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SAVAGE IN THE CELL
1
HARPER
The alarm screamed into the night.
It was a strange warbling sound and beat in time to the pulsing lights around the cell’s ceiling. They came up to full brightness and then dimmed back down to pitch darkness.
I shot up and pressed the blanket to my breast, recognizing I was not in my own bed. That meant I had to be in someone else’s. But that wasn’t exactly unusual.
What was unusual was how comfortable the bed was. It couldn’t possibly be mine. The springs didn’t jab me in the back and Mixxar wasn’t there to snore so loudly I couldn’t sleep for more than twenty minutes before the vibrations woke me up.
I also knew I couldn’t be in a regular fighter’s bed because I wasn’t half crushed by the victor’s heavy muscular arm draped over me.
I peered at the cell and realized it wasn’t typical at all. The bed was large, king-size, for the victor who it belonged to. A large wardrobe spanned the length of the back wall. On the other side, tucked away in a single corner, was a small kitchenette. A small stove sat with a single saucepan on it from where I’d cooked the night before. Between that and the entrance was the door that led into the private bathroom.
It was the champion’s quarters. Kren’s quarters.
I tossed the blankets aside and scooped up my sheer dress. I slid it on over my head and crossed to the bathroom to splash some water on my face. When I drew halfway up to it, the entrance door opened.
I froze in surprise. I had never seen a cell door open when I approached it before. We were always locked in the fighter’s rooms until morning. No exceptions.
So, what was the exception here?
Why were the lights flashing and the alarm blaring?
My curiosity trumped my fear and I edged toward the open doorway and peered out.
The lights flashed out there too, the alarm screeching its deafening duet.
I wasn’t alone in the prison. Over there, I heard the scream and shout of inmates as they confronted a pair of guards.
“Stand back!” one of the guards bellowed, lowering his rifle to aim at the nearest prisoner.
The prisoners darted toward the guard, who released a shocking streak of blue and white from the tip of his rifle.
A prisoner took the bolt of lightning to the chest. He dropped the metal rod he was carrying and went down, body shuddering against the floor. He threw up over himself.
The second guard opened fire and it missed its intended target and streaked through the air and passed directly in front of me. My hair stood on end and my face and chest clenched tight as it slammed into the adjacent wall.
There were too many prisoners for the guards to handle by themselves. The inmates grabbed the guards and wrestled them to the ground.
A powerfully-built prisoner with straggly hair seized a guard’s arm that held the rifle and smacked it on the ground powerfully with all his strength.
The guard lost his grip, or perhaps he lost his consciousness, as a second prisoner had his arm wrapped around his neck and choked him out.
The prisoner wielded the shock rifle. His comrade rolled off the guard, who gulped and gasped for oxygen. The prisoner unloaded the rifle into him. His metal armor sparked and flashed as the lightning filled him.
The guard’s body shuddered aggressively. The prisoner didn’t let up until smoke issued from the armor in a wispy haze.
I raised a hand to my nose to block the stench of cooked meat. I could smell it even from as far away as I was.
The prisoner released the trigger and peered at the rifle with a sense of wonder. He grinned maniacally at this new sense of power.
Another prisoner bashed him over the head and took the rifle for themselves.
Easy come, easy go.
