The Recall Trials
Chapter 52: Shit! I’m Screwed

Chapter 52: Shit! I’m Screwed

Then I had an idea. Risky. Reckless. But the only shot I had.

But if it wasn’t convincing enough.... I’m screwed.

I pulled the mask down tighter over my face, straightened my shoulders, and just as the door swung opened I stepped forward like I’d just arrived.

"Room’s clear so far," I muttered in a low, forced voice, faking the flat tone I’d heard other guards use.

They barely looked at me.

Instead, they flooded the room. Scanning every corner. One of them opened a drawer, another bent to check under the desk. One ran a finger across the dusty floor like they were looking for a trail.

I slipped out.

And just like that...I was back in the hallway.

"Phew! That was close." I muttered.

My heart was hammering against my ribs. Sweat ran down my spine.

I knew the cameras were watching.

It was only a matter of time before they connected the dots. Checked which guard was supposed to be assigned to that wing. Realized #113 never signed in. Realized the real one hadn’t checked out.

Time was short.

I needed to warn the others Zaara, Vincent, Carter, everyone. They didn’t know what was coming. What these people were capable of. What I’d seen in those files. But how?

How do I alert them?

If I said one wrong thing out loud, I’d blow my cover. The guards would be on me instantly.

And then a voice snapped me out of my head.

"113," one of the guards called from behind me.

I turned slowly. "Yeah?"

"Did you see anything unusual in there?"

I hesitated for half a second too long.

Then shook my head. "Nothing. Just empty."

The guard stared at me for a second. I held my breath. Don’t flinch. Don’t look away.

He nodded.

I nodded back.

Then I turned casual, like I wasn’t on the verge of throwing up from panic and started walking.

Toward the hallway. Toward the dorms.

My legs were stiff. Each step was literally heavier than the last.

I noticed a foul smell coming from a dark hallway that was behind me now, the smell still burning in my nose.

I passed another door marked with red.

Room 113.

Same as the number on the jacket.

My number. My assigned station.

I gave one last look over my shoulder. The guards were still swarming the surveillance room. No one had called me back.

I slipped inside.

Locked the door.

And finally...finally I let myself breathe.

It was darker in here. One single bulb overhead. A row of lockers, a desk, a cot in the corner.

This was where the guard I impersonated was supposed to be posted. Which meant if they found him unconscious, it would lead here next.

I had maybe five, ten minutes max before everything came crashing down.

I dropped the duffel, unzipped it, and pulled out the files.

I stared at the files I’d stolen, spread out like puzzle pieces across the desk. The kind of stuff that could blow this whole operation wide open. Contestant evaluations. Psychological breakdowns. Betting pools. Death predictions. Our lives reduced to numbers and profits.

But what good were they if we never saw daylight again?

And the worst part?

We were all just entertainment.

One click of a remote away from being erased.

I looked at the locked door, then back at the tiny flickering light above. There was only one thing left to do.

Escape.

Escape the nightmare.

Find the outside world. Expose everything. If I could just get out and reach someone...maybe the police, a journalist, anybody...then maybe, just maybe, this wouldn’t all be for nothing.

"Time to find a way out," I muttered to myself.

My eyes flicked to the pistol on the nightstand...it was heavy, matte black, freshly loaded. I’d grabbed it from the weapon drawer, just in case. Now it felt necessary.

"You can do this, Jojo." I whispered it out loud, just to make it real. "You’re not dying in this place."

Even if walking out there meant arrest.

Even if I’d probably be labeled as a rogue. A traitor. Dangerous.

I slipped the USB drive into my bra, zipped the duffel full of stolen files, and strapped the pistol to my belt. The jacket guard number 113. Still my only cover.

"This is my chance," I whispered.

I cracked open the door.

The hallway outside was dim, quiet.

Too quiet.

They still hadn’t found the real 113. Or if they had, they hadn’t connected the dots yet. I was either incredibly lucky... or on borrowed time.

I stepped out.

One step. Then another.

And then I was moving back into the maze of corridors. Every turn felt like threading a needle with a live wire. Every camera I passed felt like an eye. Every echo of a boot made my spine jolt.

I kept to the walls, ducking between shadows and blind corners.

There had to be an exit. A maintenance shaft. A service tunnel. Something.

I passed a stairwell and started down, but froze halfway when I heard voices.

Two guards. Male. They were whispering.

I pressed my back to the cold metal railing and listened.

"...he’s not even reacting anymore. Vincent’s harder to break than they thought."

My stomach dropped.

Vincent?

What the hell were they talking about?

Hope they were they talking about Vincent and zaara’s plan to allow me escape.

I risked a glance around the corner. The guards weren’t facing me. Their backs were to a large double door marked Authorized Personnel Only.

"If they make him the wildcard," the taller one said, "it’s gonna be chaos. The only person from sector A."

"He doesn’t even know half of what they’ve done. If he finds out that it was h...."

The other cut him off. "Shut up. Someone might hear."

What the hell?

Vincent us from sector A?

I couldn’t process it all. I didn’t have time.

I backed away carefully.

And kept walking.

Turned left. Then right. Then another corridor.

I noticed two figures running closer to me.

One of them pointed. "Hey...stop! You! 113!"

Shit.

My cover was blown.