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“Shut up, you little fucker,” Head said, looking like he’d had the shit beaten out of him.

“OK, the last part is easy, let’s go.”

The four men helped each other over the final fence. The mattresses bore the punishment of the razor wire for them as they clambered up to the top of the fence and jumped down.

Once they were over, they ran a few yards at a time and stopped to lay on the ground to get away from the smoke. Once they got about ten yards on the other side of the perimeter road they stopped again, as Head began to choke and vomit. He sounded like he was being strangled. Spider tried to calm him down as he kicked and flailed around.

“Richard, we’re all gonna die out here! This is crazy! What the fuck are we supposed to do?” Spider sounded like a frightened child.

Richard had absolutely no idea what to do. He figured that most of the inmates locked in their cells were dead. Had he managed the nearly impossible feat of escape only to die a hundred yards from the fence? His only hope was that Mother Nature would show him some kindness and blow the smoke away.

“Is Head okay?” Richard asked Spider.

“I don’t think so, man, I think he passed out. He’s still breathing."

“We just need to relax and wait a few minutes. The smoke has to let up eventually. Just try to stay calm and save your breath.  Stop talking, close your mouth and breathe through your nose."

The four men rested on the ground for the better part of an hour. The smoke didn’t clear up at all; if anything, it got worse.   Richard was more worried about the heat than the smoke. They were losing bodily fluid in the form of sweat at an alarming rate.  If they stayed in that spot for too long, dehydration would set in, and they would begin to suffer from heat stroke.  Richard continued to scan what little he could see of his surroundings.  It was the middle of the afternoon but it was dark as night.  All he needed was for the sun to peek through just a little so he could see what was around them.  They needed some type of shelter from the heat and smoke.

Spider was nearly in tears. "I don't think Head is going to make it!  I can't tell if he's breathing or not!" Spider continued to nudge Head. "C'mon John!  You still with me, man?  C'mon, just hang in there! Richard, we gotta do something!  I don't think he's breathing!"

Richard crawled over to Head and turned him over on his back.  He detected a faint pulse and very shallow breathing.  Richard began mouth-to-mouth resuscitation to put some much needed oxygen in his lungs. One thing was certain - Head was going to die very soon if something wasn't done.

"Stay here and keep putting air in his lungs. Make sure you tilt his chin back and watch his chest rise and fall.  I'm going up the perimeter road a bit to see if we can find a way out of this."  Tank and Spider looked at Richard in fear as he crouched down and headed towards the road.  Once there, he dropped a shirt in the road to mark the spot. The rear gate was on the opposite side of the prison grounds; no way he could make it that far.  He just needed a drainage ditch or maintenance shed anything at all.  He had only moved a few yards when he saw a glimmer of light reflect off something. 

It was one of the perimeter vehicles.

Was someone still in it?  Did the guard die in there?  Is he laying down on the floorboards with his pistol ready to defend himself?  Richard slowly approached the rear bumper of the vehicle and peered in the back window.  He couldn't see anyone inside.  He slowly crept to the driver's side and peered around.  The driver's side door was wide open. He laid down and looked under the vehicle.  The driver’s side tires were flat.  It was clear to Richard that the guard had abandoned the vehicle and shot out the tires.  He probably joined the other perimeter patrol and they left together when the smoke got too thick and no one was answering the radio.

"Thank you, gentlemen, this will do nicely," Richard said to himself.

Richard quickly looked over the vehicle to see what he was dealing with.  The keys were gone, so was the radio.  Richard noticed that the front passenger seat had been replaced with a gun rack.  One slot was empty and the other had a rifle resting in it.  Richard grabbed the rifle and saw that it was a variation of an M-16.  He searched for ammunition but came up empty handed.

Richard exited the vehicle and made his way back to the three. He could tell something was wrong.

"What?"

"It's Head, I don't know, but he...” said Spider.

Richard dropped down next to Head, put his fingers on his neck to check for a pulse and dropped his ear over his mouth.  After twenty seconds, he knew the answer.

"John's dead. We can’t do anything for him; it’s time to go."

"What do you mean he's dead? There's gotta be something we can do!  We can't just leave him here!"  Spider was not taking the death of his best friend very well.

"There's nothing we can do for him, unless you want to carry him.  The rest of us are going to die if we don't get moving.  Tank, you still have those tools?" asked Richard.

"Yeah, I got ‘em. What are we doing?"

"Follow me.  Spider, I know how close the two of you were, but there's nothing we can do for him."  With the two men in tow, Richard headed down the road to the vehicle.

"Fuck me, Killer.  You kill the guard?” asked Tank.

"No, I figure he abandoned the vehicle and left with the other patrol."

"Two of the tires are flat. What good is this thing?

