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The Fire Triangle
Part Two:
Oxidizer
Chapter 9: Conor's Story
(Continued…Part 10)
"Tonight, there's gonna be a jailbreak
Somewhere in this town
See me and the boys we don't like it
So we're getting up and going down
Hiding low, looking right to left
If you see us coming, I think it's best
To move away; do you hear what I say?
From under my breath
Tonight there's gonna be a jailbreak
Somewhere in the town
Tonight there's gonna be a jailbreak
So don't you be around."
Thin Lizzy - Jailbreak
He could have told his client; he knew.
"You can't get sentimental when you're planning a breakout, kid. It's one of the worst mistakes you can make, worrying about the guys you're leaving behind. You either stay focused on the plan and forget about everything else, or otherwise you're not going anywhere." He lifted his shoulders in a throwaway shrug, "Yeah, it's hard, but that's how it is."
Vern Rodenberg could have said that to Conor—except what would have been the point? The kid obviously HAD managed to put the schmaltz away. Otherwise, as the fugitive young silver fox had pointed out himself, they wouldn't be having this conversation.
But…that didn't mean the rat had nothing to offer him.
"I can give you some thoughts about that." He said, "I was witness to at least seven prison breaks while I was on the inside. Only two were successful…and none of them were completely successful. Every single one of those guys was eventually recaptured, but still…" he clasped his paws and tilted his head. "Before I get into that, I need to ask you something. By the way you talk about it, I'm getting the idea that you didn't think that breaking out of jail was gonna make you an instant hero to those other kids…eh, assuming you were able to pull it off. That so?"
Conor answered him with a vigorous nod. "Yeah, exactly. This was real life; not the Pawshank Redemption."
The grey rat chuckled, "I would have said Cool Hoof Luke myself. But you're right; the reaction to those breakouts I just mentioned was decidedly mixed. Some of the younger guys thought the runners were heroes, but the hard-cases hated their guts." Noting the curious look on Erin Hopps's face, he shifted his gaze in her direction. "I never saw, or heard, about a prison break that didn't end up with almost every mammal in the joint getting their privileges reduced, or even revoked." His eyes found Conor again. "Most of the prisoners took it in stride, except for the guys I just mentioned; but then …they'd go off over just about anything. The lifers started taunting the guards about it, every chance they got; they had nothing more to lose, so why not? As for the wiseguys they couldn't have cared less; it had nothing to do with them." He smiled and raised a finger. "But would you believe…the ghetto boyz started a betting pool?"
"Betting…pool?" Conor's ears were standing up, and so were Erin Hopps's
"Yep," Rodenberg nodded, "on how long it would take for the runners to be recaptured. The first time it was six weeks and five guys split the pot. The second time—this was while I was at Lemmingworth—three of the big-mammal gangs got into a brawl over who controlled the money, and that was it. The warden locked the prison down and kept it that way until the guys who'd made a run for it were caught again. That was three days later, though only one of 'em was brought back alive." He let out a sniff in derision. "When he got out of The Hole, he sent me a message, asking me to represent him. I told him to get lost."
"What…? How come?" Erin beat Conor to the question by only microseconds.
The grey rat responded with the familiar gesture of slapping his knee with his paw.
"Even I have my limits, kid. While him and that other schmendrick were on the run, they did some things I'm not gonna talk about here. I had to put the word out with some of my other clients, this punk was never to be allowed anywhere near me."
"Oh yeah…I can imagine," Conor nodded, grimly. He was obviously thinking about his run-in with that sable-kid, Wayne Dabin.
Erin seemed to be thinking about that too; and it must have been something she didn't want to think about—because she quickly changed the subject, about as smoothly as shifting gears in a tractor, never mind the clutch.
"Did you…try to, you know, do anything about it?" she said to Conor, "about the kids you left behind."
"Hmmm," the young silver fox frowned, glancing sideways at Mr. Rodenberg. He didn't appear to be bothered by the question, only unsure as to how he should answer it. "I…thought about it," he finally admitted, "I was gonna ask Kieran if there was anything he could do to help them after Wez and I were gone." He glanced at the rat attorney again. "Only…he never showed up on my tablet. It always Danny T…and no way was I gonna ask him for help. The guy was always about as upbeat as a toothache."
At this, Vern Rodenberg could only nod. It was as spot-on a description of the swift-fox as ever he'd heard.
But then Conor added. "I was also looking for an opening with Crazy Wez. I wanted to make a pitch to him for bringing the Mearns Brothers with us."
That was enough to run the grey rat's thought process straight into a brick wall. Oy…he didn't!
Conor must have seen the look on his lawyer's face, because he hastily amended, "Yeah, it would have been easy-peasy. Both of those mice could have easily fit in either one of our pockets."
"What happened?" It was Erin. "Did he go for it?"
"Nope," The young silver fox shook his head, and when he stopped, he was wearing a rueful smile. "Because I never got the chance to ask him; Fate showed up and threw a whole stinking tool-box full of wrenches into our plan."
The kid's name was Mickey 'Lucky' Alvarez…Cotton Rat. He had escaped from custody four months earlier, when the officers taking him to the Johnstone Campus got into a car wreck. He was the only one not injured in the crash and somehow, he managed to talk the EMTs into removing his cuffs. He made it all the way to Winsloth, Arizoona before The Mammal finally caught up with him; busted on a street corner while trying to hitch a ride southbound.
Heh, heh…No Erin, he wasn't such a fine sight to see, at least not when he got out of The Hole after being sent to Granite Point. No surprise there, after an escape like that, it was a no-brainer. Heck, he was lucky it was only The Point and not The Clinic.
Anyway, he would have looked even worse if Crazy Wez could have gotten his paws on him. No kidding, he was ready to tear that rat-kid into a million pieces.
Because…the minute Lucky Alvarez landed in The Point, the guards went into double shifts, and the escape-prevention machine went into stinkin' hyperdrive. The word had come down from on high; if this rat-kid even tried to break out again—or if he inspired anyone else to make a run for it—more heads were gonna roll. But what really drove Wez crazy was this: Anyone seen associating with that rat-kid was immediately put under extra-close surveillance.
