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We planned to escape that night, when the guards brought my bedtime snack at ten-thirty. Were we ready? Probably not, but I didn't dare wait any longer. I had to stop Clay. We needed tomorrow as a backup day, in case I couldn't get out of my cell that night.
I spent the early part of the evening resting in bed. Of course, I didn't really rest--not mentally, at least. I lay awake worrying about every thing that could go wrong. Before the guards arrived, I would pick off the scabs on my torn knee, inducing it to bleed again, then use this distraction to kill them and get free. What if the bleeding-knee trick failed to incite the guard's concern? What if I wasn't fast enough, if the second guard pulled his gun while I killed the first? I had to kill them. I couldn't risk them recovering consciousness before we escaped--
Whoosh.
I froze, recognizing the sound before my brain registered it. My cell door had opened. Instead of jumping up to see who was there, I lay still, tensed and waiting. What time was it? Nine-twenty. Too late for Matasumi. Too early for my snack. Xavier was gone. That left Winsloe. Please, no. Not tonight. I stayed still, listening and smelling the air, hoping I'd misheard the noise.
A full minute passed with no word of greeting, no scent of an intruder, no whoosh of the door closing. I lifted my head from the pillow and turned toward the door behind me. No one was there. I shifted onto my elbows for a better look. The door was closed. No, wait. Not closed. Open a half-inch, maybe less. Again, I braced myself. Was Winsloe in the hall, giving last-minute instructions to Ryman and Jolliffe? Yet I heard and smelled nothing. I counted off sixty seconds, then eased my legs over the side of the bed, and crept to the door. Leaning toward the open crack, I inhaled. Only old scents answered. How was that possible? Someone had opened the door only minutes before. Why couldn't I smell him?
Shifting into a semi-crouch, I edged the door open an inch, then another, then a full foot. I stretched my hamstrings, rolled onto the balls of my feet, and peered out the door. Someone was in the hall. I jerked back, then realized who I'd seen and leaned out again. Bauer stood outside her cell, looking one way, then the other. When she saw me, she straightened.
"Did you--?" she whispered.
I shook my head and stepped into the hall. Before I could say anything, a door opened at the opposite end of the hall and Savannah came out, half-stumbling with sleep, hair a dark tangle, one thin shoulder peeping from a red plaid nightgown. Seeing us, she rubbed a hand over her face and yawned.
"What happened?" she asked.
I motioned for silence and beckoned her closer. Since I couldn't smell anyone else in the hall, the doors must have opened automatically, some kind of mechanical malfunction. Too coincidental? Maybe, but I wasn't going to ignore the opportunity. Yes, it could be a trap, but to what purpose? To see whether we'd try to escape? That would be more of an intelligence test--anyone who'd stay in prison when the doors were open clearly lacked a few brain cells. It could be one of Matasumi's research experiments, like when he'd put me in that room with Patrick Lake. Worse yet, it could be another of Winsloe's sick games. So should I sit in my cell and do nothing? Maybe I should, but I couldn't. If this was real, I had the chance to save the three people whose safety concerned me most: Savannah, Bauer, and, of course, myself.
"We're leaving," I whispered, leaning down to Savannah's ear. "Bau--Sondra can get us out. Sneak back to your cell and get your shoes."
"We're going now?" Bauer whispered.
"We're out, aren't we?"
As Savannah scamper
ed back to her cell, Bauer hesitated, confusion clouding her eyes. I told myself she was only sleepy, but feared worse. Bauer's addled mind wouldn't respond well to changes in routine. She'd thought we were leaving in a few hours, and even this small deviation from the plan might throw her brain off track. I smiled as encouragingly as I could and steered her toward her cell.
"Just grab your shoes," I said.
Bauer nodded and reached for the door handle. She turned it, frowned, glanced over her shoulder at me, then jiggled the handle, and pushed against the door. It wouldn't open. Prodding her aside, I wrenched the handle and slammed my shoulder against the door. It didn't budge.
"It should open," Bauer said, panic creeping into her voice. "It has to open. There's no external lock."
"I can't get back in my cell," Savannah said as she ran back to us. "The door's stuck."
"So is this one," I said. "I guess if a mechanical malfunction can open them, it can jam them shut, too. We'll have to leave as we are."
"What about Leah and Mr. Zaid?" Savannah asked. "Shouldn't we get them out?"
"If we can."
We couldn't. I started with Curtis Zaid. The Vodoun priest lay huddled atop his bedcovers, fast asleep. His door was shut tight.
"Jammed," I said.
Savannah raced across the hall and tried Leah's door. "Same here."
"They'll have to stay behind for now," I said. "Sondra, the exit by Savannah's cell is the one with the guard station, right? The one by mine only has a camera linked to the station."
Bauer nodded.
"Good."
I headed for the exit on Savannah's side. Bauer grabbed my arm.
"That's the guarded one," she said.
