Article 5

“Wait, wait, wait.” He blocked my exit. “We were just getting started. A guy can’t just shut down like that.”

I tried not to gag. But then my ear perked. “Here comes the guard. Still want to fool around? Maybe he’d like to watch.”

Tucker listened, and winced when he recognized the footsteps. While he was distracted, I grabbed my blanket and slid by him out into the hall. Once the guard saw me, Tucker would not be able to hide that we’d been together.

“Well played,” he said, clapping his hands lightly. “You are a tease, aren’t you?”

My face burned and my teeth ground together, but I forced myself to saunter down the hallway, knowing he watched my every step. I waited for him to open the door and let me into my cell. A few moments later he exchanged muffled words with the guard. I heard them walk all the way down the stairway.

And then I unrolled the crumpled blanket to reveal the handgun—the one I had stolen while Tucker had been checking the halls—and smiled.

* * *

AWAKE, I plotted my escape. Step by step.

Delilah would come get me just after curfew lifted. We’d go to the supply room, and I’d force her to give me the key. Hopefully she wouldn’t make a fuss when I locked her in. I’d push a cart past the office to the freight elevator, take it down to the first floor. The guards at the back gate wouldn’t stop me; they’d assume I was headed up to the crematorium, and they’d be right. I’d deposit the cart at the side door, beneath the awning. And then I would run.

I didn’t allow myself to consider any deviation from this plan. I already knew what I would do should something go wrong.

I held the pistol in my hand, turning it, warming the handle with my palm. Inoculating myself to its presence. It was the same kind of gun Chase had been issued: sleek, silver, with a thick barrel. I flicked the safety on and off to become accustomed to the sound and feel.

I wondered what Beth and Ryan would think if they saw me now. I wasn’t the frightened little girl being dragged away to rehab anymore. Something had changed inside of me, whittled away and made me hard. I doubted I even looked the same.

Losing your family… it puts fear in a different perspective, Chase had once told me. Yes. I understood now. It didn’t remove the fear, but made it tangible, like a sharp blade you had to carry.

Muffled voices down the hallway grabbed my attention. It was too late to transport a prisoner; it had to be close to midnight. Curious, I stuffed the gun beneath the mattress and pressed my ear against the door.

“He’s a mean SOB, that’s for sure. Those two on watch will be in sick bay for a week.”

“Got you twice between the eyes, didn’t he?”

“Shut up, Garrison. You should talk. Least I wasn’t pissing myself in the corner.”

A chuckle. Then a grunt. The sliding of fabric over the linoleum. The jangling of keys. A door whined softly as it was opened.

They were quieter now. Maybe inside a cell. Then I heard a thump against the wall over my bed. They were leaving the victim next door. I felt a wave of pity. My heart pounded painfully for my new neighbor. If he’d attacked soldiers, his prognosis was not good.

“His chart is finished.” A third voice. The soldier on rotation maybe. “Is one of you standing guard?”

“Look at him, man. He’s barely breathing. What makes you think he needs a door guard?”

“Just checking orders, that’s all.”

“Command said dump him here until morning. He’s slated to see the Board first thing. I’m sure they’ve got something sweet worked out for him.”

Laughter. The compression of the door closing. And fading footsteps.

There wasn’t another sound until morning. I wondered if maybe my new neighbor was already dead. Even as the lights buzzed on, signifying the end of curfew, I found my mind drifting to him. I was proud that he’d fought the soldiers. I needed to be brave like that if I was going to live through the day.

I jolted up when I heard the key turn in my lock. The gun was tucked in my bra, and I was using the blanket again to cover the added bulk. I had to take several deep breaths to focus myself before I felt calm enough to face the door. Even so, I nearly pulled the gun on Delilah the moment I saw her.

She glanced over me once with a speculative look on her face. I could only guess what she thought had happened between Tucker and me last night.

“Morning.” I tried to sound like I was dreading the day, which, in a way, I was.

“Come on. Be quick about it,” she snapped, and turned toward the supply room. A guard hustled by, making my skin crawl. I felt like he was watching me. Like he knew what I was about to do.

I needed to calm down.

Once we were in the supply room, Delilah began tearing towels off the wall. She handed me a bucket to fill with water. I took a deep breath and set it on the ground.

It was now or never.

I turned my back on her, and very slowly, reached for the gun.

“Delilah, I need—”

“Delilah! I thought I told you to hurry!” shouted a guard from the end of the hallway.

No! Someone had already given her orders, which meant they would come looking for her if she didn’t arrive.

“Hurry, hurry, hurry,” she muttered, her voice stressed. “Didn’t I tell you to fill up that bucket?”

“Ye-yes,” I stuttered, and did as she told. The plan was going to have to wait until these soldiers weren’t demanding her assistance.

“An officer is coming in an hour to speak with the inmate in cell four,” she said. “They brought him in last night, and he’s a mess. Still unconscious. Get him up so they can interview him.”

What’s the point? I thought. I remembered how Delilah had done this for me, before I’d seen Tucker.

“What are you doing?” I asked. I hadn’t been assigned any tasks on my own.

“Cell two cut his wrists last night. Someone’s got to mop up and take the body to the crematorium.”

I shuddered, unable to stop the image of the soldier’s face from entering my mind. Thick eyebrows and freckled cheeks. A dazed, lost expression. I’d brought him dinner last night.

“I can do it,” I volunteered weakly. “I’ll take the body. You take care of cell four.”

She scoffed. The soldier down the hall yelled for her again.

“They want it taken care of fast,” she emphasized, as though I would be inept at the task. I bit back the disgust. It sounded as though she was pleased to be needed. I felt sorry for her then; there was not much of her soul left.

“I can do it. I know your back’s bothering you,” I tried. I’d seen her stretch it yesterday, and hoped that this wasn’t a shot in the dark.

“You’d do wise to obey orders,” she said simply.

I followed her into the hallway, swallowing the defeat. I told myself there would be another chance today to follow my plan. There had to be, because tomorrow I went to trial.

As Delilah opened the door to cell four, the room just beside mine, I readied myself to get this soldier up fast. If he was alert enough to talk to the officer before Delilah had finished with the cleanup, I could still help her take the body to the crematorium.

She sped down the hall to cell two, where three soldiers had now gathered to ogle at the show. I wanted to scream at them to leave the poor guy alone. I was surprised Tucker wasn’t there, but it was still early.

Inside the cell before me a crumpled figure lay strewn across the floor, facedown. His head was a foot away from the metal toilet at the end of the room. His long legs stretched toward the door. He wore jeans. Like the murdered carrier in the checkpoint on Rudy Lane.

I lowered, bending at the waist to cautiously move closer. The blinking lights overhead highlighted his socked feet. A torn T-shirt glimmered with droplets of fresh blood. I leaned closer, my heart pounding hard now.

Broad shoulders. Black, messy hair.