A Place Where There Is No Darkness

Two

I was lying on my bed, staring at the ceiling, blinking every thirty seconds.

Tick tock.

It had been five days and I was still lying on my bed, staring at the ceiling. What the hell was wrong with me? I should have been halfway into my plan by then, not still thinking about what I was going to do in the first place.

If nothing else, I’d come to a conclusion. I’d decided how I wanted to act. Which wasn’t too much of an accomplishment, seeing as there had only ever been two options to begin with.

First: ignore the man, stay in prison, don’t do anything and see what happens. But then Willy would probably die. So this option was ruled out the second it popped into my head.

The second one was to do exactly what they told me, break out, follow whatever command they gave me, be their puppet in everything I did or said and see what happens.

But then I’d have to return to my former life, a life where I’d been looking over my shoulder at every step and where I’d jumped whenever anyone tried to talk to me and where I couldn’t sleep or eat or live because of the terrible pictures I saw whenever my eyes were closed or open. Besides, after I did what they said, they probably wouldn’t let Willy go anyway. I was quite certain of this. If I knew anything about these guys – which was a big if –, it was that you couldn’t trust them with anything they said apart from whatever involved killing people. They were pretty good at killing people.

So option two was out too.

And for me, it was time to think outside the box.

It wasn’t long before I had the brilliant idea to use the police force to my advantage. Being surrounded by cops couldn’t be entirely a bad thing. After all, their mission was to serve and protect. The only question left was: Would they protect me, a criminal? Even more, would they protect someone I cared about?

It didn’t matter, though, because this was now my only option – no matter how many times I ran the different scenarios in my head, I wasn’t able to come up with another one. This was the best chance Willy and I had.

That’s why I had an appointment scheduled. In an hour.

It had taken a lot of persuasion and many a begging word to convince the chief of the prison to schedule a meeting. Additionally, I had to tell them exactly what had happened and assure them that helping me would also help them – egoistic bastards. Still, they hadn’t seemed convinced until I started to threaten them. I wasn’t quite sure what about that had worked – if the feisty words had actually hit a nerve or maybe just shown the officers that I was deadly serious about this.

At any rate, I got the meeting. And now I was waiting.

Fifty-five minutes to go.

Officer Droidner entered my cell loudly and I quickly sat up. He was one of the youngest. His semi-long hair was always dishevelled and his blue eyes glowing and while he wasn’t particularly handsome, there was a certain charm about him. Unfortunately, he was gifted with a hot temper and the tendency to think he was the best and brightest in the room. But, ironically – maybe because of his youth and inexperience –, he never talked to prisoner as if they were scum; he always dignified our questions with an answer and didn’t look at us with distaste, as some other officers had the habit of doing. All he did was enforce his power whenever he got the chance, telling us to hurry up, to calm down or to move faster.

“Come with me,” he now muttered curtly, lifting the cuffs and nodding subtly in their direction.

I didn’t move. I sat on the bed and looked at him curiously. “Where are we going?”

“You have a meeting.”

“But I still have fifty-four minutes and forty-five seconds left,” I whined, annoyed by their inaccuracy.

“No, you don’t. The sheriff is here now and he doesn’t like to be left waiting. Besides, it’s not like you have much to do anyway.”

That was true. But still, I was irritated and the meeting hadn’t even started yet. That wasn’t a good foundation for a healthy discussion, as I was well aware.

Droidner put on my cuffs and then led me to a room on the other side of the prison building.

The meeting room looked cosy enough, with a table, two chairs and a sofa in the background. The walls were painted a dull white and a bare light bulb hung from the ceiling.

There were two men in the room, an old one with silver hair I recognised as the sheriff and a really young one with dark skin and dark eyes that seemed to see right through me.

“Take off the cuffs,” the old one demanded.

“But, sir –“

“Take them off.” His voice was so full of authority that I couldn’t imagine anyone resisting the command. Sure enough, the pressure around my wrists disappeared and I rubbed them, relieved. Come to think of it, this was probably the first time in three years my hands were free while I wasn’t in my cell or eating lunch. It was refreshing.

When Droidner was done, the sheriff nodded at him. “You can go now.”

The officer didn’t dare to even try to contradict him again; he just quietly hurried out of the room. Poor Droidner. This would probably leave a huge scar on his ego.

“Sit,” the sheriff instructed once we were alone but for a single camera in the right corner of the room, directed at my face and without a doubt filming continually. I glanced at it before moving to do as I’d been told.

“Who’s that?” I asked, bobbing my head in the direction of the super young guy standing next to the far wall.

“That’s an interesting question to start a conversation with,” the sheriff commented.

I shrugged. “I like to know who I’m dealing with … Well?”

“This is Mitchell. He’s from the FBI.”

