senses.
“Eli?” Milan called.
The rope wriggled. One, two, three times. That was it.
Milan held the flashlight between his teeth as he clasped onto the rope and made his way down. The dust flickered around him. Did no one ever clean this room?
“Come on, slowpoke!” Eli gave a flippant remark. “Before it’s mornin’.”
Milan jumped down the last three feet. “It’s not like you were any faster.”
“It’s alright,” Eli said. “I know you’ve got a fear of heights.”
Even in the dark, Milan could sense Eli’s sarcastic smirk. He waved the flashlight around the room. A wooden box rested on the ground. Milan dug a hand inside, and soft fabric touched his skin. Nothing important.
In the corner, a bucket and a broom leaned against the wall. Further in the middle, a rectangular metal box was fixed to the wall. Milan opened it. Inside, circuit breakers lined along, each one of them labeled. Some were tagged with ‘security alarms’, ‘lights’, ‘locks’, ‘A/C’, and so on. They were all switched on.
“A breaker box,” Eli said.
Milan nodded. In other words, this was the electrical room. The room where all power within the building was controlled.
“Do you realize what we could do with this?” Milan asked.
“Take over the whole buildin’.”
“Right. With this, we could-”
“Hey, hey, what does this one do?” Eli reached her finger to one of the switches.
“No!” Milan reacted subconsciously, seizing her arm. “I have a plan to escape, and I swear, you do not want to mess this up.”
“You got a plan already? Go, MW!”
“It depends. What time are you being transferred tomorrow?”
Eli placed a finger on her lower lip. “‘Round one p.m. or somethin’.”
Milan crossed his arms. Talk about cutting it close. Their education ended at twelve forty-five p.m. That only gave them a quarter to put their plan into motion. Eli’s contribution was essential. He couldn’t do it without her.
“Let’s head up for now before we’re discovered,” Milan said. “Tomorrow, we’ll discuss the plan with Chet.”
That night, Milan couldn’t sleep. His heart fluttered in his chest as he went over and over the plan in his head. If it succeeded, they’d be out of here. If and only it succeeded.
* * *
As usual in Rockwood Detention Facility, Milan’s power of concentration evaporated during class. This time the teacher talked about the decolonization of Britain, again, something he already knew about. He tapped the pen against the table, counting the seconds as they went by. This was the day.
Eli sat with a grin plastered on her face, swinging her legs back and forth. She held out her hand with her thump swinging up at Milan.
Milan turned his head in the opposite direction.
“Okay, everyone,” the educator said. “I want you to get together in two-man teams and discuss the questions in your study book.”
“Teacher!” Milan lurched from the chair. He didn’t even know her name. “We’re odd-numbered. Could Chet work with Eli and me?”
The educator’s glance shifted between Chet, Eli, and Milan. “Y-yes, of course.”
Chet’s lips formed into half a smile as he ambled toward Milan’s table. Eli did the same.
“There’s a breaker room below our cell.” Milan lowered his voice as much as he could. “We can use this to our advantage to switch off the security alarm and electric locks. By switching them off, the locks to the doors will open and we should be able to escape. But before we do that, we have to take everything into consideration.”
“What do you mean?” Eli asked.
“We can’t assume everything’ll work out once we’ve switched off the power. Facilities such as these must have some kind of backup power system, which is a separate device from the breaker box, and I have no idea where it’s placed within this six-floor building.” Milan craned his neck, making sure the teacher wasn’t nearby. “We have to turn that device off first before we can put our plan into motion.”
Chet twirled his finger inside his nose. “As someone who’s been in and outta here, I think I know exactly what device you’re talking about. I’m on it.”
Milan frowned. How could he know about this device just because he’d been ‘in and outta here’? He had to have an ace up his sleeve. Something only Chet could do…
“In any case,” Milan continued. “Even with all these measurements, we still can’t walk off like that. Say we turn off all power successfully, but that’s not enough. We’ll be discovered. That’s why we need a diversion.” He eyed Eli. “The way you started that mess in the cafeteria yesterday shows your potential for creating a huge distraction. You’ll be in charge of that. While the guards are occupied with the other inmates, we’ll slip out.”
“But we don’t got a lotta time,” Eli said. “How’re we gonna make it?”
“It’s simple. We split up.”
Eli and Chet exchanged looks.
“I’ll send you a message with instructions through the vent system in our cell while you stay in the cafeteria, Eli. Chet, you already know what to do once we’re done here,” Milan said. “Meanwhile, I’ll go down to the electrical room, turn off the alarm and lock switches. I’ll climb up to the cell again and leave through the cell door — that should be possible since I’d have switched off the locks. By the time I reach the cafeteria, the distraction should already be in full swing.”
