Small drops fell between the cracks in the stones, forming a small puddle in the middle of the cell. Must have been raining outside.

  Deatt's body hurt all over from the thrashing, leaving him motionless on the cold stone slab that was made to resemble a bed. It was a poor attempt. The guards or whoever was in charge of making them obviously paid no attention while smoothing the top. Jagged pieces of stone pushed into his back, some managing to hit and pierce the exacts spots where he was beaten.

  Even in his pitiful state, Deatt regretted nothing. He would rather get another slashing, or die from an infection rather than rot here forever. The only downside was that Nido was in a different solitary confinement. Deatt would like to complain, maybe not for anything else, but he would find the strength for that. It just was not fun to complain alone.

  Devoid even of light, the cell presented no way to pass the time, and since he was practically locked to his 'bed', Deatt had nothing but his own pain to turn to.

  It was hard to pay attention required to count the slashings when he was receiving them, but now with nothing but time on his hands, he tried to count all the different ways his back hurt.

  He arrived at the number fifteen when he was done. That was five more slashings than the guard had been ordered to give to him. The bastard must have enjoyed it too much to stay his hand.

  Deatt just hoped that Nido had better luck than him. He was sceptical about it, with the hate for mutts that seemed to be prevelant even more than other ways of being an asshole here. Hopefully his thick green skin would help him through the lashings at least as much as it helped to get them.

  That marked the third escape attempt and coincidentally the third time they had failed. It was desperate, Deatt had to admit. Aside from the fact that he had failed to pick the last iron doors spectacularly - his stone 'tools' broke almost instantly - the whole plan was rubbish. Running out and forcing their way through the guard hall might have worked with Nido pushing the front, but only for a while. Even Nido was bound by physics at some point. Plus, there was the crate that the guards were hauling somewhere, effectively blocking their entire escape route.

  It would be better to stay still and serve the sentence, but life behind bars was exactly what Deatt despised the most. His legs were itching for movement, his hands twitching from their non-use and his mind deteriorating from the confined grey space.

  The escape attempts might have come with lashings and incredible pain, but they did relieve the great pressure on his mind, if only a little and for a short while.

  So there he was, lying for hours with naught but slowly creeping frustration on his mind. If only he had not butchered their previous job, they might not have ended up here. He might have been fed misinformation, but ultimately, it was his decision to go for the run.

  Summoning last remnants of his strength, Deatt turned on his side, so the wounds would have more opportunity to heal. After that he closed his eyes and willed himself to sleep.

  He had only a few days in the hole, but he was already fully convinced of their effectiveness. The constant absence of light sounds and any other fruit for the senses made the stay not only utterly boring, but almost insanity inducing. When all you can hear is the beat of your own heart, or water dropping, where the rhythms of the sounds were in such disharmony that you almost thought it was on purpose, it could break you.

  Still, all Deatt thought about was how well Nido would make it. He was no dimwit, but these cells would break anyone sooner or later. Deatt included. He was just the 'later' kind.

  So when the doors in the hall opened and light came pouring into the corridor between the cells, a well of unexpected joy swelled up inside of Deatt.

  He waited for the guard to come in anticipation. It was the day he would be brought back to normal cells after all. It was like a holiday.

  But the rhythmic clapping of iron-capped boots never came. Instead, he heard indistinguishable sounds coming from deep behind the doors. It was too chaotic to make sense of. But Deatt's best guess, was that the guards were drinking, which would explain why they forgot about him.

  His hope shattered at the thought and the joy of leaving for better lodging had bittered-down to a warm anger. In his frustration, Deatt walked around the narrow room, pushing, kicking and punching at the rocks. His knuckles and feet cried at the pain and Deatt focused on it. It was the only thing that could take his mind off of the sour disappointment of his situation.

  Remember, when you don't know what to do. Just do something. Anything.

  That was what he was taught, but the motto did feel much better under the open skies, opposed to mossy stone bricks.

  With another kick, Deatt loosened a stone from the wall. The give made Deatt believe that he might pull out the whole stone, but he could only move it slightly to the sides, the only part he dislodged was a hand-sized stone. Another joke from the universe at his expense.

  During his bout of frustration, that he definitely would not call a manic episode, the guards must have stopped drinking, since the hole was filled with eerie silence once again.

