Pandora's Chase

Chapter Twelve

"Guard!" the inmate called out. "Guard!"

An oversized man jerked awake from his slumber at the end of the corridor, spilling brown liquid from his tin cup. He had what would be white skin, if not for the grime and shaggy hair so oily it stuck to his forehead. Drowsy from his nap, he paid no attention to the spillage. He muscled himself up and into a stumbling shuffle down the cell-block corridor. With every other step, he placed his hand on cell bars, propping himself up as he moved.

"Guard! He's dead!" the inmate called out again. This teased only a little pep into the guard's walk, but it did manage to cut the need for support from his hand.

The corridor had faint lighting, so he couldn't see any inmates calling out as he moved along. With each passing cell, he saw the blinking whites of eyes in the darkness and the occasional glimmer of a mouth partly open. The prisoners were just as dirty as the guards. Showers were a luxury here, but at least the guards were able to walk about and eat when they liked. Most of the inmates gave a blank stare at the guard before looking down the corridor, as if to usher him along. One eager inmate reached out through the cell, begging, "W-water. Pa-lease."

"Get back!" The guard swatted at the inmate's arm with a leather baton. He then continued down to the last cell, checking every cage along the way. Every prisoner was accounted for, including the unknown prisoner crying wolf. All were alive. Close enough anyway.

"Was that you, Mr. No Name?" he asked Lendar. No one knew who he was; he'd never said a word since his arrest. Not even the system registered his fingerprints. How could they? He'd burned them off before arriving. His intention was to leave the smallest imprint possible while he was here, so he took good care in eliminating identifiable features.

He did not answer the guard. He only rose from a sitting position and took a small step forward, positioning himself at the cell door.

He pointed to the cell behind the guard, across from his own. "It was our friend across the way," he said in a deep voice that penetrated the air from behind his thick, black beard.

After a curious look at Mr. No Name, the guard turned, peering into the cell to see the same weathered old man plopped on his bed. His body had thinned from years confined to a cell. The dim light from the corridor glistened off his soiled, tanned skin. The guard stared at him for just a moment, but a moment was all Lendar needed. He'd already picked the lock to his cell before calling the guard down. He strode out into the corridor as the guard caught sight of the old man's chest still moving, still breathing, as he started to turn back around to reprimand Lendar.

The steel cell door shrieked on its rusty hinges, and the guard whipped toward the sound, startled.

But it was too late. Lendar was already out, and the guard met the outlaw face to face. Lendar greeted him. "Hello, friend."