Chet bumped his fist into Milan’s shoulder. “That’s why you need a genius on your team.”
“I’m not a genius.” Milan dusted off his shirt where Chet had touched it.
“How’s it going over there?” The teacher appeared out of nowhere. “Are you done discussing the questions?”
“We still have a couple left.” Milan neutralized his facial expression, trying to pretend as if nothing had happened.
“That’s okay. We’ll continue tomorrow.” The teacher clapped her hands. “Alright, everyone. Class is over.”
Milan gulped. Fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes from now, and they’d be free. Those were his thoughts as they were led through the hallway back to the cafeteria by a bunch of officers.
“Here, fella.” Chet spoke in a low voice and glimpsed around the room before handing a folded piece of paper to an officer.
This had to be the officer Chet had something on. He had cold eyes and an oblong face. He looked like a robot.
So, that’s him, Milan thought.
“My last requests,” Chet said.
“Last requests?” The officer’s voice was deep, scratching against Milan’s ears. The kind of voice that was hard to forget once you’d heard it. “What do you mean?”
Milan sent Chet a glare. What a damn idiot.
“Uh.” Chet scratched the back of his neck. “Last requests for today.”
Milan pushed Chet aside before he could give them away. “Officer. I’d like to stay in my cell in my free time.”
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He lifted his eyebrow. “This is the only free time you get. Don’t complain later.”
Milan nodded. There was nothing he was more sure of. Before long, the officer locked him inside the same old cell. The same dull walls. The same desk and stool by the corner. The same rusty beds.
And it was the last time he’d see it.
He ripped off a piece of paper and wrote, be ready in five. Then, he took out the bun he’d been hiding in his sleeve ever since breakfast and throughout the entire class. He tore it open, curled the paper inside, and slid it through the vent. The grate was sealed shut when he first discovered it, but with Eli’s help, he’d busted it open this morning.
Milan lifted the floorboards and tied the DIY rope Eli had to remake to the bedframe. And the flashlight. He couldn’t forget the flashlight. He clung his body to the rope, sliding until he reached the ground.
Milan snorted. That was easy. He swung the breaker box open, trailing his finger down the circuit breakers. There were several for the alarm and locks. Milan switched them off and rushed to the rope. The moment he grabbed it, the other end, tied to the bed frame, slithered down and landed with a thud next to him.
Milan’s mouth stood agape. How could this happen? Hadn’t he fastened it strong enough? No, that couldn’t be. It should’ve held his weight. Besides, he didn’t tug at it that hard. It was as if it had come off on its own. Or someone had untied it.
Milan lifted his head to the opening in the ceiling. That someone looked down at him from above.
Chet.
“Sorry, genius,” he said. “Even if you’re the one who came up with the plan, I can’t let murderers who’ve killed their own kin break out.” He chuckled. “Thanks to you, I’ll be free now. I’ll live my life to the fullest while you can rot in here forever.”
Then, his frame vanished from the hole.
Milan dropped the flashlight. His body went numb. He should’ve seen this coming. A recalcitrant anger blazed inward, like fire. He wanted to grab Chet by the throat and squeeze until he stopped breathing. But he couldn’t move an inch. And even if he could, it was too late. Chet would escape and Milan would be caught.
His plan was ruined. Why? How did this happen? Someone had to have told Chet about Milan’s ‘crime’. Was it Eli? Could it be any other than her? No. Eli was the only person who knew.
And Chet. Chet and his idiotic policy about knowing why someone wanted something smuggled in. Milan had trusted him to cooperate. But he’d been right from the beginning; Chet was not to be trusted. Both him and Eli.
His eyes followed the wall to the ceiling. It’d be impossible to climb back up. Besides, the hole was in the middle of the ceiling. There was no way he’d reach. Then, his eyes drifted around the room. Of course. Why didn’t he think of using the door like any other person? The lock to this door had to be electronic too. Being in jail had screwed up his sense of normality.
He twisted the doorknob, but it didn’t open. He did it again. Again, again, again. Made no difference.
Milan slammed his fist on the doorknob. He bolted back to the breaker box, burying his face in the dead front cover. He had switched off all the lock-labeled circuit breakers. Could it be the lock to the breaker room was non-electric?
He switched his glance toward the door and took a closer look. Sure enough, there was a keyhole below the doorknob. Damn it. What now?
His eyes wandered up and down the breaker box, and then they stopped. At the top of the panel, a double pole circuit breaker labeled ‘main’ was switched on. Main… this small switch maintained all the power in this building. If all power was switched off, someone would have to come and check. And they’d have to open the door.