  But even the silence could not stay still in the hole. Slowly but surely, uneven sound of walking came from behind the door. The closer the sound got, the weirder it seemed to Deatt.

  All guards had the same boots. Leather made with an iron heel and a tip for better coverage, though they were mostly used for more damage when kicking. So they made a metallic clunk with every step, announcing the guard before they rounded the corner.

  But instead of regular intervals, the sounds seemed to come at random. The guard must have been drunk to his mind, which meant two things. First, that he was not coming to let Deatt out, second that he was probably coming to do something to Deatt, or to at least make fun of him. So Deatt quickly moved to his bed and sat down, hiding the small rock in his hand.

  It took a while for the man to arrive at the passage and he stood behind the semi-opened door for at least five minutes. By that time, Deatt gone through numerous ideas as to what could await him once the guard arrived. It ranged from a mild spanking to a full on brutal murder by that point.

  The stalemate of the standing guard and sitting Deatt unnerved him. Enough for him to completely forget about the sense of boredom. Maybe even enough for him to wish the boredom came back. The invisible pressure was too much and Deatt had to break it somehow.

  "Hello?" he asked, trying to sound angry and dangerous while he nervously sat on the stone bed.

  Suddenly the doors flew open, the sound of them hitting the wall and breaking out of the hinges reverberating throughout the hole.

  "I...want...!" a raspy voice slowly pronounced, followed by a short gurgling.

  Deatt would have completed the sentence any other day, filling the blank end with a joke on the guards expense, but he decided that if the guard was drunk enough to not only walk like he did, but also sound like he did, it was better to act timid.

  "I know...I want..." The guard continued making pauses after almost every word, spitting around and gurgling on something. It was probably bile, making the encounter not only unnerving, but also quite disgusting, even if Deatt smelt nothing except the usual damp surroundings and himself. Still, as a precaution he held his breath.

  The guard slowly came into view for Deatt and he could only widen his eyes. The guard was absolutely covered in blood. He was hunched over, slowly dragging one of his legs behind him, probably since it was broken. He held a bent iron baton in his hands, that had something protruding out of it. Something Deatt would swear looked like a couple of teeth.

  The guard stopped in front of his cell, looking with empty eyes further into the hallway.

  Deatt's lungs started to hurt as he forcefully kept the air inside. He felt...he knew that he did not want the attention of the guard. Not right now. There was something going on and he would rather avoid having any part it in. It would be way too easy for the guardsmen to throw accusations of murder at him. But if he stayed where he was, inside the cell, he could not have possibly done anything.

  Splash.

  A drop fell from the ceiling again, the sound breaking the silence around. The guard had not moved.

  Splash. Splash. Splash.

  Deatt watched the puddle, seeing it's color for the first time in days, the rays of light coming from the room on the left bouncing off of it's surface. It was brown.

  Splash. Splash. Splash.

  Somehow the flow of drops was getting quicker and the guard started twitching.

  Deatt looked at the puddle beneath him and watched, as the dark brown slowly, but surely, turned red.

  Then, came a final splash and the guard looked in his direction.

  Deatt's blood seemed to freeze and boil at the same time as he gazed at the bloodshot eyes that stared back. He was used to seeing people high on whatever substance they managed to obtain. He was used to dull eyes devoid of life, to eyes that filled with their irises, even to eyes that slowly lost their sparkle, as the life was sucked out of them.

  These eyes managed to be a combination that Deatt never saw before.

  The guard's eyes were severely bloodshot, the whites completely gone, the color must have been drained too, replaced by a piercing yellow, the iris covered with a bunch of red spots themselves.

  There was a lot you could assume based on the eyes of the person and it was a craft that Deatt had been perfecting his whole life.

  So it came as no surprise when the guard threw himself at the iron bars.

  "I...WANT!" He shouted as he struggled against the metal.

  Deatt could not help but stay frozen on the stone bed, even when the man continued swinging with his baton inside. The keys on the guards belt clang as they made contact with the bars again and again.

  The man was mindless. His eyes locked onto Deatt and blood came from his mouth as he continued ramming himself against the cell.

  Deatt woke from his stupor when he saw the iron bend. The man's body must have been turning into mush, but in that process he was successfully albeit slowly making his way inside.

