World War Four

Prologue, Freedom & Barriers

"Are you ready?" Her voice was soft, yet I could sense her urgency and impatience.

"Almost," I say, ripping duct tape from the roll. I patted the tape that covered my breasts down and twisted around to look behind me. On a hard, springy twin-sized bed, I had laid out my clothing. A thick, red cotton plaid button-up shirt, and straight legged jeans. My pair of classic converse were at the feet of the jeans on the floor, old and worn.

I pulled my shirt on, rolling up the sleeves to that it didn't get caught on anything. The blonde haired woman in front of me began to button up my shirt while I pulled on my jeans until I shooed her away. "Please, we need to be patient. We need the halls to be completely empty to continue out with our plan. This is the most critical part, remember?" My Spanish accent rolled over the r's, inclining slighting with the i's.

"I'm sorry, but you are taking too long." She turned towards another woman, with shoulder length brown hair, who was looking at us from the shadows of the cell we shared. "Are you sure the guards are between shifts right now?"

"Yes. The mangers are in their offices, getting ready to leave. Right now," she breathed as I tightened the laces on my converse, "is when she has to begin. You have the card?" Her question was directed at me, one I didn't acknowledge until I slowly straightened up.

"Yes, I do." I flashed a small card in the moonlight that reached in through the small, barred window. It was a master card, identical the ones every guard carried. I pushed passed the blonde woman and pushed my arm through the cell door, made of cast iron. I flicked the card down the slot that opened the door, covering the red light with my hand.

Adrenaline began to take the place of blood, and I tried to hide the fact that my hand had begun to shake. I pushed the door open and slipped through the small crack. I closed the door and swiped the card through the slot again to lock the door, erasing the fact that it was ever open. I turned my back to the hall and looked at the blonde and brown haired women in the cell, looking at me with blank, readied expressions.

"Be careful, Chrissy."

"Mike. Phase one of the plan has already started, so my name is Mike now." I turned around, then turned back again. "And if there's one thing I'm the best at, it's knowing when to be careful."

"What does that mean? You know you have to keep your guard up at all times." The blonde woman crunched her hands into massive fists, the veins over the back of her hands popping out slightly. It was her way of telling me to be quiet and listen to her, to swallow my pride.

But another thing about me; I don't swallow my pride. I never have, and I never will.

"Being careful and keeping your guard up are two completely different things. One is necessary. The other is optional. Understood?" My accent added an extra hiss to my voice, and my words were cutting and solid. Our age difference made this blonde woman think that I needed protecting, or someone to tell me what to do. She thought that I needed some kind of mother when the only thing I needed was independence, to prove myself. And most importantly, freedom.

"Understood," she whispered as she backed into the shadows of the cell.

"Good. I've wasted too much time here, but nothing will go askew in the plan just yet. I'll contact you as soon as I possibly can." With that, I left, continuing the plan.

I wove my way around the halls, walking on the balls of my feet. I could still here them slap slightly against the floor, so I pulled my sneakers off. I continued walking, just the small thud of my feet now filling my ears. A guard crossed the hall, and I hid in a crevice in the wall, wrapping my body in the dark shadow. My heart hammered at the base of my throat, the deep, melancholy pulse that of an African drum. The click of his heels began to cease, and when I had to strain my ears to listen, I continued slinking in and out of shadows, dodging corners. Most of the guards were so sluggish; leaning against their guns to support their weight and their eyes half closed.