Chapter 4: A Fight for Truth and Vengeance

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Chapter 4: The Escape

Ethan Cole had never been so aware of the sound of his own breathing. Each shallow breath felt like it reverberated through the silent halls of Silverbrook Penitentiary, bouncing off the cold concrete walls, threatening to give him away at any moment. His heart was pounding so loudly in his chest, he was sure it would draw the attention of the guards. But he had no choice—this was the night. After months of planning, tonight was the culmination of everything. This was the moment that would determine whether he and Ray would reclaim their freedom, or face a lifetime of imprisonment.

The air was thick with tension, and the usual nighttime quiet of the prison felt different. The subtle rustling of other inmates in their cells, the distant hum of the fluorescent lights, the occasional cough or footstep in the corridor—it all seemed amplified, as though the building itself was holding its breath, waiting to see if they would succeed or fail.

Ray was calm, his expression stoic as he checked the small contraband cell phone one last time. The riot was scheduled to start in precisely twenty minutes, and everything hinged on that distraction. The guards would be drawn to the far side of the prison, leaving a window of opportunity for Ethan and Ray to make their move. Ethan felt a gnawing sense of anxiety—if the riot didn’t go as planned, if the inmates didn’t follow through, or if the guards didn’t respond as predicted, their escape could be over before it even began.

The two of them had prepared for this moment meticulously. Ethan’s role was to disable the cameras, using a code he had spent weeks perfecting. The cameras, though modern, weren’t foolproof—especially with the complacency of the guards. Ethan’s time studying the prison’s surveillance system had given him the insights he needed to exploit its weaknesses. There was a five-minute window between the moment the camera feeds looped and the next guard check. It wasn’t much, but it was enough for them to slip out of their cellblock unnoticed.

Ray, standing beside Ethan, gave a quick nod. It was time. The plan was in motion.

Ethan retrieved the small cell phone from its hiding place beneath his mattress, his hands trembling slightly. With a few swift movements, he input the sequence that would trigger the camera loop. A tiny whir sounded from the phone, followed by a green light on the screen. It worked. For the next five minutes, the guards would be watching a looped feed that showed nothing out of the ordinary. They wouldn’t see Ethan and Ray as they moved through the hallways.

“Let’s go,” Ray whispered, his voice barely audible.

Ethan pocketed the phone, and they both slipped out of their cell. The door closed behind them with a soft click, and they began making their way down the dimly lit corridor. Ethan’s heart raced as he glanced at the cameras mounted on the ceiling, knowing that for now, they were blind to their movements. But it was a fragile illusion. Any moment, a guard could check the feed manually, or something could go wrong with the loop. They had to move fast.

The corridors of Silverbrook Penitentiary were a maze of intersecting hallways, barred gates, and locked doors. Each step felt like a gamble, each corner they turned a leap of faith. Ray led the way with a practiced ease, his years of experience in prison life guiding his every movement. Ethan, despite his engineering background and careful planning, still felt the weight of uncertainty pressing down on him. He had never done anything like this before—escaping from prison wasn’t something you could prepare for in the real world.

Their first real test came as they approached the stairwell leading to the maintenance wing. Officer Harris, the heavyset guard who often abandoned his post to smoke, was supposed to be on duty. Ethan and Ray had counted on him being distracted, but there was always a chance he’d be there, alert and vigilant. They couldn’t risk being seen, not now, when they were so close.

As they crept closer to the stairwell, Ethan’s stomach twisted in knots. But, as luck would have it, Officer Harris was nowhere to be seen. The faint smell of cigarette smoke lingered in the air—he had likely gone outside for one of his habitual smoke breaks, just as Ray had predicted. Ethan let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, and they quickly made their way down the stairs.

Once they reached the maintenance wing, they faced their next obstacle: a locked steel door that separated the inmate area from the restricted sections of the prison. Ray crouched down, pulling out the makeshift lockpick they had crafted over the last few weeks. It wasn’t the most sophisticated tool, but it would have to do. Ray’s hands moved with surprising dexterity for a man who had spent years in prison. He worked the lock, the small metal pieces clicking softly as he manipulated them.