  Deatt felt the rock in his hand and stood up. He would not like his chances had the man gotten inside, as he seemed to lack the sense to feel pain. Like a wild animal...no, like a demon the man wore down the only protection that Deatt had against him.

  Deatt slowly moved forward, careful not to get hit by the flying baton, or the other arm trying to grab him. Then he waited until the man decided to take a few steps back and run full speed into the iron again.

  The bars gave way and the man's body fell before him on the ground.

  Before he could move and start bashing him, Deatt held the rock and swung full force at the man's head.

  Once.

  He felt the skull of the man open in the back, but the guard still thrashed around. He caught Deatt's leg and tried to pull him to his teeth.

  Twice.

  Deatt felt the soft texture of the man's brain turn into a puddle, the squishing making him want to vomit. The guards grip loosened for a second, but Deatt could still feel force in the hand.

  Thrice.

  The guard went still. Deatt waited for an endless minute. Watching the body, waiting for a single twitch. It came and the rock went down another five times.

  The guard was dead. He had to be. What remained of his head joined the puddle in the middle of the room. Deatt's bile gave him no space to refuse when he saw his creation. He vomited right into the puddle as well.

  When the dust settled, Deatt had to stop and think. Something was terribly wrong. He discarded the idea that the men in the room were drinking. The sounds must have been corelated to this man's state. Maybe there were more, maybe they were even in groups.

  He slowly bent down, still suspicious of the body. But it made no movement when he bent down to grab the bent baton and the keys. He did not need the keys for the cell anymore, as the whole wall came down with the guard, but maybe he could use them elsewhere.

  In other circumstances, he might have taken the clothes too, but he decided he wanted as little contact with the blood as possible.

  He slowly peered down the passage, looking for any signs of other...things, like the man.

  Taking careful steps, Deatt stayed as silent as his surroundings allowed him, as he made his way to the door that was now on the ground.

  Saying the room inside was in disarray would be like saying a dragon is a lizard. The furniture was thrown about, most broken. Blood covered possibly every surface in the room, some entrails even hang from the ceiling.

  That answers the question of if there are more. Deatt thought to himself.

  Every instinct told him that he had to escape as quick as possible. The narrow hallways and small spaces made it easy for him to get trapped or overpowered anywhere and he would do anything to avoid becoming that. But Nido was locked in another hole and Deatt would never let Nido die in a place like this...if he was not dead already.

  Deatt perished the thought. Nido was alive. He must have been.

  The problem was that the other hole was located on the other side of the prison, the plus side, there was a direct path from one hole to the other.

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  Deatt walked over the puddles of blood left in the wake of the other...whatever they were. The amounts of blood were simply inhuman.

  It was not long before Deatt saw bodies littered on the way.

  One had his face torn off, revealing a skull, another had his legs smashed to bits. The others were in much the same condition. Different mutilations, but dead anyway. But it was not just guards anymore.

  There were bodies with the classic white tunic that they all received. The tunics were bled through, almost like an image from a brutal artists painting.

  With every step the concern of Nido's fate rose in Deatt's heart. There was only more and more carnage the further in Deatt went. Sometimes he had to move through a pile of bodies, hoping that none would wake up just in moment to strike him.

  But he was making progress relatively safe, meeting nobody alive. A good and a bad sign both.

  Suddenly, he heard the a loud strike of metal to metal, clinging and echoing through the rooms. Knowing the sound would travel much further, along with the fact that it came from where Nido was locked up, Deatt had to abandon the safe approach. He turned to running.

  Deatt's lungs were exhausted and his stamina drained by the time he started hearing sounds of a struggle. Shouting and evil growling came from the guard room he was reaching and so he prepared.

  Coming into a fight prepared made a difference, a big one. So Deatt was ready to kill anything that looked at him bad. Taking as deep a breath as his pace allowed, he exhaled, gritted his teeth and sped up.

  He turned the corner and flew into the room.

  A battle was going on and it was obvious who was losing.

  A group of four desperately clawed at the remaining men with sanity. Two guards, still human, used shields they found somewhere to keep the line, having to keep their whole body weight pressed on the iron plates, to keep from faltering. A pile of bodies already forming in front of them. Behind them were three prisoners with makeshift weapons and batons. Two shivs were fixed on wooden poles into improvised spears, stabbing over the shieldmen. The third prisoner was next to them, using the short baton the swat away incoming arms and legs.

