Ch.48: Fire and Water

I counted the seconds by the thumping of my heart. Through the vent, a sharp *pop* echoed from Aris’s cell, followed by a frantic, high-pitched sizzle of shorting wires. A beat of agonizing silence passed before the ceiling erupted.

A piercing, rhythmic shriek tore through the asylum’s artificial quiet. Red emergency lights began to pulse, bathing the white quilted walls in the color of fresh blood. Above me, the sprinkler head hissed, then unleashed a torrential downpour of icy, chemically treated water that smelled of old metal.

"It’s working!" Aris’s voice was a wet, muffled shout through the grate.

I lunged for my cell door, my fingers slick with water as I gripped the observation port’s frame. I waited for the heavy *clack* of the magnets de-energizing. I waited for the weight of the steel to give way.

It didn't move.

The sirens changed pitch, shifting from a warning to a frantic, mechanical stutter. I threw my shoulder against the door, the impact sending a jolt of white-hot pain through my arm.

"Aris! The doors aren't popping!"

"The override!" he screamed back, his voice cracking with panic. "They must have updated the fire protocol! It’s defaulting to 'Closed'! Elena, we're locked in!"

The water was already an inch deep on the vinyl floor, swirling around my ankles. Through the reinforced glass of the port, I saw the guards in the hallway. They weren't coming to save us. They were donning respirators and retreating toward the secure exit, leaving us to drown in the retardant foam that was starting to billow from the vents.

I was trapped. I was going to die in a padded box, a nameless casualty of the Thorne empire, while my daughter was drained of her life just miles away.

Then, the floor groaned.

A low, subterranean vibration started in my heels and climbed up my spine, drowning out the sirens. It was the sound of a mountain moving.

*BOOM.*

The entire wing shuddered. The white vinyl wall opposite my door didn't just crack; it disintegrated. Concrete exploded inward, the rebar snapping like dry twigs as the massive, blunt nose of a yellow construction truck punched through the reinforced cinderblocks.

Dust and debris rained down into the water, a choking cloud of grey. The truck kept coming, the roar of its engine a predatory growl that filled the tiny space. It slammed into the cell blocks, the sheer mass of the vehicle shearing the door frames right out of the wall.

The driver’s side door swung open. A man leaped out into the knee-deep foam, a heavy crowbar in his hand and a look of absolute, murderous intent on his face. He was covered in grime, his white shirt torn and stained with grease, but I knew those eyes.

Leo.

He didn't say a word. He jammed the crowbar into the warped frame of my door and wrenched. The metal screamed, the electronic lock sparking one last time before the door flew open.

He grabbed my hand, his grip crushing and real.

"Get in," he rasped, gesturing toward the idling beast of a vehicle.

My knight in shining armor drives a dump truck.