The blinding white beam of the watchtower searchlight vibrated through the heavy rain, splashing against the dark water just inches away from Adekunle's face. The thick smell of mud and sulfur was suffocating."Alert! Section 4 swamp perimeter, check the drainage line!" a loud voice boomed from the watchtower megaphone.Next to Adekunle, Chief Solomon lay flat in the freezing black mud, his spotless white senator attire completely ruined, looking like a defeated soldier in the trenches. Corporal Titus was holding his breath, his hand resting on the grip of his wet pistol. If that light moved ten feet to the left, the watchtower's heavy machine guns would tear them to pieces before they could even stand up."Kazeem... Sledge... do the final format now!" Adekunle hissed into his tiny, water-resistant earpiece, his teeth chattering from the cold.Miles away on the perimeter road, Sledge grinned, sitting inside a local unbranded pickup truck. He picked up a heavy, commercial-grade maritime signal flare gun—something Kazeem had stripped from an old boat at the sawmill."Time for the grand finale, boys!" Sledge laughed, pointing the heavy launcher straight into the sky above the prison's main gate.BOOM!A massive, blinding red phosphorus flare shot into the clouds, exploding directly above the prison control tower with a deafening roar and a shower of brilliant crimson sparks. To the automated security systems inside the prison, a maritime red flare meant an immediate high-level terrorist threat or a naval invasion from the lagoon."All units! All units! Red alert at the main gate! Shift all searchlights to the front perimeter!" the megaphone screamed frantically.The blinding white beam covering the swamp instantly swung away, racing toward the front gates where Sledge's boys were throwing heavy local firecrackers into the bushes."Now! Move your legs!" Adekunle barked, grabbing Chief Solomon by his muddy collar and hauling him to his feet.They scrambled through the thick, knee-deep mangrove roots, their boots sinking deep into the slime. Chief Solomon was coughing violently, his old lungs struggling against the toxic swamp air, but Corporal Titus held him up from the left, while Adekunle dragged him from the right.At the edge of the dark creek, hidden beneath a canopy of thick palm fronds, a small, local wooden fiber-boat was idling silently. Kazeem was at the steering wheel, his face pale with anxiety as he watched the distant prison lights."Enter inside! Enter inside sharply!" Kazeem whispered loudly, extending his hand.Adekunle shoved Chief Solomon into the floor of the boat, and Titus jumped in right after, his pistol still pointed toward the dark tree lines. Adekunle climbed in last, untying the wet ropes."Kazeem, don't start the main engine yet. Use the local wooden paddles. Let the current carry us down the creek until we pass the military checkpoint," Adekunle commanded, his voice cold, sharp, and perfectly disciplined.As Kazeem quietly paddled the small boat into the deep, pitch-black shadows of the lagoon, Chief Solomon lay on the wooden floorboards, staring up at his son. The old General looked down at his own muddy, bleeding hands, then up at Adekunle's stone-cold face."You actually did it," Solomon whispered, a mixture of terror and deep, dark pride returning to his voice. "You broke me out of Kirikiri. Valerie... the international syndicate... they are going to look for us with everything they have."Adekunle didn't look at his father. He picked up his burner phone, watching the news alerts flashing on the screen. The prison break was already hitting the blogs."Let them look for us, Papa," Adekunle murmured, a ruthless, chilling smile spreading across his face as the boat slid into the open waters of the Lagos lagoon. "The syndicate thought they could rewrite our script with two hundred million dollars. They forgot that the Mainland doesn't follow international law. We are heading back to the sawmill, and tomorrow morning, we start the real war."
