The mad woman continued to pull, bracing hard with her feet. Edna tried to reach inside the cell, but her arms weren't long enough. She looked at me, her eyes starting out of her head, her tongue swelling in her mouth. The mad woman gave a sudden jerk. A horrible muffled sound came from Edna's throat as her head passed through the bars, leaving skin behind. One side of
her face was a mass of blood.
"I've got her," the mad woman whispered to me. "Thinks she can handle anything up here, does she? We'll see."
She sat on the floor, her arms raised, her hands round Edna's throat.
The raddled old woman tried to see what was going on, but she couldn't. She hammered on the door with her hands, cursing in a rasping voice.
Edna was arched backwards, her heels digging into the rubber flooring, her head through the bars. Her hands clutched at the bars for support and to relieve her weight from her head. Blood from her face ran down on to the floor, dripped on to her Nylon hose.
The mad woman, grinning at me, not looking at Edna, began to take in and let out slow, long breaths. Her shoulders seemed to grow lumpy, sweat appeared on her face.
I hooked my fingers into the wire mesh of the screen, and watched.
The raddled old woman, her face against the bars, suddenly stood still, listening.
Edna's face, where it wasn't blood-stained, was liver-coloured. Her eyes stood out, blind. Her tongue came out blue between bluish lips. Her slender body writhed. One of her hands began to beat on the bars, mechanically, without force.
The mad woman nodded to me, closed her eyes and strained. Edna's hand stopped beating on the bars. There was a muffled crack, almost immediately, a sharper one. Edna did not writhe now. She sagged, her head still trapped between the bars.
Sick with horror, I stepped past her dragging feet towards the next cell.
The mad woman let go of Edna's throat, sprang to the bars and reached for me. I pulled my gun and beat down her hands with it.
She jumped back, howling.
Even with that horror so close to me, I could now only think of Miss Wonderly.
She was in there. She lay flat on the cot, her eyes closed, her hair like spilt honey on the coarse pillow.
I unlocked the cell, stepped in.
The mad woman's fingers grabbed my arm. Half-crazy with fear, revolted, I struck her between the eyes with my gun butt.
Her eyes rolled back and she dropped.
Shuddering, I snatched up Miss Wonderly and blundered from the cell.
The raddled old woman began to scream.
7
I slid back the door of the elevator, peered into the passage. Mitchell, wide-eyed, hopping with excitement, was standing at the far end. He waved to me.
Up on A floor the old woman continued to scream.
I ducked back into the elevator, scooped up Miss Wonderly's limp form in my arms and stepped into the passage. As I did so, Mitchell waved me back, then turned and bolted up the stairs.
Warned, I laid Miss Wonderly on the floor, reached for my gun.
A prison guard, automatic rifle wedged into his hip, came running around the corner. I didn't give him a chance. My .38 cracked once. The guard stumbled, curled up on the floor. His automatic rifle fell out of his hands, exploded. The slug brought plaster down from the ceiling on my head.
I turned, snatched up Miss Wonderly, tossed her over my shoulder. She moved feebly, but I gripped her tight. I ran.
Somewhere in the building an alarm bell began to ring. Its jangling note mingled with the cries of the prisoners, a great rattling of steel doors, and the old woman's screams upstairs.
Half-way down the passage a door flew open, two guards spilled out. I shot one of them in the leg, the other ducked back into the room, kicked the door shut. I sent a slug through the door, heard the guard yell.
I kept on, moving more slowly, turning to look back at every step. I was fighting mad, not
going to be beaten now I'd got so far.
I heard heavy feet pounding down the stairs, and I broke into a run. The P.M. room was too far away. I knew I couldn't make it in time. I pushed open the first door I came to, stepped into a small, coldly furnished office. Again I put Miss Wonderly on the floor. She opened her eyes, struggled to sit up, but I pushed her back.
"Stay still, honey," I said. "I'm going to get you out of here."
It gave me a hell of a bang to see the expression in her eyes when she recognized me. She caught her breath, but she lay still, watched me.
I jumped to the door, knelt and peered into the passage. Four guards, one with a Thompson, were staring down at the bodies in the passage. I picked off the guy with the Thompson. The others made a frantic dash for the stairs, disappeared.
I grabbed Miss Wonderly, kissed her, and whizzed down the passage with her. I reached the bend as someone opened up with a chopper. One of the slugs nicked the heel of my shoe. I stumbled, made an effort, rounded the bend.
I burst into the P.M. room, closed the door.
Maxison was crouched against the wall, his face livid with fright. He gave a gulping gasp when he saw me, but he didn't or couldn't move.
I ran over to the coffin, swung Miss Wonderly off my shoulder and into the box in one movement. She sat up, her face stiff, her eyes bewildered.
"Lie down, and don't make a sound," I panted.
She looked at the coffin, and her mouth opened to scream. I put my hand over her mouth, but she struggled, frantic with fear.
I hated doing it, but there was no other way out. I half closed my fist and hit her on the side of her jaw. Her head snapped back, she passed out cold.
Feverishly I straightened her out in the box, whipped in the false bottom and turned the screws. Then I grabbed the long, black overcoat, struggled into it. I put on my glasses, put the pads into my mouth. I stepped across to Maxison and dragged him to the porcelain table.
"Get that body in," I snarled at him, and grabbed the stiff, cold shoulders.
Somehow he managed to pull himself together, and taking the woman's feet, he helped me across the room with her, and together we lowered the body into the coffin. It only just fitted, and I knew the lid would have to be forced down. I snatched up the lid, had it on the coffin as the door was flung open.
Flaggerty and three prison guards stood in the doorway.
I acted like I was scared, backing away and throwing up my hands. Maxison didn't have to act. He thought his last hour had come.
Flaggerty, sweating, white with rage, gave us a quick glance, then looked around the room.
"Anyone been in here?" he grated, glaring at Maxison.
Maxison shook his head. He couldn't speak he was so scared.
"Come on," Flaggerty snarled to the guards, and turned, then he turned back, walked to the coffin and threw off the lid. He stared down at the dead woman, his eyes narrowed, his lips grimacing. He made a gesture of rage, stamped out.