The freed inmates were all shouting "fuck" over and over, pacing and cursing. Owen ignored them, his eyes fixed on the fire raging in the distance.
There had been a strange, choking smell in the air all along, and Owen finally understood what it was—some kind of chemical. Looking at the mangled, still-burning wreckage of two massive trucks, he could roughly piece together what had happened.
The closer they got to the chemical tankers, the worse the smell became. Owen led the group in the opposite direction, searching for a safer exit. The inmates followed behind them noisily, clearly just as clueless and increasingly agitated.
Soon, they reached the other end of the tunnel—completely blocked by a mountain of collapsed earth and rubble. They were trapped in a sealed-off middle section, about 200 meters long. A death trap.
"No… No! Fuck! What the hell is this?"
"I don't wanna die! I can't die here!"
Realizing they were sealed in, the inmates began to panic. One of them punched a car hood in rage and yelped when the scalding metal burned his hand.
"Everyone, stay calm. Rescue teams will come…"
Seeing that Owen and Beth were ignoring the inmates, Chen Mike tried to defuse the situation.
"Shut up, you yellow monkey! I'll shove your head up your ass—"
A furious black inmate rushed at Chen Mike, using him as a target for his rage. He clearly didn't care that Chen had helped free them.
But he never had a chance—Chen dropped him effortlessly. After all, fighting was Chen's profession, and a brute relying solely on strength was no match.
Unfortunately, the takedown didn't scare the others—it ignited their bloodlust. These men were all felons serving long sentences. They'd tasted freedom, only to be told they were going to die. If they weren't getting out, they had no reason to follow rules.
Several started eyeing Beth with dangerous intentions.
BANG BANG BANG!
The ones who tried to move forward were stopped in their tracks by gunshots. They ducked and flinched when they realized Owen was now holding a gun, barrel aimed toward the ceiling.
The rest hesitated, cowed by the threat.
"If anyone wants to try me, I'm more than happy to put a bullet in you," Owen said coldly.
He was already regretting letting these people out. He thought they might help with the situation—clearly, that wasn't going to happen.
He considered locking them back in the transport, but that would just spark another fight. As long as they stayed away, he didn't care.
"Back off. Stay the hell away from us."
Owen gave the inmate Chen had floored a vicious kick, sending him back toward the group, forcing them to retreat.
Chen Mike, at least, was trustworthy. He had a clean record, worked with law enforcement, and would be essential for what came next.
The tunnel was unstable after the blast—walls cracked, debris constantly falling from the ceiling.
Owen led Beth and Chen to one particular crack in the wall. This one was wide enough—barely—for a person to crawl through.
"Beth, take this. I'll go check it out."
He handed her his Glock and nodded to Chen to keep watch.
Beth was the most reliable of the two when it came to judgment. If anything went wrong, she would shoot without hesitation. Chen, meanwhile, had the muscle to hold the line.
CTU had trained Owen well in emergency procedures, and he knew more about tunnel rescues than most.
Lincoln Tunnel had twin parallel tubes, with escape corridors connecting them every 500 meters. They just happened to be stuck in the section with none. But if this crack led to a side route, maybe he could reach the other tube.
He crawled into the fissure, confident that Beth and Chen could handle anything on the outside.
The passage was painfully narrow, barely enough to squeeze through. With a flashlight taken from an emergency box, he pushed forward on his stomach.
Eventually, the space widened into a vertical shaft—probably part of the ventilation system. But now, the interior was a mess, with twisted rebar and shattered concrete crisscrossing the way ahead.
The whole space groaned and creaked. Debris dislodged randomly. Anything could collapse at any moment.
He weaved through the steel and debris carefully, and soon saw a faint glow ahead. There was still power, at least partially. He switched off his flashlight. Sure enough, there was a lit corridor ahead.
Yes!
Owen whispered the word under his breath, careful not to raise his voice.
But even that whisper caused a vibration that triggered a rumble above him. Something large shifted, fell, and got caught in the wreckage with a deep clunk.
Too dangerous.
Owen decided to back out. The passage might lead somewhere—but it wasn't worth the risk.
He crept back, moving slowly and gently, trying not to disturb anything.
…
Outside, Beth kept her eyes locked on the fissure. Every few seconds, she glanced toward the inmates in case one of them tried anything again.
Earlier, one had tested her resolve, and she'd responded by firing a round right past his head.
Beth wasn't like Owen—she had no hesitation. If they tried again, she wouldn't warn a second time.
Rustle.
Movement inside. A few moments later, Owen crawled out, covered in dust and ash. The inmates crowded around, anxious to know if he'd found a way out.
"How'd it go?"
Beth asked the moment he caught his breath.
"No good," Owen said, shaking his head. "There's a corridor, but it's too unstable. It could collapse at any moment. We need another way."
People around them started murmuring loudly, ignoring the second half of what he said.
"I'm getting out of here—I'm not dying in this hole!"
One man charged toward the crack.
BANG!
A bullet struck the ground at his feet, sending dust and pebbles flying.
Beth raised her gun again, cold and unflinching. Her meaning was clear—Owen was in charge, and nobody was leaving unless he said so.
"If you go in there, you'll likely die. The whole thing could come down on you—"
Owen began to explain, but didn't get the chance to finish.
CRASH!
A massive chunk of concrete fell from the ceiling. Owen barely had time to grab Beth and roll out of the way.
When the dust settled, they realized one of the inmates had taken advantage of the chaos—he now held the pistol they'd dropped during the fall.
The atmosphere instantly turned tense. Owen placed himself in front of Beth, assessing the distance—three meters. He had a fifty-fifty chance of taking the man down before he could shoot.
"Don't anyone try to stop me," the man growled.
He and another inmate forced the others back, then slipped into the crack and disappeared.
The remaining prisoners looked at one another, uncertain.
Beth glanced at Owen. He could tell she wanted to follow—but he shook his head.
She looked disappointed but didn't argue. Her trust in Owen was absolute, forged during that nightmare in the European village.
Just as she turned away—
BOOM!
A deep rumble echoed from within the fissure. Dust blasted outward.
The crack was now completely filled in—collapsed.
…
Turns out this movie wasn't as obscure as I thought—some readers guessed it right away. It's Daylight, starring Sylvester Stallone. A fantastic film.
By the way, a generous reader offered to help "build a tower" for this story. If you enjoy it, show your support—drop some bricks in the comment section! Let's see how many readers this book really has.
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