Gert started to sit up.
“Not yet,” Caxton shouted, as the truck shot across the basketball court—and then through another fence on the far side. A coil of barbed wire dragged across Caxton’s back, tearing through her stab-proof vest but missing her skin.
After that it was smooth driving all the way to the powerhouse.
30.
Caxton blinked away the last of the tear gas and blew her nose hard into her sleeve. She could see the low brick shape of the powerhouse ahead of her through the shattered windshield. There was a signpost fifteen yards away and she downshifted and braked carefully to miss hitting it, but she’d never driven a big rig before and she could just make out half of what it said before the truck plowed right into the sign and bent it over backward.
It had read WARNING: THIS AREA PROTECTED BY and then something else, something she hadn’t caught before it was too late. Protected by what? Guard dogs? Land mines?
Cursing, she put the truck in reverse and gave it a little gas. What resulted was one of the ugliest noises she’d ever heard— metal grinding on metal, and wheels spinning without getting anywhere. “Oh, Jesus,” she said. “Can’t anything ever be easy around here?” The sign must have gotten stuck in the truck’s front axle. She tried gunning the engine, tried driving forward, tried hauling the wheel all the way over to one side, then back the other way, but nothing worked.
She switched off the engine and rested her head on the steering wheel.
The truck settled around her, its vibrations and its rumbles shutting down one by one. Eventually all she could hear was the engine pinging as it cooled down.
“I guess we walk from here,” she said.
Gert looked over at her with wide eyes. She was hugging herself and shivering.
“You alright?” Caxton asked.
“Uh-huh,” Gert said, and licked her lips. “Just a little scared, I guess.”
“That was kind of a wild ride,” Caxton admitted. “And I suppose you didn’t see those half-deads until they were all over us?”
“Yeah, except, um, no,” Gert said. “That stuff doesn’t scare me. I’ve seen shit like that in the movies. It’s you I’m scared of right now.”
“Me? I thought I was your road bitch.”
“Me too. Except, we had a great chance to escape back there and you didn’t take it. That’s not how a road bitch is supposed to act.”
“I told you, Gert, it was too well defended, and the main gate—”
Gert shook her head. “Nope.”
Caxton frowned. “Nope what?”
“Nope, I ain’t buying that bullshit. You think I’m stupid? After all we’ve been through, you still think I’m some kind of down-home trailer-trash fool? I know what’s going on. I know what you’re doing.”
“Oh,” Caxton said. She’d hoped to put off this confrontation for a while.
“You’re going to try to rescue your girlfriend. Which, you know, hoo-fucking-ray for you, big hero butch dyke, but it’s not what I signed on for. She’s cute and all, but she’s not my type. Mostly because she’s got tits and no dick.”
Caxton closed her eyes. She didn’t have time for this. According to the clock on the dashboard it was nearly ten— which meant she had only nineteen hours left. For what she had planned that wasn’t a lot of time. “You want to split up, then? You go your way, I’ll go mine?” Caxton asked. “The only thing between you and the outside world is the wall over there.” Which was twenty-five feet high, topped by barbed wire, and in full sight of the machine-gun nests on two different guard towers, of course. If Gert wanted to try it, Caxton wouldn’t stop her.
Or—maybe she would, she reconsidered. Gert was a killer. She was in the prison for a very real reason. Caxton might not be a cop anymore, but it was her duty as a citizen if nothing else to keep Gert from escaping.
It was her duty as a celly to keep the girl alive.