I looked at him suspiciously. “So his name isn’t really Mitchell.” It was a statement, not a question, but the sheriff obviously still felt the need to answer.

“Knowing the FBI, probably not.”

“He seems awfully young for the FBI, doesn’t he?” I commented wittily.

“I’m twenty-one,” the deep voice I had planned on provoking from the start chimed in and I supressed a satisfied smile. The way people talked could tell you more about them than almost anything else. You could know how confident they were, how educated, how handy with words, if they were romantics or rather of the practical sort. The guy stepped forward, taking on a challenging stance. “Do you have a problem with that?”

Irritable, then.

“No, not at all. I was just wondering.”

“Then stop.”

“Of course.”

The sheriff cleared his throat and sat on the only remaining stool in the room. The guy stood around for a few more second, his hands clenched into fists, but then seemed to relax a bit and plopped down onto the couch.

“So, let’s get to it.” The sheriff tried to smile encouragingly but failed pretty miserably. Regardless, I smiled back and gave him points for trying.

“You already know the story,” I stated simply.

“Yes, and I’m not impressed. Not yet. If you want me to help you, you’re gonna have to give me more than that. Threats made by a mysterious man. Ordering you to break out of prison. Not a lot I can do with that.”

“But … that’s all there is,” I tried.

He shook his head. “Sorry. Can’t do it. Don’t have the recourses.” He was already getting up, as if he were intending to leave. I knew that it was probably just an act, a basic scheme right out of the book, but I panicked. This was all the hope Willy and I had.

“Okay, okay,” I gave in, frantically gesturing for him to sit back down. He did and I released a relieved sigh. “I’ll tell you more.”

“Please do.”

I looked from sheriff to agent and back, settling on the older man again. “There’s this criminal organisation that has my brother,” I started warily.

“I already know that,” he insisted. “What are they called?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“You have to.”

“You won’t believe me,” I barked, frustrated. This was my last resort, the last boulder for me to hide behind. Take that and I am bare.

“The name!”

“Fine.” I took a deep breath, trying to calm my racing thoughts. “The Elite.”

The sheriff was pretty good at hiding his emotions. But for an instant, when I said the two words, one of his eyes twitched. It was a minimal movement; no one who wasn’t staring him directly in the face and concentrating solely on his features would have caught it, but I did and now I at least knew how to read him.

“You’re lying.”

“I said you wouldn’t believe me,” I sighed.

“How would you know about them?”

“Because they have my brother!” I exclaimed, slowly losing my grip on my rage.

He shook his head. “That’s not all. They wouldn’t have told you the name of their organisation just because they have your brother. There’s more. What is it?”

I hesitated. “Is this on record?” I queried quietly.

“Just tell me.”

“Fine.” I puffed loudly and crossed my arms in front of my chest. “If you really want to know – I worked for them.”

There was a deep, palpable silence in the room after that. I saw a mental picture of the younger guy, his mouth hanging open and his gaze fixed on me, but all of my attention was focused on the man in front of me. He was inspecting me, his eyes, as I knew, searching for any hint indicating that I was lying, but never finding one. Not on my face, not on my body. There were no sweat pearls on my brow, no twitches that would prove any untruth having been spoken, no suspicious eye movement, nothing.

It took exactly fifty seconds for him to find his bearings again and clear his throat. “Surely they wouldn’t take in a mere girl.”

“No, they wouldn’t,” I agreed, grinning wickedly and enjoying the moment fully, knowing that the tables had turned. I was now the one in control. It wouldn’t last long, maybe a minute or two, then the sheriff would once more remember who he was and who I was, but it was enough. It was a small victory.

The man looked so confused that I all but rolled my eyes. “I’m not a mere girl,” I clarified. “I can do things you could never even imagine.”

“Oh, I can imagine,” he refuted, washing a hand down his face. “You’ve killed two people.”

I neither confirmed nor denied that allegation. I had never done either, not during the arrest, not at court, not ever since.

He took my silence as an affirmation. “Someone who can kill innocent people can do anything, wouldn’t you say?”

“Probably,” I agreed vaguely.

“But why,” he repeated, shaking his head again, as if unsure how to understand all of this. “Why would they take you?”

I shrugged. “Is it important? Will you help me or not?”

“I’m not sure,” he said. “We can’t risk getting involved with these people without having a real plan to shut them down. One that would work.”

“But there’s a life at stake!” I exploded, jumping up and gesturing wildly through the air. “They have my brother, or have you forgotten that?”

“Maybe. Or maybe they’re just saying they have him.”

“I’m not willing to bet his life on that!”

“Well, luckily it’s not up to you,” the sheriff concluded calmly and pointed to my abandoned chair. “Now sit and let’s talk.”

“We’ve already tried that and it’s clearly not working.”

