Free Dead Cells - 01 by Adam Millard

on the inside. By the time an intruder managed to break in, they would have a size 22 shoe in their face. If they got as far as the bunk, Shane would be able to crack them across the head with something, perhaps Vonnegut ?
    With the gate sufficiently blocked, they stepped back and admired their work.
    'Guards see this,' Shane said, 'and they'll realise that we're not taking part in anything.'
    Billy nodded. 'Let's just hope it doesn't last as long as the one last year,' he said. 'We'll starve to death.'
    Shane laughed. 'We won't starve to death,' he said. 'I promise, if anyone's going to starve it'll be me first, and then you can just eat me.'
    'I wouldn't eat you,' Billy said.
    'No?'
    'Uh-huh. I've smelt your insides on lots of occasions. Don't think it would be a good idea to go carving about and letting those gases escape.'
    'Fuck you, Tonto!' Shane sniggered.
    They sat on the edge of the bed and waited for things to calm down.

    *

    The armoury had not been breached by any of the crazed prisoners, which shouldn't have come as a surprise to either Jenson or Michaelson as a set of keys were required, not to mention fingerprint identification, which was scanned by a machine on the wall. Jenson held his hand up to the machine, but it took three attempts because of how badly he was trembling. When the light finally turned green – ACCESS GRANTED – they both barged through the door at the same time.
    Inside, there were cages filled with guns. There were M-16s, standard military-issue rifles, there were a couple of Browning A-5 semi-automatic shotguns – Jenson immediately unlocked the cage which held these and grabbed one; he'd had plenty of training with it, and had decided that it was his favourite of all the guns he had fired.
    Michaelson was loading two Walther P99 pistols; if he was going into battle with something that wouldn't die easily, then he was going to do it in style. He fastened holsters to either side of his belt and slotted the pistols into them.
    'What the fuck are those things?' Jenson said, cocking his shotgun. 'I mean, that thing wasn't Dennis Hart out there.' He jabbed a conspiratorial finger towards the door. 'There was no way he could have survived that fall. No fucking way! That was forty feet, maybe even more !'
    'Keep your voice down,' Michaelson said as he concentrated on filling extra cartridges. 'Whatever it was, it wasn't deaf.'
    'Did you see what it did to Dean?' Jenson added, his face contorted with disgust. 'The way it tore at him like that?'
    'I saw it,' Michaelson said. He clipped two extra cartridges to his belt and began to browse the cages for more weaponry. 'I saw it, and I'll never forget it for as long as I live, but for now, I want to make sure that I live for as long as possible.' He unhooked some smoke grenades and fastened them to his belt, which was now looking more like US Army webbing.
    'I hear you, man,' Jenson said. 'Do you think somebody's called for backup?'
    It was a good question. The alarm had been deactivated, though, which meant that any outside cavalry, had it been despatched, would be returning to base assuming that everything had been resolved. That was the way it worked. The alarm system was linked up to Jackson Police, and the army base over at Fort Neill. If the alarm had gone on for much longer, there would have been no doubt a helicopter would have been despatched; maybe even a couple of armed response units. Trust fucking Charles Dean to send that maggot to shut the alarm down.
    Michaelson grimaced, then shook his head. 'We're on our own here, man,' he said. 'At least until we get to the radio.'
    The radio was in Charles Dean's office, an old UHF number that could reach the Jackson Police and Fort Neill with the push of a button. Its usage had, over the years, been limited to two occasions, one of which had been a riot, the other a trio of escapees.
    'We need to get up there and call for help,' Jenson said, brushing a hand through his hair, which was already