On the plus side, my short career as a criminal had programmed my mind to find escape routes wherever I could. From the second I arrived at a target house I'd be scoping out emergency exits just in case I was found out. Which door would offer the quickest getaway, which second-floor window was a leap away from a tree branch or drainpipe, which bush in the garden would offer the darkest, safest hiding place if everything went wrong.
Inside, my mind worked in the same way. I'd take a mental snapshot of the house I was in, the layout, the location of furniture, how many locks were on the door. That way, even if the lights went out I'd know where to run to avoid tripping or crashing into a wall. There's no greater shame for a burglar than cracking your shins on a coffee table or doing cartwheels over a footstool that you'd forgotten was there.
The times I'd almost been caught, and there had been a handful, I'd only escaped because my brain had programmed in its routes and guided me to safety without me having to think about it.
It was like being on autopilot-the adrenaline would kick in and I'd fly along the safest possible route until I was outside. I could almost see the thread of silver light leading me to safety, a trail that I had to follow or my life would be over, a trail that led from the unbearable confines of an unwelcoming house to the utter relief of fresh air.
When I'd first arrived in Furnace the escape artist in my mind had set to work right away, taking a snapshot of every room in the prison, poking and probing everything I knew about the place in search of the path of least resistance, the best possible way of escape. It had drawn a blank every time-except one. Just once I'd imagined that silver thread, one occasion when I'd sensed fresh air and freedom beyond Furnace's impenetrable walls.
Room Two.
Zee wouldn't stop talking as soon as I mentioned a way out. He practically leaped over the table, grabbing me by my collar, his eyes wide with desperation. I clamped a hand over his squawking mouth before the entire prison heard him, then we walked to the most isolated part of the yard we could find and I told him what I was thinking.
"You hear anything more about the cave-in?" I asked, speaking as quietly as I could. There was nobody nearby, but in a place like this you never knew if the walls had ears.
"Just that it happened a couple of months ago," he whispered back. "I heard some kid talking about it in the laundry. Roof came down, killed thirty guys and sent a load more through the vault door, to the infirmary. They haven't come back, though."
I nodded. Donovan had told me the same. It had been the worst disaster in Furnace, apparently, but the blacksuits just acted like it never happened. The room was sealed and anyone caught talking about it got a day in the hole.
"Didn't you notice the smell when we were standing outside the room the other day?" I went on. He shook his head, confused. "Not so much a smell, just a sensation. Something different, like a breath of fresh air."
"It smelled less like sweaty teenage boys, I guess," was all he could manage. "Why, is that your way out?"
I didn't say anything, and he raised an eyebrow.
"Come on, Alex, think about it. For starters, we're who knows how far underground. Even the biggest cave-in in history won't have opened up a path to the surface. You'd need an earthquake measuring like a million on the Richter scale. It just isn't going to happen."
I opened my mouth to argue but it was no good, Zee was on a roll.
"Two: you think that if by some freak of nature and blessing of God a giant crack in the rock opened up to lead us to salvation, that the guards in here would let us hammer away with picks in the very next room? I mean, there isn't even a proper door on Room Two, just a few planks of wood. That's kind of like tempting fate if you run a prison, don't you think?"
I chewed my lip, my brow furrowed. Zee had caught me off guard. He was right, of course. What was I expecting? A miracle exit that nobody had spotted yet? But my mind kept circling back to the silver thread.
"I don't know what's in there, Zee," I replied, casting my eyes across the vast yard to the crack that led to the chipping rooms, guarded as always by an armed blacksuit. "I just know we need to find out."
NEW FISH
MY HEAD WAS BUZZING with possibility as we made our way back across the yard, but Zee was doing his best to undermine my escape fantasies.
"What next?" he asked, grinning. "The hand of God poking through the ceiling and offering us a lift to the surface?"
"Zee," I said, trying to ignore him.
"No, a magical escalator that the guards use to nip up and get their shopping. It probably leads to the local supermarket. We could just hop on and get some dinner for the walk home."
"That's not funny."
"A transporter!" he cried out, then: "Beam me up, Scottie."
"Give it a rest!"
"I know, why don't we just find one of Leonardo da Vinci's flying machines and soar up the ventilation pipes?"
"What?" I asked, turning around and raising my arms. "I have no idea what you're talking about."
"I'm just trying to show you how ridiculous the thought of escape is," he said, quietly this time. "I mean, you stand a better chance just running into the elevator as the doors are closing and hoping that nobody sees you."
I grimaced. That idea had occurred to me too. I was about to reply when, as if on cue, a gentle rumble came from above us, like distant thunder. The shouting and laughing and chatter in the yard instantly died away as the noise increased in volume, making the ground shake and dropping clouds of dust from the ceiling far above. The elevator was on its way down.
"Well, now's your chance," said Zee, walking toward the yellow circle in the center of the yard. I followed him, keeping my eye on the elevator doors as the lift lowered to our level. We'd seen it drop a couple of times now, twice with blacksuits wheeling in massive trolleys of supplies and once with five ordinary Doberman dogs that were dragged squealing through the vault door. Other than that the elevator had remained sealed.
When it seemed it would never reach its destination there was a crunch and the rumbling stopped. Half a minute later the huge doors grated open revealing three kids almost lost in the enormous interior. They hesitated when they saw the hundreds of unfriendly eyes glaring at them from the guts of Furnace, and one of them started crying. I couldn't hear him from this distance, but the way his shoulders shook was unmistakable.
"More new fish!" came a shout from the crowd that was gathering in the yellow circle, followed by a series of whoops and whistles. I noticed the Skulls making their way toward the elevator door, one pulling a nasty black shank from the inside of his overalls.
"Looks like they're getting the same warm welcome we did," said Zee, thrusting his hands in his pockets and shuffling uncomfortably on the stone. "Poor bastards."
One of the new arrivals walked calmly from the elevator. He was tall and well built, and the way he stood in front of Kevin and his posse made it clear he was no stranger to a fight or two. The Skulls stared him down for a few seconds then dismissed him, spreading out in front of the lift door to pick on the easier targets inside.
"Come on, you chickens," screamed Kevin at the top of his voice. "Get out here and get on your knees. I'm your boss now."
Two of the Skulls leaped into the lift and grabbed the inmates, pulling them out and throwing them to the stone. One rolled and tried to get back to his feet before getting a kick to the chest that sent him sprawling. The other, who had been crying, just lay there and howled. The Skulls laughed and imitated the sound. I felt my entire body burning with the desire to help, my muscles so tense that I thought they were going to snap. But what could I do? Charge in like an idiot again and risk someone else getting chewed to pieces?