Felix had not counted precisely, but at least 20 people had died in the haunted house. Thus, no hesitation was needed there.

At sunrise in Guneria's desert, Crimson Oak Prison looked unlike other facilities. Instead of towering walls, simple electrified wire fencing enclosed its perimeter.

The nearest town lay over 100 miles away. Under the scorching sun in the desert, escape meant certain death without food or water, not to mention the venomous snakes that roamed the wasteland.

Since the Westerio Order took control, prisoners enjoyed more freedom during daylight hours, but the death rate had climbed. Every inmate knew selection for the underground level meant almost certain death. A riot had broken out shortly after the Order took over, but they quickly suppressed it.

Elliott sat on a bench in the common area, staring blankly at the rising sun.

He never imagined becoming a prisoner. Though never arrogant, his position had been respectable. Life truly was unpredictable.

Unk