continued from chapter VI: breakout

One of the key features of the Poole Street police station was its heritage holding cells. Half submerged below ground level, there were three cells. The walls were built of the toughest granite just like the rest of the building. The gates were made of iron and steel with immense locks. The only new addition was an electronic door to the entrance of the basement. And a uniform who sat just outside.

It was considered to be the most secure holding facility of its kind.

Although new cells had been created at the back of the station, these ancient junctions were still considered to be very useful. It was chiefly maintained to hold high profile criminals as they were undergoing trial. The court house was 7 minutes to the North. Saved them the journey all the way from Raven Woods Correctional Facility. Also minimized the risk of having the convoy blown to bits on the way. Or having key witnesses dying because of one of the sudden and frequent prison riots. So they held them here while they were still worth something to the state. Quite literally, under the arse of the city’s toughest cops.

By the time O’Malley got downstairs, the uniforms had pushed out the truck. The smoke was clearing and they were running around aimlessly, their weapons drawn. Sirens were going off as they found their squad cars. The station was almost empty. He got to the electronic door. What was the code? He was one of the few people who knew it. He scrunched up his face and slammed his forehead and it suddenly came to him. 362432. Perfect dimensions. The door flew open.

The first cell confirmed what O’Malley had been fearing. There was a hole in the back of the cell. Blown apart by a huge charge of explosives. Just about large enough for someone to crawl through. But nobody had been held in the first cell so it hadn’t mattered.

The second cell had held that slimebag Baine. And it was empty as well. The whole looked larger. Somebody had pulled out loose chunks of the wall. Baine was small anyway so he had squirmed through like the snake he was.

The third cell held Eduardo. And it wasn’t empty. Yet.

Eduardo was clawing at the wall like desperate feret. Rumble cascading around him. He was pulling out chunks of stone and throwing it away. The whole got larger as O’Malley watched.

He didn’t know what to do. The cell was locked. The guard would have the keys and he had no idea where the guard had run off to. So O’Malley did the only thing he could. Threaten.

“Freeze. Stop what you are doing right now and move away from that wall.” O’Malley pulled out his gun and pointed it straight through the bars.

Eduardo didn’t stop. He didn’t even care. He pulled out even more chunks of rock.

O’malley cocked his pistol and knelt down, taking aim. This time Eduardo turned.

“It doesn’t matter brother. I am dead either way. Maybe I deserve to be dead. So you can shoot me if you want. At least I will know my baby brother can’t be bullied anymore.” He gave a little laugh. “So I am going to go for it. Just like the guy next door. Maybe you’ll miss. Maybe you’re gun will explode. I got nothing to lose. But I can win my freedom.” He turned around and pulled out a large chunk of granite, which crashed into the floor.

The hole was big enough now. Eduardo pushed himself through it but got caught at the shoulders. He pulled back and tried to claw away some more rubble. Maybe another minute. O’Malley took aim at his thigh. The fleshiest part. He could wound him enough to stop him. But thighs were risky because of the femoral artery. The shoulder then. As long as he missed the lung.

He tightened down on the trigger as Eduardo pushed himself against the hole again. Suddenly his shoulders went through. Chest upwards he was out. Maybe this was right. Maybe this should happen. There was no way Eduardo would make it out of this mess through the legal channels. Maybe this was the only chance he would have at freedom. As a brother, maybe this was the only gift O’Malley could ever give him.

He took his finger off the trigger.

The three shots went off so close to O’Malley head that his ears would ring for days after.
They hit Eduardo in the back. In a neat triangle around his heart. The body jerked with every shot and then went still and slid out from the hole. It left a streak of red on the wall of the cell as it collapsed face down onto the floor. A pool of blood started spreading rapidly over the grey concrete floor.

O’Malley turned around.

The barrel of Quinn’s magnum revolver was still smoking. He was still peering down the sights.

“Dammit O’Malley. What were you waiting for? Christmas?”, he said.

One more episode... till all the questions are answered... all the puzzle pieces fall in place... the finale of "O'Malley's Descent".... you can never guess what happens next!!!!

continued from Chapter I: Starting with a Bang

Jimmy/Jammy had got what he deserved.
The plan had been working. Manny had crushed the truck into the entrance. He was unscathed. He and Jimmy/Jammy were covering the ground floor windows. A couple of pigs had popped up their heads, but Daka and Manny had discourage them with a few rounds.

Then there was the silence, which got to Jimmy/Jammy. The silence killed the kid. “I am gonna get me some pigs!”, he had yelled and jumped out of cover.

Seconds later his head was blown away.

And that set off panic. They pulled him in and a large sweaty guy went to work. It looked to Burke as though that guy was supposed to be the medic or something. He fumbled with the kid’s clothes tried to steady his jerking body. He took off the mask from the kid’s head and realized that his fingers were covered in blood and brains. And he was shocked. There was another couple of kids, almost clones of Jimmy/Jammy who just stood over the body. One kept mumbling “Ohmygod.! Ohmygod!”. The other was fighting back tears. The large sweaty guy was trying to give him CPR. He was doing it all wrong. Either it was panic or ignorance. But instead of giving a cardiac massage, he was just crushing the kid’s ribs in. Burke would have said something but there was no point. CPR can’t do much good if half your head is splattered over the pavement.

So these were the children of the revolution. The Wolves.

“He’s here”, yelled Manny.

Burke could see a short plump figure standing across the road. Daka fired off a few rounds and beckoned him to make a run for it. Which the man did. He ran as fast as his stubby legs could carry him.

When he was about 10m from them, the shots went off, and the man hit the pavement.

Now even Daka had panic in his eyes.

He poked around and fired wildly with their only automatic rifle. “I see him. I see the pig.”

Manny was barking orders.

“The smokers. Throw the smokers. He’s alive. I can see him move. He have to get him out of here. You. Noob. You don’t have a mask.”

He was talking to Burke. The big guy and the two other kids had given up on the body and they were throwing canisters onto the streets. They exploded when they hit the asphalt releasing thick black smoke. It had an awful odour which burnt Burke’s nostrils. He shook his head. He didn’t have a gas mask.
Manny pulled him up and suddenly pushed him out of the cover of the alley. What was he doing? He didn’t want to end up like Jimmy/Jammy.

But no shots were being fired. The smoke was already thick as a blanket.

“Go get the vans. And don’t breathe.”, ordered Manny.

Burke looked over at Daka and he nodded. The three others had also run out of the cover and were lifting up the short fat man from the road. They were doing it wrong again. If he was shot in the shoulder, they shouldn’t pull him up by the arm like that.

Suddenly Burke swallowed a gulp of the smoke and started coughing violently. It was burning up his insides. He couldn’t stay here. So he ran down the roads, covering his mouth. The vans would be just around the corner. Havelock ave off Poole Street.

Even the best laid plans failed. And this plan hadn't even been half decent.

Something told him, this would be a long night.