Free The Night of the Mosquito by Max China

Kotlas, applying more pressure, rendered him helpless. His left hand reaching over the immobilized inmate, he plucked the weapon from Fisher and dropped it. Fluid, without relinquishing the controlling hold, he sidestepped, kicked the back of Fisher’s knee, and took him down.
    Edwards, red-faced with exertion, his feet skidding backwards inch by inch, lowered his stance, struggling for purchase. He glanced at Kotlas, unmasked desperation in his eyes. ‘Leave him,’ he shouted. ‘Get back upstairs. Save yourself!’
    Kotlas didn’t speak. His expression was grim; both hands clamped around those of his prisoner, his fingers knotted and tightening, applying tendon-tearing force to ensure continued compliance. He had no need for words as he steered Fisher, who, cursing and growling, could do nothing but follow meekly where he was led.
    Now only two feet from his objective, Kotlas jerked him closer to the door. Brody wedged his arm and shoulder into the growing gap, forcing them through.
    Drained by his efforts, and with sweat pouring down his face, Edwards avoided eye contact with the young doctor. ‘Go,’ he said, through gritted teeth. ‘I can’t hold on any longer—’
    Kotlas responded swiftly. Fisher’s hands yanked up; he released his grip. The free end of the cuff struck Brody’s exposed arm. For an awful moment, the doctor thought the serrated teeth of the steel ring wouldn’t catch.
    Brody roared outrage.
    Edwards released the door, scrambling clear.
    The sudden action caught the giant unaware. He hurtled forwards, the other two inmates stumbled in close behind. Brody took several steps before regaining his balance.
    Kotlas weighed the odds. The guard was exhausted and vulnerable. He doubted he could make it to the door in time and secure it behind them.
    Brody stood erect, puffed out his barrel chest, and looked in disgust at the metal bracelet linking him to the trouserless Fisher. His tattooed face quivered with rage. ‘Get this piece of shit away from me. Right now. Unlock these,’ he snarled, jerking the cuffs, ‘or I’ll tear his fuckin’ arm off.’
    ‘Wait, wait,’ Fisher begged, cringing. ‘The key’s over there, on the floor by the table.’
    Brody scowled at the blood-soaked body of the naked Frenchwoman. ‘Did you do that? You sick fuck.’
    ‘I swear it wasn’t me,’ Fisher whimpered. ‘It was the others.’
    ‘And you just watched?’
    ‘They made me do it; I had no choice—’
    ‘That why you got no trousers on, is it?’ Brody spat, jerking the cuffs with such force, he swung Fisher off his feet. Oblivious to his own pain, the Goliath snapped back on the links coupling them together. Fisher’s shoulder popped. ‘Fuck,’ he cried, sprawling to the ground. ‘Why would you do that? Aren’t I the one who let you out?’ Breathing heavily, he struggled to his knees and wheedled, ‘The others didn’t want to—’
    Brody, placing a foot on his chest, slammed him to the floor.
    His calves trapped beneath him, Fisher could do nothing as his fellow inmate twisted and wrenched, pulling his arm upwards. The veins in his neck standing out, his eyes wide with terror, he screamed, ‘Don’t! Please, Brody, don’t.’
    In awe of the hulking brute’s strength, no one did a thing to help his victim. ‘Go on, Brody,’ one of his companions yelled, ‘pull that fucker off.’
    Sinew tore like rotting fabric. Fisher writhed from side to side trying to hook Brody with a leg; his eyes bulged with horror while pain screwed his features. ‘Not my arm’’ he sobbed. ‘No. Please, they made me do it. I’m sorry.’
    A bloodcurdling scream pierced the room.
    The harrowing sound pinned everyone in place. It hadn’t come from Fisher. Kotlas swivelled in the direction of the table-tennis table. ‘Fleur’s alive,’ he bellowed.
    ‘Now we’ll find out who did what to who,’ Brody growled. ‘We’ll ask her.’ He dragged Fisher over to the violated woman. His voice almost tender,