Milan didn’t think twice. He switched off the ‘main’. The small pool of light from the cell above him disappeared and the breaker room drowned in pitch blackness. He switched on the flashlight, slinging the light around. There it was. The wooden box. He turned it upside down, emptying all the contents. Then, he dashed beside the door and clung his back to the wall.
He turned off the flashlight. There, he stood, in the dark, with only his heartbeat thumping in his ears keeping him company.
* * *
A soft bump struck against the cafeteria air vent. Eli plunged her hand inside and found herself holding a bun, almost black from the dust and dirt in the vent. A bun. Was this MW’s message? Hurry the bun up? Don’t bun it up?
Eli chuckled. For sure not. She opened the bun, and her face broke into a smile as she trailed the words on the note. She curled it, throwin’ it over her shoulder. Then, she took a bite off the bun, as she neared the cafeteria table.
Five minutes, huh? That should be easy peasy. Most of ’em prisoners that stayed here sat by the tables, laughin’ at each other’s lame jokes or braggin’ about their crimes. ‘Cept if they had killed somebody. No one ever bragged ’bout that.
Eli drew her eyes along each of their faces. Most of ’em were like Chet. Broad bodies, scars, and stitches all over their faces. But Chet wasn’t here. He’d got to do his business. Eli thought Chet would wanna see a riot go down the most out of everyone here. He should’ve been here by now. What was the holdup?
Eli yawned. How much longer was it gonna be? It had been five minutes now. Or one. But Eli didn’t care anymore.
She jumped onto the table. “Hey, hey!”
The voices died down, and everyone’s eyes were glued to her. There had to be at least three hundred dudes scattered across the five refectory tables.
“What came first? The prisoner or the jail?”
Mumbling rose across the area.
“The prisoner!” Eli said. “‘Cuz what’s the point of a jail without any prisoners?”
Someone across the table screamed. “I-I don’t wanna go to prison!” Then, he swung a punch at the person next to him.
That was all it took for this place to turn into a boxin’ arena. Roars soared to the ceilin’, everyone flingin’ a fist to the nearest person. Someone ripped their shirt off while shouting. Another banged his head against the table. Oh, yeah, that was the I-don’t-wanna-go-to-prison dude. A brawny dude picked him up and threw him across the cafeteria.
Eli’s skin tightened from beaming. This was the best day of her life. Now, all she’d got to do was wait for Milan to show up.
But he never did. Instead, the lights snapped off, one after one, until the only light radiated from the sun through the rectangular windows.
Voices drowned to a soft mumbling. Everyone dropped whatever they held in their hands — someone else’s collar, hair, or body.
Eli bit her lower lip. It had been all goin’ so smoothly. Did MW do this? Did somethin’ happen to him? Eli had got to do somethin’ fast before their plan was ruined.
“The power’s off!” Eli said, throwing her arms ‘round in a desperate attempt to gather everyone’s attention. “Alarms, off. Doors, unlocked. We can break out!” She had no idea if it was true. But she had to say somethin’.
Everyone stared at her, dumbfounded.
“Riot!” Someone yelled across the cafeteria. “Riot! Riot! Riot!”
Soon, everyone followed, screamin’: “Riot,” in chorus. They sprinted toward the corridor, narrowin’ down the exit and shoved everyone and everythin’ out of their way.
Eli found herself in the crowd, pushin’ her way to freedom.
* * *
Milan clammed the wooden box close to his body. His shirt grew wet with sweat. Even at this distance, the screams of the inmates rose inside his ears. The riot was in full swing. And Milan was here, with his back against the cold wall, waiting to strike any moment. He didn’t want to, but he didn’t have a choice.
The wooden box almost fell out of Milan’s hands, when something on the opposite side of the door jingled. If it was John Hughes, Milan was screwed. A key turned around in the keyhole, and a guard with a flashlight in his hand came in.
“Why do I have to do this?” he mumbled. “It’s always me. There’s a damn riot going on, and I gotta do this.”
Milan breathed through his nose. He was in luck. The officer wasn’t John Hughes; he was a small fry. Milan could take him.
With those thoughts in mind, he thwacked the wooden box on the officer’s head, splinters of wood flying everywhere.
The guard stood motionless. He was still standing.
He gripped Milan’s wrist, digging his nails into his flesh. “You thought that would be enough to take me down?”
He thrust the flashlight into Milan’s stomach, knocking the air out of him. Milan wheezed. Before he could think, the guard struck the flashlight on his head. His body twisted around, dumping on the floor. A ringing screeched in his ears. What the hell? Why was this happening?