And wouldn't you know it, he turned out to be a Bearfoot Bandit groupie. He came out of The Hole telling anyone who'd listen that Wez McCrodon's exploits had been the inspiration for his escape. You can imagine how that went over—with both that sea-mink and with me. And the worst part was, we didn't dare let it show. If we hadn't been planning our own breakout, we'd have been happy to make friends with that cotton rat. And then it turned out that he'd come to Zoo Jersey from the same part of Gnucson, Arizoona as the Mearns Brothers. Their families had lived only a couple of blocks away from each other. Next thing we knew, him and those grasshopper mice were spending every free minute together, swapping stories about the hood.
Yeah, that's important, and here's why: In the end, Lucky's nickname turned out to be ironic rather than heroic—and it had nothing to do with Crazy Wez. One morning, four days after he was let out of the hole, he woke up with a cough and a runny nose. When he went to the infirmary, he was given the usual response, "Take two Tygernol and get out of my face."
By that evening, his cough had become a deep, chesty hack, and by the following morning he was barely breathing. And now his cellmate, a pocket gopher whose name I forget, had also come down with a cough and a stuffy nose.
And then it hit the Mearns Brothers.
And then Stuke Stuckey.
And by that time, half the rodents in Granite Point were down with the same symptoms—and it was spreading like a stinkin' brushfire.
That was when The Mammal finally took action. The next morning, every rodent in The Point was loaded into a special, sealed bus and taken away to The Clinic. And I mean ALL of them, the healthy as well as the sick.
Whoa, that was a scary scene. The animals who took them were done up in Haz-Mat suits and respirators. And, after the rodent kids were gone, their cells were hosed down with bleach and sanitizer.
The rest of us ended up locked down in our cells for a week. The next morning, after reveille, the guards started bringing us into the infirmary, ten at a time. When we got there, they made us cough into this breathalyzer-type thing, and then we had blood and saliva samples taken. I had no idea what was going on, and I couldn't get any answers. When I tried to ping Danny Tipperin about it, all I got was that same text-message—Stand By. I did notice one thing, though. As far as I could tell, none of the other kids were coming down sick—and nobody else was getting sent off to the clinic either.
Three days after the tests were finished, the lockdown finally ended, and I went rushing to talk to Crazy Wez. When I arrived at his cell, I was met with something I never thought I'd see. Scorp, Krat, and Jawbone were all there with him—and every single one of them had tears in their eyes.
"Wha…What's wrong?" I asked, not really wanting to know, but unable to stop myself.
Wez tried to answer, but all he could manage was a choked sob. Then Scorp blurted, "Stuke's dead!"
Time froze for a second. No, no…that couldn't be right. Stuke Stuckey hadn't even been the first of our guys to get sick. It had to be some kind of mistake.
Even as that thought came to me, I knew it wasn't true. Stuke was gone, and it hit me hard. I had worked with that Red-Giant flying squirrel many a time since joining The Enforcers…and I'd always liked him.
"H-How?" I asked, in a voice so weak, even I hardly recognized it.
It was Wez who told me.
"Hantavirus," he said, finally managing to get it together, "It was…hantavirus."
Yes Erin, that's right…Hantavirus doesn't normally cause symptoms in rodents.
Well, okay, yeah… I am a little surprised you knew that…it's not what you'd call common knowledge. I mean…I'D never heard of hantavirus before then. I had to get the word from Danny T, the next time we talked.
Oh, right…yeah, a farm family would need to be aware of stuff like that, huh? But, getting back to what I just said; no, hantavirus doesn't usually cause symptoms in rodents…but then a jail isn't exactly a normal place. Everybody crowded together; no privacy, so-so sanitation at best, lousy ventilation, and I already told you about the medical care.
Oh totally, Mr. Rodenberg; that's a great way to put it; like a giant incubator.
Anyway, the next thing I said was, "Wh-What about Slice and Dice? Are they okay?" I had to struggle on every word.
"They're…hanging in there," Wez shrugged, meaning he didn't know anything more about those grasshopper mice than I did—except that they were still alive.
Ahhhh, I think I'll skip ahead again here. For once, things didn't end badly. The Mearns Brothers made a full recovery, both of them. And then, along with every other rodent kid from The Point who fallen sick and managed to pull through, they were granted an immediate release from custody. The Mammal wasn't taking any chances, that one of them might bring that hantavirus back inside The Point.
But the good news for Wez and me right then was…with Lucky Alvarez gone, the escape plan was ON. No kidding, once that cotton rat kid was out of Granite Point—and therefore, no longer the guards' problem—they didn't just back off on all those extra security precautions…they started slacking off; half-baked pat-downs, quickie cell searches, showing up late for work, or sometimes not at all. Most interesting of all, for our escape plan, was that they even started skipping bed-checks. Whoa, if Crazy Wez had been ready to tear Lucky Alvarez a new before, now he could've kissed the guy.
You see, when Danny and Kieran got wind of the officers' loafing on the job, they decided to move up the date of our escape. I remember that swift fox telling me. "It's not going to stay like this forever, kid. Sooner or later, someone higher up the food chain's gonna find out about all that goldbricking—and then watch them drop the hammer like an anvil. We need to get you out of there now, before that happens."
And that was where those missing bed-checks came in. Danny had finally clued me in as to why he had us turning in early every night.
On the appointed day, at the time Wez and I normally went to bed, we were supposed to plant dummy versions of ourselves in our bunks, and then meet up—where else—in the laundry room.
Yeah, I know. When I asked Danny where we were supposed to get those dummies, he told me, "It's covered," and I didn't say anything more.
Okay, the next part of our plan was—we were to wait in the laundry room until we heard the lights-out siren, and from there, make our way to the storeroom I mentioned earlier. Once inside, we were supposed to break through the wall to the staircase I told you about. And then from there, we were supposed to make our way to the abandoned upper floor, where the maintenance guys used to live. There'd be one more locked door between there and the rooftop, but again, Danny assured me, "It's covered."
To be honest, I wasn't all that reassured. What that swift fox hadn't done was offer any promises in regards to that hi-tech padlock on the storeroom door—and if we couldn't get past that bad boy, we might as well hang it up right now.
