Walking out of the canteen and through the trough room was the most terrifying part of the operation. I felt like the globes of gas pressed between my skin and my clothes were visible to even the most shortsighted person in Furnace, and as we crossed the yard toward the staircase I started to panic, knowing that a guard or snitch was going to discover us at any moment. But Donovan steered me on with a firm hand on my back, and we made it to the cell without incident.
I hid the gloves underneath the mattress at the base of my bed while Donovan kept watch. I wasn't too happy about the idea of going up in flames in the middle of the night, but we had no choice. It was either there or in the toilet cistern, and the thought of being blown up while taking a dump was infinitely worse.
Once the miniature bombs were secure we set off to find Zee, bumping into him halfway along the third-level platform. He was red-faced and sweaty with a nasty-looking burn on his neck.
"Gary," he hissed as an explanation. "Had laundry duty with him today. He wanted me to do his share while he napped on the clean bedding. I won't be saying no to him again, he's a psycho."
"Well, we've got something that will cheer you up," I said.
"It must be something big if it's pulled you out from that mother of all sulks," was his reply. I clipped him softly on the ear then started walking, waiting until we were in the clear before we filled him in on the plan. He just about danced a jig on the spot, the excitement too much for him.
"Holy Mother of Jesus," he said, clutching his hair in his hands. "You pair of crazy, wonderful nutters. The gloves, of course!"
I clamped a hand over Zee's mouth while Donovan held a finger to his lips.
"Don't want the whole prison to know," he said.
"Yeah, that's essential," I went on, leaning in and whispering to Zee. "If this is going to work, then we can't tell a soul. It's got to be us three, nobody else. I trust you guys, no questions asked, but I wouldn't trust anyone else in here as far as I could throw them. One word to anyone and it's over, we'll end up in the hole, or crapped out the backside of some dog."
"Word of honor, boss," said Donovan, holding out his hand palm down. Zee nodded and placed his hand on Donovan's.
"Feels like the three musketeers," I said, adding mine to the pile. Zee laughed.
"All for one and let's get the hell out of here," he said.
I know it was just my imagination, but I could have sworn there was some sort of electrical pulse charging through our linked fingers. Maybe it had been so long since I'd gripped someone else's hand, so long since I'd felt that contact with anyone. But I sensed it, a force that united us right there and then, a bond of trust, of friendship, of hope.
I guess that's why it came as such a huge surprise that out of the three of us, I was the one who broke the vow first.
IT WAS AS we were heading down to the yard that I heard someone shouting, pointing to the platforms above our heads. I looked up into the shadows of the upper floors, scanning the cells and the walkways. At first I couldn't work out what had caused so much consternation, but then I spotted them-two bodies clinging to the railings on the eighth level.
"Jumpers," said Donovan. "I wouldn't watch this if I were you."
There were three blacksuits in the yard, but none of them moved. They simply gazed up at the two boys as if watching a movie, their booming chuckles audible even from where I was standing. The inmates around us were similarly unconcerned, shouting and jeering as they ran from the place the boys would hit if they let go of their perches.
"Why isn't anyone doing anything to stop them?" I asked.
"Like what?" said Donovan. "Put up a safety net? It's their choice, just let them go."
"No," I whispered, then without thinking about what I was doing, I bolted back up the stairs. I leaped up the first flight three at a time, bounding round the corners so fast I nearly toppled over the side. I made it up the second and third flights in seconds, by the sixth level I was gasping for breath, and I almost didn't make it up the eighth set of stairs, tripping on the last one and sprawling out across the landing.
I pulled myself up, desperately gasping for breath. The lights were off up here, the cells unoccupied and shut tight. But by the weak glow that rose up from the yard I saw the two pale figures twenty or so meters down the platform. They were standing on the other side of the railing, only their trembling fingers stopping them from spilling into the void.
Both boys were eyeing me nervously, and I could finally see who they were. It was the new kids, Toby and Ashley.
