depth of the tunnels. But now the wind was blowing into him. He must be heading in the right direction. He pushed on, his throat dry, his head throbbing but the thought of escape now giving him added energy.
It had a beautiful ring to it.
He even managed a smile.
Ahead of him there was a loud splash.
Then another.
Something had dropped into the water.
Scott shone the torch around and it picked out two pinpricks of yellow light.
Eyes.
Staring back at him.
There was another splash, closer this time.
He felt something nudge his leg.
There were rats in the water.
The knowledge brought with it a stark and quite irrational terror that he found difficult to shake off. He moved forward more slowly now.
Close by him a furry shape scuttled along the low ledge that ran alongside the flowing effluent.
Scott moved away, his hand sliding into more of the noxious slime that coated the walls.
He moved as quickly as he could, the cold breeze now strong in his face.
Ahead, less than twenty feet away, he saw the grille.
Beyond it he could smell grass.
He tried to run, to reach the barrier more quickly, gripping it with both hands when he finally did. He could see through, out into the darkness of the night. He could see trees swaying, silhouetted against the swollen clouds that filled the sky. The stream of filth was now hardly over his boot tops. He tugged at the grille.
It remained firmly in place.
He tried again.
Still no luck. It was stuck fast, secured by six heavy screws which fixed it to the wall.
Scott pulled the knife from his belt and placed the blunt edge in one of the grooves on the screw-head. He turned it, putting all his strength into it, his teeth clenched.
He closed his eyes as he felt that all-too-familiar pain inside his skull.
The screw began to come free.
He turned it, twisting it the last quarter of an inch with his fingers. He dropped it into the water and set about the second one. Then the third.
Despite the cold wind he could feel the perspiration on his face as he worked to remove the screws.
The last one came free and he tugged the grille away from the wall, hardly feeling the pain as the steel cut into the palm of his hand. He tossed it aside and blundered out into the fresh air, almost slipping on the muddy ground. He breathed in the air. Clean air. Untainted by the stench of captivity.
The air that came with freedom.
He wondered if revenge would smell the same.
A brief image of Plummer flashed into his mind.
Then Carol.
He set off across the open ground towards the trees. Beyond it there was a road.
He would be well away before first light.
He ignored the pain in his head as best he could, but as he ran across the muddy ground a thought occurred to him.
The effects of the morphine were beginning to wear off.
And when it did, the pain would return.
Pain unlike anything he'd ever felt before.
Scott looked back over his shoulder, as if fearing he was being followed.
The prison seemed to be a part of the night itself, the huge walls apparently hewn from the solid blackness.
He ran on.
He knew what he must do now.
NINETY-TWO
The pain was returning.
Unchecked by pain-killers, it filled his skull more intensely as each moment passed.
Scott fell against a tree and leant there, slumped and dishevelled, trying to get his breath, trying to think about something other than the excruciating agony that was lancing through his head. He put both hands to his temples and felt the bandages there. He fancied he could feel his cranium swelling with each beat of his heart.
He had reached the road now. Looking back in the direction of Whitely, he could see that the prison had all but disappeared in the tenebrous blackness of night. Rain was falling heavily now, the cold droplets beating onto his head. He stumbled onto the tarmac and began walking, not even sure which direction he was heading. Scott didn't know how far the nearest town was but, he surmised, there must be a house of some kind in the vicinity. It was farming land around the prison. Surely there would be somewhere for him to seek shelter. He flicked off the torch and jammed it into his belt along with the long bladed knife, using both hands to wipe the rain from his face as he walked. Every step seemed an effort. And, with each contact he made with the ground, that searing pain would spear through his skull, making him wince, once almost making him topple over.
He leant against one of the trees at the roadside, hoping the pain would subside. Then he pressed on, turning a bend in the road.
To his left, across a dark field, he saw some lights.
A house.
Just ahead of him was a wooden gate that opened onto an unguarded dirt tract. Scott assumed it led to the house. He could see rain falling in the puddles that had formed in the ruts of the track. As he tried to edge his way forward, avoiding the worst of the mud, one foot slipped in the slimy ooze and he sank up to his ankle in the clinging muck.
Cursing, he shook himself loose and prepared to trudge on towards the beckoning lights.
The approach of car headlamps made him duck back into the bushes.
The car, he guessed, was about a hundred yards off, its lights cutting a swathe through the gloom as it drew nearer.
It was moving slowly, the driver obviously taking care in the treacherous conditions.
Scott, his head throbbing, remained hidden in the sodden bushes.
If only he could stop it…
He touched the hilt of the carving knife almost unconsciously.
The car was less than fifty yards away now; soon the headlamps would pick him out.
He moved quickly, walking out into the road, lying down on the wet tarmac. It was an old trick but it was all he could think of.
He lay on his side, facing away from the car whose engine was now audible. His left arm was stretched out beneath his head, his right resting on his hip, close to the knife.
The pain filled his head as he lay there, rain beating against his pale face.
The car rounded the corner, its lights picking out his immobile form. He heard the driver slam on the brakes, the slight squeal of rubber as the car came to a slippery halt on the greasy surface. He lay there, rain soaking through his overalls, waiting.