I shouldn't have fretted; the issue had been taken care of. I found that out the day after Wez received his next care package. I had just finished my twice-a-week run around the yard and when I returned to my cell, I found him waiting for me.
"Hey Z," he said, greeting me with a fist bump, a prearranged signal, meaning he'd received something important in that goodie-box. I didn't ask him what it was, only followed him down the walkway. He led me to the laundry, idle at the moment, and informed me we'd be heading from there down to the storeroom. I wasn't surprised; in fact, I was a little bit relieved. We should have scouted that route weeks ago—or that was what I thought, anyway.
When we got to the laundry room, Wez stuck his paw under one of the big washing machines and came back with a pipe wrapped in newspaper. I immediately felt my ears go up.
"Wha…? What the heck do you need a shalmin for?" What were we going to do, fight it out if the guards caught us?
"This ain't a pipe," he explained, hefting it a little. And then without another word, he turned and headed for the stairway leading down to the basement.
When we got downstairs, we took our cautious time, checking around every corner with a mirror and then pausing to memorize our location. There were CCTV cameras all over the place, but every single one of them had their lights out. "Kieran," was Wez's only explanation—and that was good enough for me.
Finally, after what seemed like a thousand-and-one twists and turns, there it was; the magic storeroom.
"Stay here," Wez told me, going to the door. When he got there, I couldn't see what he was doing; his body was in the way. He was obviously busy with something, though. Just then, a small light flared, and I tasted phosphorus and sulfur in my nostrils. "Okay, don't look," he said, and I turned away, just as the light flared into a blinding, pure-white, incandescence and a ragged hiss filled the room…along with an overpowering odor like burning metal.
And then, just as suddenly as it had bloomed, the searing light was gone.
"Okay, you can look again." Wez told me…and I turned around just in time to see him jiggle the padlock off the door with the end of his shalmin-pipe. When it hit the floor, I saw the shackle was broken—no, melted—and that both of the ends were still smoldering.
"Thermite," he explained, with a wink and a small grin…and then he reached into his pocket, surprising me even more when he pulled out an exact replica of the padlock and fastened it to the door.
Well…not quite an exact replica, as I soon discovered when he pulled out his tablet—the first time I'd ever seen it—and thumbed a quick message.
"Padlock Done"
The response was a loud click as the AI controlled door lock disengaged.
The next thing I heard was a loud slap…me giving myself a face paw. What good did it do to disable the electronic lock if the stupid padlock was…?
I quickly found out when Wez produced a—what the heck was that, a refrigerator magnet? Yes, it was. And when he placed it against the side of the replacement padlock, it popped open with only a very soft click.
Okay, now I got it. The old lock had required a special, one-of-a-kind, magnetic key to open it. This one would open with any magnet.
But the guards wouldn't know that—not until after we made our escape.
And now I understood why Wez had been ordered to take all those pictures of the original padlock. Whoa, was I glad I'd agreed to hook up with his escape plan.
Yeah, right…but we still had a whole lot to do, and a long way to go.
…and Crazy Wez still had a few surprises up his sleeve. When he peeled back the newspaper on the shalmin he'd brought, it turned out to contain, not a pipe, but a bundle of rebar. I didn't have to guess what they were for, but still…
"Where'd you get those?" I asked, making sure to keep my voice low.
"Construction site," he answered, using a finger claw to cut through the duck-tape holding them together, "From back where they were doing the big fix-up," his name for all the post-riot repair-work. It was an easy explanation, but it left me even more confused.
Was he serious? There'd been guards and security assigned to every single work-zone while the repairs had been going on—and I mean straight up the wazoo. And besides that, "I thought the construction guys were supposed to take their trash away with 'em when they knocked off for the day."
Wez gave me that toothy grin of his.
"Yeah, right; that's what they were supposed to do."
That didn't tell me much, but in the end, what did it matter? Carelessness, bribery, or leverage, that rebar was going to be just the ticket for busting through a certain brick wall.
What? Ah, no…I don't think Wez planned it in advance. He was always grabbing stuff he could use for a weapon and stashing it in strategic locations, 'just in case.' No way could he have been planning a breakout while the big fix-up was still going on…not without that cell-phone I'd filched.
Anyway, after ordering me to keep an eye and an ear out for the guards, He hefted one of the bars and then slipped through the door to the storeroom. We'd been told the wall between there and the stairwell was old and crumbling, but he insisted on checking to make sure.
He was gone for only about a minute and half before he reappeared—with an even bigger grin on his face.
"Like stinkin' shortbread!" he almost whooped, offering a high-five, which I eagerly returned.
I was ready head back to my cell right then, but Wez had one final task to perform, stashing the rebar bundle in the storeroom for when we made our move. It took him all of half a minute to find the perfect hiding place; behind a pair of snow-shovels, stacked against the wall. Heh…given the time of year, it was none too likely they'd be getting much use for a while.
When we exited the storeroom, Wez latched the padlock, checked it twice, and pulled out a thumb-sized spray-bottle. He didn't have to tell me what it was for; I had one of my own. It was Biological Deodorizer, the same stuff they use to keep the odors down in hospitals and wherever; prolly got some in here somewhere. Anyway, after giving the air a good spray down to get rid of the leftover thermite fumes—and also our scent—he gingerly snatched up the melted padlock and stuffed it into this little fireproof bag he had.
And then, finally, we got the heck out of there.
I didn't have to ask him where he'd picked up the thermite either; probably in that care-package he'd just received. The last one I'd been sent had contained a hidden compartment, and I assumed his had as well.
Well yeah, the guards never searched 'em, but we still had to share those packages with the rest of The Enforcer crew. And like it or not, we couldn't have any of them figuring out what we were up to either.
Nooo, I didn't have a problem with that; just the opposite. It would help our guys a lot if they could honestly say that they hadn't been in our escape—after we made our break, I mean.
