“Come on,” she said.
Ahead of them, in the wall of the central tower, was a window looking into an empty room. There were no bars on it, though it was thicker than an ordinary window and not quite as shiny as glass. Caxton rapped it with her knuckles and listened to the sound it made. “Bulletproof. We’ll never break through,” she told Gert.
“What?”
Caxton stared at her celly Gert’s face was bright red, with sweat slicking down her temples and glistening on her chin. Her pupils were enormous, with only a tiny ring of brown showing around them.
“What? No. Goddamn it, no. I did’t come all this way to—” Instead of finishing her sentence, Gert slammed her shoulder against the window, again and again.
“Gert! Stop,” Caxton commanded.
The girl stopped immediately. Then she dropped down to sit on the concrete and started chewing on her fingernails.
“You took something,” Caxton said.
“What?”
Caxton grabbed Gert’s sweaty chin and pulled it up so they were looking at each other. “Back in the dispensary. You took something when I wasn’t looking. What was it?”
“I don’t know whatcher talking about,” Gert slurred.
Caxton groaned in frustration. She didn’t know whether to make Gert throw up or just let her burn it off on her own. Without knowing what kind of stimulant Gert had taken, there was no safe answer to that question.
She would have to worry about it later. In the meantime she studied the window. It was fitted perfectly into its frame, which was set deeply into the brick wall of the tower. There was nothing to grab hold of, nothing she could bend or break. It was built in two sections, one of which was designed to slide over the other so it could be opened, and… and… the latch wasn’t locked.
Caxton put both palms against the sliding section of the window and pushed. It opened almost effortlessly, sliding along a well-greased rail.
She climbed inside, and dropped easily to the floor of the room. Gert followed a second later.
41.
Gert leaned up against the wall, next to the room’s only door, and stood there, giggling. She had her hunting knife in her hand, holding it tight until her knuckles turned white around its handle. “This is. This is. This is. It. Right?” she said, her breath whipsawing in and out of her lungs.
“I ought to leave you right here,” Caxton said. “That was idiotic what you did. It could get both of us killed. I can’t believe you took drugs at a time like this.”
“Keeps me. Keeps me. Keeps me.” Gert swallowed noisily. “Focused. Alert. Awake. You coming?”
“Hold on,” Caxton had time to shout before Gert tore open the door and ran out into the hall. Cursing, she followed her celly her shotgun held in both hands so she could bring it around quickly when she needed it. She wanted to grab Gert, pull her back into the room, and beat some sense into her— make her understand the plan better before she went rushing into danger. But frankly, she seemed to have the plan down already.
It was simple enough: kill anything that moves.