The Loner: Seven Days to Die (8 page)

Another week went by, although it seemed more like a year to The Kid. He regained some of his strength. The meager, monotonous rations and the lack of exercise made it difficult for him to recover fully. The delay gave him a chance to talk to Drake several times, and during those conversations, The Kid began to understand how Ben Bledsoe had gotten out of that hellhole.

“I reckon you’ve noticed it doesn’t get real smoky in here, even with those torches burning all the time,” Drake said as he and The Kid sat at tables eating the breakfast gruel one morning.

Drake didn’t look at The Kid as he spoke, and he kept his voice low. The guards discouraged too much conversation among the prisoners.

“Yeah,” The Kid replied, also without looking at his companion. “There are vent holes drilled in the ceiling, all the way to the top of the cliff, I suppose.”

“That’s not all. There aren’t enough of those holes to carry all the smoke away. But back in the corner, there’s a natural chimney. They either uncovered it when they were blasting this place out, or the blasting itself opened a crack in the earth that runs all the way to the surface.”

The Kid frowned. “I haven’t seen anything like that. And I’ve been looking.”

“That’s because the way the wall juts out and curves around, you can’t spot it if you’re more than three or four feet from it—especially as bad as the light is in here. Look for a spot where a couple guards are always standing, not moving, and that’s where it is.”

“Fletcher keeps guards there all the time?”

“Yeah.”

“Then how did Bledsoe get past them?”

A guard wandered closer to them, prompting both men to fall silent. A few moments later they were marched them back to their cells, so The Kid and Drake weren’t able to finish talking about Bledsoe’s escape.

Their next opportunity to discuss it came the following day. Drake picked up the story where he’d left off. “One of the trusties smuggled in a knife to Bledsoe. He got out of his cell one night by pretending to be sick.”

The Kid grunted. “I’m surprised any of the guards fell for that old trick.”

“It wasn’t a trick. The trustie smuggled in something he stole from Doc Thurber that made Bledsoe puke his guts out. That didn’t stop him from knifing a guard, getting his hands on a rifle, and shooting his way past the men at the chimney. He started climbing out.”

“Why didn’t the guards who were still down here just shoot up the chimney and stop him?”

“Because it takes a sharp bend about twenty feet in. Bledsoe must’ve gotten around that bend before they could open fire. They tried ricocheting some slugs up the chimney, until Fletcher got here and ordered them to stop. He didn’t want Bledsoe killed, just stopped.”

“Because of the loot,” The Kid murmured.

“What?”

The Kid shook his head. “Go on.”

“There’s not much else to say,” Drake continued with a shrug. “Bledsoe climbed all the way to the top and got out. That’s the last anybody’s seen of him. Nobody knows for sure if he was wounded. They found some blood in the chimney, but that could’ve been from the guard whose throat he cut.”

“Why didn’t—”

Again the discussion was interrupted by a guard, but it was resumed at breakfast the next morning.

“Why didn’t Fletcher send men up top to be waiting for Bledsoe when he got there?” The Kid finished his question from the day before.

“He tried, but because of the terrain, it takes about twenty minutes for anybody to get from here to the top of the cliff. By the time they got there, Bledsoe was out and gone.”

“One of the guards told me they’d closed off Bledsoe’s escape route.”

Drake nodded. “Yeah. Fletcher has two men up there around the clock now. I’ve heard rumors that he’s considered walling up the crack down here, but he doesn’t want to do that because it vents so much of the smoke.”

“That smoke would make the climb pretty bad,” The Kid mused.

“Yeah, but breathing smoke for a little while is a lot better than being stuck in here.”

The Kid couldn’t argue with that.

“So if both ends of that natural chimney are guarded now,” he said, “I don’t see how you plan for us to use it to get out.”

Drake smiled. “I didn’t say it’d be easy. The trick is to take the boys up top by surprise. We can deal with them if they don’t know we’re coming.”

The Kid frowned and shook his head. That didn’t answer his question at all. “How do you figure on doing that?”