But on the subject of the other guys, we had another problem to deal with; finding a replacement for Stuke. Even in the best of times, that wouldn't have been an easy job—and now it was practically impossible. Stuke had been recruited for his climbing skills, and thanks to that virus outbreak, every other potential candidate was either sick or stuck in quarantine. And just our luck, there weren't any martens or fishers in The Point at the time. Wez finally made the announcement that he was postponing the decision until the Mammal started bringing the rodent kids back to Granite Point. Of course, he did that, knowing full well he'd be out of there before it happened.
As for the Mearns Brothers, it was still touch and go with them right then. For Wez McCrodon, however, there was only one way to handle it. "As long as there's even a teensy chance those mice might get better, their place with The Enforcers is reserved." It was a decision with which the rest of us heartily agreed.
What now? Well yeah, but at the time, we had no idea that they might be sent home from The Clinic. Matter of fact, it didn't happen until a whole lot later.
Anyway, with those two issues on hold, Wez and I were at last free to concentrate on making our preparations.
Thanks to our contacts on the outside, we had no shortage of information to go on. Over the next few nights, we were given the location of every motion detector and sniffer between the laundry works and the storeroom…all of which we were expected to memorize. The same was true for a 3d digital composite of the rooftop where we were supposed to be picked up. The first time it was shown to me, it had all of the blind spots highlighted, along with the extraction point. The second time I saw it, nothing was highlighted and I had to pick out the blind spots with my finger. I got half of them right and Danny made me do it again. And then again, and again, and again—until I could find them in my sleep. And then he did the same thing with the extraction point. It was frustrating as heck, but I never complained. This was nothing compared to the stress that awaited me if our escape plan failed.
Then…I got another care package, this one with a false bottom. When I pulled back the covering, I found a laser-pointer, a compact headset, and…what the HECK? Underneath everything else was a…was that a blow-up doll? No…it was two blow-up dolls—and each one came with a CO2 cartridge for instant inflation. What the FOX? But then I found something folded inside them; a pair of short-hair wigs—one in brown, to match Wez's fur, and one in black, the same as mine. Okay, now I knew what these bad boys were for, they were the dummies we were supposed to leave in our beds the night we made our break. That could only mean we were getting close to the big day.
Closer than I thought; the next time I made contact with Danny, he had four words for me. "It's on, kid…Tuesday."
Why that day? Because the upcoming weekend was a three-day-holiday, which meant party-time for the guards, which meant a fair amount of absenteeism on the following day—plus guys showing up for work hung over. The weather could have been better, a quarter moon, and partly cloudy, but it would do.
It was only then that full impact of what I was about to do hit me. I was getting out of here! Yes, I was, no way was The Mammal going to stop me; I wouldn't let him. And if I did get caught, I'd never let them take me alive.
Yes Mr. Rodenberg, I meant it. And like I said before to Erin, it still holds. I'll die before I go back to The Point—coz it's gonna be only the first stop on my way back to The Clinic.
When I met up with Wez to give him his 'substitute', he said nothing to me about the escape, but he had also been notified it was a go. I could tell by his body language.
The following week—Duh!—was the longest of my life until then. During that whole period, Wez and I said nothing to each other about the break. There was nothing more to discuss, and it would have been just our luck to have the wrong guy overhear us.
I had several more after-hours conversations with Danny Tipperin though. I used to call them late-night cook-outs, coz he spent the whole time grilling me. What do we do if a guard comes downstairs? What do we do if we spot a camera that's still working? What do we do if we get to the roof and it's raining? What do we do if the power goes out?
Ahhh, not really…they used to get power outages in that part of Jersey all the time. Yeah, The Point had an emergency generator, but it took about five minutes to kick in. No…that was on purpose; most of those blackouts didn't last more than a minute or two, and that generator had to be shut off manually.
Meanwhile, Wez and I went about our usual business and tried to keep a low profile. The worst thing that could happen right then would be if either one of us got sent to The Hole—something that would happen automatically if we got into a fight, or antagonized a guard. Like I said before, Blackbird was looking for any excuse to come down on me.
At the same time, we couldn't look like we were trying to play it cool. That would have raised a red flag with nearly everyone in The Point, guards and detainees alike. They might not have known exactly what we were up to…but they would have known something was going on. It was a real tightrope act, for both of us, but somehow, we pulled it off. Even so, I came within an actual inch of making a premature exit from our escape.
The Sunday before the big day was Fight Day. When the word came down that I had been tagged to officiate, I wanted at first to beg off. I might have, too…except Wez promptly vetoed the idea. "You never turned that gig down before, Z. What's The Mammal gonna think if you shine on it now?" Ahhh, I had to admit, he had a point there. "And anyway, you're not fighting; what's gonna happen to YOU?"
Heh, famous last words, but by the next day, I would have killed to get that referee's job…and so would every other kid in The Point. A rumor had begun to circulate, a rumor that was quickly confirmed. Blackbird was going to step into the ring against Lurch.
They'd been building up to this ever since their respective promotions, with Puma-Boy constantly complaining. "YOU never had to do blah-blah-blah when you had this job." Eventually, he'd reached the end of his rope, and demanded that the two of them, 'have it out, once and for all.' To practically everyone's surprise. Lurch had accepted his challenge.
I know, right? A puma against a polar bear. Blackbird had to be either crazy or…well, the word around the yard was that his challenge had been a bluff and Lurch had called him on it. Everybody, kids and guards alike, was expecting the warden to step in and stop the fight but it never happened. I had no idea why, and I didn't care; I couldn't wait to see those two go at it.
When the day of the fight came, it was standing room only in the yard, needless to say. Not only was the main event between two of the most hated officers in Granite Point…like I said before, it was a holiday weekend. Whoa, what a stinkin' three-ring circus. There were camcorders, cameras, coolers; this one bighorn sheep guy even had a grill and a stack of corn set up. The only thing missing was a TV crew.
None of the undercard matches lasted longer than a couple of rounds…mainly coz everyone wanted to get them over with, even the kids who were fighting.
When the main event finally stepped into the ring, the contrast couldn't have been greater. Blackbird was dressed like an MMA wannabe; long, baggy, faux-silk training pants, with flames rising up from the cuffs. Lurch, meanwhile, was wearing a pair of beat-up, khaki cutoffs—and a bored expression on his face.