"Billy, I wasn't planning on driving it anywhere.  Help me push it down into the ditch."

Richard put the car in neutral and they pushed the vehicle off the road into the drainage ditch.  Richard couldn't really understand why a drainage ditch was even needed.  The desert floor was so dry that whenever it rained, the ground soaked up every drop like a sponge.  Nevertheless, the low-lying ground would help protect them from the smoke.

"You got a hammer and a screwdriver?  Spider, help me rip up the paneling from the floorboards.  Tank, start nailing holes in the floor so we can breath."

"Spider, can you hot-wire this thing?"

Spider had a long history of stealing cars.  When he started to target elderly black people and not only car-jack them, but kill them for their cars, he landed himself in prison.  Spider had the engine running in under a minute.

Richard hit the controls and rolled up the windows on the driver’s side. He then cracked the passenger side windows an inch and turned the heat up full blast.  Next he switched the thermostat from fresh air to recycle.

"Why are you turning on the heat?" asked Tank.

"Hot air rises. The smoke is coming in on the driver side, so those windows are rolled up.  The hot air will push the smoke out of the cabin in a few minutes.  Once that’s done we can roll the windows up and turn on the A/C.  Take the wraps off your heads and put them over the holes.  Wrap your mouth around the hole and try to breath in some good air."

The plan worked perfectly.  In a matter of minutes, the smoke had cleared out of the cabin and the windows were rolled up.  The air filter in the engine did a decent job of keeping the smoke out.  Once the temperature was somewhat comfortable, Richard turned off the vents and returned to his air hole.  The three men stayed in the car for two hours until the smoke finally began to clear.  Once the sun broke through the clouds, it was time to move.

"Let's go!  We need to be as far away from here as possible in the least amount of time.  Tank, will this car do us any good? How far do you think it’ll make it on two flat tires?"

"In this terrain?  Not far, the rims will shred the tires and once the rims flatten out and have nothing to grab onto, we’re stuck."

"Let's get moving then.  I think it will be a long time before they realize we're gone. They got a prison full of dead inmates to keep them busy."

The three men loaded up in the wounded SUV and headed west. For the second time in his incarceration, Richard was a free man.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Chief Maxwell Harris was filled with rage. He fought to control the fury with every fiber of his being.  The last time he had allowed rage to take over, he had crashed into a stolen car going sixty miles an hour, killing four people in the process.  For his efforts, he had shattered his hip and leg and still lived with the agonizing pain to this day.  Since then, Max had made a promise to himself to remain in control at all times.  His current predicament was challenging that vow.  Two of his officers were dead, as was an innocent civilian.  A band of thugs had stolen his uniform, leaving him in his underwear.  They then proceeded to empty out his armory and load their take into his police vehicles.  Now they were out looking for his command post so they could rob it as well.

     "Chief!  We don't need to crash before we get there!  Slow down!"  Deputy Collins was sitting in the passenger seat of the dead civilian's pickup truck next to Max. 

     Max remained silent but did slow down.  Collins was right; driving like a maniac on flooded roads wasn’t smart.  With no way of communicating with the command post, Max could only try to get there as fast as possible, praying that the band of thugs didn't find the place before he got there.

     They arrived at the high school, parking in back so Rudy’s truck couldn’t be seen from the road. They made it into the school. Racing down the hall to the locker rooms, Max burst in so quickly that Elizabeth and Dr. Stone screamed.

     "Max!  What in the hell are you doing?  You scared us to death!" screamed Elizabeth.

     "We're in trouble!"

     "No kidding, genius. Why aren't you wearing pants?" Elizabeth laughed.

     "Elizabeth!  I'm not joking, we're in danger!  Get everyone in here and keep them quiet!  Do it now!"

     Elizabeth could immediately tell that Max wasn’t joking. Max crouched down in the doorway with his weapon drawn.  Collins was doing the same thing but had one arm wrapped around his mid-section, clearly in pain.  Something very bad had happened to them.  Elizabeth quietly herded the wide-eyed group into the room.

     "Elizabeth, listen to me, I will explain the details later.  That group of redneck idiots that shot up the gas station is out there. They robbed the armory at the police station - taking bullet proof vests and police uniforms.  They’re armed and looking for this command post.  They stole my SUV and two patrol trucks.  Might take them a while to find us or they could be here any minute."

     "Oh my!  Where's my husband?  Where's Rudy?" asked Trudy.

     "Your husband is fine; he's back at the police station with another officer.” Max felt horrible lying to the woman, but the last thing he needed was to deal with a hysterical widow during a fire fight.  "Elizabeth, you and Kathy stay in this room and keep these people safe.  They can't get into the gym since the roof fell in.  The only way they can get in is through this door."

