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Post by Idris on May 17, 2009 22:32:31 GMT
The man looked in horror at the sight coming towards him, for a moment seeming uncertain whether to run or attack. That moment of indecision was his undoing. The next second he was hurled to the ground by Don and his grisly cargo.
He was quick to scramble to his feet though. Not attempting to strike out at Don for fear of hitting the big man, he scuttled down the corridor after the prisoner with the keys. Don kicked out at him as he did so but he nimbly avoided it.
Smith charged after him, truncheon raised, but again the man dodged away by a hair’s breadth. His companion was not so lucky for as he dashed ahead, Smith caught him a glancing blow on the shoulder. He staggered forward to the end of the corridor and began unlocking the door of the last cell.
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Post by sleepingdragon on May 18, 2009 23:06:01 GMT
Don quickly dropped the big man's body and charged forward, lashing out with a kick at the prisoner with the cleaver, but his foot went whistling wide.
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Post by Idris on May 19, 2009 13:57:22 GMT
“Keep your bleeding nerve Ridley!” the other man shouted, busy with the keys.
His eyes flickering between Don and Smith, the prisoner with the cleaver suddenly launched an attack on the warder. With a determination born of despair he thrust aside Smith’s defences and the weapon buried itself deep in the warder’s shoulder. Blood poured from the wound, but Don estimated that it had not struck an artery.
Gory and ghastly, Smith lashed out with the last of his strength. The truncheon connected with an audible crack as it struck the prisoner’s temple. The man fell as if pole-axed.
“Get that bastard!” Smith told Don, pointing feebly at the other prisoner. At that moment the key turned in the lock and the door swung open. The prisoner stepped through it.
“You’re the one they sent then?” a voice said from the cell. Don could not see the man who spoke.
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Post by sleepingdragon on May 19, 2009 16:51:08 GMT
"Come with me. I'll grab the keys, you lock the door," Don said quickly to Smith.
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Post by Idris on May 19, 2009 18:32:25 GMT
“Lock him in?” Smith barked a harsh laugh. “He’s in there to commit murder!”
With a groan the warder pressed forward to the doorway. Don heard a struggle and suddenly Smith was falling back into the corridor, blood pumping from a narrow wound in his throat.
“Come on then you coward,” the voice of the unseen man in the cell was filled with cold anger. “Follow your orders.”
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Post by sleepingdragon on May 19, 2009 18:54:50 GMT
Don moved alongside Warder Smith, mind suddenly shifting as he realised he'd misread the situation. What was going on - gang fighting? As his mind worked Smith was suddenly downed by a thrust of a knife from the door.
Without thinking any further Don sprang into the doorway. He had enough time to register the knife-man and his victim-to-be on the other side before he lashed out with a thunderous punch.
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Post by Idris on May 19, 2009 19:36:22 GMT
For the first time Don saw the face of the knife-man, who was crouched in the doorway, a thin vicious blade in his hand. Don realised that this was the same ugly fellow who had threatened him in the chapel the previous day. There was a look of surprise in the man’s eyes as Don’s fist connected with his jaw, and then he flew backwards across the cell, landing with a dull thud against the wall.
“Thank you!” The man facing Don was a little older than himself, with dark curly hair and warm hazel eyes. He looked underfed and dirty, but he smiled at Don - somewhat crookedly, owing to a large bruise beside his mouth.
“I was banking on Smith having someone on his side. We need to see to him by the way, before he bleeds to death.” He moved quickly to the wounded warder’s side.
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Post by sleepingdragon on May 19, 2009 19:41:03 GMT
Don had already begun to kneel at Smith's side even before the man's words were out.
"If you know how to do this, help me. If not, don't get in my way," Don told the man bluntly, tearing strips from the knife-man's clothes and attempting to bind Smith's wounds. He hoped the training he'd received in the Army was still with him.
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Post by Idris on May 19, 2009 20:00:21 GMT
After some initial confusion the man was able to help Don staunch the worst of Smith’s bleeding. He leaned back with a sigh.
