Luke pulled himself frantically along the shelving, towards the door, but Abrafo was quickly regaining his balance. His long arms were outstretched, his feet still slip-sliding, but he had discovered a way to half-skate towards Luke’s wall and Luke knew he had no chance. Abrafo’s pink lips twisted into a grin as he slithered closer. Another slide would do it.
Scrambling, using all his strength to pull himself a little higher up the wall, Luke spotted something. Knowing he had only a second, he hooked his feet into the metal frames of the shelving and reached as far inwards as possible. Stretching, his chest crushed into the sharp shelving, he just managed to hook his fingertip through the string. He pulled as hard as he could. The fat cylinder slid towards him, and he manoeuvred it sideways on the shelf to allow it to roll. From the corner of his eye, he saw it was too late. Abrafo would have a hand to his ankle in five seconds. Four. Luke clawed at the heavy tube, rolling it to the edge of the shelf, where it teetered. He held his breath and ducked. With just enough momentum, the fifteen-kilogram salami free-fell from the shelf and slammed straight into Abrafo’s chest and chin. Luke stared as Abrafo’s feet shot out from under him, and for a full second he was completely airborne. And then he fell. Luke heard the crack, but he didn’t stop to look, scrabbling along the shelving until he reached a clear patch of floor.
He dropped and ran.
‘Some bodyguard you are, bullet boy,’ said Luke, wrapped in his towel, waiting his turn on the bench in the shower block. He huddled as close as he could to the strip heater, but goosebumps stood at full attention up each of his arms. The steam from the showers offered no warmth.
‘Well, at least I warned you he would come,’ said Zac, his eyes on the tiles, skinny shoulders slumped.
‘How’d he get past you then?’ said Luke. ‘It seems as though you’re not the only sneaky one out there, hey?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Zac, shaking his head. ‘I’m sorry. I failed you.’
Luke laughed. ‘You really are a bit mental, you know that, Nguyen? You failed me? Come on. Get over it; I’m joking. As if it’s your fault that some freak doesn’t like me very much. It is weird that you picked him coming back, I’ll admit, but the bodyguard crap is really a bit over the top. I mean, I like you and all, but you have seriously been reading too many comic books, bro.’
Zac just stared at him. Sighed hard.
‘Chef Nick is going to be in all sorts of hell right now,’ said Luke. He gave a laugh. ‘I swear to you, I don’t know what was worse, sprinting out of that kitchen straight into Holt, or seeing Abrafo in the fridge with the knife. Did you see Holt’s face when we told him we didn’t know where Nick was? I couldn’t believe how pissed off he was when he marched me back in there. How the hell do you think Abrafo got out of there without anyone spotting him?’
Zac chewed a thumbnail.
‘Anyway, Chef Nick’s gonna cop it,’ said Luke. ‘But I’m sure Holt will find some way to make it all our fault.’
‘Well, I don’t think we should hang around for that,’ said Zac.
Luke laughed. ‘Yeah. I’m with you there, bullet boy.’ He paused, wrapped his towel a little tighter and stared hard at Zac. ‘You’re serious?’ he said.
Zac stared back.
Luke forgot about the cold. He’d been planning on leaving this lovely establishment for a while now, but he hadn’t quite put everything into place. While it had been as good as anywhere else when he’d first arrived, Holt and Toad had taken the shine off things in recent weeks. When they’d first turned their attention to him he hadn’t been too bothered. Bullies and boofheads were standard fare where he came from, but he’d watched Toad gradually become so obsessed that he’d become the fat boy’s only prey. Toad looked at him as hungrily as he watched his dinner plate. And then there was Holt. Holt had a hatred for something. A cold, clinical revulsion that Luke recognised, but couldn’t understand. He did know that Holt would always have that hate. And he also knew that right now he represented everything Holt could not abide. Holt was bent on trying to crush him, and Luke didn’t feel like hanging around to oblige.
He had a plan to get out, but it had a few holes. The first of which being that they were watched in here twenty-four-seven. Okay, so this arvo was a one-off thing – Chef Nick’s love for vodka had temporarily overcome his attention to the rules. By age eight, Luke knew that vodka, beer, Valium or whatever – choose your poison – could overcome any rule, law, moral, or common human decency known to man. But addiction among the officers was not predictable. At least, not predictable enough to plan an escape around.
He had an idea about how to get out the gates. But it was getting out of the dorm that was the problem.
He gave Zac an appraising glance. ‘What are you thinking?’ he said.
‘Abrafo will be back,’ Zac said. ‘We need to leave.’
‘Like now? Should we just walk out?’
‘Tomorrow,’ said Zac. ‘We can’t afford to wait.’
‘You do realise that we’re locked up, right, Zac?’
‘I know. We have a few things left to do, but I’ve already got things underway.’
Luke twisted uncomfortably in bed. His jeans had bunched up under his pyjama pants and the lock-picking set in his pocket jabbed into his hip. He just wished that something would happen. He couldn’t spend the whole night like this.
‘Do you think you used enough?’ he whispered to Zac.
‘We’ll know pretty soon,’ said Zac. ‘Shhh.’
Of all people to have on dorm duty tonight, they had to have Holt. He sat ramrod-straight at the front of the hall, watching over the forty-eight beds, six per Section, that made up Dorm Four. The trusted inmates made up Section One, up the back of the Dorm. They were first into the showers and first in line to march to the dining hall. Lucky Luke was in Section Six, up nice and close to Mr Holt. No one moved past their bed without Holt’s say-so. If you needed the toilet after lights out, you pretty much had to plan it in advance. There was no room for holding on and a quick dash off to the dunny at the last minute. You had to stand at attention by your bed, and when the Dorm Warden noticed you and nodded, you could proceed. But if someone had gone ahead of you, you had to wait until he returned.
Luke was praying that people would have to use the toilet tonight. A lot of people. But so far, everything was quiet. Just another night. He sighed and shoved at the lock-pick set, trying to manoeuvre the spiky pieces of metal through three layers of fabric.
From the back of the dorm, he heard a faint groan and movement. He turned his head slightly on the pillow. Jason Taylor was standing by his bed, his plastered arm in a sling.
It’s probably nothing, Luke told himself. He was used to doing that: playing down any hopes that others would come through; it saved time feeling disappointed later. Just because Zac had assured him he’d laced the tea tonight with his powdered mushrooms, it didn’t mean a) that he’d actually done it and b) that anything would come of it, even if he had.
And then there was another urgent rustle of bedsheets from Section One.
They’d had the tea first. This time, it was Adam Friar on his feet by his bed, fidgeting. On his podium up the front, Luke saw Holt give a nod, and Jason Taylor walked up the aisle. Fast. Another groan, and more movement from Section One. Like others around him, Luke sat up to check it out. At the back of the dorm, five more boys stood by their beds. Tua Palau sat on the edge of his bed, holding his gut and rocking.
‘Oh God, I’ve got to go now, sir!’ Adam Friar suddenly broke ranks and began to jog up the aisle.