Alex was sound asleep when the first explosion went off. She immediately sat up and listened intently. The blaring alarm followed by yelling and screaming told her she was not dreaming. There was no indication as to what caused the blast, but it sounded like it had come from the cafeteria. Alex tried to put a story together in her mind that made sense. She figured it had to be a gas leak in the kitchen or an old pipe that had burst.
Alex rose from her bed and peered out the window of her cell door. Under the moonlight that shone in through the glass ceiling, Alex saw some shadowy figures running toward the cafeteria.
On the Northeast side of the prison, several guardians responded to the blast. They were not sure what to expect before they arrived as they only knew as much as the prisoners at that point. For many of them, they were out of shape and inexperienced with these types of situations. They were not battle-hardened warriors experienced in combat; they were operational supervisors that had grown accustomed to a sedentary lifestyle and orderly routine.
The prison guardians gathered in the cafeteria just as another group were descending through the skylights. The infiltrators deployed a teargas canister, which disrupted the vision and breathing of everyone not wearing a proper gasmask. While the guardians were impaired, they were quickly immobilized, having their hands and feet bound. A second backup squad of guardians hastily marched toward the cafeteria with as much preparation as the first on-scene troops, but they too suffered the same fate. The pathetic and ultimately ineffective attempt to regain control of the situation was foiled by a group of well-prepared individuals who were dressed head to toe in black. Once the prison guardians were bound together on the floor, the midnight infiltrators initiated phase two of their plan.
The invaders knew exactly where to go. With their gasmasks and night-vision goggles on, they ran down the corridor with their guns aimed high. They located the first door they were looking for and rigged it with a high-frequency blaster device. One of the men in the squad gave two heavy pounds with his fist and Mara crawled to the back of her cell and covered herself with her flimsy mattress. The frequency blasters detonated, shattering the solid door like it was glass.
"Come on, come on," one of them yelled.
Mara tossed the mattress aside and darted out the door with no hesitation.
The masked posse went down another corridor, taking care of any threats that came up. A second door was located and provisioned with explosives – the same way as the first. Alex heard two large thuds on her door and was signaled to get back. She too crouched down and covered herself with her mattress. The explosives were detonated and the blast reduced the door to rubble.
Alex was taken aback by the sudden explosion as she was not quite sure what was going on. Her ears were ringing and her heart was pounding as several masked men stormed into her cell. She thought about fighting, but they did not seem to want to harm her. One of the men approached her and extended his hand. Sensing her reluctance, he tilted his mask up a bit to reveal his face.
"Milo, what are you doing here?" she asked.
"Now's really not a good time to talk about this, Alex. Please come with me."
"I can't go with you, I'll be a wanted fugitive."
Alex was clearly thinking multiple steps in advance. She was not allowing the abrupt hype of a midnight prison breakout to cloud her judgment and make any impulsive decisions that she might regret. Another familiar face emerged from the mob.
"Alex, we need to leave this place now," Mara said.
"But this isn't the way," she protested. "This is wrong."
"There's no other way, Alex," Mara pleaded. "They'll never let us out of here. You have to trust me on this."
"Come on, Alex. I didn't go through all this trouble just to debate with you," Milo insisted.
Alex thought about what her mum had said. If she stayed, the worst she was looking at was five years. If she escaped and went off the grid, then she would always be on the run, which was not an ideal alternative. If she were to become apprehended, then surely she would spend the rest of her life in prison. She reasoned the best strategy would be to remain in prison, pay her debt to society, and await her release.
"I'm sorry, I'm not going with you guys. I don't want to live my life on the run."
"Well, then I'm sorry too, Alex. Sorry for what I'm about to do."