I stepped slowly toward them, hands up to show I didn't mean any harm. Ashley shuffled on the ledge, looking ready to leap at any time. Toby was a little more secure, his eyes locked on mine, pleading for me to help. Behind me I heard two more sets of footsteps and knew that Donovan and Zee had my back.
"Toby, right?" I said. "And Ashley?"
The first boy nodded, the larger of the two marking out his landing site eight stories below. I stopped walking when I was an arm's length away, and realized I had no idea what to say.
"Don't jump," was the first thing that came out of my mouth. What a great help that was-I should have been a Samaritan. "I know it's bad down there, but you don't have to do this. There's people who'll look after you, you can get by."
I reached out toward Toby but quickly pulled back when Ashley started screaming at me.
"We can't get by. Every day it's the same, every day we're pushed and punched and spat on. Some guys even wet my bed the other day."
I laughed, which only seemed to incense him further.
"No," I explained hurriedly. "It happened to me too, not long after I got here. It probably happens to everyone."
"I didn't even kill him!" the boy screeched. "I shouldn't even be here."
He leaned backward, his arms straining with his own weight. Donovan and Zee rushed to my side, ready to grab for the boys if they jumped.
"Come on, Toby," said Ashley. "Let's do it."
"Wait, Toby," I said, turning my attention to the smaller boy. He was young, maybe eleven. He looked nothing like the Toby I'd known, but when I stared into his sad eyes I saw the same boy, the friend I'd let down, whose death I'd caused. He looked like he was going to jump, and I didn't blame him. I'd been thinking the very same thing until this morning.
I thought about our plan, our way out. I thought about our promise to keep it secret. I thought about my friend Toby, lying dead on a stranger's floor. I thought about this kid, the way he'd soon be lying in a pool of his own blood as well. I couldn't let it happen again, not when I had the chance to save him.
"Look, there's a way out," I said as quietly as possible. I felt a hand grip my arm and turned to see Donovan staring at me, the tendons in his neck strained with anxiety.
"Don't," he said. "We made a deal. One word, remember. That's all it could take."
"There's a bunch of us," I went on, ignoring him. "We know how to escape."
Both boys jerked their heads in my direction.
"Really?" said Toby. It was the first time I'd heard his voice, a musical lilt with an accent I couldn't place. "A way out of Furnace?"
"It's a lie," spat Ashley. "He'll lure us down and then they'll kill us, turn us into one of those things. There's only one way out."
I extended my hand again and nodded at Toby. He returned the nod, and his dark eyes suddenly glowed. He started to climb back over, but Ashley loosened his grip from the railing and snatched his clothing.
"I can't go on my own," he snarled, then with a noise halfway between a snort and a sob he fell. Toby lurched out over the yard and I threw myself toward him, grabbing his outstretched hand an instant before he dropped. The weight of both boys pulled me into the railings but I held on tight, refusing to let go.
The pain in my arm was unbearable. Looking down I saw Toby holding on to my hand with everything he had. Clinging to his waist was Ashley, wailing and tugging on his captive to try to pull them both loose. Far below, several hundred inmates
were watching from the yard, cheering for us all to drop.
I screamed to Donovan and Zee to help, but they didn't move.
"Just let them go," Donovan whispered. "They know about the plan, they could ruin everything."
I screamed with the pain. Zee took a step toward me but Donovan stopped him.
"I'm telling you, Alex, let them go. We don't know anything about these guys."
"You can trust him," I said through gritted teeth. "I'll lay my life on it. You can trust Toby. Now help me!"
"You'll lay all our lives on this," Donovan said, then both boys ran forward, Zee grabbing me and Donovan gripping Toby's arm. We all pulled together and managed to shift them up a fraction. But Ashley was still throwing himself around. If we couldn't dislodge him, then we were all going over.
"You got him?" I asked. Zee threw his arms over the railing and grabbed Toby's wrist. I let go of the boy and ducked behind Donovan so I had a better view of Ashley.
"Let go," I said, but he showed no sign of hearing me. "I said let go."
