flame that she
realized they were flares.
As the balls of orange light began their slow descent back to
earth, Melanie Harris turned back toward the camera and rolled her
wrist quickly over itself. The red light on the front of the camera
appeared as Yushi began to shoot.
“ This is Melanie Harris for American Manhunt .” She
swept an arm across the sky. “ We are coming to you tonight from
Musket, Arizona. From outside the front gates of the Meza Azul
Correctional Facility, where for the past eighteen hours, a prison
riot has put the facility in the hands of the inmates and put
at risk the lives of more than a hundred and sixty prison
personnel who are presently being held hostage by some of the
most dangerous criminals in the United States.”
Melanie sneaked a quick peek down at Marty Wells, who was smiling
for all he was worth and bobbing his head up and down like a
bobblehead doll. “ As we speak, the tense standoff seems to be reaching a new stage as National Guard units prepare to storm the prison.”
At that moment, another, deeper growl reached her ears. She turned
in time to see a Texaco tanker truck come rolling out from behind the
building, elbowing around the sharp corner like some kind of
segmented beetle. “ What we would seem to have here, ladies
and gentlemen, is the release of yet another tradesman.” As the
prison’s gate began to slide out of the way, she looked into the
camera with an intense gaze. “ All day long, for reasons known only to themselves, the inmates have been releasing those delivery drivers who were unlucky enough to have been trapped inside when the riot began.”
She half turned back to the prison yard, where the soldiers had
parked an armored vehicle across the mouth of the gate; the Texaco
truck was pulling to a halt as the flares found their way back to
earth and extinguished themselves.
“ As has been the case all day, authorities are conducting a thorough search of the vehicle, both underneath and up above.” Although Yushi’s upward angle prevented him from taping
anything on the ground, Melanie was confident that the ground unit
was getting the shots of the driver being dragged from the cab of his
truck. “ Here comes the driver,” she intoned. “ They’re
checking him out.” A moment of silence followed. She watched as
the driver lowered his hands. “ The authorities seem to be
satisfied about the driver and are now checking out the truck
itself.” Again she assumed the other unit was getting the
shots. “ As you can see . . . ,” she began.
Later reviews of both the video-and audiotapes would reveal the
basement windows of the Louis Carver Administration Building
imploding as the impending gas explosion sought sufficient oxygen for
the conflagration to follow. A second later, a great whoosh roared
through the surrounding air as an inferno of bright blue flame took
the building in its grip and tore it free of its foundations, lifting
the entire structure a full foot in the air before opening its hand
and allowing those parts of the building not reduced to flying rubble
to settle back into the cauldron of flame. The blast wave took but a
second and a half to cross the yard. Next thing Melanie Harris knew,
she had been knocked from her feet, thrown facedown on the roof of
the motor home by the sheer power of the explosion.
A heaviness in her feet and ankles told her that the lower third
of her body was hanging over the edge of the roof. She scuttled
forward like a crab, using her knees and elbows to propel her to
safety. The hail of dirt and bricks and glass had just begun when
Melanie rose unsteadily to her feet. Across the roof, Yushi sat
openmouthed, breathing hard, staring dumbly down at his upturned
palms. Half a brick bounced off the roof with a boom. Yushi
looked up. A single rivulet of blood had escaped his right nostril,
crossed his lips and now dripped from his chin.
“Roll it,” Melanie shouted his way.
He dusted his palms on his sides and
realized they were flares.
As the balls of orange light began their slow descent back to
earth, Melanie Harris turned back toward the camera and rolled her
wrist quickly over itself. The red light on the front of the camera
appeared as Yushi began to shoot.
“ This is Melanie Harris for American Manhunt .” She
swept an arm across the sky. “ We are coming to you tonight from
Musket, Arizona. From outside the front gates of the Meza Azul
Correctional Facility, where for the past eighteen hours, a prison
riot has put the facility in the hands of the inmates and put
at risk the lives of more than a hundred and sixty prison
personnel who are presently being held hostage by some of the
most dangerous criminals in the United States.”
Melanie sneaked a quick peek down at Marty Wells, who was smiling
for all he was worth and bobbing his head up and down like a
bobblehead doll. “ As we speak, the tense standoff seems to be reaching a new stage as National Guard units prepare to storm the prison.”
At that moment, another, deeper growl reached her ears. She turned
in time to see a Texaco tanker truck come rolling out from behind the
building, elbowing around the sharp corner like some kind of
segmented beetle. “ What we would seem to have here, ladies
and gentlemen, is the release of yet another tradesman.” As the
prison’s gate began to slide out of the way, she looked into the
camera with an intense gaze. “ All day long, for reasons known only to themselves, the inmates have been releasing those delivery drivers who were unlucky enough to have been trapped inside when the riot began.”
She half turned back to the prison yard, where the soldiers had
parked an armored vehicle across the mouth of the gate; the Texaco
truck was pulling to a halt as the flares found their way back to
earth and extinguished themselves.
“ As has been the case all day, authorities are conducting a thorough search of the vehicle, both underneath and up above.” Although Yushi’s upward angle prevented him from taping
anything on the ground, Melanie was confident that the ground unit
was getting the shots of the driver being dragged from the cab of his
truck. “ Here comes the driver,” she intoned. “ They’re
checking him out.” A moment of silence followed. She watched as
the driver lowered his hands. “ The authorities seem to be
satisfied about the driver and are now checking out the truck
itself.” Again she assumed the other unit was getting the
shots. “ As you can see . . . ,” she began.
Later reviews of both the video-and audiotapes would reveal the
basement windows of the Louis Carver Administration Building
imploding as the impending gas explosion sought sufficient oxygen for
the conflagration to follow. A second later, a great whoosh roared
through the surrounding air as an inferno of bright blue flame took
the building in its grip and tore it free of its foundations, lifting
the entire structure a full foot in the air before opening its hand
and allowing those parts of the building not reduced to flying rubble
to settle back into the cauldron of flame. The blast wave took but a
second and a half to cross the yard. Next thing Melanie Harris knew,
she had been knocked from her feet, thrown facedown on the roof of
the motor home by the sheer power of the explosion.
A heaviness in her feet and ankles told her that the lower third
of her body was hanging over the edge of the roof. She scuttled
forward like a crab, using her knees and elbows to propel her to
safety. The hail of dirt and bricks and glass had just begun when
Melanie rose unsteadily to her feet. Across the roof, Yushi sat
openmouthed, breathing hard, staring dumbly down at his upturned
palms. Half a brick bounced off the roof with a boom. Yushi
looked up. A single rivulet of blood had escaped his right nostril,
crossed his lips and now dripped from his chin.
“Roll it,” Melanie shouted his way.
He dusted his palms on his sides and
Similar Books
