Chapter 9

One minute.

Edwards squinted down at his wrist, watching the second hand crawl slowly around. Squeezing his eyes shut, he pinched the bridge of his nose, willing away the headache that was starting to form between his temples. They really didn't have time for this. Fulfilling this vendetta was incredibly bold and was going to seriously reduce their chances of making it out of here in one piece, but he understood. Dropping his hand from his face, he tilted his wrist, checking the time again.

Two minutes.

He understood why the brothers had to finish this. It's what they do. Destroy evil to save the innocent. It's what they did for him and his family eight years ago, and it is what he was determined to see them continue to do more of in the future. These two men, the Saints, have saved more people than they knew and Edwards was determined to do everything he could to return the favor. If finishing off George Maddox was something they felt they had to do, then he would do everything in his power to help them. He owed them that much.

Glancing down at his watch one last time, he counted out the last three seconds in his head. Three, two, one and… three minutes. Taking a deep breath, he attempted to settle the fluttering in his stomach before checking over his firearm and flicking off the safety. He dug his hand in his pants pocket and wrapped his fingers around the plastic card that was tucked safely away, reassuring himself that it was still there. This wouldn't work without it.

Edwards peeked carefully around the corner one last time before raising his weapon. Using the wall as his cover, he took aim at one of the two men guarding the cafeteria door. Here we go. Exhaling the breath from his lungs, he steadied his trembling hands and gently squeezed the trigger. The bullet hit its mark and embedded itself into the inmate's upper thigh, dropping him to the floor.

"What the fuck!" the second convict shouted in surprise as he watched his friend squirm on the ground, clutching the bullet wound in his leg.

Edwards didn't give the prisoner time to react before squeezing off another shot. The bullet went wide this time, missing its target, and the inmate looked up, making eye contact with him.

"Son of a bitch!" the other man cursed at him before ducking his head through the cafeteria door and shouting at someone inside.

Edwards mumbled a few choice expletives under his breath before adjusting his aim and firing off another round. His aim was true and the bullet struck the convict in the leg, closer to his hip, dropping him to the ground next to his friend.

The alarmed shouts of the inmates in the cafeteria drifted to him from down the hall and he trained his sights on the door. The first person brave enough to step out received a bullet in the shoulder. He was doing his best to keep the injuries non-fatal. He wasn't out to kill anyone, he just wanted to piss them off enough that, when he decided it was time to run, enough of them would follow.

The next thing to come through the cafeteria door was the barrel of a rifle and Edwards quickly ducked back behind the ball just as a spray of bullets sent a shower of concrete and debris flying around him. Taking a shaky breath, he checked his watch again. He was going to have to speed this up if he wanted to have the area clear in time for Connor and Murphy. Now that he had their attention he needed to draw them out, and that wasn't going to happen as long as they thought he was armed.

As soon as the return fire stopped, Edwards brought his gun back up from behind the corner and discharged round after round into the walls and ceiling around the cafeteria door until he heard the click, indicating an empty clip. He knew the bait had worked when he heard the inmates yelling from down the hall.

"He's empty!"

"Go! Let's get this motherfucker!"

Edwards jumped up from his hiding spot and sprinted down the hall away from the cafeteria. He could hear his pursuers shouting behind him and risked a quick backward glance. Holy shit! His heart jumped into his throat at the sight of the angry mob that filled the hallway behind him, and it spurred him on faster.

The sound of gunfire rang out over the loud voices and Edwards stumbled when he felt a bullet whiz by his head, missing him by inches only. Pitching forward he caught himself on his hands and continued running, hardly missing a beat. Taking the next left, his feet slipped on the slick floor and he scrambled to keep his balance. He was filled with a small burst of relief when he spotted the door to the guards' quarters at the end of the hall. Almost there.

Shots continued to echo off the concrete walls and Edwards kept expecting to feel the deadly bite of a bullet. Miraculously it never came. The door drew closer and he fumbled through his pocket till his fingers grasped his plastic I.D. badge and he pulled it out, having it ready.

The infirmary, armory and guard's quarters here at the Hoag were all equipped with a back-up security feature, a safety lock of sorts. In the event of an uprising or any other breach in prison security, a member of the prison staff can slide their I.D. card through the reader, punch in the four-digit distress code, and the door will lock, both inside and out. Once the code has been entered, the only way to unlock it is with an all-clear code that was known only by select members of the staff.

When Edwards reached the door his fingers flew over the metal buttons of the keypad as he entered in the code. As soon as he heard the click of the lock he threw it open and stepped quickly inside, taking care to make sure that the door was left invitingly ajar. Once inside, he ducked off to the right and flattened himself against the wall. With shaking hands he stuck his I.D. in his mouth and pulled a spare clip from his pants pocket. Pressing the button on the side of his weapon, he allowed his empty clip to slide to the floor before jamming the full magazine into the gun with the heel of his palm.