Milan propped himself up on his elbows. He couldn’t let it end this way. If he didn’t escape, he’d get a lifetime in prison. If he wasn’t already.
Milan panted, his head thumping to the rhythm of his heartbeat. Blood trickled across his eye. It dripped down on a spear-like chunk of wood resting in front of him. He clasped his hand around it. Milan could feel the guard’s figure hovering behind him.
Milan flew to his feet and rammed the guard into the breaker box panel. Smoke twisted to the ceiling.
The officer grasped hold of Milan’s neck, squeezing it tight.
“I’m gonna kill you,” he said. “I’ll send you straight to hell, where you belong.”
Milan opened his mouth, but he couldn’t breathe. His tongue felt like it had grown three times its size. The world darkened and a tingly feeling spread throughout his limps.
He was going to die.
Not now, he thought. Not like this.
He thrust the wooden spear into the guard’s hand with all the strength he could muster. Blood splattered everywhere. The guard screamed, yanking his hand to his body. Milan gasped for air. His throat grated for every breath he took.
Think. What now?
His eyes stumbled upon the rope of sheets and blankets. He snatched it and whirled it around the guard’s neck. He pulled as tight as his strength allowed him.
The guard flailed his arms, pleading half-words and drool slipping out of his mouth.
Milan didn’t let go. He didn’t care. Getting out of this hellhole was his first priority. And he could only do that if this guard disappeared.
His grip tightened. Foam bubbled out in the corner of the guard’s mouth, and his lips turned purple. His arms went limp, and he stopped moving. But Milan didn’t let go. His knuckles turned white as he pulled harder.
Then, something clicked inside of him. He let his hands drop, hanging loose. The officer fell to his knees, then face down on the ground. Unconscious.
Or dead.
Milan didn’t know.
He took a step toward the door when his eyes fell on the keys by the officer’s body. He seized it and bolted toward the corridor leading to the exit. He’d need it later.
The chaos hit Milan’s ears from afar. The screams boomed throughout the area; he couldn’t even hear his own breathing. But when he reached the cafeteria, it was a hundred times worse than what he’d imagined. Hundreds of inmates swarmed around, jostling through the hallway like herded sheep. Some grabbed at others’ clothes to surge forward. Others dove into the crowd, knocking people to the ground.
Eli, what the hell? He told her to create a distraction, not whatever this was.
Milan groaned as he pushed himself into the crowd and through the corridor. He had a slender frame. Sneaking through this throng of people wouldn’t be impossible for him.
That was what he thought until he was shoved from behind. The wind was knocked out of him as he plunged to the ground. Shoes trampled all over him. The pain shot through his body, crushed under the weight of a hundred feet. He placed the palm of his hands against the floor, trying to push himself up. It was impossible. Heavy feet smashed against his back. He gasped for air, but it didn’t reach his lungs. He tried screaming for help, but his voice was too weak. It drowned in the chaos. He drowned in the chaos.
Milan didn’t know what to do. He lifted his head, reaching his hand out to no avail.
Was this the way he would die? He could think of better ways than being trampled to death or suffocating.
He saw his life flash before his eyes for the second time today before he felt the warmth of skin against his. He was dragged up with a sudden strength. Milan clutched at his chest, gasping.
“Get yourself together, MW!” Eli said. “Let’s go.”
She grabbed his wrist, yanking him through the crowd. As the shock of almost dying settled down, Milan bit his lips to keep himself from smiling. He didn’t like to admit it… no, he hated to admit it, but man was he glad Eli was still here. But why would she help him? She could’ve escaped by now. Had she waited for Milan to show up?
It wasn’t long until the door at the end of the corridor shot open, and a chilly breeze enveloped Milan. He inhaled. The gray clouds scudded across the sky, staring down on him, on everyone.
Milan and Eli reached the gate, the fence surrounding them from every side. People clambered up in masses.
Milan stroked a hand through his hair. The keys. They were gone. He had to have lost them when he fell.
“Let’s do it.” Eli grabbed onto the fence.
A gunshot resounded in the air. Milan turned.
“Come down immediately,” an officer said from near the entrance with a gun pointed at them. “I’m warning you.”
It was as if no one had heard the gunshot. Or the officer. They continued up the fence. Some were caught in the barbed wire on top, and others were already climbing down from the other side.
Another gunshot. Someone plummeted to the ground a few feet away from Milan. Blood oozed out of his head, circling around his body. His brains were scattered on the ground, and his arms and legs bent outward, crookedly.
It was Chet.