The Cage (Book 2)

Invitation

Invitation

Schneider's P.O.V

Boxes filled with cigarettes were piled to the roof. I warily glanced at the pile as we stepped into the hideout; it was teetering, barely standing.

"I want the people who unloaded this shipment beaten." I said darkly.

"Give them a break, boss. They had to rush; they spotted a drone circling the ocean. Again."

I sighed defeatedly. Smuggling contraband into the prison was getting more difficult by the day. The advent of technology was going to drive their business obsolete too. More and more of these drones were appearing in the prison's vicinity, seemingly wanting to capture footage of the infamous Prison From Hell. "Fine, but you're repiling it when it falls." And it was going to fall, no doubt about it.

When I turned around to face Cade, I saw that he was holding out a piece of paper. Or so I thought at first.

"From Schneizel. Arrived today," he said.

I took it from him and, unexpectedly, stared. Slowly, I turned it over to the back, and then to the front again. It was not just a message. It was an invitation.

Frowning, I pulled out the beige-colored invite from its beige-colored envelope. My eyes widened as I read its content. At the very top, three embossed silver words stuck out from all the rest.

"He can't be serious." I breathed, incredulous at first, and then the annoyance set in like a fever. A wry chuckle escaped my mouth. Then it promptly tightened into a thin line.

Uncustomarily, Cade betrayed his interest. "What is it?"

A gun went off like the boom of thunder, echoing somewhere in the prison and startling us both.

Our eyes met, both narrowing simultaneously.

"What was that?"

****

Julian's P.O.V

Dammit, not again!

I backed away from the block chief, my teeth bared in regret. My first instinct was to drop the smoking gun in my shaking hand, but I held on to it this time, my fingers tightening around it. I might need to use it again.

I blocked the rush of memories the sound of the gunshot invited. Now was not the time to be tormented by them.

The block chief let out a groan of pain and collapsed onto his knees, his left hand pressed against his bleeding arm. The bullet had grazed him just below the shoulder, and was now embedded on the wall behind him.

In the corner, I spotted the bespectacled guy and my escort huddled together, practically hugging, the expressions on their ashen, wide-eyed faces rather comical.

Considering what they bore witness to, I couldn't blame them. Our fight must've been... alarming to say the least, me swinging my shank at him like a madman, and him attempting to fend me off while simultaneously trying to reach for his gun and shoot me. Trepidation had tightened around me like a python, but I'd fought through it, the adrenaline surging through my veins overpowering all else.

"My arm! My arm!" The chief block cried miserably.

Behind him, an army of guards appeared. "Chief!"

Sighing, I said, "Shit."

"Drop the gun!" A guard roared, his own firearm pointed at me.

I immediately did.

So much for holding onto the gun.

****

The moment I spotted the solitary cell's rusted iron door, I was reminded of the iron maiden I once saw displayed in a history museum. I supposed this, too, was a torture device.

A fuming guard opened the door, and then the one behind me shoved me in rather forcefully; so forcefully I stumbled and nearly hit my head, mouth first, against the wall, but I braced myself just in time.

I kept my mouth shut; I figured I was lucky to still be alive after shooting a chief block. I suspected that if it weren't for Schneider's protection, I'd be six feet under by now.

"Hands." The guard growled, his eyes full of hatred.

I held out my hands and he uncuffed me with a dainty steel key, slipping the cuffs into his pocket. I rubbed already bruising wrists; it was always a relief getting those cold things off me.

"Fucking faggot."

The door slammed shut in my face.

The feeling of claustrophobia was near instantaneous. I wasn't expecting it to come this quickly and fiercely, and it assaulted me like a punch to the gut, leaving me winded. I belatedly realized that there wasn't a source of light inside. I was almost completely submerged in darkness save for the light coming from the lit corridor.

The solitary cell was the very definition of a tight space. I couldn't stretch out my arms without hitting the walls.

My foot struck something that clattered noisily.

A... bucket? What was a bucket doing here-

Then it dawned on me. It was the 'toilet'.

To make matters much, much worse, there was no bunk bed, only the cold, hard concrete floor to lie on.

Well, fuck.

*~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*

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