Prisoner 489 (Black Labyrinth, Book 2)
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On an island with a prison for the most evil and powerful criminals in the world, a new prisoner is strapped to the electric chair for execution. After multiple surges of electricity and nearly knocking out power to the entire island, the prisoner is finally dead. The staff buries him in the prison graveyard with a simple marker baring three numbers: 489.
After the body is buried, a violent storm rocks the islands and a staff member goes missing. The crew rushes into the storm, searching for their lost comrade. They find that the burial site of prisoner 489 has been unearthed, and the body that was inside has gone missing. With a horrific finding and strange noises around them, a powerful threat is closing in. It’s a threat that they thought was impossible, and it will force them into a battle for their lives.
do we do? Something like this, I don’t want to deal with it. They couldn’t kill it with four jolts of electricity and a plastic bag over its head. It knocked its way loose of a coffin, busted some chains, dug its way out of six feet of dirt or thereabouts, pushed a fucking tree over, pulled Toggle’s guts out, and then this… golem, yanked off his leg and head. Motherfucker.” “Keep calm.” “Oh,” Wilson said. “Now there’s some good advice.” “And maybe we should be quieter.” Wilson swallowed
their duties, though there wasn’t a great amount to do. They waited on news about corpses to come, and in between those arrivals, they just waited. The island was a prison in a way, but without bars and with the freedom to walk about and swim nude in the sea. Twisted trees with dark bark and thorns the length and thickness of a fat man’s thumb grew scattered about The Lot. There was one large tree at the edge of The Lot, close to the shoreline. It was not a thorny tree and was wide and not very
enjoyed Kettle’s visits, all the stories he told, the hints he gave of what went on over at the big island, but he was also glad to see him leave. Fact was, things on the island pretty much ran themselves, and none of them had much to do. You had to make your own entertainment. Like now, waiting on the execution. Bernard sat in a chair at the window with a book and started to read. The last book he had read was Catcher In The Rye, and he hated it. He had heard all about it and how good it was,
tonight,” Kettle said. “We get him in the ground, maybe we can all have a little nip before I start back across. They haven’t got me on a tight leash.” “I could taste some Scotch and not feel bad about it,” Toggle said. They carried the crate along the dock toward the open grave. They had to stop and put it down a couple of times and regroup. “Damn,” Toggle said. “There may just be an elephant in there.” “What I’m trying to tell you,” Kettle said. “They were afraid his weight would tear
through one of those cheap-ass cardboard and best-wish coffins. I think they’re right. It would have.” “But why the metal coffin?” Bernard said. “Let me tell you something else,” Kettle said. “That metal coffin, it’s wrapped in chains.” “What the fuck for?” Bernard said. “So what’s in it won’t get out. That old boy still has the plastic bag over his head. I mean, every prisoner on the big island is unique, it’s just this fellow was a little more unique than the rest.” “He have a name?”