“I just – I can’t just do whatever I want, you know. I have to do what’s best for my team. And for this country.”

“Protect and serve, right?” I mocked sarcastically.

“Yes. But we have to protect the majority. We can’t put the life of one above the lives of many, do you understand that?”

I thought about that, desperate. “There’s no way for me to win this, is there?” I droned venomously.

“Not unless you give me a good reason for helping you.”

I nodded slowly and then covered my face with my hands. This was no time for fury. I could fume later. For now I needed a clear mind and a sharp focus.

“How about …” I muttered. “How about –“

And then there it was. The answer. It was so simple and so ingenious that I pondered how it was possible that I hadn’t thought of it sooner.

“How about if I help you secure this prison?”

He looked taken aback, for the third time in the last fifteen minutes and ten seconds. It was only for two seconds, though. Then, his brow scrunched up.

“Now you’re just making things up, girl. Nobody appreciates that. This prison is completely secure.”

“No, it isn’t. I could break out as easily as I’m talking to you right now.”

“Oh, really? And why haven’t you?”

I could hardly hold back a witty remark, but I did, for Willy’s sake and mine. “My brother,” I reminded, underlining every syllable as if talking to a child. Which still probably wasn’t the smartest move, but it was the best I could do at the moment.

He didn’t seem to understand completely, but he apparently understood enough. “Okay, and if this prison is as unsafe as you say, why hasn’t anyone else ever escaped? Do you actually think you’re smarter than the other criminals here?”

“Well, yes. Not all of them, by any means, some people in here are actual geniuses. But I think I’m smarter than most. And so are you. And so is he, probably.” I nodded in the direction of the young guy – Mitchell? – who was listening intently while also trying not to seem too interested. I could see right through him, though.

“Besides, the ones who are able to escape – which are still a lot of us – don’t have the will or the energy to. You know, there’s a reason we’re in here. Normally, it isn’t pleasant. So why go face that reason when it’s so simple to hide in here? Believe it or not, prison isn’t the worst place in the world.”

The sheriff’s eyebrows were arched, almost touching the lonely silver strands falling onto his face.

“You’re sure you could escape?”

“I’m sure,” I nodded.

He thought about it for twenty-two seconds. I knew his brain was working overload, but his face didn’t give anything away. I decided to follow his example and hide my angst and nervousness behind a hard façade of determination and certainty.

“Prove it,” he barked then.

“And how exactly do you want me to do that?”

“Break out of prison.”

Now it was my turn to be surprised. And I was. More than that, even though I struggled to keep it off my face. Given my opponent, I had no way of knowing how successful I was.

“Excuse me?”

Mitchell jumped up and came to stand beside me. “I hate to say this, sir, but I’m with her.”

But the sheriff ignored us both. His eyes were gleaming, his face an expression of determination. “Yes. Yes, this is good,” he murmured, every word seemingly strengthening his resolve. “Break out. Prove to me that you aren’t full of s**t. Then you can help us secure this prison – if there is even anything to secure – and maybe we’ll help you in return.”

“No. No, no, this is not how it works.” My voice was hard and steady. This was ridiculous, crazy, but if it got me what I wanted, I was more than willing to go along. Also, it seemed to be getting less crazy and more like the miracle I’d been praying for by the second. A plan was starting to form, a simple but brilliant one that I should have thought of days ago. “But I do like your idea. After all, they’re expecting me to break out and it wouldn’t be at all stupid to make it seem like I’m playing by their rules. I have conditions, though. First off, there are no maybes in our deal. You have to state here and now, on record, that if I help you secure this prison, you will in turn help me get my brother back safe and sound. Say it.”

“You’ve obviously had experience with this before,” the sheriff joked, but I merely glared at him disapprovingly. “Okay, fine. If you help us secure the prison, I promise we will help you save your brother.”

“You won’t stop until my brother is safe or dead.” The last word was hard to get over my lips but I knew I had to do this. There was too much on the line here to be a p***y.

“Yes,” the sheriff agreed.

“Say it!”

And under my stern gaze, he did.

“Very well, then,” I concluded a bit calmer, knowing that I’d finally got what I wanted. That I’d finally won this fight, no matter how much it had cost me. “Be waiting in front of the main prison gate in exactly three days. It’s now four twenty-three p.m. so that’s precisely the time I’ll meet you there. Don’t be late.”

“Oh, believe me, I won’t.”

I smiled, relieved. This had gone better than first expected. “Great. You’ve got yourself a deal then.”

“No, I haven’t,” the sheriff disagreed one last time. It was as if he wasn’t able to go even a minute without doing it. “First, break out of prison. Then, we’ll talk about a deal.”

Now those were words I’d never thought I’d hear out of an officer’s mouth.

Least of all the sheriff’s.