Free The Cage by Ethan Cross Page A

to squeeze back on the trigger.
    But he hesitated. Something didn’t seem quite right.
    Keeping the gun trained on the doorway, he let the shadow pass. After a few seconds, he swung into the hallway, flicked on his light, and took aim at the dark figure.
    “Don’t move!” he shouted.
    Within the beam of the flashlight, Jennifer cringed. She issued a surprised yelp and raised a pair of trembling hands.
    He quickly pointed the shotgun away. “Dammit, Jennifer! What are you doing down here?”
    “Banks told me what happened, so I came to help. I want to finish what I started.”
    He shook his head and cursed under his breath. “You’re not going to be satisfied until you get yourself or all of us killed, are you?”
    Her gaze met his, and the intensity that swirled within her emerald eyes made him take a step back. At first glance, he thought that he had never seen such a feral look in the eyes of another human being. But then he remembered the moment when Ackerman had been wheeled into the hospital.
    “I won’t be satisfied until Ackerman burns in hell.”
    The look in her eyes and the harsh timbre of her voice sent an odd rush of fear through his body. Not more than twenty-four hours ago, he had held this woman in his arms. He had dreamed of a life with her at his side. He had loved her, and he still did. But now, was he also somehow afraid of her?
    He pushed away the absurd sensation and said, “Fine. But you stay behind me and do exactly as I say.”
    She nodded, taking up a position at his back, and they continued on.

Ackerman could sense his prey almost upon him, and he was ready. He had prepared a simple trap for his jailers, simple and direct almost always being the best method of attack. A length of old wiring had pulled easily from the wall for use as a trip wire. Hidden beneath the water and lying against the floor, the snare was all but invisible. A hammer, likely left behind by one of the members of the work crew, served as his weapon. He had placed the .38 Special on a shelf to keep it dry and had opted for a more silent and brutal instrument for the assault.
    As the guard swung his shotgun and flashlight into the room and stepped over the threshold, Ackerman jerked the trip wire taut. The ring of illumination reflecting back upon the guard showed the fear on his pale, freckled face as he stumbled forward.
    The man caught himself before falling entirely into the water, but it was enough of a distraction for Ackerman to close the gap between them. Grabbing hold of the shotgun’s stock with his left hand, he directed the barrel of the weapon toward the ceiling and lashed out with the hammer.
    The blow struck the man on the side of the head, and likely out of pure reflex, the guard squeezed the trigger of the shotgun. The blast sprayed harmlessly into the ceiling.
    Ackerman followed up with two more quick and ruthless blows to the man’s head, and the guard fell back into the water, the shotgun slipping from his grasp and remaining in Ackerman’s hand.
    The more dangerous of the pair handled, Ackerman turned his attention to the man who had brought him to this hospital. “Dr. Kendrick, I really must thank you for your hospitality. If you and Jennifer hadn’t worked so hard to get me here, I’d still be rotting in a cell somewhere instead of having all this fun.”
    Kendrick stood in shock for a moment. His eyes darted back and forth between the guard floating in the water and the face of the killer, as if his mind couldn’t process what had transpired. Finally, it seemed as if his brain registered the danger he faced, and he backed away. The look in the doctor’s eyes and his cowering posture reminded Ackerman of a frightened animal shying away from a predator, and he supposed that was actually a fairly accurate assessment of the situation.
    “Please,” the doctor said in a high-pitched whim-per. The man’s hands stretched out before him, palms out. “Please, don’t hurt me. I want to help you.