Ashley just looked at me with unrestrained contempt, then doubled his efforts to pull Toby loose.
"I can't die on my own!" he screeched.
"Quick," hissed Zee. "I can't hold on much longer."
"Last chance," I said, leaning over the railing, my fist bunched. Ashley spat at me, the gob arcing up then landing back on his own chin. He thrashed around, eyes wild, and I knew I had no choice. I lashed out, my fist connecting with his cheek. His head snapped back, his arm slipping. I punched him again, and this time he let go, seeming to fall in slow motion as if his endless scream was a parachute.
I staggered back from the balcony before he hit the yard, collapsing against the wall as Donovan and Zee pulled Toby onto the walkway. We all sat in silence for a while, trying to understand what had just happened, then Donovan threw me a cold look.
"I hope you're happy," he said.
But how could I be? In the space of five minutes I'd broken the vow and put us all in danger. Worst of all, I'd just become a killer for real.
THE RED HAND
WE WERE SERENADED BACK downstairs by the sound of a hundred voices cheering and screaming, calling for us to jump as well. It was sick, the way the inmates and the guards saw Ashley's final moments as entertainment, a performance to brighten up their day. He'd been a living, breathing kid; he hadn't deserved his fate, even though he'd chosen it.
"Breathe a word of this to anyone, kid, and I'll kill you," Donovan said for the fourth time as we reached our level. "I'm not joking."
He and Zee pulled ahead, disappearing into my cell. I stopped walking and turned to Toby. He wasn't crying, but it looked like his insides had been pulled out, leaving a white, shivering shell that seemed on the verge of collapse.
"Just ignore him," I said. "It's my plan and you're part of it now. But you really can't say anything, not if you want to get out of here."
"I do," he said. "I won't, I swear."
We walked into the cell. Donovan was lying on his top bunk fuming quietly, and Zee was sitting at the foot of my bed.
"I really wouldn't sit there if I were you," I told him. His eyes widened and he shot up, looking at the bulge that concealed the explosive gloves. He smiled nervously, then glanced at Toby.
"More hands means we can do this quicker," he said eventually. "Right?"
"No," said Donovan without lifting his head. "We don't tell him what we're doing. He can come with us on the day, but the less he knows the less he can give away."
"I'm not going to say anything," Toby said. "I just want out of here. I promise, my mouth is sealed. And I can help."
Donovan just snorted.
"Zee's right," I said. "The more of us there are, the quicker we can get out."
"Well, why don't we just tell everyone?" Donovan spat. I ignored him, checking to make sure there was nobody outside the cell before filling Toby in on the details of the plan. By the time I'd finished, he was grinning from ear to ear.
"You're all crazy," he said.
"Welcome to the club."
MY DREAMS THAT night were as bad as ever. I was back in my glass prison, only this time it wasn't my house I was looking at but a stranger's. The blacksuits pulled someone screaming from it, a figure I recognized as Ashley, throwing him in the cell with me. Instead of thumping the glass, I found myself banging on the boy's face, ignoring his sobs and his pleas as his skin cracked and split. Eventually he smashed into a thousand pieces, and beneath them on the glass floor I saw my reflection, all piggy eyes and rusted mask.
I woke with a cry to find myself encased in a darkness that was almost solid. Shivering, I crawled from my bed to the cell door and lay on the stone staring at the screen in the yard far below, the rotating Furnace logo a beacon in the night. I don't remember falling asleep again but I must have done so, because I woke when the siren blew, my entire body aching from the hard floor.
When the doors grated open, Donovan sprinted down to the yard to check the work chart, then legged it back up the stairs.
"Me and you on laundry," he said, obviously disappointed. "Zee's chipping, Toby's in the kitchen but I don't think he should be doing anything."
"I can handle it," came a voice from the cell door. It was Toby, and behind him stood Zee. "Just tell me what to do."
I told Toby how to fill the gloves while Donovan helped Zee squeeze the balloons under his overalls. We managed to get five in without him looking ridiculous.
