Hostage Zero

The locks all buzzed at once just as Jonathan arrived at the second fire door. It opened easily, as did the one containing the guards, and for a moment Jonathan thought he’d miscalculated. As the plug of guards raced down the hall toward him, the inmates all remained behind their closed door.

“Y’all are free, goddammit!” he yelled.

The lead guard-a man only slightly smaller than Boxers, and mad as hell-was only ten feet away from Jonathan when the first cell door flew open and a mostly naked behemoth with long hair and complete sleeves of biker tats charged into the hallway.

If the guard saw him, he made no indication. He wanted Jonathan and Jimmy Henry. From the flame in his eyes, it was a safe bet that he wanted them dead, in fact. Jonathan squared away and braced himself for the fight that was on its way. If killing were an option, it would have been easy, but that was off the table, which meant that it would have to be about pain tolerance.

The guard had committed himself to a high-velocity takedown that would have torn Jonathan in half, but you could tell by his eyes that he wanted to take him out at the chest. At the last instant, Jonathan ducked at the waist and charged forward two steps to body block the big man and send him sprawling to the floor.

It was all the time Jonathan needed to dart through the fire door and swing it shut behind him. “Lock it!” he yelled. “Lock it, lock it!”

He heard the bolt slip closed, and then it buzzed again.

“What the hell are you doing?” he snapped at Venice.

“It’s not me,” she said. “They were anticipating. Hold it closed.”

Jonathan threw his shoulder into the door and braced his legs against the slick linoleum. On the other side, he heard the riot blossoming, but that didn’t stop somebody from launching an enormous blow against the door. It parted a couple of inches from the jamb, but it wasn’t enough to launch the door open all the way. If there was one more like that, or the guy on the other side got some help, this exercise was over.

A shadow approached from behind, and before Jonathan could react, two black hands planted themselves on either side of Jonathan’s hands, and he felt heavy breath on his neck. “Gotta press harder,” a voice said. “Otherwise, they’ll get through.”

Jonathan craned his head to get a look, and saw the owner of the voice and the hands: a young man-another weight-lifter, judging from his heavily muscled arms-and he was all business.

“He came from one of the cells,” Venice said, answering his question before he could ask it. “Okay, got it.”

The bolt slid home again. They had a little more time.

Boxers said, “Charges are in place, boss.”

“Stand by,” Jonathan said. “I’m still not ready to shoot.”

“Shoot who?” his new companion said. “Who the fuck you talkin’ to?”

“Never mind,” Jonathan said.

“The fucking door’s locked!” Jimmy yelled from the far end of the hall. He was one door away from freedom, and he could feel the pull. What he didn’t know was that if Boxers shot the door with him standing there, no one would ever find his pieces.

The inmate said, “The fuck you doin’ here?”

“We’re breakin’ out!” Jimmy called, and his words raised a hell of a ruckus behind the cell doors. They wanted out, too.

“That true?” the inmate asked Jonathan.

Jonathan nodded. “Afraid so, yes.” He started moving toward the final door.

The inmate followed. “Antoine Johnson,” he said, offering his hand.

Jonathan stifled an ironic chuckle and shook the hand as he continued to walk down the hall. “Nice to meet you.”

“I’m coming with you,” Antoine said.

“No, you’re not.” Jonathan answered without eye contact.

Antoine grabbed him by the biceps and jerked him to a halt. “I don’t think you heard me.”

This time, Jonathan’s eyes burned through the man’s brain. “Take your hands off of me,” he growled. “I appreciate your help, so I don’t want to hurt you.”

Antoine seemed to surprise himself as he let go and took a small step back. “C’mon, man. I don’t belong here. I’m innocent.”

“I’m sure you are,” Jonathan said. “But I’m only here for him.” He indicated Jimmy with a toss of his head.

The lock on the final door buzzed, and Jimmy reached for it. “Freeze,” Jonathan commanded. “Don’t move until I tell you.” He looked back to Antoine. “Do not follow us,” he said.

“How you gonna stop me?” He seemed to grow an inch as he tried to look menacing.

Jonathan took a step closer and lowered his voice nearly to a whisper. “If I see you on the other side of that door, I’ll kill you. You helped over there, and I appreciate it. Don’t make me kill you, Antoine.”

The inmate took a step back. “Then what am I supposed to do?”

Jonathan shrugged. “Wait for your cell door to open again and go back home.”

“Scorpion, we gotta go,” Boxers said.

“I’m on it,” Jonathan replied. He held out his hand to Antoine. “Thank you,” he said. “And good luck to you.”

Antoine looked at the hand as if it were something poisonous.

“Trust me,” Jonathan said. “Within the next twelve hours, you’re going to get a big laugh out of this.”