Blood in the Dust

The night pressed against the facility like a silent, waiting beast.

Inside the concrete walls, the air was dense with sweat, dust, and something else—something electric. Something dangerous. For days, plans had whispered through the shadows like embers waiting for breath.

Now the fire was ready.

Alex stood at the back of the dormitory, chest rising and falling in steady rhythm. His shoulder ached where a guard had struck him the day before, but his eyes were alive. Focused.

Beside him, Leo crouched by a loose wall panel, fingers trembling slightly as he pried it open with a bent spoon he’d sharpened into a tool. Every movement echoed too loud, too real. Irene stood watch near the rusted door, arms folded, the small, makeshift blade hidden in her sleeve glinting briefly in the dim light.

“This is insane,” Irene muttered. “We’re thirty kids. They’re an army.”

“We’re not an army,” Alex said calmly. “We’re a storm.”

Leo glanced back, grinning nervously. “Storms don’t usually get shot.”

“They don’t expect us to fight,” Tala whispered from the shadows. Her voice was barely audible. “That’s why we can win.”

Alex nodded. “We don’t need to beat them all. Just enough to make a hole. Then we run.”

Leo clicked the panel open.

A dim hallway lay behind it—one of the older maintenance tunnels that connected parts of the facility not used anymore. Tala had mapped it out in her head by watching the guards’ routines. One of the tunnels ended near the generator room. Another led to a small emergency dock.

They had two options. Both dangerous.

Alex turned to the others. “Tell them it’s time.”

Within minutes, the dormitory came alive.

Whispers passed like current through the air. Children woke, some scared, some excited. Irene moved quickly, checking small packs they’d prepared—bandages, scrap tools, anything they could carry. Leo slipped a coil of wire into his shirt. Tala tied her hair back, face emotionless.

Then they opened the door.

The hallway was empty. Alex moved first, his bare feet silent on the concrete floor. Irene followed with three others. Leo and Tala came last, guiding a small group of the younger kids.

They reached the first checkpoint without being seen.

Alex signaled. A tall, older boy named Dorian stepped forward and whispered, “Two guards. Half asleep.”

“I’ll take left,” Alex said. “You take right. Quiet.”

He crept forward. The hallway opened to a small guard post. Two men sat in chairs, one holding a tablet, the other nodding off. Alex slipped behind the first and wrapped his arm around the man’s throat, locking tight.

The guard thrashed—too late. Dorian struck the other with a metal pipe. A dull thud. A grunt. Then stillness.

Leo rushed in and dragged both bodies into the shadows.

“Still think we’re crazy?” Alex whispered.

“No,” Leo said, wiping sweat from his brow. “I think we’re doomed. But maybe we’ll die loud.”

Tala smirked. “Not if I shut off the lights first.”

They made it to the generator room. Massive, loud, hot. A low hum vibrated through the floor. Leo got to work. Tala helped, her fingers flying over the exposed wires.

“Two minutes,” Leo whispered.

Alex turned to guard the door.

Then—
—a sound.
Footsteps.
Voices.

He spun around.

“Abort?” Irene asked.

“No,” Alex hissed. “Keep going.”

The first guard came around the corner.

Alex charged.

He slammed into the man, driving him back into the wall. The man swung a baton—Alex ducked, elbowed him in the throat, grabbed the baton and turned it against him.

The man dropped.

But he’d already radioed in.

A blaring siren shattered the air.

“RUN!” Leo shouted.

The children scattered. Irene grabbed two of the youngest, pulling them toward the exit.

Guards poured in from every direction. Shouts. Boots. Guns.

Alex moved like a blur—blocking, striking, dodging. He got clipped in the arm—sharp, burning pain—but kept going.

Tala threw a wire trap. One guard tripped and slammed into a wall.

Leo pulled down a shelf—crash!—blocking a corridor.

But it wasn’t enough.

They were too many.

Alex grabbed a small boy—couldn’t be older than seven—who had frozen in panic. He tossed him to Leo. “Take him! Get to the south exit!”

“What about you!?”

“I’ll buy you time!”

He turned to face three guards.

One lunged.

Alex dodged and kicked the man into the other. The third fired—pain exploded in Alex’s side. He staggered, gasped, but kept moving.

He dove through a side hallway. Alone now.

Footsteps behind him.

He was bleeding. Tired.

But not done.

He ducked behind a pipe, breathing ragged. Then ambushed a pursuing guard. Stole his weapon. Shot twice.

Two guards fell.

More were coming.

He didn’t care.

Far behind him, he heard the crash of a metal gate. A scream. Then nothing.

He smiled.

At least some of them got out.

His knees gave out.

He collapsed beside the wall, blood soaking through his shirt. His fingers trembled around the pistol.

He looked up at the flickering light above him. Somewhere far away, he imagined the ocean.

Then—

Darkness.