I'll give you one guess, which one I was rooting for. That polar bear might have been a first-class jerk, but at least he never held grudges. Puma-boy…well, I already told you about him.
But then, after they broke, and retired to their corners, I heard Blackbird whispering as he passed me, "You'll be sorry if I lose, punk."
Ohhhh, foxtrot…now I understood; he must have known I was going to be the referee when he'd made that challenge to Lurch—and figured he could tilt the odds in his favor with a little intimidation. Aggggh, grrrr, why hadn't I seen that earlier? And it was way too late to back out now.
When the bell rang—yeah, they finally had one—Blackbird came charging out of his corner and was all over Lurch like a tawny tornado. He hit him with a right to the jaw, a kick to the ribs, a left to the gut, another kick, and another, and another. Sheesh, the way things were going, he just might win without any help from me. All the while Lurch just stood there, not even trying to fight back. Blackbird kneed him in the thigh, hit him with four fast punches to the solar-plexus, a flying elbow to the throat, a left, a right, another kick…
And that was when Lurch finally moved—just one, single solitary eyebrow.
"That all you got?" he growled, deadpan.
And then he back-pawed Blackbird across the chops—the only blow he landed that day—whirling him around like a fidget spinner, and sending him crashing to the mat, right on top of where I was standing.
I got out of there with only centimeters to spare. Good thing, too; when Blackbird hit the canvas, he jolted me a good three feet into the air.
Despite his earlier threat, I didn't slow the count. Why bother? I could have counted to a thousand and it wouldn't have made any difference. That cat was out colder n' bucket of penguin spit.
When I got to 'Ten!', the entire crowd erupted in cheers, whoops, and roars—none louder than from where The Enforcers were sitting. Oooo, I wished the Mearns Brothers could have been here to see this; they'd be howling their little heads off. I would have cheered myself, but being as I was referee, I didn't dare. Every kid and guard who'd bet on Blackbird to win—yeah, there'd been a few—they'd blame me for his loss. Yeah…I know. but that's what would have happened. I had to save my celebrations for later.
What did Lurch do? Hee-hee…that's the best part, Erin. He came lumbering over, looked down at Blackbird, and growled, "I expect you back for work at the usual time, Sergeant." And then he left the ring without another word…or even a backwards glance.
It took more than half an hour to revive puma-boy, and then he didn't seem to know where he was. He needed two guys to help him out of the ring and get him inside the main building. Heh…Never mind what Lurch had said, that kitty wasn't coming back to work any time soon. For sure, he wouldn't be back at his post on Tuesday, which meant he wouldn't be around to mess with our escape plan—or to lay any payback on me for getting his tail kicked. It was the icing on the cake.
Well…that, and Lurch deciding to take a hike as soon as the fight was over—saving me the embarrassment of having to raise his paw and declare him the winner.
The following day was the Monday holiday, and so The Point was operating with nearly a skeleton crew. At first, I thought Wez and me should make our move tonight, but I soon changed my mind. The guards who were still on duty were seriously torqued at having been left behind—and guess who they decided to take it out on? We spent the entire day reading in our cells, and Wez gave orders for the rest of the guys to do the same. It wasn't until lights out that I was finally able to relax.
But not for long. An hour later, Danny Tipperin pinged me on my tablet, there to deliver my final briefing.
The following night I was to leave my tablet in my cell, "Don't worry, it's got a built-in self-destruct." he told me. The reason I couldn't bring it along was that the special glasses that allowed me to use it in the dark would cancel out my night vision. Wez would still have his tablet, though…and I'd be able to hear our instructions through my new headset. My job was to guide us to the storeroom using my night-vision, and then up the stairs, after we broke through the wall. Then would come the most difficult part of the escape, finding our way to the door that led to the roof. For obvious reasons, we'd been unable to explore that part of the route, although we'd both been supplied with maps.
"You sure you can find it, kid?" Danny asked me, for what must have been the zillionth time. Aggghhh, grrrr, didn't that swift fox ever let up?
"I can get us there," I assured him. I actually wasn't that certain, but I was determined; I'd find that stupid door or die trying. I did have one question, though. "How are we supposed to get through that bad boy?"
"Wez will have that covered," he told me. "And, you know what to do next?"
I could have simply answered yes; I knew that part by heart. But I also knew that wasn't the answer he was looking for. And so, I proceeded to give him a detailed description of the final phase of our escape plan. Once we made it onto the roof, we were to follow a very specific route to the extraction point, a route that would keep us from being spotted by the officers on duty in the central guard tower.
"We need to go single file, not side-by-side, in order to make certain that we stay out of sight. I go first, since I have night vision. Then, when we reach the extraction point, we get picked up one at a time."
"Right and why is that?" Danny asked me, in that assistant-principal voice he'd been using all week. Agggh, grrr, not AGAIN. It was a good thing we were gonna be out of there the following night. Any more of this, and I'd prolly start reciting the escape plan in my sleep.
I didn't say anything like that to him of course. "Because those drones can't carry us both at once…and you can't send them in more than one at a time." No one had ever told me why, and I'd never asked. Why should I? Danny had never yet led me wrong. "And Wez goes first," I added quickly, anticipating his next, and…I hoped, his last question.
When I finished, I saw Danny nod his approval, and I was sure that this was the end of it.
"So…I guess that's all until tomorrow."
"Not quite, Al," he said, addressing me by my name for the first time in like forever…and in a much quieter voice. "There's a couple more things I need to discuss with you."
Uh sorry, guys—I can't say. After he finished, Danny swore me to secrecy—and a fox never betrays the word of another fox. No Erin, it's not archaic. Even today, it's harder than heck for a member of my species to get someone from another species to trust them. Look at all I had to do to get you to back off on trashing your bass. That's why we have that rule; if nobody else will believe in us, at least we know that we can always believe in each other.
Yeah, Mr. Rodenberg, foxes have been known to abuse that commandment from time to time—but not Danny Tipperin, never him. He's a stand-up guy, all the stinkin' way.