No sooner than the clip clicked into place the inmates that had been running him down barged forcefully into the room, sending the door ricocheting off of the wall behind it. None of them noticed him hiding off to the side and Edwards held his breath, certain they could hear his heart hammering in his chest. The convicts split up in their search and one group stormed into the locker room while another went to look for him in the small kitchen toward the back.

As soon as what he hoped was the last person came running through the door, he pushed away from the wall and made a dash for the now empty exit.

"There he is!"

"Grab him!"

Edwards heard the shouts but didn't dare look as he grabbed the door handle on his way out and pulled it shut behind him. Before the door had a chance to latch, one of the inmates grabbed the inside handle and began prying it back open. Raising his newly loaded gun, he stuck it through the widening crack in the door and squeezed the trigger. The inmate on the other side let loose an enraged howl as the bullet entered his knee cap and he released the handle, allowing the door to slam shut.

Wasting no time, Edwards pulled the I.D. card from where he was still holding it, clenched between his teeth, and slid it into the card reader before quickly removing it and punching in the distress code. The lock clicked into place and the sound of banging fists and shouted threats came through from the other side. Releasing the handle, he stumbled backwards until his back came to rest against the wall and he sank to the ground, chest heaving.

Edwards allowed himself a few moments to calm his racing heart and let the adrenaline that was still coursing through his veins to wear of before gaining his feet, tucking his gun into the back of his pants and continuing down the hall, away from the furious convicts now trapped behind the steel door.

He wasn't sure how strong the emergency locks were or how they would hold up against a few rounds from a rifle, but he knew this was probably a temporary solution only.

Picking his pace back up to a jog, he began winding his way back toward the kitchen, hoping to meet up with the brothers before the action started. Murphy's weakened state had him worried and Connor, albeit in better shape than his brother, was still in no condition to put up much of a fight should they encounter one. That thought caused his slow jog to pick up into an all-out run as he flew around the next corner.

So intent was he on reaching his destination, that he failed to notice the sound of a small group of inmates headed in his direction until he came around the bend and smacked directly into them. The collision sent him flying backwards and he stuck his hands behind him to break his fall.

"Whoa there, where you headed in such a hurry, boy?" The convicts hadn't seen his face yet and assumed that because of the uniform he was simply another inmate.

Edwards kept his head down as a he pushed himself back up to his feet and attempted to step around the group of men blocking his path. "Nowhere, sorry about that. My mistake."

He had almost made it past when the inmate on the end reached out and clamped his hand around the young man's wrist, yanking him back.

"Hold on a second, I know you." He used his free hand to grab the guard roughly by the chin and force his head up to get a clear view of his face. "Son of a bitch."

"He's one of the guards," another inmate offered up in surprise.

Edwards felt a cold sick feeling begin to form in his gut. He knew what usually became of prison guards left to the mercy of the inmates they guarded and the thought sent a shot of panic through his heart. Jerking his head away from the other man's hand, he tried pulling out of his iron grip but it held fast. Trapped, he felt his fighting instincts kick in. Bringing his free hand back, he curled it into a fist and landed a hard right hook to the inmate's jaw. The larger man released his hold in shock and Edwards wasted no time in continuing his flight down the hall.

He hardly made it twenty feet before a heavy weight crashed into him, knocking the wind out of him as he was brought hard to the ground. He struggled weakly as he attempted to get his lungs to work again and the convict who had tackled him brought his fist down across his face, stilling his efforts. Edwards was only slightly aware of the weight disappearing off of him as he was hauled to his feet.

"You've got balls, kid, I'll give you that." The inmate who had been the recipient of Edwards' fist wiped the blood away from his lip before grabbing the guard by the front of his shirt, pulling him close. "You're the one who has been running around here causing all these problems, aren't you?"

Edwards didn't answer, he just kept his gaze glued to the ground.

"You shot Maddox and helped those Saint fuckers get loose?"

No response.

The inmate questioning him growled in frustration and brought his fist down to meet the young man's jaw before taking a step back and addressing the rest of the group. "Come on, we need to get back to the others."

"What are we going to do with him?" another convict asked.

"We take him with us. He may not be the two we're looking for but it's better than going back to Maddox empty handed. Besides," he leered evilly at Edwards, "I think after all the trouble you have stirred up tonight, Maddox will be very happy to see you."

/ / /

"Why do you think he's risking so much to help us?" Connor asked his brother once they left Edwards behind and rounded the first corner.

