time, and if we go looking for them, we’ll raise the alarm faster!”
“I can’t go without trying! Where would they be kept?”
“They could be anywhere, but most of the regular holding areas are down the hall.”
“Two minutes,” I said. “That’s all we’ll need.”
Max fum-fuhhed before relenting and then grabbed a handful of key cards. “One minute.”
We tore down the hall. Max stayed behind the door so as not to startle anyone while I opened it. “We’re busting out of here,” I yelled, and tossed key cards to the three startled inmates. “Take these; let anyone out you can find! Run fast, and be quiet!”
I repeated the process twice more before Max finally insisted we leave. The alarm would be raised at any moment.
We left the building, following the routes Max knew would keep us out of sight. We hit the door and ran for cover. I still had a killer headache, thanks to that guard’s blast, but all I had to do was remember Jacob Buell torturing me and what my prize would do to people like him. The mere thought of it gave me wings.
Max seemed to recover, too; he’d had no fun being cooped up. It occurred to me: The Fangborn couldn’t be the only enemies the Order had.
We were almost to the gate, and I began to let myself believe we might get out without an incident. A car was pulling up and presented the perfect opportunity to get out without having to find a weaker spot in the high walls.
Max stopped entirely, as if he’d run into an invisible wall. I grabbed his arm and pulled him behind a parked car before anyone could see us. We were so close . . .
“What’s wrong with you?” I whispered. “This is our chance. As soon as the gates open—”
“That’s . . . my car,” he said. “My friend, the one who got me the job, is driving. Bastard never even tried to spring me, never tried to stop them. I’ll kill him,” he growled. He made as if to stand, and I yanked him down.
“No, we can’t risk that now. I know what it feels like when you think you’ve been betrayed. But we’ve got to get out of here.”
He opened his mouth to disagree and I hurried on. “This is a chance here. We gotta go. Okay, Max?”
His hesitation was too long. “Okay?” I repeated.
He nodded, and I shook his arm. “Okay, then. When the gate opens, we’re going to . . .”
I filled him in on the rest of the plan as we sneaked closer to the gate.
“It’s too risky,” he said. Good, at least his mind was back on the immediate business of getting away. “Why won’t they just—”
“Because as soon as we’re clear, their way will be blocked, and once we make the tree line, we’ll be closer to the public and have a better chance to escape.” I didn’t want to tell him I might be able to blast the guard shack, because I didn’t want to get his hopes up.
He shook his head but got ready. “Don’t know what the public will make of me.”
“Doesn’t matter now. Count of three, we go.”
The guard went back into the booth. The “friend” rolled up his window.
I didn’t have a chance to say “Three!” Alarms began to wail. The facility would be kicking into overdrive any moment.
We exploded from cover like we were startled quail. We hugged the wall as long as we could, until our two observers were convinced their business as usual was concluded, and then we bolted out.
Straight up and over the rail, onto the car and right down the back of it.
The railing was going up, but our presence startled the driver so that he didn’t move. His car blocked the way of the guy in the guardhouse. And before they knew what was happening, we slid and clattered over the roof and down the hood. It wasn’t the most graceful exit—cars are meant to be slippery and aerodynamic and not for running over—but it was surprising, and that worked for us.
My muscles found release in exercise. It felt so good, I ran faster, which was a fine idea, because I heard the telltale noises that let me know that the bullets had started flying.
I turned my head just enough to sniff and make sure Max was right behind me. I shouldn’t have done it. He was so hot on my heels, we nearly tripped each other up.
“Whatever you do,