Uh-huh, I'm using the present tense. Danny's still alive. Yeah, he's locked up in Cattica, and okay, he's almost a basket-case—but he's alive. And as long as that's the case, that's how I'm gonna think about him…and Kieran, too!
S-Sorry, got a little carried away there. Yeah right…let's just move on.
No doubt you're expecting me to tell you that the night of the escape was fraught with danger, and that everything that could go wrong, DID go wrong. We got lost, the substitute padlock didn't work, a guard showed up unexpectedly, we lost contact with Kieran and Danny…and yet somehow, I made it out of there, escaping by the skin of my teeth.
Nope…for like ninety percent of our escape, everything went like clockwork—like stinkin' atomic clockwork. Nobody saw me put the dummy in my bed and inflate it, and none of the guards noticed anything unusual in my cell—or Wez's. I found that out later on. And all the way to the rendezvous-point in the laundry, not one other kid crossed my path, much less a guard. When Wez showed up, only a few seconds after I did, he said the same thing had gone down with him.
There were CCTV cameras covering every inch of the laundry-works, but all of their lights were out. Kieran had taken care of them…and he'd also made sure that all of the monitors for that part of The Point were showing nothing but looped footage.
But now, there was nothing for us to do but wait 'til after lights out. Only then could we make our next move. While we waited, we stayed totally silent. What could we say to each other that hadn't been said like twenty times already? There was nothing to do but hunker down and hope that nobody would walk in on us.
Heh, if I'd known then what I found out later on, I wouldn't have been so tense. Just as Danny T. had predicted, nearly a quarter of the guards hadn't reported for work that evening. And those that had shown up were in no mood to do even their regular jobs, much less go above and beyond. Just like we'd hoped, they skipped that first bed check. Even better, the central guard tower, which was supposed to be crewed at all times by at least two officers, had only a single guard on duty.
Neither Wez nor I were aware of this, of course…and our handlers weren't about to tell us; they wanted us both to stay sharp and alert.
When the Lights Out siren finally wailed, that was our cue to spray each other down with deodorizer. Even though Kieran was supposed to have disabled the sniffers, we weren't gonna take any chances. For the CCTV cameras, all we could do was keep an eye out to make sure the LED lights were off. For the motion detectors, all we could do was try to remember where they were and move quietly while keeping our distance…and keep our fingers crossed.
Lucky for Wez and me, none of our hopes turned out to be misplaced; Kieran was as good as his reputation. Not a single one of the surveillance cameras we encountered was working and the same held true for the motion and scent detectors. Yeah, most of them were hidden, but believe me…if THEY'D been functional, we'd have found out real sweet quick. As for making our way to the storeroom, I could have gotten us there even without my night-vision. The route was that familiar to me by then.
The only dicey moment was when I thought my headset had cut out; Danny Tipperin was supposed to be riding shotgun on our escape—my headset was equipped with a web-cam—but I hadn't heard a word from him since lights out.
"Danny?" I whispered, "Danny, you there?"
He came back at once, so loud and clear he might have been right in front of me.
"Yeah, kid. No worries, you're doing great. Just keep it up and keep quiet, unless you need me."
I did as he said and we made it to the storeroom in record time. When Wez put his fridge magnet to the padlock it popped open with barely a sound. As for the other one, the electronic lock, it had already been taken care of by Kieran.
But now, here came the part where we were most vulnerable, getting through the wall between the back of the storeroom and the stairs. No way could we pull that off without making a ruckus, and there was no way we wouldn't get busted if the guards heard any of the noise we'd be making. For that reason, Wez would have to work solo, while I stood watch outside. If I heard anyone coming, I was supposed to shut and lock the storeroom door and then duck out of sight.
Penetrating that wall turned out to be an even louder job than I thought—so loud that I wanted to clap my paws over my ears. But then, after only five minutes, Wez was back again—sending my ears straight up into the ceiling.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing," he answered, grinning through the mortar-dust covering his face, "We're through; come on, let's go."
"Already?" I said, following him into the storeroom and closing the door behind me.
Yeah…just like he said, there it was—a hole in the far wall, just big enough for each of us to slip through, one at a time. And now I understood why Wez's plan had been limited to small mammals only. Even with that wall in such crummy shape, it would have taken way longer to make a hole big enough to accommodate a larger mammal—someone like, say, Hitch.
But then, I remembered, and lifted an eyebrow. "The stairs?"
His grin widened. "You'll see for yourself in a few secs, Z; lookin' good!"
Foxes are great at negotiating narrow spaces, but even so, we've got nothing on mustelids. Wez made it through that hole without even touching the sides. When my turn came, I found out that he hadn't been kidding about that stairway. It was built out of iron rather than wood. And while there was no shortage of rust, this bad boy had clearly been meant to handle much larger—and heavier—species than a fox and a sea-mink. Okay, maybe the steps were a bit high for either one of us, but that beat the possibility of taking a fall, any day of the week.
At the top of the stairs, we came to a wooden door. It was nailed shut, but the wood was so rotten, we were able to chisel our way through with the rebar in no time flat. When we got to the other side, though…okay, now things were getting a little hairy—and I mean literally; it was cobweb city in there. Not that I was worried about spiders or anything. The problem was…with all that gunk everywhere, it was gonna be harder than heck to find that door to the rooftop. All I knew was that I had to turn right after leaving the stairs. After that, no dice; even with my night vision, I couldn't see more than two feet ahead of me.
From behind me, I heard an anxious whisper. "Come on already, Z. Let's go"
"Just hold on for a sec." I whispered back. I knew better than to tell him I was stuck in a holding pattern. But then…wait a minute, I had a lifeline over here. I reached up and pressed the 'talk' button on my headset. "Danny…Danny, you there?"
He was with me before I even finished. "Yeah, I'm here; what's up, kid?"
"We made it to the upper floor," I told him, "But there's so many cobwebs all over the place, I can't tell which way to go."
"You WHAT…?" Wez demanded from behind me, but then spoke into his headset in a low whisper. "Okay…okay-y-y…" Must have been Kieran on the other end, telling him to cool it. He could access our headsets, either individually or together.
"No problem, I'll guide you," Danny assured me, "Take a right and go about twenty paces. There'll be a hallway on your left. If you can't see it, feel for it.