     "What's the plan?  Where are you going to be?"  Elizabeth drew her sidearm.

     "We only have one vehicle and we can't leave on foot.  We’ll just have to watch for them from the hallway and kill them before they get in the door."

     "You sure they're coming?  They might decide to move on.”

     "Trust me, they're coming.  They know we're here.  Not a lot of buildings left in town that we could be in; they don't have many places to look.  Just a matter of time."

     Max and Deputy Collins crept down the hallway to the front entrance of the school.  Max kicked in the door to one of the classrooms with windows overlooking the parking lot. The visibility was low due to the rain; however, they would still be able to see a vehicle coming from either direction.

     They didn't have to wait long.

     "Are they fucking serious?  Are they really driving down the road flashing the red and blues?" asked Collins.

     "Well, we know they aren't too bright.  Probably living out some childhood fantasy.  I'm surprised they aren't running the sirens," answered Max.

     Max's SUV was leading the convoy with the other two police trucks following.  They turned off the main road and headed toward the parking lot.  From their vantage point, Max and Deputy Collins were less than ten feet away from the front entrance.  The thugs would walk right into their trap.

     The three stolen police cars pulled up into the circle in front of the school.  As Jack and his two henchmen exited the stolen vehicles, Max noticed that one of the thugs was bleeding from his right arm. He had tried to wrap it with a towel but had done a poor job of it. 

      "Jack, this shit hurts!  It won't stop bleeding!"

     "Relax, you pussy.  Stop being a fucking baby! We find this command post and I'm sure they'll have medical supplies."

     "You think it's in here?  I don't see any vehicles or anything."

     "This has to be it.  That rundown shithole of a hospital was barely standing.  This school looks to be in decent shape; the command post has to be in there."

     "What are we gonna do?" asked the injured henchman.

     "Well, let’s keep it simple. Maybe we can get them to come to us." Jack reached for the hand mike and shouted. “Attention!  This is the police!"

     "I didn't hear anything," said the injured henchman.

     "Shit, this is the loudspeaker. What the hell? Oh, here it is; guess I should turn it on." Jack flipped a red switch and a light came on. "This is the police!  Uhh, we're looking for the command post.  We’re here to help you guys. Someone come out and meet us and take us inside."

     "You think it worked?"

     "I don't know, dummy.  Let's wait a minute or two and see if anyone comes out."

     Max looked over at Deputy Collins and rolled his eyes.

     "You think we should go inside?" asked the injured henchman.

     "Might as well, come on!  The two henchmen started up the walk to the front door, with Jack following close behind.

     Max quickly looked over and pointed at Collins and held up one finger, then he pointed to himself and held up two fingers. 
You take the first one; I'll take the second one
.  Collins nodded his head.  The three thugs stepped onto the curb and walked under the awning to the front door. As they took a step towards the door, Collins opened fire on the first man.  The first two rounds hit his vest; the third round hit him in the throat, lodging in his spine.  Once he fell to the ground, Max opened fire on the second man with three quick shots.  He only needed one.  The first round hit the thug square in the nose and blew a hole out the back of his head.  The second round went into the parking lot and dinged off the handicapped parking sign.  The third round grazed Jack's left arm, sending him in a nosedive behind some bushes.  Collins emptied his weapon into the bushes and quickly reloaded.

     "Get out there quick and finish him!  I'll cover you!  Go!" screamed Max.  Collins bolted out the front door and rounded the corner to the sidewalk.  As he paused for maybe a second trying to locate Jack, he was shot twice and fell to the ground.  Max fired off four shots to keep Jack pinned down so he could get outside. He crouched low and moved over to Collins, relieved to see that he was alive.  He studied him closely and was alarmed to see blood soaking his left thigh.

     "Collins!  You still with me?  Say something!"

     "Something," whispered Collins.

      Max peered over the bushes to the sidewalk.  He could see a trail of blood drops leading down the sidewalk to the side of the building, but it was quickly washing away in the rain.   Jack was nowhere in sight.  Max had to get Collins inside to Dr. Stone.  His leg was bleeding badly and chances were high that an artery had been severed.  Max quickly made Collins sit up and from behind, wrapped his arms around his friend and hoisted him up.

     "Come on, Collins, work with me here.  You got one good leg - use it!  We have to get inside! You need to cover us both!" Max yelled, dragging Collins to the front door

     Max felt like his hip was melting out of his body it hurt so badly.  He was preparing himself for the likelihood that his knee would shatter and hoped adrenaline would give him the strength to make it to the locker room.  Every step was agonizingly painful for both men.  As they headed for the locker room, Kathy and Dr. Stone sprinted to meet them.  The group made it safely inside, with Elizabeth remaining in the doorway to provide cover.

