Date: Sat, 7 Jul 2012 08:39:15 -0700 (PDT)
From: Bien Clar <bienclar@yahoo.com>
Subject: No Rest for the Wicked part 1

This is a continuation of the Council of Elders story and happens
immediately after the last chapter. Don't worry – you will find out what
happened to Fenris, Caesar and Owen. I've decided to go for 1st person this
time because I think it's a lot better for stories with only one
perspective. I think you'll find this is a lot darker than the first part
of the trilogy, both in terms of the things that happen and the actual
characters themselves.

***

The quiet of the night was broken by screaming. I could hear it echoing in
the darkness that led to my cell on the basement level. The stuttering of
gunfire was added to the noise that slowly crept closer and closer to
me. What the hell was going on out there? A riot? A breakout?  Loud
footfalls approached my locked door and I walked over to it. The absence of
light meant that the person on the other side was practically invisible
through the slot that provided my only sight into the outside of my cell.

"Inmate 626!" the familiar scratchy voice sounded breathless and
shit-scared.

626. That's my name, don't wear it out. After being shipped to this
god-forsaken place, the name I used to have stopped mattering. The guards
called me 626, the inmates called me 626, even the priest who came to give
me my last rites called me 626.

 "Why if it ain't my old friend, the Warden." I chuckled darkly, "What
brings you to a condemned man's room so late in the evening?"

"Can the attitude, asshole." The light from a torch blinded me momentarily
and I had to blink away the stars that filled my vision. "The whole world's
gone crazy and we're getting orders from on high to prioritise evac for the
most dangerous prisoners."

As the sole current resident of this particular penitentiary's death row, I
guessed that had to mean I was the guy with the golden ticket out of this
dump. The Warden was always the one to keep his head, no matter the
situation. I wondered what exactly had Warden James in quite such a state.

"Now Warden, you know I couldn't hurt a fly. Why just last week I slit ole'
739's throat for stepping on a spider. S'bad luck, don't you know."

"Inmate 739 is still thanking his lucky stars for the continued use of his
vocal chords." At this, the Warden's breath hitched in his throat. "Anyway,
I've been given the joy of escorting you from the premises."

"Don't I deserve to know why I'm being rescued from my confinement? The
only reason I'm still here is because of divine intervention." This wasn't
quite true, but a superstitious man like Warden James would have to see the
sudden and unprecedented malfunction of the lethal injection machine as an
act of God.

"The hell if they'll tell me anything! Now stick your arms out of the slot
so I can cuff `em." I did as instructed. The longer I had him believing in
my cooperation, the more time I had to think of an escape plan. "And no
funny business, you hear?"

"Of course not, Warden. Of course not." The bolts were slid back from the
heavy cell door and it swung open to reveal the stout figure of Warden
James, clutching his flashlight like it was his only chance at life. He was
bouncing on the balls of his feet, eager to move. "So where are we headed?"

He said nothing, just shoved me in the small of my back down the corridor,
toward the illuminated emergency exit sign. I considered simply turning
around and providing him with a swift kick in the balls, but then I'd never
get my answers, would I?

"You know, I've always wondered what was on the floor below the basement. A
car park? A burning lake of fire?" Still no reply from my responsible
adult. Ah well, never mind.

We walked in silence after that, though the Warden would stiffen noticeably
whenever more shots rang out in the distance. We reached the stairwell at
the end of the corridor and he shone his torch downward at a door simply
marked `AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY.'

He went first, either remarkably brave or stupid considering I could have
pushed him down and at the very least given him a concussion. Something was
very wrong with this entire situation and it had him spooked enough that he
was willing to break protocol in favour of haste. Instead of acting
immediately, I decided to follow him without an attempt at his life. The
only way I would get out of there was with his assistance, so I might as
well play along for the time being.

He jangled momentarily with his key-ring as we stood in front of the door
connecting me to my freedom. After an age, he found the right one and
unlocked the door. He opened the door and gestured for me to go through
before him. I hesitated, but another burst of gunfire came from behind us
and it was closer than ever. He pushed me roughly through the door and in
the dim light of the new room I could see the terror etched on his face.

"What the fuck is going on? Why are there people shooting each other up
there?" Once again, my questions fell on deaf ears. He was feverishly
looking for something, his watery grey eyes darting around the room.

I took a moment to inspect my surroundings. It didn't seem to contain
anything special. White walls, a low ceiling. Another door sat directly
opposite to the one we came in through and I started to move toward it. It
was like a vault door, heavy and probably a few feet thick, but it was our
– my – only chance of getting out. I'm sure between the two of us we
could-

"Don't take another step, 626." Warden James ordered. "If you want to get
out of here alive then you're going to do exactly what I say." Ok. Now I
was starting to get nervous. What was happening up there?

"Alright, just tell me what I can do." No sense being proud if the shit had
hit the fan. Here was a man who knew how to help me and I would be damned
if I let my natural affinity for sarcasm get in the way.

He gave me a genuine smile of relief, something I never thought I would see
again. I tried to mimic his expression, but I hadn't smiled properly in a
long time and he simply grinned at my attempt. He told me to look for
something that seemed as though it didn't belong there, something out of
place.

"What exactly does that mean?" A hint of frustration entering my voice.

"I'm not quite sure. I don't get told anything. Bloody politicians." He
grumbled indecipherably to himself. "The instructions I got are only useful
once we get through the door.

I gave the room another once-over, but nothing caught my eye until-

"There!" I shouted, pointing at a slight change in the colour of the paint
on the walls.

"What are you talking about?" He asked, completely oblivious to the subtle
shift in hue. I wasn't surprised that he had missed it. I wasn't even sure
why it had been so apparent to me.