Even with his help, it took me a while to find that rooftop door. I made at least one wrong turn and had to backtrack, much to the annoyance of Crazy Wez. Even more irritating was that we had to keep stopping to brush all that yucky cobweb-stuff off of each other. Lucky for us, we were running ahead of schedule; enough so that we could afford the delay.
The door to the roof was up a short flight of steps. It was a double-door, set at a 45-degree angle. It was old, but still plenty solid, and so was the padlock securing it. Nothing hi-tech about this bad boy; it was an 'old school' key-type padlock—as big as a tiger's fist, and so rusty that even if we'd had the key, we wouldn't have been able to open it.
No worries; we had a ready alternative. And on that note, I stepped aside to let Wez take the lead. Moving up to the door, he pulled out a tiny roll of what looked like metallic duck-tape, wrapped it around the shackle, and then inserted a fuse.
Then he turned and looked at me over his shoulder.
"Get back down the stairs, and get out of the way…and when you see the flare, don't look."
I did as he said, just in time to hear him whisper "Fire in the hole!" A split second later he came rushing past me, just as the stairwell was filled with a brilliant, arcing, white-washed light.
Right away, I knew something wasn't right. The burn should have lasted for only a second or two, the same as with the padlock on the storeroom door. Instead, the sparks and hissing went on for nearly half a minute. When I happened to glance in Wez's direction, the look on his face confirmed my fears ten times over.
Just then, the light finally sputtered out, and I felt an acrid sting, washing through my nostrils, scrubbing my throat with steel wool. When I looked around the corner, I saw the stairwell filled with a spongy, dirty-gray cloud.
But there, on the floor beneath it, was the glowing remains of the padlock. Okay-y-y…who cared, as long as the door to the roof was unlocked? We peeled around the corner and went rushing up the stairs.
…straight into the mother of all coughing fits! Aggggh, girrrr…that SMOKE; it was like inhaling a stinkin' hornets' nest! Wez and I went stumbling back down the stairs again, coughing our lungs out.
"What the heck?' I heard him gasp between hacks, "What the heck…happened?"
Ah, yeah…I knew you were gonna ask. And I didn't find out until later, but…
Thermite is basically a mixture of aluminum and iron oxide…and that lock had been rusted five sides from Sunday; you follow what I'm bringing out? Riiiight—when the thermite went off, it didn't just burn through the shackle, it set the whole stinkin' lock on fire. Our plan had worked too darn well. We had gotten the door unlocked—but to reach it, we'd have to run through a stinkin' gas chamber!
Looking at Wez I could almost hear his thoughts. "BAG this blankety-blank smoke, nothing's gonna stop me when I'm THIS close to getting out of here."
I also knew that if he tried it, he'd be dead, or at least unconscious, before he reached the last step.
Okay, I'm exaggerating but still—no way would he have made it.
But then…thank God for our lifeline.
"What's the problem, then?" Kieran's voice queried in my headset.
It was Wez who answered him, in an almost apoplectic voice "What's the problem? What's the problem!"
From there, he went on to describe our dilemma in language that I won't repeat here. I remember that Kieran kept having to tell him to keep his voice down. And then finally, he said, "Right, let me think 'bout this fer second—and cool yer jets, will ye, boy!"
Wez did as his cousin told him, but I could tell that he was steamed. Whoa, good thing Kieran was back after only a couple of seconds.
"Still got some o' that Bi-logical deodorizer on ye's? Right, see if that helps."
I didn't think that it would and neither did Wez, but we tried it anyway. And, what do you know, it did help…not by much, but enough so we could make it to the door if we held our breath. We had to force ourselves not to throw that bad-boy open though; it would have been a great way to get the attention of the guard in the tower overhead. Instead, Wez held it open while I slipped through, and then I held it open for him.
We spent the next couple of minutes bent over on our knees, taking in big gulps of air. We were so out of wind right then, we didn't care if anyone spotted us.
I remember that I recovered first. When Wez caught up with me, he grabbed me by the shoulder, "Come on, let's get to the extract…"
And that was when the lights went out.
Not just lights in Granite Point…I mean all of the lights, as far as the eye could see. I knew right away it wasn't Kieran's doing; just another one of those 'regularly unscheduled' North Jersey blackouts. But hey, right when we made it onto the roof—was this some perfect timing or what? Lady Luck might have bailed on us down in that stairwell, but now she was back in our corner.
I could not have been more mistaken. A split second later, I heard Kieran in my headset again, so loud and frantic, I almost had to pull it off to save my hearing.
"Don't move, stay where y'are!"
"Wha?" Wez was clutching at his headset too. "Turn it down, dangit."
Kieran's voice softened at once; his tone did not.
"Lissen t' me. I didn't cause this blackout, it happened on its own."
So? I already knew that…big whoop.
…but Wez didn't.
"All right, okay…but doesn't that help us?"
"No…*fzzt*…doesn't, boy!" In the background, I heard Danny, telling him to get a grip. A rush of more static followed, as Kieran took a deep breath. And then his voice finally evened out.
"When power went out, the p'trol drones all switched from AI t' manual control."
"Ohhhhh, SNAP!" I gasped, fighting to keep down what little dinner I'd been able to eat. This was bad…very bad.
And it was about to get worse. "All right, so…what?" Once again, I understood, and Wez didn't. I let Kieran fill him in…which he did in a totally frustrated voice.
"So…the guards've got control of 'em again is what, boyo! NOW, d'ye understand y' little idiot?"
Yes, he did…but what he said next made me want to slap him around the roof.
"Hey jerk, you don't talk to me that way!"
Ohhh, foxin'-A! Of all the times for Wez to decide to play the big-shot!
Fortunately, Kieran had an instant remedy for his problem.
"Never mind…lissen; one 'o them drones is hoverin' right over the extraction point!
Bingo, that made Wez shut his mink-trap. I wasn't entirely pleased, though—since it also meant our only avenue of escape was cut off.
Not quite. "No worries, we've got an alternate extraction point ready. Get over t' underneath the guard tower and work yer way round till yer facin' dead east. And then go t' the edge of the roof. Don't worry, they won't be able to see yer. Right…now get goin' an' make it fast. I'll tell ye when ye're in position."
