He's so fast I don't have time to react before he's pulled something from his belt and lashed out at his warden. The guy falls backwards, hands at his throat. There's blood, splashing freely onto the metal floor. And the blond boy lunges forward and seizes the gun from his warden's belt. His face is wild. Three gunshots echo deafeningly down the corridor. My warden is still trying to get his gun off his belt when he dies.
For a moment afterwards, everything seems to have stopped. The wardens lie dead or dying on the floor, and the only sound is the blond boy's harsh breathing. Neither of us move.
Somewhere distant, an alarm starts to sound.
The blond boy looks directly at me, and I can see the fear and the pleading in his eyes. He's scared out of his wits, like a wild animal. He's still holding the gun. For a terrible moment I'm scared that he'll shoot me.
"Wait . . ." I manage, but then the boy turns and, stumbling, sets off at a sprint up the corridor. Not knowing what to do, I set off after him.
My brain feels like it's working too slow, like something's wrong with it. This is it. This is my chance. All the times I've fantasised about escape, all the times I've lain on my bed planning my breakout . . . and now here it is, without warning, without any chance to plan or make myself ready. What do I do? If I mess this up then I know for sure I'll die here . . .
I stop. I'm at the end of the rows of cells. The door ahead of me is open, and even as I stand there I hear the slam of gunshots from beyond it. That's where the blond boy's gone . . . but who's firing those shots? If I step through into the main junction will I be greeted by a room full of dead wardens or a bullet to the head? I don't know. I'm not thinking clearly. My brain is screaming at me. The alarm is blaring still, louder than before. Can't concentrate knowing that any second now I could be dead.
A single thought runs through my head. Syra. I can't do this alone. I can't leave her behind.
I wheel around and set off back up the corridor. It's awkward trying to run with my hands tied in front of me, but there's nothing I can do. I pass the blond boy's cell, then my own. When I get to Syra's I hammer madly on the door.
"Syra! Syra, it's me!"
I hear scuffling noises from the other side of the door, then Syra's voice: "Lynch?" The sound of it almost makes me cry.
"Hold on," I yell. "We're going to get out of here."