Murphy glanced back at his twin and shrugged his shoulders, still keeping one hand on the wall for support. "I don't know, but he is almost as stubborn as you are." He kept his voice low, matching his brother's hushed tone.

Connor scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Aye, that's right, I'm the stubborn one. Never mind the fact that you're the one who insisted on tagging along through a building full of men who all want us dead to hunt down a dangerous criminal despite the fact that you can hardly keep yourself upright. But aye, you're right, Murph, I'm the stubborn one."

Murphy shook his head in annoyance at his brother's sarcastic tone. "I already told you, I'm fine." He tried not to sound so out of breath as he said it. "Besides, you know that you wouldn't let me do this alone anymore than I would let you." Stopping, he turned and looked into his twin's eyes. "We stay together, Connor. It's what we fucking do."

Connor met his brother's gaze for a few moments before looking down at the floor and nodding. "I know. I just," he hesitated for a moment, "I already thought I lost you once tonight, Murphy, and I wont see it happen again." Looking back up he saw his brother watching him intently. "Rocco, Greenly, Da, and now Rome; I don't want to add you to that list, I can't lose you too."

Murphy's expression softened and he rested his free hand on his twin's shoulder. He wasn't really sure what to say. He couldn't promise that they would both make it through this alive, but then that had never been a guarantee in their line of work. Neither of them had ever held any illusions about the dangers of their mission, but their faith had always given them the strength to do what needed to be done.

Looking at Connor now, he could see the weariness in his eyes and he could practically feel the heaviness bearing down on his brother's soul. Murphy knew that, despite his reassurances, Connor was still shouldering the blame for the events that had taken place that night. He desperately wished he could relieve his twin of the guilt that didn't belong to him.

Giving his brother's shoulder a squeeze, Murphy ducked his head to look into his eyes. "You just need to keep trusting that it will work out, Connor. Have faith."

Connor nodded and opened his mouth to respond but the sound of gunfire cut him off. Turning wide eyes back in the direction they had just come from, he cursed under his breath before glancing back at Murphy. "Maybe they found him. Fuck, we've got to go back." Without waiting for a response he began hurrying toward the origin of the shot.

"Connor, wait," Murphy grabbed his brother by the back of the shirt, "you can't just go charging back. We need to stick to the plan!"

Connor paused for a moment before the sound of two more gunshots propelled him forward again.

Murphy winced at the pull on his ribs as he gripped tighter, attempting to restrain his brother. "Christ, Connor, would you stop for a second!"

The pain in his brother's voice made pull up short and turn back. "We can't just leave him, Murph," he gestured angrily down the hall. "They'll kill 'em!"

Once Connor turned back to face him, Murphy released his hold and, resting his shoulder against the wall, he held up a hand. "This could be a part of his distraction." The shots were being fired rapidly now and he put a hand up to his ear. "You hear that? That is return fire. Those shots are from a rifle." He listened again. "And that's Edwards' glock. He's shooting back, which means he is still alive, holding them off. If this is part of his plan and we go back, we lose our chance to make this thing work."

Connor nodded slowly as he listened. "Fine. Let's hope the kid knows what the fuck he's doing." Putting his arm around Murphy, he shouldered some of his brother's weight. "Come on, we've wasted too much time, we need to move quickly."

Murphy muffled a groan as his brother hurried them down the hall but didn't protest the help. Making the next right hand turn, they spotted the doors to the visitation area down at the end of the hall and Connor urged his twin on as quickly as he dared.

"We need to turn here." Murphy panted quietly, stopping them just before the next right hand turn.

Connor released his brother, leaving him to rest against the wall while he peeked cautiously around the corner. After taking a quick look, he leaned back next to Murphy and let his head fall back against the thick concrete.

"I can see the door to the kitchen. It's about twenty yards down the hall, but…" Taking a deep breath, Connor squeezed his eyes shut as his own injuries began to take their toll. His head was pounding so hard that he was beginning to see sparks fly in his vision. The dizziness and nausea that had been plaguing him for the last hour had been steadily growing worse, suggesting he had taken one too many hits to the head tonight.

"But, what? What's the problem, Connor?"

Murphy's voice broke through to him and he opened his eyes, shaking off the weariness that was beginning to take hold. "They have someone posted up at the door. I only see one man, but he's armed. We have to figure out how to take him out without us, or him, firing our weapons and sending out a giant 'here we are' to Maddox."

Murphy nodded thoughtfully before flashing his brother a mischievous, half-grin that Connor recognized all too well from their childhood years.

"Murph?" he questioned warily as, subconsciously, he began preparing himself for one of Murphy's ill conceived, impulsive, pathetic excuses for a plan.

True to form, Murphy pushed himself off the wall and without warning, stepped out from behind the corner and yelled out to the man guarding the door down the hall.