“We have to get out of our cells and kill the guards on this end without raising a ruckus.”

The Kid sighed in exasperation. “You’re still not telling me anything.”

“Otto’s going to provide a distraction for us.”

That took The Kid by surprise. “How’s he going to do that? And why would he help you? He hates you.”

“Not right now, he doesn’t. You have to understand. Otto’s like a little kid. One day he can want to wring your neck, and the next you can talk him into being your best friend, if you know how to handle him. I know how to handle him.”

“You’re putting a lot of faith in that,” The Kid pointed out.

“I’ve always been a good planner. The gang I led pulled off some complicated jobs.”

The Kid grunted again and glanced at Drake. “Yes, I can tell what a good planner you are by the fact that you’re in here with me.”

“Hey, everybody runs out of luck sooner or later, no matter how good they are. You want to hear the rest of this or not?”

“Yeah,” said The Kid. “Go ahead.”

“Otto’s going to start a big ruckus at breakfast tomorrow, big enough that all the guards except the two at the chimney will have to pitch in to stop him. That’s when we’ll jump them, take their guns, and climb out…if you think you’re up to it. If you’re not, I’ll talk to Otto and try to get him to wait. That might not be easy, though.”

“I’m up to it,” The Kid said. “But won’t those guards see us coming as we’re shuffling along toward them?”

“We’ll move faster than that.” Drake rested a closed hand on the table and opened it part of the way for a second, just enough for The Kid to catch a glimpse of a small key. “That’ll unlock our leg irons.”

“How’d you get that?”

“One of the trusties stole it while he was cleaning the guards’ barracks. He smuggled it in here in a pot of oatmeal. I made sure I got to the pot first and knew where to dip my bowl.”

“The same trustie who smuggled the knife to Bledsoe?”

“No, that fella, well, he met with an accident not long after that, I heard. I figure Fletcher probably killed him with his bare hands.”

“How did you get this one to go along with the scheme?” The Kid asked.

“It was easy enough. His brother was the one who helped Bledsoe escape. He doesn’t care about anything anymore except getting back at Fletcher.”

“What about Otto?”

Drake smiled. “I promised that once we escaped, we’d put together a gang and break him out, too. Of course, that’s not going to happen.”

The Kid felt bad about taking advantage of the dimwitted brute like that, but he knew Otto was a ruthless killer, so he wasn’t going to worry much about it. “It still sounds like an awful long shot to me,” he said.

“Nobody claimed it’d be easy. But it’s your best chance to get out of here. If you’d rather stay and see what happens the next time Fletcher takes it into his head to beat what he wants out of you, you’re welcome to do it.”

The Kid gave a tiny shake of his head. “I didn’t say that. I’m with you, Drake. I just don’t want us to get killed.”

“Even if we do, it’s better than being locked up in here for the next twenty years or more,” Drake said fervently. “You really want to do that? You think you could make it that long?”

The Kid knew he wouldn’t make it a year in Hell Gate, let alone twenty.

“Anyway, say you make it and they finally let you go when you’re an old man. You’d have nothing and nobody and the only thing you could do would be to crawl off somewhere and die. Is that what you want?”

“No,” The Kid whispered.

“Then stick with me. We’ll get out. I know it.”

The Kid took a deep breath and let it out in a sigh. “Tomorrow morning, you say?”

“That’s right. Will you be ready?”

“I’ll be ready,” The Kid said.

As he lay on his bunk after waking up the next morning, The Kid took stock of himself. His wounds were healed for the most part, although a few small scabs remained here and there. His head was clear. He wished he were a bit stronger, but he knew that wasn’t going to happen until he escaped from Hell Gate and could get some better food, along with fresh air and sunshine.

And a razor to scrape the damn beard off his face, he thought. He didn’t want to resemble Bloody Ben Bledsoe anymore.

As he sat up, he thought about everything he and Drake had discussed the day before. Drake’s plan still struck him as sketchy, but The Kid hadn’t been able to come up with anything else.