  And beside the shieldmen, wearing the ironclad boots on his fists, Nido was just crushing a skull of a turned. Nido managed to give Deatt an acknowledging look as he destroyed an arm of a turned with a right hook.

  Deatt immediately joined the fight. He ran next to the guard closest to him and bashed his bent baton into the head of the turned next to him.

  The short weapon settled itself into the skull, the turned fell down the pile, lifeless. Unfortunately, he took Deatt's weapon with him.

  Just as another three turned came in through the tunnel.

  Deatt slid behind the shieldmen, who groaned at the effort of holding.

  Suddenly the left guard slipped on some blood, his leg swept under him and the force pushed him to the ground.

  Two turned fell on him before the others could help, taking a bite out of his body.

  The spearman moved to the man, using his involuntary sacrifice to push their spears through the heads of the feasting turned.

  Deatt grabbed the edges of the shield and pulled as hard as he could, trying to dislodge it from the weight of the moveless bodies. Just as the new turned jumped at him, he managed to pull the shield out and press his body against an uneven rock on the floor.

  He almost fell at the sheer force of the push, only managing not to falter thanks to the prisoner of the baton holding a apart of the shield. Meanwhile the other turned were getting pummeled by Nido. His every punch sending blood and viscera over the battlefield.

  As Deatt and his helper managed to come back into position a turned managed to slide around the corner of the shield and bit at the legs of the prisoner.

  Deatt hefted the shield into the air and forced it down at the turned, splitting his head.

  The battle calmed as all the turned laid still.

  Deatt's breaths came in sharp and quick as he convulsed from the strained effort. He could only watch as he saw the prisoners simultaneously drive their makeshift spears into the man that saved him just moments ago.

  "...want..." he said slowly, reaching his arm slowly at Deatt, before Nido came closer and punched a part of the head clean off with the boots.

  Deatt stood watching over the dead body, trying to understand the mayhem.

  Nido walked over to him, quickly looking over his exposed body before nodding with relief.

  Shook from his shock, Deatt turned to the others. They were ready to pierce him with the spears as well, even the guard was preparing to use his shield.

  "Not bitten. Good." Nido said, turning to the others. They all seemed to relax just a bit, moving their weapons from Deatt's face.

  "What's going on?" Deatt said, instinctively turning to the guard.

  "We don't know." he answered, using the opportunity to stretch his back. "It started with a few in the west wing, some prisoners were mauling others, before I got there it looked like this. We blocked it off, but they managed to get out somehow." he pointed to the pile of bodies. "I don't know why, but it seems to spread with just a bite. It...they..." The guard's words stopped as one of the turned down in the pile started moving again. He quickly smashed his boot against the assailant turning the head into mush.

  "We have to get out of here." one of the prisoners said, his hands shaking with the spear.

  "Where can we escape?" Deatt asked the guard again.

  "The closest? East wing..." the words trailed of his tongue slowly..

  He turned to Nido, asking whether he was ready with his eyes. The half-orc nodded.

  "Then we go. Now." Deatt said.

  It seemed most of the turned in their immediate vicinity already attacked them, as the path to the east wing was quiet again for some time. The group moved slowly, Deatt with the guard in the front, bearing shields, the others behind.

  As with the tunnel before, it was filled with dead bodies, at the start. The further in they went, the lesser the amount.

  "No bodies anymore. That is a good sign right?" one of the prisoners expressed. Unable to stay silent in his stress.

  The others turned to him wordlessly. The prisoner, understanding the message, shut up and continued walking.

  I don't think it's a good sign. Deatt thought to himself.

  Bodies were good, bodies meant that the man was dead. He would not move again. But when the bodies were not there? That meant they had to be elsewhere. Maybe moving.

  They came to a crossroads, the tunnel splitting into two. The left tunnel continued with no bodies. No sings of struggle. No blood even. The right was the complete opposite. Filled with bodies from top to bottom, completely filling the tunnel up.

  Sweat fell from the guards forehead as he looked frantically at the tunnel.

  "Was that east wing?"

  The guard slowly nodded.

  Deatt nodded. It was in the theme of his life that the path he needed to take was the most dangerous.