For what felt like an eternity, Ethan watched the hallway, every shadow and distant sound setting his nerves on edge. His mind raced with the possibilities—what if someone found them? What if the riot didn’t happen? What if Ray couldn’t get the door open?

Suddenly, there was a soft click. The door swung open.

“We’re in,” Ray whispered, a faint grin crossing his face. Ethan couldn’t help but feel a rush of relief, but there was no time to celebrate. They slipped through the door, closing it quietly behind them.

Inside the maintenance wing, the air was cooler, and the low hum of machinery reverberated through the walls. The ventilation system was ancient, a relic from a time when the prison had been first built. Ray had discovered it during one of his many stints working in the maintenance department, a job that had given him access to areas of the prison that most inmates never saw.

The vents were their ticket out. They were narrow, rusted, and filthy, but they were large enough for a person to crawl through. And, more importantly, they led directly to an old service tunnel that opened up beyond the prison’s perimeter fence.

“Here,” Ray said, motioning to a large, rusted grate bolted to the wall. He pulled out a small saw blade that had been smuggled in weeks ago, and they set to work on the bolts. The metal screeched softly as they sawed through it, each movement slow and deliberate. Time was slipping away, but they couldn’t afford to rush and make noise.

Minutes passed in tense silence. The only sounds were the rasp of metal on metal and the distant hum of the prison’s mechanical systems. Ethan’s arms ached from holding the saw, but he didn’t stop. He couldn’t stop. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the last bolt fell away, and the grate came free.

They quickly slid it to the side and peered into the darkness beyond. The vent stretched out before them, a long, narrow tunnel that seemed to go on forever. It wasn’t going to be easy, but it was their only way out.

Ray went first, squeezing his muscular frame into the vent. He moved with surprising agility, his body disappearing into the darkness. Ethan followed, his heart racing as he pulled himself into the cramped space. The air inside the vent was stale, and the metal walls pressed in on him from all sides. He felt claustrophobic, but he forced himself to keep moving, inching forward on his elbows and knees.

The vent seemed to go on forever, twisting and turning through the prison’s underbelly. Every creak of the metal, every shift of their weight felt like it would bring the entire structure crashing down on them. But they had no choice. They had to keep going.

After what felt like hours, they finally reached the end of the vent. Ray stopped and whispered back to Ethan, “This is it. We’re almost out.”

Ahead of them was another grate, smaller than the one they had removed before, but still large enough for them to slip through. Ray quickly set to work on the bolts, using the same saw they had used before. Ethan listened intently for any sounds of approaching guards or alarms, but all he could hear was the steady rhythm of his own breathing.

Finally, the grate came free. Ray slid it aside, and they both crawled out into the service tunnel. The tunnel was dark and damp, but it was a welcome change from the claustrophobic vent. The air smelled of mildew and rust, but it was fresh compared to the stale air of the prison.

They didn’t stop to rest. Ray motioned for Ethan to follow, and they began making their way down the tunnel. It wasn’t long before they saw a faint light at the end—the exit. Freedom was just beyond that door.

But there was one last obstacle: the perimeter fence. The prison’s fence was electrified, and there were guard towers stationed along the perimeter, watching for any signs of escape. They had to time their move perfectly. Ray had arranged for the power to the fence to be cut for a brief window—no more than five minutes. They had to reach the fence during that time, or they’d be fried the moment they touched it.

They reached the end of the tunnel and crouched in the shadows, waiting for the signal. Ethan’s heart was pounding. This was it. The final stretch. If they made it past the fence, they’d be free.

Suddenly, the lights on the fence flickered and went out. It was time.

Ray darted forward, sprinting toward the fence with Ethan close behind. The night air was cool on Ethan’s face as he ran, his legs pumping furiously beneath him. He could see the guard towers in the distance, but they were focused on the riot that had broken out on the other side of the prison. No one was looking