"Come and get me, motherfucker!"

Connor's eyes widened in shock. Grabbing his twin by the arm, he pulled him back behind the wall. "What the fuck are you doing, Murph!? Have ya fucking lost it!? He could've blown your fucking brains out!"

Once he was back behind the safety of the corner, Murphy resumed his position, leaning up against the wall for support. Shaking his head, he chuckled at his brother's response.

"Whatever, he hardly had time to recognize who I was, let alone get off a well aimed shot. Now, if he's dumb enough, he'll try and chase us down. Once he comes around the corner we can disarm him and take him out before he fires a shot."

Connor smacked his brother lightly upside the head. "That's fucking retarded, Murphy! You know, there's a reason why I make the plans, not you. And by the way, the point of having a fucking plan is to actually work shit out first. That's why it's called a fucking plan! You don't just grab hold of the first spontaneous idea that pops into that ridiculous head of yours and act on it without discussing it with anyone else!"

"Fuck you, Connor, this is going to work. Now calm the fuck down, stop your whining and be ready for him."

Connor did as he was told but he still mumbled something about bein' fuckin' professional for once combined with a few more quiet curses.

Murphy shook his head and grinned as his brother continued to rant under his breath but after a few moments they both turned serious as they focused on what was coming.

Connor could hear the quiet, tentative footsteps of the man around the corner and he nodded to his twin. It was working.

Holding his breath he was suddenly painfully aware of just how loud the wheezing in Murphy's chest was and the sound of it made him cringe. Surely the other inmate would hear it and know that they were waiting for him, right? Connor was just about to give up on the plan when the tip of a rifle peeked around the corner. Tapping Murphy on the shoulder, he used his fingers to count silently to three. After raising his third finger he lunged from his spot, grabbing the barrel of the gun, and yanking the convict around the corner.

Connor's other hand went instantly to the inmate's wrist as he attempted to gain control of the weapon before he could fire off a shot. The struggle was intense for a few moments before he managed to slam the prisoner back up against the wall. Getting ahold of his trigger finger, Connor bent it backwards with a sickening snap.

The inmate let loose an enraged growl and dropped the rifle to the ground before charging at Connor, bringing them both hard to the ground.

Stepping quickly around the corner, Murphy brought the butt of his handgun down across the back of the man's skull and he went limp, crushing Connor beneath his weight.

"Ow, fuck! Fucking get 'im off me, Murph."

Murphy heard his brother grunt in pain and kneeled to help pull the unconscious man off of him. Once Connor was free, Murphy sank back down to his knees and clutched his burning ribs as he tried to catch his breath.

"Fucking took you long enough. I thought maybe you decided to take a nap or something." Connor teased lightly as he moved to help his brother to his feet.

"Fuck… you…" Murphy managed to get out between panted breaths.

Connor took note of his twin's sweat soaked hair and trembling hands but did his best to hide his concern as he reached a hand down, offering him help up. "Come on, we're almost there."

Murphy accepted the hand and rose slowly to his feet, ignoring the dizziness that threatened to knock him back down again. Together the brothers hobbled down toward the now unguarded kitchen door. Once they reached it, Connor pulled it open slowly and stuck his head in. He listened for a moment before opening it wider and motioning Murphy in ahead of him.

The cooking area was dark and quiet with no sign of any inmates lurking about and they proceeded silently, guns drawn. Light from the cafeteria was shining through the serving buffet and the sound of angry shouting reached their ears. Connor and Murphy exchanged glances as they recognized Maddox's voice and Connor crept forward, motioning for his twin to follow. They snuck in just behind the buffet counter and Connor held up his hand, indicating that this was where they would make their stand.

Murphy nodded and together they rose up just enough to peek over the top of the counter. Whatever distraction that Edwards used must have worked because there were only seven inmates milling about the cafeteria, excluding Maddox, who sat hunched over in a chair, his injured leg propped up on a table.

Both brothers let their gaze rest on Maddox for a moment before making eye contact with each other once more. In a silent agreement they both raised their weapons simultaneously and took aim at the man who had put them through this hell. Their fingers tensed on their triggers, preparing to finish the convict off when the cafeteria doors burst open and a small group of five inmates came charging through.

"Maddox!" one of them yelled out. "We found someone."

Connor and Murphy tensed and exchanged glances.

"Is it one of them?" Maddox questioned harshly.

The other inmate hesitated briefly. "Uh, no, not exactly. But we think you will be just as happy with this one."

The group parted and the form of a man was shoved forward roughly, landing him on the ground at Maddox's feet.

Connor instantly recognized the young guard on the floor and his heart sank. "Fuck, Murph. They've got him."

Chapter revised 10/20/17