There was one major flaw that Drake hadn’t mentioned. The whole thing wouldn’t work unless both he and Drake were in the same group when the guards brought the prisoners out for breakfast. Otto had to be out of his cell then, as well.

The three of them were often in the same bunch, but not always. The Kid put his shoes on and went to the little barred window in the door to watch what was going on outside.

The guards were already taking some of the prisoners out of their cells. As The Kid looked on, Drake’s cell was unlocked. The guards worked their way closer to the rear wall of Hades. Otto came out and shuffled sullenly toward the mess tables, surrounded by guards.

Two out of three, The Kid thought. Now if they just came for him…

A minute later, a couple guards approached The Kid’s cell. They set the bar aside, and a key rattled in the lock.

“Back off,” one of them snapped at The Kid, who was already moving away from the door. He didn’t want to give them any excuse for deciding to leave him in his cell.

He came out when they told him to and walked slowly toward the tables. Otto had taken a seat at the table closest to the tunnel mouth, while Drake was at the one farthest back…and closest to the natural rock chimney that was their escape route out of there.

Without being too noticeable, The Kid glanced toward the place Drake had told him about. He couldn’t spot any opening in the rock wall, but he did see a couple guards standing in that area with rifles tucked under their arms. They didn’t move while the other guards were bringing out the prisoners for breakfast.

That had to be it, The Kid thought. There was no other reason for those guards to be back there in the far rear corner of Hades.

The guards let prisoners sit where they wanted to during meals as long as they didn’t cause any trouble. None of them paid any attention as The Kid drifted over to the table where Drake was sitting and sat down beside him.

Drake gave him just the barest glance and nod. No one would have noticed the reaction if they weren’t looking for it.

The Kid saw it and knew the plan was on.

Proceeding as normally as possible until the time came to make their move, The Kid grabbed one of the wooden bowls and dipped it into the pot of oatmeal. As he started to eat with his fingers, he heard a stir go through the other prisoners and glanced up, expecting to see Otto getting to his feet and starting to pitch a ruckus.

Instead a shock went through him as he recognized Jillian Fletcher coming toward him, flanked by a couple guards.

“What the hell?” Drake exclaimed under his breath.

“I don’t know,” The Kid whispered, barely moving his lips. “Just take it easy.”

“I will…but I don’t know about Otto.”

The Kid knew what Drake meant. Otto was too simple-minded to be able to count on him adjusting to new developments, like Jillian’s unexpected appearance. He might well carry on as planned, despite the young woman’s presence.

One thing you could say for the surprise: all the guards were looking at Jillian and not paying close attention to the prisoners.

Because of that, Drake was able to put his hand on the bench between him and The Kid for a second. When he took it away, the key to the leg irons lay there. The Kid covered it up immediately with his own hand.

“Mine are loose already,” Drake whispered. “Unlock yours.”

Trying to keep his movements as unobtrusive as possible, The Kid drew his legs up and reached down quickly, like he was just scratching his calf or something. With the deft touch that enabled him to be a skillful gun-handler, he found the keyhole by feel, thrust the key in, and turned it in a matter of seconds.

The leg irons clicked open around his left ankle.

That was all he managed to do before Jillian arrived at the table and looked at him. “Mr. Bledsoe,” she said. “I want to talk to you about—”

At that moment, Otto let out a roar, surged to his feet, grabbed the still half-full pot of hot oatmeal from the table, and smashed it over the head of the nearest guard.

The guard collapsed. Otto grabbed his rifle but didn’t try to fire it. Instead he grasped it by the barrel and used it as a club as he waded into the other guards.

Instantly, the area around the front tables was a confused melee as other prisoners joined in the fight and more guards rushed in from all over the tunnel.

But not the ones guarding the chimney, or the men who had accompanied Jillian Fletcher into Hades.

Drake took care of those two. He sprang up from the bench, holding the leg irons he had unlocked from both ankles earlier. He swung the heavy chain and irons like a mace. They crunched into the back of one guard’s skull, unhinging his knees.

