Page 59 of Sergi
He relaxed his muscles and glanced at the door, listening for the guard. The only noise came from the constant drips of water he’d been listening to since the first time he woke in the cell. He bunched his muscles again and strained as he pulled on his arms. After a brief attempt, he stopped. He jiggled the bands, doing his best to loosen the bolts more before making his third attempt.
With a huge intake of breath, he flexed and pulled. His face grew hot and was most assuredly red from effort as spittle flew from his mouth. Without warning, and with the last of his breath leaving his lungs, the bolts fell away, and his arms dropped to his sides.
He leaned his head against the wall and breathed out a slow breath, allowing his muscles to relax. If he had the time, he’d rest longer, but that wasn’t an option. The guard and Gheata only visited in the mornings, but earlier, Gheata had mentioned the director wanting to pay him a visit, which sounded like this afternoon. While he’d like to meet the director, this wasn’t the time or place.
He repositioned what little footing he had and pressed his hands on the wall as he pushed his body forward. There was a slight give but nothing more. He changed tactics, and though it was a bit awkward, he fingered the bolts, working them back and forth until he was able to pull them out of the wall. There was still one bolt remaining when he ripped the band from the wall and threw it across the room.
Once he was free, he fell to the ground. His legs cramped, and he grimaced as he fought through it. Once the cramps had eased, he bent each leg until he had control of motion and was able to flex his feet and wiggle his toes.
He used the wall to stand and leaned against it as he considered his next move. He couldn’t escape through the back door Alex told him about without taking evidence with him. And he had to find Carlos, who was supposed to be on this same level. She’d told him the doors on this level were only locked with wood beams, so it shouldn’t be difficult to extricate him.
Before he made the attempt to break out, he stopped at the table and drank the water in one long gulp. He wiped his mouth and checked the cooler. Only two vials of blood left, but they’d have to do until he found something fresher. While the blood settled, he stared at the torture instruments spread across the table. He’d like to take them all, but he was currently naked, so no pockets. He grabbed two daggers and faced the door.
He shook out his arms and called on the beast. It was dangerous with the beast so close to the surface, but he had little choice.
He took several steps back and, leading with his left shoulder, stormed the door. Wood shattered, and he flew through it and, unable to stop his momentum, slammed into the stone wall. He shook his head, surprised he was able to burst through the wood beam on the first try.
When he glanced down the hallway to see if anyone was coming, he understood why he’d broken through the door so easily. The beam lay on the floor next to the open doorway. Alex hadn’t barred the door.
He grinned in appreciation. If he hadn’t escaped from his cell, she would likely have gotten a beating for her carelessness. She was more daring than he’d thought. A true warrior. Her name more fitting with each courageous action she revealed.
He pushed to his feet and gave his body a quick once over. A few cuts and scrapes from splinters, but nothing else was damaged. With daggers still gripped in his fists, he raced to the end of the hallway.
Alex mentioned the guard’s quarters were on the far side of this level. Her guard had suggested she wouldn’t get her lunch when she’d been late with the cleaning. That meant it was lunchtime, and most of the guards should be on break. He required clothing, so he had to take the risk. While he could resist cold weather, he wasn’t going to traverse the Carpathian Mountains naked.
He strolled by the cells. Most of the doors weren’t barred. The wood beams lay useless on the floor. Others had bars across the doors, reflecting prisoners inside. He moved passed them, wanting to keep his escape unknown for as long as possible. When the walls changed from stone to drywall, he slowed and peered around the first corner.
Two guards, one laughing at whatever the other one said, were headed in his direction. He raced back the way he’d come and ducked into the first unbarred cell he came to. He closed the door and leaned against it.
He heard the stomping of boots, but they stopped a few feet from the cell he was hiding in.
“Let me check these cells, then we can get lunch.”
One pair of boots continued on, and he heard the slam of something hitting the door. A billy club, like the one the guard who came with Gheata gripped tightly while Sergi was tortured. Not as deadly or incapacitating as a dagger, but it was a worthy weapon.
The guards should pass by him, assuming the roaming guard didn’t check his cell with a broken door lying in pieces across the floor. It was two hallways away, and all the cells in between had been empty. With any luck, this was a lazy guard.
Within a few minutes, the guard returned. “We’re good. I hear they’re having roast beef and mashed potatoes.”
The other guard chuckled. “A new shipment must have arrived. That must be where the other guards went.”
“Thank the gods, we didn’t get that duty.”
They laughed as they continued on, passing the cell he was in without a pause. Sergi hadn’t passed stairs or an elevator so the guards must be heading for a different hallway. A couple of minutes ticked by before he felt it safe enough to move.
He returned to the hallway where he’d first seen the guards and, not hearing anyone else, checked the first door he came to and found it unlocked. Rather than using stealth, he charged in, quickly scanning the room, prepared for a fight, but it was empty.
A simple bunk room he’d seen before. They were similar to the security rooms House Trelane provided at the safe houses. The occupant kept the place orderly with minimal decor. A bed, a table with two chairs, a dresser, and a desk with another chair. There was a counter with a sink and a small single-serve coffee maker. A compact fridge fit between the counter and the wall.
He opened the dresser and found a pair of pants. He held them up. The guards who’d come to his cell had been about his size. Most of them would be big men with lots of muscle.
He slipped on the pants, which fit well enough, and pulled out a shirt. The sleeves were an inch too short, but the shoulders fit. He found socks and a pair of boots that were too tight. He left the shoes and, peering into the hall, ran to the next room.
It was also unoccupied, and the boots fit. He tied them and glanced around for other weapons. Nothing. He found an empty weapons belt, probably a spare, and slid the daggers in before leaving the room.
It was deathly quiet in the hallways, and he could only assume the guards were at lunch or on assignment on a different level.
His next task was to search for the door Alex told him about. He found it faster than he expected, even if it had been buried behind shelving. It must have been decades since it had last been opened, and it required the closest thing to a prybar he could find to muscle it open.