     Once inside the locker room, Max collapsed.  The pain in his hip and knee completely consumed him; the entire world faded away, and the only reality he knew was agonizing torture.  He forgot about the hurricane and all the dead officers he once commanded.  He desperately wanted to be free of the pain; death would be sweet relief.  All he had to do was take the gun in his hand, raise it to his temple and pull the trigger.  He longed for the end, to be taken away from all of this.  Somewhere in the midst of his stupor, another sensation tried to compete for his attention.  Someone was yelling at him.  Someone was shaking him and slapping his face.

     "Chief Harris!  Say something!  Please, sir!  Are you okay?  C'mon now!"  Trudy had taken hold of Max's hand and was slapping him back to reality.

     "Has he been shot?" questioned Elizabeth from the doorway.

     "I don't think so. He's not bleeding."

     Dr. Stone and Kathy had placed Deputy Collins on a cot and pulled off his shirt and vest.  As Dr. Stone cut away his pants, blood sprayed from the bullet hole like water spewing from a garden hose, covering Dr. Stone and Kathy in the sticky, warm fluid.  Dr. Stone quickly placed her hands on the wound and pressed down with all her weight.

     "Kathy, dig in that bag and pull out all the gauze.  Get over here and apply pressure to this wound.  I have to tie off that artery before he bleeds to death."

     Kathy did as she was told and pressed down on the wound as hard as she could.  "Are you a surgeon?  Can you do this?"

     “No, I’m not a surgeon and no, I haven’t done this before.  Looks like I'm the only one qualified to try, unless someone else here is a doctor?"  Dr. Stone looked up in time to see the top of Kathy's head explode, followed by the deafening roar of gunfire.  Bullets flew around the room as chaos ensued.  In the span of a few seconds, the looky loo who had admired Elizabeth in her bra and the young couple with the small children were all dead.  Dr. Stone sank down to the floor and crawled in front of a foot locker.  Elizabeth inched along the wall and using a sink for cover, returned fire.

     "Stay down, doc!"  Elizabeth screamed.

     "Where is he?" screamed Dr. Stone.

     "He must have climbed over the rubble in the gym and found a hole in the wall!"

     "I have to get to Deputy Collins!  He's going to bleed out!"

     "Doc, don't you dare move an inch!  I mean it!"

     Elizabeth stayed behind the sink and scanned the damaged wall for a breach, hoping to find the shooter. As the noise subsided, the only sound that could be heard was the drip of sprayed blood hitting the floor around Deputy Collins.   They waited for what seemed like an eternity.  Dr. Stone watched as the spurts of blood from Deputy Collins’ leg became less violent, until finally they stopped completely. Deputy Collins was dead.

     Trudy screamed.

     Elizabeth turned in time to see two shots pierce Trudy’s chest.  She fell to the floor not knowing that her dead husband was waiting for her on the other side.  Elizabeth aimed her weapon at the door and walked in an arc so she could aim out into the hallway.  The shooter hadn't fired on Max because he couldn't see him on the floor. He had fired at Trudy's silhouette.  Elizabeth aimed out into the hallway.  She fired three rounds and dropped the man to the floor.  She held her aim as she closed the distance to the fallen man. She knew from very recent experience that getting shot with a bulletproof vest on was like getting knocked over by a sledgehammer.  The man on the ground was down for the count, but he wasn’t dead.  Elizabeth didn't hesitate to remedy that problem and shot him in the head three times.

     Walking into the locker room, Elizabeth knelt down next to Max and took his hand.

     "Sweetheart, I just killed one of them.  How many are left?"

     "Last one.  We're safe."

     "What's wrong with you?  Tell me."

     "It's bad.  I'm ready to cut off my leg.  I did something to it."

     "Just stay right were you are."  Then Elizabeth helped Dr. Stone off the floor.  "It's okay, doc.  It's over."

     Dr. Stone immediately sprang into action.  She checked on the gunshot victims, only to find them all dead.  She quickly scanned the room for the young couple's children and couldn’t find them.  "Elizabeth!  Help me find the children!  I don't see them!"

     Elizabeth and Dr. Stone desperately searched every corner of the locker room, unable to find the infant or the toddler.  Elizabeth walked over to the young couple and rolled the woman onto her side.  She gasped in horror to discover that the woman had fallen on top of her baby.

     "Doc!  I found the baby!  Quick!"  Elizabeth pried the infant from her mother's arms and handed her to Dr. Stone.  Dr. Stone checked the baby for any signs of life.  Tears streamed down her face as she shook her head.  Elizabeth raised her hand to her mouth and stifled a sob.  In an instant she regained her composure and resumed her search for the toddler.