Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 80564 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80564 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Why did I think Max was special? I knew nothing about him! And for the love of all that is holy, why didn’t I quit? Living on the streets would have been better than dealing with this shit. So I would have been forced to live with Winfred, the homeless alcoholic who begged the local businesses on Main Street for money. All while reeking from not bathing since Ronald Regan was president and urine—yes, he smelled of urine. Lots of urine. Still, even that was preferable to this. What good is dying smelling good, if you still fucking die?
“Now you’re going to do as I tell you, or you’ll die. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” I squeak. Turns out when you’re being held captive by a convicted killer, you can’t speak due to the fear coursing through your system. Who knew?
“You don’t talk to anyone, especially the other inmates. You don’t even look at them. You keep your head down, your eyes on your feet and you only speak when I tell you to. Do you understand?”
Oh hell, he’s taking me into the prison break? I want to scream at him. I want to yell, stomp and throw a temper tantrum that would impress any two-year-old child. I do none of those things. Although, I must admit I’m starting to see why Winfred smells like urine. I really need to pee. Since I didn’t even get time for my pumpkin spice latte this morning, I can only assume it’s a byproduct of fear.
I don’t answer, and I guess he takes my silence as agreement because he pulls me to the door that the worthless guard ran out of. He stands there for a moment looking around. For what, I have no idea. The place is loud with sirens, people yelling, and gunfire. Suddenly that urge to pee becomes stronger. I should probably start praying now. It’s not like I’m a bad person, but I don’t go to church. I’m not even sure I know how to pray. Hail Mary full of grace? Bless me Father for I have sinned? Shit, do you need to be Catholic? I’ve watched too many Godfather movies!
We go about ten feet into the valley of death, when I scream. It’s not a little scream, but a big one and barely heard over the noise surrounding us. I look down at the lifeless guard at my feet. He might have left me alone, but I didn’t want him to die. Mr. Kincaid, aka the prisoner, aka Mad Max, aka the harbinger of my death, puts his large hand over my mouth. It goes kind of silent around us. Who knew I was screaming that loud?
He leans down, his mouth against my ear, his voice is a deep rumble and eerily calm. “Don’t make me knock you out. I will. Now, keep that pretty mouth of yours shut and stand against the wall. Don’t scream, don’t move. Our lives depend on you doing exactly, what I say.”
I swallow nervously, tears stinging my eyes. I nod once. He removes his hand from my mouth, taking his arms away and then pushes me roughly against the wall. He leaves me alone and bends down to rummage around the guard. I look around and carefully take two steps away. If I can just make it to the door we came through and back to the safety on the other side…
His voice stops me. I turn at the sound, and he’s pointing a gun at me. The mixture of the chains on his hand, the slick black gleam of the gun and the bright orange prison jumpsuit terrifies the hell out of me. I stand still—not because he told me to, but because I am literally petrified, frozen in my fear. He motions me, using the gun as a pointer.
“Search his pockets and belt. Find the key to my chains,” he commands. I look at him like he’s crazy.
“He’s dead!” I mention the obvious.
“Exactly, I’m sure he won’t give a damn if you dig around, hunting for a key. I would do it myself, but since you can’t seem to follow orders, you get the pleasure.”
“I can’t touch him! He’s dead!” I exclaim again.
“You can either do it or join him. It’s up to you.”
My face goes white. I know, because I feel the cold, clammy sweat break out over my body.
“Listen, Mr. Kincaid, I’m sure…”
“Lady, you need to stop your damn chatter and find the key or else he’ll be stinking as well as dead. I don’t know if you’ve had the pleasure of smelling a rotting corpse, but trust me when I tell you, you don’t want to do that.”
I want to say no again, but I’m pretty sure he’s not kidding about me joining the guard. So I bend down and start trying to find a key ring.