Page 78 of Diamond in the Rough

“This is mad.” Ernie huffed.

“Yeah, but it might just work,” Maddox said. “When it goes down, you’ve gotta get outside fast.”

“No shit,” Ernie said.

“I mean it. You’re most at risk. You’re not ready to croak it yet.”

“Says who?”

“Me.”

“You’re not the boss of me, Maddox.” Ernie looked down at the table and bit his lip. “However this goes down, we’re not gonna be seeing each other again.”

“Getting sentimental?”

“Maybe a little… It was good to see you again.”

Maddox gripped Ernie’s frail hand. His was huge in comparison, dominated by his tattoo. Ernie placed his other hand on top of Maddox’s and squeezed weakly.

“Get your guy,” Ernie murmured.

“I’m gonna.”

“And give him a big sloppy kiss from me.”

Maddox tore his hand away and laughed. “You really are a dirty old man.”

****

Maddox didn’t think the smell of smoke would ever get his heart pumping with anything but anger, but he was wrong. It skipped in his chest, an excited beat that made him feel giddy. He thought of Jake and his need for danger, and wondered whether it felt the same.

Maddox inwardly cheered the fire on, and when the wing filled with shouts and jeers, he joined in. All it took was a phone battery, some foil, and a cavity cut in a book, and chaos ensued.

The smoke poured into the wing faster than Maddox had imagined, and when he glanced at Gavin, he lifted his chin and beamed a smile in reply. Frank and Keiron hid under a table until Maddox waved them towards him, then pushed them towards the door to the yard.

The clouds of smoke covered the cameras and blinded the guards. Gone were the shouts and jeers of rioters. They were replaced by fearful cries, slapping shoes, and gates clunking open and shut. Fear and panic, they messed with rational thought; Maddox knew that more than most.

The smoke was thick, and Maddox had trouble seeing what was in front of him. Each breath coated his mouth with a bitter taste, and he wished he’d asked Gavin what the hell he’d hidden in the library.

Maddox felt his way along the wall towards his cell. He slipped inside and rolled under the bed. Ernie’s oxygen tank was waiting underneath, and Maddox pressed the mask over his mouth. He took a deep gulp and hugged the tank close.

Maddox closed his eyes and concentrated on puffing the oxygen. It got harder, and no matter how hard he tried to keep the smoke out, it seeped through cracks around the mask. His head felt heavy, and he tried to fend off the need to cough, but it was too much. He coughed and gasped and tried to press the mask back over his face, but he took too long and ended up in the midst of a coughing fit. He rolled onto his side, gulping for air.

Even when he managed to get the mask back in the right place, he couldn’t stop choking and gasping. He was drowning on toxic fumes, and when he opened his eyes, they burned and streamed with tears. He was dying, and he didn’t fear death, but he feared the effect it would have on Jake. Memories of Jake swirled in his head, an endless, painful merry-go-round—not the sex, the smaller moments that meant just as much. Them slouching on the sofa listening to classical music, them eating together, watching movies, even Jake in Maddox’s bathroom, dribbling toothpaste as he brushed his teeth. The memories were domestic, small, calm, and Maddox wanted more of them.

****

Maddox felt a hand close around his bicep and a persistent tugging. He let himself be dragged from under the bed and felt a mask being pressed to his face. Not an oxygen mask, but one for his eyes. He opened them and blinked blearily at the dark figure. Maddox heard wheezing, more substantial than Ernie’s. He tried to make sense of the figure again, tried to force his sluggish mind into gear, but the cogs weren’t fitting together and he was left frowning in confusion. His vision was hazy, but he made out the yellow helmet, the reflective panels on the figure’s jacket, and the white tank on their back.

A firefighter.

The firefighter helped him onto the bed, then dropped a duffel bag on the ground. Maddox watched dumbly as they unzipped the bag and pulled out clothes. A uniform, Maddox realized.

“Let’s go! Or we’re both gonna die.”

He recognised the voice, the sharp, brutal tone of Amber. Maddox reached for the jacket, and Amber helped him into it. She kneeled on the floor and helped with the trousers before reaching into her duffel bag and pulling out a helmet.

She shoved it firmly on Maddox’s head, then got to her feet and yanked Maddox to his. He stumbled after the figure, the firefighter, Amber, whoever it was. The smoke was even worse outside the cell, black and sooty. Maddox could feel it, waded through it, as close to Amber as he could.

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