He walked over to it and pressed his thumb into an unnoticeable indentation
in the wall where I had pointed. There was a soft whirring and clicking
behind the wall where he was standing.

A calm, female voice filled the room. "Identity confirmed. Welcome back,
Warden James."

The other door swung open and Warden James raced through, dragging me
behind him.

"Seal the exit!" He cried out, to no one in particular. "Security Protocol
Phi-Mu-Gamma!" The door slammed shut immediately and he collapsed to the
floor, sagging like all the air had left him.

"What would have happened if I had touched the door?" I asked, feeling very
thankful that I had obeyed him when instructed. He didn't respond, he just
unstrapped his watch and threw it at the door.

"Unidentified material detected." The female voice spoke again. "Deploying
countermeasures."

Before the watch had even touched the door, it disintegrated into a pile of
ashes that settled on the ground. I swallowed the bile that had collected
at the back of my throat. That had been close.

"Thanks." I said, knowing that the next step I had taken towards the door
would have been my last.

"You're welcome. I'm not going to let you die before the state of Colorado
says you will." Ah, ever the law abiding citizen.

"So what now?" I asked him, feeling more than a little faint.

"Now, we wait." I gave him a look that told him I wasn't satisfied with
that answer. "For the cavalry to arrive."

"So what exactly are we hiding from?" He shrugged his shoulders and for
some reason I believed that he was just as clueless as I was.

From what I could tell, we were in some kind of bunker. It had a much
higher ceiling than the previous room and it was well lit by sconces built
into the walls every few feet. There was a definite sci-fi feel to the
place and I was determined to find out why it was underneath some prison in
Bumfuck, Colorado.

Warden James didn't appear to be in any mood to talk. He was sat at a
computer terminal and was typing agitatedly. He suddenly roared in anger
and threw his hands up in the air. This gesture of rage might have been
more impressive if he hadn't been half a foot shorter than me, which
considering I was 5'11 on a good day made him pretty darn short.

The man was a good decade my senior, with thinning salt and pepper hair and
a cleanly shaven face. I knew he had a wife, 41, and two kids, twin 12 year
old boys, whom he loved dearly. He once told me that he loved his job –
awful as it was – because it meant he was keeping them safe. He was so
upsettingly pure of heart.

Despite the odd positions we had within the prison hierarchy, I like to
think we got on well. I behaved – for the most part – and didn't give
him too much angst. I felt guilty about slashing 739 the previous week
because I know Warden James had been angling to get me some perks for my
final days: TV privileges etc.

I definitely didn't ever threaten his family as some of the less honourable
inmates were inclined to do. He was disgusted by what I had done, but then
so was I to a certain extent. Well, no, I was disgusted that I had gotten
caught, but that's neither here nor there.

"So if you don't know what's going on, then who told you to come and spring
me?" I asked.

"I got a call about a half hour ago saying that you were to be transferred
to a maximum security location and that I was to hold you in here until the
transport unit arrived. They said that this was a Level Zero priority and
that I should do as ordered regardless of anything else. I was halfway to
your cell when the lights went out and about a minute later the shooting
started."

"What were you doing on the computer?"

"Getting nowhere. I tried to get a call to head office, to ask for
assistance for the guards, but the number was jammed."

There was something he wasn't saying. Something he had seen that had made
him this shaken. I doubt he'd take much comfort from a condemned man, but
wanted to do something. Before I could open my mouth, however, the female
voice spoke again.

"Outer door breached. Error Code 52. Evacuation is recommended."

"Fuck." Warden James seemed to sum up the entire situation with that one
syllable. He seemed to crumble where he stood. He closed his eyes and
breathed deeply. When he opened them again they were shining with unshed
sadness.

"What does that mean? What's happened?" I was genuinely afraid now,
something I was unaccustomed to.

He turned to me and told me to run further into the bunker until I found a
hatch in the wall. I was to climb in and to lock the hatch behind me. Above
my head there should be a keypad and I was to enter the first three digits
of my Prisoner ID into it.

"Do NOT turn back. Ever. Keep running. I don't know why they think you're
so fucking important, but you keep running." He drew his H&K 9mm from its
holster and turned to face the door. "GO!"

I ran. Faster than I've ever run in my entire life, fuelled by adrenaline
and fear. I kept running even when I heard six bullets fired in quick
succession. I kept running even when I heard the gut-wrenching yell of pain
and fury and hate. I kept running even when I heard the last, single shot
that promised an end to the agony.

I ran until my lungs burned and when I finally found the hatch I felt
dizzy. It swung open to meet me and I dove in. I turned and slammed it
behind me, turning the handle-wheel until I heard a satisfying clunk. I
looked up and saw a small LED screen with nine keys beneath it. I was just
about to punch in the code that would hold the secret to saving my life,
when I heard a muffled snarl. There was a small window in the hatch, like a
port-hole, and through it I could make out a face.

It was Warden James. I was so relieved that I started to turn the handle
back. Something made me hesitate though. There was something wrong with
that face. The eyes were rolling, unfocused. The mouth was hanging down,
with drool slobbering from the open maw.

"Warden?" I whispered. "Is that you?"

The eyes stopped roaming and looked at me, alight with animal rage
and... hunger? I moved my head forward so my forehead was resting on the
thick glass of the porthole. Warden James' body was covered in blood and
there were definite bite marks on his arms. Something told me that it
wasn't him anymore. Whatever it was, it was not Warden James.

The Warden gave a sudden cry, an inhuman sound, and began banging on the
door, making bloody marks on the glass. He was trying to get in. I looked
up again and saw the keypad.

6-2-6.

That's my name, don't wear it out.