“We don’t have long – at any moment they will send a squad of warders in. My name is George Foxwell.” He wiped his hand on the rough prison trousers and held it out to Don.
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Post by sleepingdragon on May 19, 2009 20:35:14 GMT
"Donald McGregor," Don replied, shaking the man's hand. "What the hell is going on? They can send the warders in if they'd like, I've been released." Don went to examine the other downed men to see if any of them could be rescued.
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Post by Idris on May 20, 2009 21:55:01 GMT
Foxwell was surprised but hastened to join Don in dealing with the injured. The two warders who had been struck down first had suffered severe wounds, but between them they were able to stop the worst of the bleeding and make the unconscious men as comfortable as they could, laying them on the beds in the two empty cells.
As they worked, Foxwell spoke quickly. “You may be a free man but if the guards see us standing over their comrades’ bodies they will naturally assume the worst. They tend to punish a man first and prove his guilt afterwards."
His tone was urgent, low enough that the prisoners in the nearby cells – now silent and watchful – would not catch his words.
“This was organised for one purpose, Don. I am afraid my life is forfeit and collection of the debt merely postponed. The evidence I can give is too damning to certain people to allow me to reveal it in court. These men were ordered to prevent me from ever doing so.”
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Post by sleepingdragon on May 20, 2009 22:14:17 GMT
Don opened his mouth to argue Foxwell's point, but stopped. He could hardly deny that the guards here were in fact likely to attack first and ask questions second - it was very unfortunate that Smith had been knocked unconscious or he would be able to prevent that.
Don had no idea what to do. He had no reason to trust Foxwell or to help him escape, and if the information he had was as dangerous as he said then he was better off knowing none of it. Don stood up and went to collect the keys, to unlock his cell door and to delay having to make a decision for a few moments longer.
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Post by Idris on May 20, 2009 22:59:45 GMT
Don could hear the noise of shouting in the distance. Foxwell looked over his shoulder and then at Don.
“When you walk out of here a free man would you do something for me?” he asked suddenly. “I wrote everything down but they threw me in here before I could rescue my notes. When I realised how dangerous it was, I made sure they could not be found by the wrong people. Everything is in there – the factory and the fire, and the people behind it all. I wish I could tell you all about it but....Something must be done, and it’s to late for me. There’s at least one warder working for them, and sooner or later.....”
Foxwell’s voice shook but he controlled himself. “I have a sister – Juliana. I need you to find her, and tell her where to discover them. They won’t let her visit me, and really I’d rather not....but this is wasting time. Tell her I sent them to Saint Francis. She’ll know what that means.”
The shouting was dying down. Don thought he could make out warders calling out orders. Foxwell must have heard it too, but he kept his eyes fixed on Don's.
“I don’t know where she is staying, but Andrew Banford can tell you. He runs the People’s Voice, in Bow. Will you do this one thing for me? Just let her know, and then you can forget about it.”
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Post by sleepingdragon on May 21, 2009 12:48:08 GMT
Don thought for a moment, then nodded. "Alright," he said quietly. He would be going to live in Bow himself with Kev as soon as he was released - he would know where this People's Voice was.
Don finished unlocking the door to his cell and gathered up his few belongings. His letter to his father he put in his pocket, from which he plucked his release papers so he could show them to any warders who would be coming this way soon. Don headed back into the hallway and went to tend to the wounded Smith, thinking it less likely that any guards that came on the scene would attack him if they saw him assisting one of the wounded.
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Post by Idris on May 21, 2009 21:06:52 GMT
Foxwell seemed satisfied that Don would be true to his word and said no more. While Don tended to Smith, he went round making sure that their attackers were still alive but not likely to cause trouble. He suggested it would be best to leave them where they had fallen, so that the guards could see clearly what had happened.
Then he went into his own cell – Don glimpsed him through the open door, sitting on the edge of the bunk with his head in his hands. They did not have long to wait. A contingent of guards appeared outside the gate at the far end of the corridor and keys rattled.
At that moment Smith’s eyes fluttered open. He groaned and tried to sit up, but fell back.
“Did they...” he croaked. “Did they get him?”
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