The Loner: Seven Days to Die

by J. A. Johnstone

  “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.

  Chapter 16

  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.

  Chapter 17

  Instinct and superb reflexes, despite his long confinement, allowed The Kid to fire first. The sharp crack of the rifle in his hands was deafening in the narrow confines of the chimney.

  The guard jerked back out of sight. The Kid levered another round into the Winchester’s chamber and clawed his way to the surface.

  As he emerged from the hole in the top of the cliff, he threw himself onto his belly. A shot blasted at that instant, the bullet whipping over his head, missing him by no more than six inches.

  Lying on his belly, he triggered a round at the second guard. The .44-40 slug ripped through the man’s thigh and knocked him off his feet. His rifle went flying.

  The Kid jerked his head from side to side, looking for the other man. Relief went through him as he spotted the man lying on the ground a few yards away, clutching a bullet-shattered shoulder and whimpering in pain.

  The Kid felt an unexpected pang of sympathy as he recognized the man as Smithson, the guard who hadn’t actually befriended him but had treated him with more respect than some of the others. He was glad his shot hadn’t killed Smithson.

  Sympathy didn’t stop him from leaping to his feet and kicking both rifles away from the men who had dropped them. He swung the Winchester in his hands back and forth to cover both wounded guards.

  “It’s clear!” he called down to Drake.

  “Get on up there, you bitch!” Drake ordered Jillian Fletcher. Sobbing, she emerged from the hole, followed closely by Drake.

  The first thing he did was snatch up one of the rifles. Now that Drake was armed, too, The Kid thought it would be safe for him to take a second to look around at their surroundings.

  The mouth of the natural chimney had a cluster of small boulders around it. The heavily wooded slope of a mountain rose to his left. The Kid thought that was west. To his right, about fifteen feet away, was the sheer drop-off of the cliff, running north and south farther than the eye could see.

  That was why it took so long for guards to get up there, The Kid realized. They had to ride a long way to get to a trail that led to the top of the cliff.

  The pair of saddled horses Smithson and the other guard had ridden to the top were tied to small trees nearby. The Kid was mighty glad to see them. Those horses represented freedom.

  “Come on, Drake,” he said. “Let’s get out of here.”

  “In a minute,” Drake snapped. “We’ve got time.” He turned to Jillian and caught hold of her arm, squeezing it cruelly. “You bitch,” he said again. “I told you what’d happen to you if you let out a peep while we were climbing up here.”

  From the ground, the guard who’d been wounded in the leg by The Kid said, “Let her go, Drake. You’re out. You don’t need a hostage anymore.”

  “The hell I don’t,” Drake replied with a sneer. “Fortune dropped the warden’s daughter right in my lap. You reckon I’m gonna turn down that gift?”

  “You said you’d let her go,” The Kid reminded him.

  “Well, I changed my mind. Just for playing that little trick she did, she’s coming with us.” Drake shoved Jillian at The Kid with such force he had to grab hold of her to keep her from falling. “Get her on one of those horses and climb up behind her. I’ll finish up here.”

  The Kid was about to ask him what the hell he meant by that, when Drake swung up the rifle he held and fired, driving a slug into the forehead of the guard with the wounded leg. Jillian screamed as the man’s head jerked back and seemed to balloon for a second before blood and brain matter exploded out of it.

  With his hands full of Jillian, The Kid couldn’t stop Drake before the man worked the rifle’s lever and blasted another shot through Smithson’s skull, killing him as well.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” The Kid shouted.

  “Making sure there’s nobody to tell them which way we went,” Drake answered coolly. “As well as getting a little payback for the way I was treated down here in Hades. Don’t lose any sleep over those guards, Kid. Fletcher’s Satan, and the guards are his little imps. They had it coming.”

  The Kid didn’t believe that, but the men were already dead and there was nothing he could do for them.

  Drake went on, “I told you to get that girl on a horse. Unless you’d rather me do it—”

  Jillian cried out and cringed against The Kid. She might be afraid of him, but she was mortally terrified of Drake.

  “Come on,” The Kid muttered as he turned toward the horses. He kept a hand around her arm to make sure she didn’t get away.

  Even though it sickened him to admit it, he knew Drake was right about one thing: having Jillian with them would make their pursuers a lot more cautious and less eager to start shooting. He told himself he would keep her safe for the time being, and they could release her later.

  A glance behind them revealed that Drake was busy rolling boulders over the opening to block any of the guards from climbing up after them. It must have been discovered that they had escaped.

  As he and Jillian reached the horses, he told her in a low voice, “Just cooperate for now. I won’t let him hurt you.”

  “You…you can’t stop him,” she replied in a choked voice. “He’s a monster!” />
  The Kid couldn’t deny that, not after he’d seen Drake cold-bloodedly execute both guards. “We’ll get away from him,” The Kid promised. “There’s no reason we have to stay together.” He had agreed to help Drake escape, but now they were quits. They didn’t owe anything to each other anymore.

  Of course, Drake might not see it that way, especially where Jillian was concerned.

  The Kid would deal with that when the time came. He wanted to put as much distance between him and Hell Gate Prison as he could. He urged Jillian to climb up on one of the horses, jerked the animal’s reins loose, and swung up behind her.

  Drake untied the other horse and mounted it. “Let’s go,” he said, kicking the horse into motion and heading up the slope.

  The Kid followed.

  There was nothing else to do.

  Drake seemed to know his way around those mountains. When The Kid asked him about that when they paused to rest the horses an hour or so later, the outlaw explained, “I spent some time in these parts a few years ago, before they ever started building that damn prison.” Drake chuckled. “I was running from the law then, too.”

  “I haven’t seen anybody behind us,” The Kid commented.

  “Oh, they’re back there,” Drake said. “It’s hard to follow a trail in country this rugged, but it’s not impossible. Some of those guards Fletcher has working for him are supposed to be pretty good trackers.”

  “We need to shake them off.”

  “We will, don’t worry. I know some trails that not many others do, if you get my drift.”

  “Owlhoot trails, you mean.”

  Drake grinned. “Don’t sound so damn superior. You’re every bit as much an outlaw as I am now, Kid.”

  The Kid glanced over at Jillian Fletcher. She was sitting on a log, her face pale and tear-streaked but composed. She wasn’t crying anymore.

  He nodded toward her and said, “You could tell her I’m not Bledsoe. She already halfway believes it.”

  Drake laughed. “What difference would that make? You think you could turn around and go back now? You’d put your life in that madman’s hands with nothing more to back up your story than the word of an escaped prisoner and a hysterical girl you kidnapped? Who just happens to be the warden’s daughter, I might add.”