Page 17 of Harper's Song

We were interrupted by guard Smith coming on duty and keeping a very close eye on me, for some reason. Probably because he’s looking for something new to taunt me with now that the guy I almost killed looks like he’s gonna make it. By some miracle he actually started breathing on his own after they unhooked him from the machine. Apparently he’s actually getting better, Gene informed me happily just before dinner last night and right before the news of the escape I organized took his voice away.

My mind’s been going in a thousand different directions, thoughts firing with sonic speed when all I should be focusing on is the escape.

The laundry truck is due at 10 AM. It is now 9:40 AM.

The speed with which the Renegades organized the whole thing screams amateur work and it’s hard to keep ignoring the voice inside my head telling me it’s all gonna go to shit before it even starts. But maybe all this speed will actually be for the best. The less time for the wrong people to get wind of it, if nothing else.

“You sure about going?” my father asked me in the middle of the night, a couple of hours after we both lay down and when it became clear neither of us were sleeping. “You got twelve months to go and then you walk. Don’t risk it.”

But Harper’s life is on the line. There’s nothing I won’t risk to protect her. Absolutely nothing. I never told him about me and Harper and it would have been stupid to do it last night, so I didn’t. Sad as it sounds, I don’t know how much I can trust my father. I hardly know the guy and he’s very tight with the Renegades.

“Snake lives up to his name in more than just looks,” he added. “You gotta watch your back at all times with him.”

“He needs me to get to the Devils,” I said and left it at that.

But now, as I dump what could very well be my last cupful of bleach over what will hopefully be the last load of laundry I have to do in this place, his warnings are echoing louder and louder in my head.

Gene has already arrived to the laundry room, bringing with him Snake and the tall wiry Rider called Tiny, as I finally found out last night, under the pretense of needing to inventory the supply closet before the new supplies that will be brought in today can be added to the existing store.

The second hand on the large black and white wall clock above the door ticks mercilessly by, going faster than it should, I’m sure. I keep glancing at the large hanger-like door on the far end of the cavernous room filled with washing machines and dryers. The thick cloud of bleach infused steam that constantly hangs in the air in here is making everything look hazy, so I’m hoping my glances are going unnoticed by the two guards standing by the door, because to the trained eye, my high interest in the door is probably a dead giveaway.

A large part of the reason I couldn’t sleep last night was knowing I’m leaving my father in here to face the Renegades’ wrath after I double cross them. I told him to watch his back this morning and left him a hastily scribbled note saying the same thing under his pillow, hating the fact that I can’t just tell him my plan. He needs the Renegades more than he needs me though. That’s never been a question in our relationship. So asking him to choose between his son and his MC would not get me the result I want.

The hangar door starts opening on its creaking hinges. Normally I’d welcome the fresh air that rolls into the laundry room whenever that door opens, but it does nothing to relax me today. Every muscle and tendon in my body has been tense for the past two days and it just gets worse now.

I grab one of the huge trolleys filled with sheets to be loaded onto the truck and wheel it towards the wide open hangar door just as the driver gets out. He’s about my father’s age and I vaguely recognize him, which I try hard not to let show on my face. He’s not that careful though, but looks at me with unmistakable and genuine recognition on his face. Good thing the guards aren’t paying attention to him.

One of them is looking at what I’m doing and the other is being distracted by Gene who is explaining why he has Snake and Tiny with him. Apparently it’s so they can carry in the new shipment of bleach and detergent that is stored in the large cardboard boxes stacked high along one side of the truck’s back, which the other driver, also a guy I vaguely recognize has now opened.

Having inmates that don’t work in the laundry room unload the truck has never been how it works, but whatever Gene told the guard worked because Snake and Tiny are now walking towards me, their faces hard and unreadable. Gene is limping along behind them.

And further back, another group of inmates is approaching. All Renegades. Even my father is with them. They’re not part of the laundry detail either, I know that much, yet no one stops them as they grab bags and trolleys meant to be loaded into the back of the truck.

“Get in,” Snake hisses at me while pulling Gene forward so hard he bumps into my side. “Both of you.”

I do it because it’s too late to ask questions, even though this is not unfolding according to the plan I was told.

Gene seems to realize it too, just as I hoist him into the back of the truck after me.

“This is it, isn’t it?” he asks and he’s even more gray in the face than he was last night.

I frantically check the truck’s floor, looking for the trap door and the only hatch I see is bolted and padlocked.

An explosion sounds from the front of the laundry room, the smell of chemicals burning all of a sudden intense and overpowering. Many men are yelling and screaming and a fire alarm is blaring, but I still clearly hear the choked off scream from one of the two guards by the hangar door. It sounds like a pig squealing. Before I fully realize what’s happening, he’s dumped into the back with me and Gene, blood oozing from his throat and soaking into the bottom row of the cardboard boxes.

“No!” Gene says but I clamp my hand over his mouth and drag him further into the truck, just as the other guard follows the first, equally dead and bleeding.

This is not supposed to be happening! If we’re caught now—which given the violence of this escape we eventually will be because they won’t rest until they find us—we’re fucking going straight to death row for killing those two guards.

I knew the Renegades had shit for brains but this is some next level stupid.

And if they’re willing to do this to the guards, what are they gonna do to do Harper? I can’t imagine it, I don’t want to. I just know I gotta stop it.

The group of Renegades I saw making their way to the truck start crowding into the back, headed by Snake. As soon as they’re all in, one of them pulls down the back door, and Snake bangs hard on the walls of the truck. It starts moving almost immediately.

We’re packed into the back like sardines, the darkness so complete I can’t see anyone’s face. I can only smell them, and the sour stench of their fear sweat is not mixing well with the smell of blood from the two dead guards.

Did all the Renegades decide to come? It sure seems that way and it’s gotta be the dumbest thing I’ve ever witnessed.

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