  "Was the west wing locked? Or blocked off?" he whispered.

  "Locked. I...I have the key." the guard showed the keys on his belt.

  "Then lead the way."

  "I am not going there."

  "Would you rather stay here?" asked Nido.

  The guard gulped and gave one last wistful look at the blocked off tunnel to the east wing. Then he turned and started walking into west wing.

  It was a sort of twisted luck that both Deatt and Nido were locked in solitary. As the cells were positioned at the outskirts of the prison complex, it enabled them to take a route around the common buildings instead of having to walked through them. Even from a far distance, the various sounds of struggles flowed through the tunnel. It was safe to say that they were everywhere.

  They arrived before the doors to the west wing without any trouble. The great steel doors were closed and locked.

  The guard held his keys in his hand looking at them.

  "Maybe they all ran somewhere else." Deatt tried to assure the man. "But we shouldn't wait to find out."

  The guard put the keys into the lock slowly, before opening the doors. The room inside was empty, no viscera or blood, no bodies. The guard silently waved into a direction and the group followed.

  Moving around corners and through narrow tunnels, they made their way to another steel door in safety.

  The guard was much less careful here, quickly getting his keys and shifting through them. He forced them into the lock, he turned the valve and...the door did not budge. He struggled, trying to force the door open, but it did not.

  He dropped the keys to the ground and fell on his knees. Silently crying.

  "It's sealed..." he said slowly.

  "What do you mean sealed?" Deatt asked, letting more of his panic into his voice than he would have wanted.

  "We are trapped...we are dead." the man said.

  The other two prisoners stopped breathing, confronted with the grim reality of the death sentence in the guard's verdict.

  But Deatt had a different plan. He would not stay and die.

  "Nido think you can get through this?" he asked.

  "Do I have a choice?" the half-orc replied, looking at the steel door.

  "Not if you want us to survive, you don't." Deatt replied.

  "Than yes."

  "Alright." Deatt grabbed the guard and turned to face him. "Get your shit together and you might just live. Grab that shield and fucking stand." Even whispering, Deatt could feel his tone turn absolute at the man.

  "You two, ready your spears. This will be loud." Deatt grabbed the other shield and walked in front of them. "The tunnel is narrow, so we can stop them here. With enough luck we might just do this. You all just pray that the strength of orc heritage is as strong as they say."

  As he forced everyone into position, Deatt prepared himself in the front.

  Nido eyed the door from under his brows, sizing them up. Iron, he would believe he could push through, but steel? There was nothing else than to desperately try.

  He flexed his muscles as hard as he possibly could and punch with the boots against the steel.

  The sound was deafening, the ring of it echoing for a long time. With each echo, Deatt felt his body tense up. With each echo, he expected to see the turned.

  Nido thrusted again and again, slowly bending the hardened steele.

  When the first turned rounded the corner, the battle started.

  Deatt was utterly exhausted, the shield in his arm bent out of shape, one edge slowly digging into his forearm. But he held. The wave was unrelenting, slowly pushing them closer to the door. The prisoners behind him had their backs against the back wall already, having no further space to retreat to.

  The guard was lost to the horde some time ago, already dead with a hole in his head.

  Thankfully the length of the fight and the rising pile of bodies meant that the turned managed to get to them in lesser numbers at a time. Deatt just barely managed to hold them off.

  Nido was in an even worse shape, the boots in his hands already broken up, his fists bleeding profusely from their contact with the metal. But he was close. Just a few more hits and he would get them out.

  But his hands did not have the power to form fists anymore.

  "Need help!" Nido yelled at Deatt. "Ram it! With the shield! It's loose!"

  Deatt immediately broke formation and ran back. He heard the prisoners curse as the wave pushed on at them, the length of their spears becoming more of a hinderance in the tight corridor.

  Deatt jumped with the shield in front of him ramming the door open.

  He wanted to quickly stand back up, but he felt his legs give out from under him. He was past his physical limit. Nido, thankfully, was not. He hauled Deatt on his shoulder and ran out, leaving the two prisoners to their fate.

  The last thing Deatt heard, was the ragged breathing of his friend. The last thing he saw, the turned running after them, blurred fires flaming greatly in the distance. Then, he blacked out.