kept my ribs from collapsing under the pressure. Glass cracked in the goggles. The top of the crate tore apart and launched into the air. I pulled the head piece away and sat up to take a deep breath.
The rush of air made me dizzy. I swayed in place for a half minute or more. If the guards nearby had not been so stunned to see someone rise from the exploding crate, Iâm sure they would have shot me.
I got my bearings and climbed halfway out before the first rifle shot struck me in the back. The vest held but the pain was intense. I was knocked down between containers.
I tossed the neck guard aside then let all the air drain from the vest. Unprotected, the next shot would kill me but I needed to move. I jabbed a hole in the rubber cap that connected the steam canister to the head piece. Escaping gas caused it to spin and jump all over.
I lit the gas with a flint chip. Flames spread quickly as the canister whirled. Fire climbed the sides of the wooden crates. Smoke rose to the rafters. I heard the guards yell, approaching on the run. I sprinted from behind the boxes.
They fired but missed. I kept my eyes on the open door ahead.
It didnât take long for flames to creep into the oxygen canister. The explosion was contained within the loading dock. In the cacophony outside, I doubted many would notice a loud bang from the docks.
I looked back to see the guard who shot me clutching a broken shin. He looked to be in a great deal of pain. I was glad.
*Â Â Â *Â Â Â *
Ernie Stark
June, 1861
The original design at Rykerâs Island aimed to isolate inmates. It used the same automation as in the transport capsule, only on a larger scale.
The first prisoners went crazy. They were under constant observation yet always alone. They ate, exercised, washed and slept without seeing other humans.
The rumbling of the prison sounded like voices. It was common for prisoners to talk to the building at night.
Suicide was rampant. Convicts who served their sentence were released as outright lunatics. Change became a necessity.
Administrators tested different solutions. In the end, they had to accept that inmates needed each other. In the most telling experiment, fifty prisoners were released into an empty yard. They didnât speak. No fights broke out. They just huddled together in one corner.
That was the end for Rykerâs Island as a fully automated facility. Common areas were created. A social order emerged. Inmates clustered into gangs.
What happened next caught everyone by surprise. One idiot savant among the prisoners figured out the timing and arrangement of shifting walls. Changes to the old architecture made it possible for prisoners to slip into small pockets of space when a ledge folded away or a corridor opened. No one dared because they were sure to be crushed or lost.
The savant disappeared for long stretches. Hours later, he would be back at the quad or in his cell without warning.
That man became a seeing-eye dog for the gangs. Mobility was power. Inmates went wherever they pleased even during a lock down. Guards couldnât stop them.
Weaker prisoners missed the old days. Now there really were voices in the walls.
William Bucholz would have done better in that original setting. When I found him, he looked like he hadnât slept in days. Even getting kicked in the teeth, he seemed tired.
In all the time Iâve spent with men who would lie to your face then call you a sucker, I never saw a scramble like the one to get at Bucholz. Men were fighting each other to reach him.
Saul was right in there. He wasnât getting his hands dirty. His goons were scrapping with another gang, trying to get at Bucholz first.
I told Robert it would happen fast. Saul flashed me a smile. I punched him in the mouth.
No one knew which side I was on. I pushed into the crowd, between the gangs and Bucholz. He looked up. His rat face made me think about all the grifters Iâd ever worked
The rush of air made me dizzy. I swayed in place for a half minute or more. If the guards nearby had not been so stunned to see someone rise from the exploding crate, Iâm sure they would have shot me.
I got my bearings and climbed halfway out before the first rifle shot struck me in the back. The vest held but the pain was intense. I was knocked down between containers.
I tossed the neck guard aside then let all the air drain from the vest. Unprotected, the next shot would kill me but I needed to move. I jabbed a hole in the rubber cap that connected the steam canister to the head piece. Escaping gas caused it to spin and jump all over.
I lit the gas with a flint chip. Flames spread quickly as the canister whirled. Fire climbed the sides of the wooden crates. Smoke rose to the rafters. I heard the guards yell, approaching on the run. I sprinted from behind the boxes.
They fired but missed. I kept my eyes on the open door ahead.
It didnât take long for flames to creep into the oxygen canister. The explosion was contained within the loading dock. In the cacophony outside, I doubted many would notice a loud bang from the docks.
I looked back to see the guard who shot me clutching a broken shin. He looked to be in a great deal of pain. I was glad.
*Â Â Â *Â Â Â *
Ernie Stark
June, 1861
The original design at Rykerâs Island aimed to isolate inmates. It used the same automation as in the transport capsule, only on a larger scale.
The first prisoners went crazy. They were under constant observation yet always alone. They ate, exercised, washed and slept without seeing other humans.
The rumbling of the prison sounded like voices. It was common for prisoners to talk to the building at night.
Suicide was rampant. Convicts who served their sentence were released as outright lunatics. Change became a necessity.
Administrators tested different solutions. In the end, they had to accept that inmates needed each other. In the most telling experiment, fifty prisoners were released into an empty yard. They didnât speak. No fights broke out. They just huddled together in one corner.
That was the end for Rykerâs Island as a fully automated facility. Common areas were created. A social order emerged. Inmates clustered into gangs.
What happened next caught everyone by surprise. One idiot savant among the prisoners figured out the timing and arrangement of shifting walls. Changes to the old architecture made it possible for prisoners to slip into small pockets of space when a ledge folded away or a corridor opened. No one dared because they were sure to be crushed or lost.
The savant disappeared for long stretches. Hours later, he would be back at the quad or in his cell without warning.
That man became a seeing-eye dog for the gangs. Mobility was power. Inmates went wherever they pleased even during a lock down. Guards couldnât stop them.
Weaker prisoners missed the old days. Now there really were voices in the walls.
William Bucholz would have done better in that original setting. When I found him, he looked like he hadnât slept in days. Even getting kicked in the teeth, he seemed tired.
In all the time Iâve spent with men who would lie to your face then call you a sucker, I never saw a scramble like the one to get at Bucholz. Men were fighting each other to reach him.
Saul was right in there. He wasnât getting his hands dirty. His goons were scrapping with another gang, trying to get at Bucholz first.
I told Robert it would happen fast. Saul flashed me a smile. I punched him in the mouth.
No one knew which side I was on. I pushed into the crowd, between the gangs and Bucholz. He looked up. His rat face made me think about all the grifters Iâd ever worked
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