The satisfying little clink and small clunk of the great big door to our cell opening sounded and Nico and I watched as the door slid open, surprisingly (and luckily) with little noise.
"Well? You wanna step out first?" I said to Nico. He had been here longer, suffered through this stupid ordeal longer than I had. Nico smirked, breathed in and then stepped out. Not too far out as to draw attention from any guards that might decide to pass by, and then just stood there, wiggling his toes on the cold concrete floor.
Well that was weird.
"Let's get a move on." Nico said suddenly, snapping out of his moment. I nodded and we turned, we were out of this yet.
Of course, though, things would not go our way (it's not like they ever did). Right when Nico and I were going to start sneaking pair of guards appeared at the end of the hallway and were now yelling into their walkie-talkies about prisoners. Although I swear at first they had been talking about enchiladas. Whatever.
"Er, yeah I think that's a good idea." I said. We ran like hellfire through brimstone.
"So?" Huff." How's," huff "your brilliant," huff "plan going so far?" I asked Nico while we were running. Surprisingly all he did was snort. Or at least try to, it was kind of hard while running for your life.
I saw an alcove coming up and pointed to it. Nico nodded and then we ran into it. The guards ran past a couple moments later, not even noticing that we were behind them now.
Nico had his hands on his knees and was breathing deeply, his face the color of a tomato, I was leaning against the wall and tried to figure out how to breathe again.
"Well that was," Cough "nice?" Nico said.
"Your," Cough "fault." I said.
(Put space line here)
After many (and I mean MANY) close encounters with guards, looking for us 'escapees', Nico and I found this dinky little office on the first floor. We looked behind our backs before ducking low into the office, and sat down with our backs against the wall under a window that looked out into the prison.
"That could have gone sooner." Nico said
I just huffed and looked around. We were in a cinderblock room but the blocks had been painted over with ugly beige paint, like they do in schools. There was a window that had wire in between the panes like they also do at schools. There was a desk parallel to the window that had a big Mac screen on the desktop. I pointed over to the desk and Nico nodded.
Nico and I crawled over to the desk and peered over through the window. We saw a group off guards jog by, probably looking for Nico and me.
"Well? Are you going to do it or not?" I asked. This part of his master plan was a bit tricky, and not to mention, probably a bit painful.
Nico grimaced for a second and nodded tensely. He got down on his knees and crawled across the office. I looked back out of the window for a second and then followed Nico, also crawling on the grimy , tiled floor. Man was the floor just gross! And it was kind of greasy feeling… sadly, after living in a cell for months, I was kind of used to it.
I'M SORRY! I very truly am. But this is just getting so dang hard to write! Every time I open up Word I just stare at it for a couple seconds, try to make my brain mush think of something to write, pound the desk in frustration when I can't seem type anything, close Word, then realize my hand hurts and leave to get an ice pack.
And, even though I reread the Percy Jackson book my ideas sprang into my head! Well, I did think of a couple of one-shots but I couldn't seem able to write those either! Maybe I'm having such a problem because I'm on a Pirates of the Caribbean run. Man how I love those movies…And Jack Sparrow (Johnny Depp)? Yeah, that's my Taylor Laughtner. *melts*