The tunnel we crawl through is actually an old drainage pipe. It is only used during the flooding periods, and we aren’t in one now. Finding the pipe was a rare piece of luck. At first we figured we’d have to climb over or tunnel under the prison walls, using rope ladders for the former or endless digging for the latter. But Wince found the opening to the pipe by accident one day while mopping the cellar floors. It lay behind an iron lid fastened to the stone block wall, but he could tell the lid was meant to open and close and he figured out how to do it. Next time he was sent down he carried lockpicks concealed in the soles of his shoes. It took him only minutes to release the seal on the lid. Once he got that far he wriggled his way inside (being every bit as supple and stretchy as a desert cat) and found a hatch that opened into the pipe. Not long after that, he was moved from mopping floors to organizing storerooms, but he still risked everything to slip away and unseal the hatch, crawl inside, and follow it both ways, discovering that one direction took you to what appeared to be a very deep spill pit and the other to beyond the walls and a way out onto the wastelands.
It was Tommy who decided this is how we would escape. A grate seals the far end, but that is hardly enough to stop us if we can make a substance that will melt and break the lock. A big problem without access to chemical corrosives, but then Khoury surprised me by saying she could provide what we needed from the dissolvent she works with in the labs. What was left was to figure out when we would go and how we would survive once we were outside the walls. How big are the wastelands? How many miles would we have to walk to cross them? We were all either born in prison or brought here from other places, and we don’t know where anything is. But Tommy found a way onto the roof one day on the pretense of checking for damage after a storm, and his report was deeply troubling. There is nothing but open ground and scrub brush for as far as the eye can see.
No one knows for sure what is out there. How are we supposed to stay alive knowing so little?
But Tommy had an answer for this just as he did for everything. He is the son of survivalists after all, and he knows how to stay alive in any environment. He knows where to find food and water. He knows how to hunt and camp and hide so we can’t be found—how to create a false trail and conceal his tracks. You can’t learn how to do all that unless you’ve done it, and he has. Unlike the rest save for me, he lived free until he was in his teens, when a Goblin patrol caught his family in the open and took them prisoner. Tommy was brought here. He doesn’t know what happened to his parents—he never saw them again—but Tommy is a survivor; we all know that. We designated him as our leader because he is our best chance for staying alive.
Tommy chose me first for his escape plan because I know something of the larger world—although not as much as I pretend—and because I have made it clear that I am determined not to be left behind. We are attracted to each other, and we share confidences. Together—to the extent such things are possible behind prison walls—we make a good team.
Others were added to our little team as time passed. Carefully added. We are a diverse group, united by a common goal but fully aware of the risk we are running.
Girls and boys are housed together in indiscriminate fashion save for one rule: Opposite sexes are never allowed to share the same cell. Reproduction is tightly controlled, and forbidden altogether where we are. Tommy’s cellmate is Malik; mine is Khoury—which is one of the reasons she ended up coming with us. But twin sisters are housed on one side of JoJo’s cell, and he got to know them pretty well. It was his suggestion we bring them along. Barris and Breck are twins, even though they don’t look very much alike. Breck is a chameleon, Barris unchanging. Breck knows how to make things out of scraps and leavings others would never think to bother with. She can fashion clothes, boots, gloves, and hats to protect against the sun, because exposure poses a definite risk if you are caught out in it for too long. Barris is wise and centered and a good source of advice. She always knows what needs to be asked and answered, and someone like that can do a lot of good when you are on the run.
Malik is big and strong, and there was never any question about including him. He is able to lift and haul like a machine. Nothing seems to be beyond him. Incongruously, he is one of the more docile and obedient of us. He is quiet most of the time, seldom chooses to speak—just sits there listening. He latched on to Tommy early, follows him about like a pet dog, and does whatever Tommy asks of him. This can prove to be a problem if Tommy isn’t smart about the influence he wields over Malik, but he is careful never to abuse it. After all, it is important to have someone who possesses that size and strength on your side. Still, if Malik ever switches his allegiance or decides Tommy has betrayed him in some way, there will be problems.
We crawl through the drainage pipe in single file, Tommy in the lead, Khoury right behind so she can use the substance she has stolen from the camp labs to break down the metal of the locks and allow us to get out once we reach the grate. We go in single file, same as before, no talking, and no sounds at all. We crawl in darkness, eyes as adjusted to the black as they can be, everyone keeping their heads down. It seems to take much longer to reach the grate than is actually possible, and the feeling of being trapped is pervasive. But no one loses heart or breaks down. Everyone stays in control.
On reaching the drain cover, Khoury moves to the forefront and uncaps the melting substance and pours it on the locks. Steam, a hissing sound, and a sharp, pungent stench ensue. It takes three applications, but finally the locks fall apart and the grate comes free. Malik is there to grab it so it doesn’t make any sound when it starts to tumble away, gripping it with both hands as he leans out to lower it into the scrub-choked ditch outside. He goes out after it, then reaches back to help the other kids climb down the steep, slippery sides of the ditch.
In moments we are all in the clear. We stand as a group at the bottom of the ditch and say our goodbyes. Our core group of eight will go one way. The second group of add-ons will go the other. There is no particular reason for the choices of direction. But Tommy’s thinking is that we will stand a better chance if we split up and reduce our numbers. Common sense. It is easier to track larger groups. Once we are far enough away from the prison, we will all split up again. If we are lucky, most of us will make it out. We will have our chances, each one of us. But I know it won’t be enough. Because each of us fully believes that he or she will survive, while common sense says that some of us won’t.
I go with Tommy, Malik, JoJo, Barris and Breck, Wince, and Khoury. We go left; the others go right. None of us has the slightest idea in what direction we are traveling or what lies ahead. It doesn’t matter, so long as it takes us as far away from the prison as possible before we have to surface onto the flats. The night is cloudless, and moon- and starlight brighten the terrain. Once we crawl out of the ditch we will be exposed. It is bad enough that we will be tracked by the Ronks; worse still if natural light reveals us clearly enough that the Goblins’ long-range weapons can bring us down. The Goblins have carriers, too. They will use them to try to find us quickly, crisscrossing the flats until they stumble over us. Luck will prove valuable, if fickle. But foot pursuit using the Ronks doesn’t require luck, only patience.