"Escape from the end of the World" part 2 for ~ The Short Affair

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Challenge: The Short Affair

Prompt 1: tattoo

Prompt 2: pale yellow

Title: Escape from the End of the world part 2

Author: mrua7

Word Count: Aprrox 1000

Link to: Part 1

Napoleon was in the common yard, sauntering about as he continued to observe the guards and test the blind spot near the gate. So far everything looked good for their explosive exit.

When brought to the prison they’d been stripped of everything but their boots, thank goodness as that gave them the one tactical advantage they needed in order to escape.

Inside the heels of their boots were hidden explosive putty and wrapped within their laces, fuses. There was enough compound create a diversionary explosion at one end of the yard while there was a second explosion to blow the gate.  The more chaos they were able to create, the better their chance they and more prisoners could escape.

Unfortunately Napoleon and Illya couldn’t tell anyone but the good doctor about the plan as loose lips sink ships; no doubt there were snitches among the general population who’d turn them in for a packet of cigarettes or a few special privileges.

“Senhor, senhor!” One of the inmates came running up to Solo. “Your amigo, the blond one, he is in trouble come quick!”

Napoleon’s eyes went wide, his heart pounded as he ran after the man to the other side of the yard, and there he suddenly found himself surrounded.

One of the larger men with a tattoo of a snake on his immense bicep had Illya, holding him by the hair with one hand, while pressing a chiv with the other hand against the Russian’s cheek, already drawing a trickle of blood.

“Napoleon it is a trap!” The Russian shouted but found his mouth suddenly covered with a hand to silence him. Kuryakin’s eyes were wild with frustration as he was unable act; the knife had been moved to his throat.

It was too late as Rodrigo, the one who organized these fights, stepped forward. “It’s time to put your money where your mouth is big shot gringo. Now you fight.”

The oily-haired man smiled, showing his jagged pale yellow teeth in a feral grin. His stance exuded pure bravado as he was the alpha-male among the wolves, while the political prsioners were the sheep, and at his mercy.

“Sorry,” Napoleon glibly commented,”but I don’t get a paid until the end of the month.”

Rodrigo laughed hard, and that gave Solo his opportunity to charge at the man, driving his shoulder into his torso and sending him to the ground.

Napoleon knew he had to fight fast and dirty, and he dropped down, straddling Rodrigo with his legs, wildly punching him...left right, left right, pounding him again and again.

The American was unaware another inmate had stepped up behind him, raising a wooden club..

Illya had to do something, and in desperation he let his body go limp, pretending to faint. The move took his captor off guard and he loosened his grip, thinking to let the Russian drop.

Unexpectedly, Kuryakin spun, grabbing the chiv and slashing down the man’s face with it, deliberately avoiding cutting the artery in his neck.

In one quick move Illya turned,  throwing the knife, though it was poorly balanced; he hoped it would hit his target.  It landed in the shoulder of Napoleon’s would be attacker, taking him down.

Solo ceased his swinging and dove, scrambling to extract the chiv, and he stood, half crouching and ready to pounce. Illya stood at his back covering  his partner for the next attack.

No one moved.

“All right, it’s over," Napoleon finally shouted.”Go back about your business.”

“Nothing here to see!” Illya barked, rubbing his head where his hair had been pulled.

Together they backed off as the crowd dispersed.

“We can no longer wait Napoleon, the next attempt on our lives may not turn out as well.”

“Agreed. We go tomorrow morning after breakfast.”

The next day just before dawn Napoleon and Illya sat with the doctor at the roughly hewn tables, slowly eating their watery gruel. They carried nothing with them, except the chiv.

Bloom always kept a canvas pouch slung over his shoulder as his medical bag, used to visit prisoners who were ill, confined to their bunks. It was stuffed to capacity with every herb and concoction he’d made, each wrapped carefully in bits of cloth.

Illya lifted his wooden bowl to his lips, swallowing the last bit of food.

“Zhenya,” he whispered the doctor’s diminutive, speaking Russian.”My idem posle zavtraka. Bud'te ryadom s Napoleon.”

“We go now?” The doctor’s eyes opened wide.

“Yes,” Illya repeated his instructions in English this time,”Stay with Napoleon.”

“You give your word others go too?”

Again the Russian nodded. That was the truth only in that those who could escape would be the ones who had the wherewithal to run once the gate had been blown. There were no guarantees, but Illya wasn’t going to tell Evgeny that tidbit.

They rose from the table, carrying their bowls with them, but left them on the ground outside once they entered the yard. It was still fairly empty, too empty for the diversion to do any good and so they waited until more of the prisoners arrived.

Once the yard was finally packed, the men began playing their games of chess, and cards. Soon the fights broke out, drawing the attention of the guards as a source of entertainment.

Illya, still carrying the chiv with him, moved cautiously to the far end of the yard. He knelt against the wall, being ignored as another fight had broken out nearby.  Quickly applying the explosive compound, he stuck in a short fuse, lit lit it and moved away, but not running. He couldn’t draw attention to himself.

Napoleon and Bloom had positioned themselves by the gate, and as soon as Solo saw his partner rise, he lit his own fuse and ducked to the side, protecting the doctor.

The explosion at the far end of the yard echoed against the walls with a loud bloom, sending the guards down along the wall to investigate.  Seconds later the gate blew, sending the doors flying.

Napoleon grabbed the doctor by the arm, pulling him through the opening.

“But the other prisoners...” Bloom protested.

“Are on their own Doc, now let’s go!”


Continue to Part 3