The road to nowhere

As Ken burst out of the warehouse, his mind was a storm of confusion and dread.

Why had Mr. Akin told him to get rid of Scar?

He was only nineteen, barely more than a kid. How could he be expected to kill a grown man?

Why had Mr. Akin left him alone in a room with the most dangerous criminal they'd ever encountered? And why hadn't Scar attacked him?

Surely, the man knew Ken wouldn't pull the trigger. He was just a terrified boy holding a gun for the first time. Maybe Scar had been too high on cocaine to think straight. Everything had happened in a dizzying blur of fear and adrenaline.

Outside, chaos reigned.

Gunfire cracked through the air. The two armed men who had accompanied Kelvin into the bushes were now exchanging bullets with the rest of the inmates.

Ken dove behind a stack of crates, his heart pounding heavily as he scanned the battlefield.

That's when he saw it, Kelvin's lifeless body, sprawled just a few meters away from the two armed men. Blood soaked his shirt; he wasn't moving.

"Oh my God… Kelvin," Ken whispered, his voice strangled by grief. His body trembled as silent tears streamed down his face.

The armed men were taking cover behind a fallen tree, turning it into a makeshift barricade. It seemed they had killed Kelvin and were on their way back to the warehouse when they encountered the inmates trying to hijack the military truck, triggering the gunfight.

Mr. Akin and Mr. David were in the thick of the battle, ducking behind the truck alongside other inmates.

Gunfire roared all around them, deafening and relentless. The two men returned fire with precision and deadly focus.

Mr. Akin rose from cover and unleashed a burst of bullets, hitting one of the attackers square in the chest. The man staggered and collapsed, his rifle skittering across the ground.

Mr. David seized the moment, took careful aim, and fired.

His bullet struck the second man in the shoulder, sending him crashing to the ground, howling in pain.

With the threat neutralized, the inmates surged toward the truck.

"Where's Ken? Where's Ken?!" Jessica screamed, scanning the scene with wild eyes.

"I'm here!" Ken shouted, sprinting toward her.

Jessica rushed into his arms, clinging to him. "Thank God you're safe," she whispered, her voice shaking.

"I'll drive," Mr. Akin called out as everyone scrambled into the vehicle.

Ken and Mr. David climbed into the cab, while the rest of the inmates packed themselves into the back.

The military truck was built for war, not comfort. Its olive-green paint was chipped and battered from years of use.

The open back was framed with metal rails, allowing the passengers to grip tightly as the vehicle bounced over rough terrain. The steel-plated floor was worn and scuffed, bearing the scars of countless missions.

Inside the cab, the dashboard was a chaotic array of dials, switches, and gauges. Mr. Akin ignited the engine, which growled to life like a beast.

As the truck sped away from the warehouse, the wind howled through the open back, carrying with it the sharp scent of freedom, and the lingering stench of death.

"Where are we heading now?" Ken asked, watching the terrain blur past the windshield.

"I'm trying to link up with the expressway," Mr. Akin replied, eyes fixed ahead. "I've contacted the police using the satellite phone. They should be nearby".

The road twisted through dense brush and uneven paths. Each turn seemed to lead deeper into uncertainty.

"This road's confusing. Do you know where you're going?" Ken asked, anxiety creeping into his voice.

"Not really," Mr. Akin admitted. "But this has to lead somewhere. A village, the expressway, anything. We just need to keep moving, to get out of here".

Ken turned to Mr. David. "When you and the older inmates were ambushed, were you brought here on foot?"

"No," Mr. David replied. "They drove us in".

"But we, the new inmates, we were marched here from the expressway. It took about thirty minutes along a narrow footpath in the dark," Ken said thoughtfully.

"We couldn't have escaped that way," Mr. David said, shaking his head. "Even if we tried, no one would remember the route. It was night, and that forest isn't forgiving. Only the captors could navigate it. This road is our only shot".

A brief silence followed, broken by Ken's next question.

"So… how did you two learn to handle AK-47s like that?"

Mr. Akin offered a faint smile without looking away from the road. "That's a story for another day, boy. Right now, let's just get the hell out of here".

They reached a narrow, winding road that led to a sharp turn. Mr. Akin took it, but Ken's eyes widened in horror.

"Stop! Stop! There's a cliff!"

Mr. Akin slammed the brakes. The truck screeched to a halt, lurching everyone forward. Cries and gasps rang out from the back.

"Reverse! Reverse!" Mr. David barked.

Mr. Akin quickly reversed, backing them away from the deadly drop and onto the road again. But their relief was short-lived.

From down the narrow stretch of road, about 500 meters ahead, came the sound of engines. Not one, but dozens of them.

A convoy of military jeeps and trucks emerged from the misty horizon, heading straight for them.

Ken's breath caught in his throat.

It was Scar… and his men.