In a continuation of the same movement, Drake whirled and slashed the irons across the face of the other guard. Blood spurted as the makeshift weapon pulped the man’s nose and opened up a huge gash in his cheek. He went down, stunned.

“Grab the girl!” Drake snapped at The Kid. “They can’t shoot at us as long as we have her!”

The Kid knew Drake was right. Having Jillian as a hostage would give them an edge they hadn’t even talked about. Neither of them could have predicted that she would show up, in Hades of all places, just as they were about to make their break.

The problem was that every instinct in The Kid rebelled at the idea of placing an innocent young woman in such danger. When he hesitated, Drake dropped the leg irons and lunged at Jillian. She was standing there, mouth gaping open in shock at the violence that had broken out around her.

Drake wrapped one arm around Jillian’s waist and clamped his other hand over her mouth so she couldn’t scream and alert the men rushing to break up the fight that something else was going on. As he dragged her toward the rear wall of the tunnel, he called over his shoulder to The Kid, “Come on!”

The Kid jerked the unlocked leg iron from his ankle, scooped up the irons Drake had dropped, and ran after them. He didn’t like what was happening, but he knew he was closer to getting out of Hell Gate than he had been since he got there. Maybe he could convince Drake to let Jillian go once they’d gotten past the guards at the chimney.

Those two men saw them coming, but they couldn’t shoot with the warden’s daughter in the line of fire. Drake had Jillian clutched in front of him, using her as a human shield. Her feet weren’t on the ground anymore. She struggled but couldn’t free herself from Drake’s powerful grip.

The guards started to yell for help, but with the uproar going on at the front of the tunnel, the others couldn’t hear them. The Kid sprang forward, swinging the leg irons. One of the men tried to block them with his rifle, but the irons struck his arm instead. The Kid heard bone snap.

With a hard push, The Kid shoved the injured man into the other guard and both of them went down. A swift kick to the head stretched the other guard out and silenced him.

“Damn good work!” Drake said. “I knew you’d be a fighter, Kid. Now grab one of those rifles and head on up the chimney.”

“Let the girl go,” The Kid said.

Drake shook his head. “When we get to the top. If they know she’s with us, they won’t dare fire up the chimney at us.”

Drake was right, of course, The Kid picked up one of the Winchesters dropped by the guards he had overpowered and slid into the crack in the rock. As Drake had explained, it was hard to see until you were right at the opening.

The crack in the earth ran upward at a sharp angle. The Kid had to wedge his shoulders into it. He started to climb, bracing himself between the stone walls. Morning sunlight shining into the opening at the top filtered down and lit the way for him.

He made it to the turn and worked his way around it. The chimney ran almost straight up and down from there, with only a slight angle to it. He had his shoulders and back pressed to one wall, his feet to the other, and inched his way upward.

He glanced down and saw Jillian’s terrified, tear-streaked face as she pulled herself around the bend in the chimney. Fear had silenced her. Drake had to be right behind her.

The Kid knew Jillian had heard Drake say they would let her go when they got to the top and took care of the guards. She was playing along, hoping he’d been telling the truth.

So did The Kid. He didn’t think they needed to be saddled with a hostage, even if she was Fletcher’s daughter.

The air was thick with smoke from the torches below. The acrid tang bit at The Kid’s nose. He ignored it and kept climbing. He had covered half of the eighty feet above him—forty feet more to the top.

The guards on duty atop the cliff might have heard the commotion in Hades, or they might not be aware that anything was going on. Most likely they probably weren’t expecting an armed, escaping prisoner to clamber out of the narrow hole. The Kid knew taking them by surprise was really the only chance he had.

When he was only about five feet from the opening, Jillian screamed.

The Kid cursed. Getting his feet under him on what had become a mostly moderate slope, he scrambled upward as fast as he could go.

The light was suddenly blocked off as one of the guards leaned over the opening and thrust the barrel of his rifle through it. The Kid found himself looking down that barrel and knew the spooked guard might start shooting at any second.