"I'm glad Furnace is a no-smoking establishment." He grinned, giving us a twirl to show off his new curves.
On the way down to breakfast we made a plan just to throw the gloves through the wooden slats into the tunnel leading to Room Two. When we got the chance, we'd go through and carry the stockpile to the crack in the floor. Doing it this way was much less risky than breaking into the tunnel every day, and so long as the gloves were out of sight it was unlikely they'd ever be found. Donovan wasn't keen on the idea, but only because it was Toby's suggestion. Anyway, he was outvoted.
"Great," he muttered as he sat down with his breakfast. "Now we're a democracy."
We split up after leaving the trough room, wishing each other good luck. Donovan and I didn't say more than a handful of words to each other as we bleached and washed the sheets, too anxious about the plan. There were so many things that could go wrong-Toby could be caught filling the gloves, Zee could be spotted pushing them through the boards into the tunnel, one of us could explode while walking through the yard, and of course somebody could just mess up and spill the beans. Each of those scenarios went through our minds a million times that morning.
After showering we practically sprinted back to our cell to see Toby sitting on the bottom bunk, pale but happy. Making sure we were alone, he lifted up the mattress and proudly displayed eight fresh gloves, all bloated with gas.
"Holy crap," I said. "How'd you get so many?"
"There are certain advantages to being so skinny," he replied, pulling on his overalls to display just how baggy they were. "You could fit an elephant in these and there'd still be room for little old me."
Donovan made some comment about not pushing it, but he was obviously impressed. Some minutes later Zee came running into the cell looking just as pleased with himself.
"Massive. Piece. Of. Cake," he said. "Just pushed them through the boards when the guard did his rounds. I checked, it's so dark in there you can't see a thing. Nobody will find the gloves unless they're looking for them."
I felt some of the anxiety leaving me-like a bit of the black cloud that had obscured my thoughts for so long just breaking off and floating away. The whole thing seemed like a dream, but it was real-the plan was actually coming together.
For the rest of the day we wandered impatiently through the prison, dreaming wordlessly of what we'd do if we ever reached the surface. We must have looked like giddy kids, and several times we had to warn each other not to grin so hard for fear of someone getting suspicious.
The days rolled by with the same monotony, but for the first time since I arrived at Furnace I actually looked forward to hard labor in the morning. I'd always be awake before the siren and the first one down into the yard. The third day of our plan Donovan and I smuggled a combined total of nine gas-filled gloves from the kitchen while Toby dumped more in the tunnel and a furious Zee scrubbed the toilets. Day four we were all on trough duty and my mattress was almost falling off the bed with the sheer number of makeshift balloons beneath it. Day five Toby finally won Donovan over by stuffing ten gloves into his overalls and somehow managing to waddle to the tunnel without being seen.
Each day the stockpile grew and each day we became more confident. The blacksuits occasionally flashed us a wicked grin, but they never once stopped or searched us. The gloves were just too inconspicuous, invisible unless you knew where to look.
After ten more days we made the decision to start moving the gloves from the tunnel to the rift. Donovan and I were the only ones on chipping duty, but we'd got so used to the movement of the guard during hard labor that neither of us was worried. Well, that was a lie, we were permanently worried, but no more than usual.
We stuck to our routine, positioning ourselves by the door to Room Three and waiting for the blacksuit to start his rounds. As soon as his shadow had disappeared we ran around the corner, pulling the loose board away from the wall and scrabbling inside. Ahead of us, looking like bulbous sacs of insect eggs in the muted light from the equipment room, were the gloves. There were more than I remembered.
"Um, you didn't bring a duffel bag with you by any chance?" I asked Donovan in a whisper.
"I left my suitcase in the cell."
I swore under my breath, wondering how many trips it would take to get the gloves to the back of the cavern, then suddenly noticed that Donovan was stripping out of his overalls.
"Is there something you're not telling me?" I asked, a little concerned by the boy standing before me in his prison-issue underpants.
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