Death Sentence: Escape from Furnace 3
Alexander Gordon Smith
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Alex's second attempt to break out of Furnace Penitentiary failed. This time, his punishment will be much worse than before. Because in the hidden, bloodstained laboratories beneath the prison, he will be made into a monster. As the warden pumps something evil into his veins―a sinisterly dark nectar―Alex becomes what he most fears . . . a superhuman minion of Furnace. How can he escape when the darkness is inside him? How can he lead the way to freedom if he is lost to himself?
should get started. The nectar will keep you alive for so long, but only the knife can save you.’ Another wheezed groan cut across the room, followed by one echo, then two. Against the black canvas of my blindness I pictured the creatures staggering towards me, gas masks stitched onto rotting faces, filthy needles strapped to their chests, and scalpels held out to my face. I fought against my restraints until I felt the leather cut my skin, until my muscles cramped, but I was powerless.
replicate the panic, the hatred, the anger of a battlefield than a place like this? A place with no mercy, no sanctuary, where violence lies around every corner, where the powerless are persecuted by the powerful, and where your enemies will kill you simply for the joy of watching you die. Although for many years we tried to accomplish our goals by various means, there was no way of accessing the numbers we needed, and the ages that were so vital. But eventually, when your government finally saw
free at the other end and surging into the night like a free spirit. ‘It’s raining,’ said Simon. And that did it – all three of us broke down. I hoped there was no camera in here because we wouldn’t have made a pretty sight, the three of us bunched up against each other bawling like babies. I know it sounds crazy, but none of us ever expected to see the outside world again. We didn’t know if it even existed any more. And yet there it was, in glorious black and white, right above our heads. I
soaring through the boiling air. Even with my head pummelled by noise I knew that the feeling of being in flight lasted too long. I peeled open one eye, saw that I was lying on the floor twenty metres or so from the vault door. The yard between me and it was like a lake of sapphire flames, vaguely human forms thrashing about in them like they were drowning. What had I just done? I picked myself up, the prison spinning around me as though the explosion had knocked it into orbit. Staggering
had dreamed upon them. Nausea gripped my gut with iron fingers, followed almost instantly by a sense of shame that brought tears to my eyes. I shook my head wildly to clear the last of the waking nightmare, letting my sobs come freely. ‘Alex, you’ve got to keep fighting,’ said the voice. I thought I recognised the accent but I couldn’t think from where. I pictured a boy, saw us jumping into a river, saw us hugging each other outside the solitary cells, saw us climbing the incinerator chimney