“Aye,” Campbell said.
“Why?”
Campbell cocked his head to the side. “Be ready to run, MacLean.” He turned and walked off.
For a long time Colin stood staring at the bars, his mind curiously blank. He turned around and found his cellmate staring at him from his slumped position.
Colin returned to the wall he’d been sitting against.
Time passed. He dozed. His head throbbed. His limbs became heavy, and the tight feeling in his chest intensified. Occasionally, his cellmate shifted positions.
Just another day in the hands of the damn redcoats.
Possibly his last day on earth.
Possibly not.
Definitely his last day as a prisoner.
He didn’t know whether he should believe Campbell. He wanted to. But he knew he shouldn’t get his hopes up.
Why would Campbell agree to help him? They didn’t like each other. The MacLeans were a small clan. The Campbells were one of the largest in Scotland. Likely the MacLeans didn’t even register in Campbell’s world.
He’d said he was doing Sutherland a favor. That made sense. Sutherland could have asked Campbell for the favor, although Colin hated that his friend would be beholden on his behalf.
The last meal of the day arrived. Another bowl of slop, barely edible. Colin didn’t even spare it a glance. The thought of ingesting any sort of food turned his stomach. He pushed the bowl toward his cellmate, and the lad nearly inhaled Colin’s bowl as well as his own.
Darkness fell, and the only light came from the torches lining the outer corridor. Colin’s eyelids began to droop, and he had to continually force them to remain open.
It was late when he heard the footsteps. Normally, the guards didn’t pass through after the evening meal, apparently secure in the knowledge that their prisoners would remain where they were put.
A key turned in the lock and the footsteps hurried away.
Colin still wasn’t convinced this was happening. Was Campbell setting him up? To what end? Colin was already going to die. Getting caught while trying to escape would only speed up the process by a few hours, but oh, how delicious it would be to escape Abbott. The man would surely be hell-bent on revenge once he discovered Colin was gone.
Slowly, Colin stood, but he had to lean against the wall for a bit to gather his strength. Damn, but this sickness was making him weak.
He made his way to the door and pushed until it swung open soundlessly. The corridor was still except for the flickering shadows cast by the wall torches and the sounds coming from the other cells.
He stepped out of the cell, but something made him look back.
His cellmate was watching him. He was a small thing, too young to be condemned to death in an English prison.
A burst of laughter from the guards upstairs startled Colin.
“Come,” he said softly.
The lad didn’t move.
Colin motioned to him. “Hurry. We do no’ have much time.”
The lad scrambled to his feet with the nimbleness that only the young possessed.
“Make no sound,” Colin said, second-guessing his impulsive decision. It must be the sickness addling his mind, but he knew he couldn’t leave the lad there to fend for himself. Although they’d spoken hardly at all, they’d experienced one hell of a nightmare together, and Colin couldn’t turn his back on him.
The boy followed Colin down the corridor, his feet silent on the concrete floor. He climbed through the window quick and nimble as a cat. Less than five minutes after stepping outside of their cell, they were racing across the wide-open expanse of dirt and gravel toward the trees.
Colin’s heart was pounding, so certain he was of a pistol ball to his back. His feet felt heavy. His lungs struggled to pull in the breaths needed to run. His back and shoulders hurt like the devil, and he felt blood running down his side.
The lad easily kept up, checking his strides to keep pace with Colin, barely out of breath.
They reached the trees just as a shout went up and the dogs started barking.
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