We did as he said…although we didn't hurry. If those drones were really under manual control, what was to stop one of them from making an unexpected move and accidentally spotting us?
Our slow progress was not at all pleasing to our handlers. Again and again, I heard Kieran exhorting us to, "put a fire under it!" I tried my best, but the problem was Wez; he was shaking like a leaf and moving like a sloth. All the while, he kept muttering something under his breath. I was only able to catch a single word. "Edge…edge…"
After another minute of this, I heard Danny in the background again.
"Tell 'em, Kieran."
"I can't…"
"The I'LL tell them." His voice went up in volume. "Listen, both of you. When the power comes back on, EVERYTHING switches to manual while the mainframe boots up again…including the cameras and motion detectors, you follow what I'm bringing out?"
Oh God…yes, I did. There was nowhere in The Point with more of those bad boys than the rooftop where we were right then. If we didn't make it off of in the next five minutes, we'd be toast.
Or…maybe we didn't even have that long; how much time had we used up already? And there was one thing Danny hadn't brought out; that the power might come back on by itself, at any second.
"Now move!" he barked…and this time Wez complied. At first, everything seemed to go smoothly. I kept an ear out for the sound of a whistle or an air-horn but none came. The moon had decided to help us out by ducking behind a cloud, and a light drizzle had begun to sweep over The Point. So much for the weather report, but I wasn't griping.
When we got to the edge of the roof, Wez began to hang back again. At first, I didn't really notice, because…
"Where's our drones? There's nothing here."
Danny came back at once. "About eight feet below your six, you'll have to jump."
"J-Jump?" Wez and I asked in unison, swallowing hard, and looking at each other. What, was that swift fox kidding? Nobody had said a stinkin' thing about us maybe having to jump off that roof…not before tonight.
"Don't worry, ye'll be all right." Kieran's voice returned again, trying to sound soothing, "This has always been the back-up plan."
Dropping to all fours, I crept to the edge of the roof and peered down.
Something was there; I could see three…or was that four sets of whirling rotors down below, spread out in a rough rectangle. But, try as I might, I couldn't make out anything between them. This was going to be one majorly leap of faith—and it wasn't mine to make. I got up gingerly, stepped back from the rim, and turned to look at Wez. He was maybe six feet behind me in a crouching position, eyes like empty black marbles.
But then I remembered and spoke into my headset, "Should I use the laser pointer?"
What? Oh…it had been given to me to use as a homing beacon. Anyway, I heard Danny telling me, "Not yet…but get a move on!"
Yeah, right. I dropped to all fours and went hurrying to Wez.
"C'mon dude, your ride's here."
He just stared at me. In my headset I heard Kierana again, "What y' waiting for, then? Get going! Ye've got less than a minute 'til the power comes back!"
No time to think, I grabbed Wez by the wrist and hauled him to the edge of the roof; it was like dragging a sack of oats.
When we got there, I moved my paw to the back of his head, "It's there. mink… look!"
I pushed him forward and made him look down. I didn't know if he could see, but maybe with the laser pointer, I'd be able to…
I never got the chance; he let out a breathless scream and leaped backwards, landing on all his elbows and crab-walking away from the edge of the roof.
Oh, my God, what the fox? "Wez, what's the matter with you?"
He just shook his head, gazing slack-jawed, his breathing shallow and ragged.
"What the Devil's going on up there?" It was Danny again, almost totally exasperated.
"I don't know!" I answered in a choked voice. Good thing, or I'd have prolly been fox-screaming. "Wez froze up on me; I don't know."
A second of silence, and then Kieran was back. "Right then, boyo. You go first."
Now I almost froze. Was he really telling me to…?
"You heard me…GO!"
No time to think; no time to say 'Sorry' to Wez. I bolted to the edge of the roof and jumped. I was sure that my fall was gonna end in a hard impact and darkness. But three seconds down, I hit something that felt like a burlap bag, wrapping itself around me. I was still falling, but a lot more slowly, and the further I fell, the slower I went, until finally, I stopped and began to rise back up again. All around me, I heard a whirring buzz, like an electric weed-whacker. And then the bag holding me began to spread open, and I realized where I was. I was in a net suspended between four drones, rising fast and moving quickly towards the tree-line beyond the open space at the base of the cliff.
I also became aware of something else…there was no way this thing could have carried both me and Crazy Wez. And I didn't see another one, anywhere in sight. A sickening feeling began to come over me. But before it had time to gel into a thought, my attention was diverted by the wail of a siren behind me.
When I turned to look, I saw Granite Point, lit up from one end to the other. And there was Wez, pinned in the beams of three spotlights, with his paws raised. I couldn't see anything more of him than a fuzzy silhouette, but who else could it have been? And then he stiffened, and began to fall.
And it was the last I ever saw of him. Just then, I reached the tree-line and the drones pulled up and over, making a fast descent down the hillside to the road below.
I was two feet above the roadway when the descent abruptly stopped, jouncing me a couple of feet into the air. And then the motors cut out, and I was unceremoniously dropped to the asphalt.
Only then did I realize…I had made it; I was out of Granite Point.
But I still wasn't free. And that became abundantly clear when four red lights lit up to my right, and a squeal of tires came rushing towards me.
The tail-lights finally stopped, less than two feet from where I had landed. I heard doors thrown open and then a paw grabbed me roughly by the wrist. "C'mon kid, let's go."
It was Danny Tipperin. He literally heaved me into the back of the Sprinter Van, and a moment later I was joined by the drones and the net; only one net, and only one set of drones, I couldn't help noticing. And as my rescuers pitched themselves into the seats up front, I heard Kieran say to Danny. "Oi, The Mister's not goin' t like this, boyo."
"I know," Danny answered grimly, putting the van into 'drive.' "But it is what it is. Now, let's move before the cops start rolling."
That was when I finally knew for sure; it was ME that was supposed to have been left as a diversion while Wez was the one who…
Huh…? Mr. Rodenberg…what do you mean, that's it, you've heard enough?