If they had, they showed no sign of understanding it. For most, the idea of escape from Furnace was so unthinkable, so impossible, that they'd probably have dismissed it even if there was a hole in the wall and a staircase marked "To Freedom."
"Relax, Zee," I said. "There's only a few more days."
THERE WERE EIGHT, to be correct. Eight days of fear that everything would go horribly wrong. Eight days of panic that we'd be caught, tortured, then executed in the most violent ways possible. But also eight days of hope that we'd actually manage to break free of our prison, that we'd be able to see sunshine once again.
For the next week it was the hope that carried us. Even though I was exhausted, and never fully recovered from my beating, it was the smell of fresh air that kept me going. So many times I thought I couldn't go on, couldn't handle the stress of smuggling out any more gloves or secreting them behind the panels in Room Two. But just when things seemed at their bleakest I'd recall something from up top-birdsong, the feel of the grass on my bare feet, the sight of the sea bounded only by the horizon-and the hope would be like fuel, urging me on.
It was the same for the rest of them. Where there should have been tired faces there were always smiles, jokes instead of tears, bravery when we should have all been cowering in our cells. We pushed ourselves to the limit. By day two we'd smuggled another fifteen gloves into the tunnel. By day five it was thirty-three. By day seven the pile was fifty-one deep and more than big enough to blast us out of here.
Day eight found Donovan and me back in Room Two, stripped and dragging our gas-filled overalls across the rough floor to the rift. We were relieved to see the rest of our stash still in place. A couple had deflated slightly, but it looked like they were all fit to go boom.
"You start slotting them in," Donovan shouted above the roar of the river. I could swear the sound was louder now, like it knew we were coming for it. "I'll get the fuse sorted."
He rummaged through the gloves until he found the one full of lighter fluid. Giving it a shake for good measure, he opened it up and pulled out the string, which reeked of fuel. Tying the strands together, he laid one end by the balloons then walked backward and unwound the rest, the fuse snaking for several meters until it disappeared behind a massive chunk of rock.
"That should be enough," he said, his head popping out from the stone. "The explosion will probably set off another cave-in and kill us all anyway."
"Better that than any more time in the cell," I replied, struggling to squeeze another glove into the packed rift. "Especially with your farts."
Donovan laughed as he made his way back over. He looked at the bulging crack in the ground, then at the twenty or so gloves we still had left in his overalls.
"Spares?"
"Looks like it," I said, grimacing as I tried to stand up. "You want to just scatter them around?"
Donovan scratched his chin, then shook his head.
"No, I got a plan." He picked up his overalls. "Let's get back to the tunnel."
"The tunnel?" I asked, but he just grinned at me and set off across the cavern. I followed, my limbs screaming at me with every step, and arrived at the passageway to see Donovan wedging the remaining gloves into the crevices in the ceiling. He wasn't having much luck in the dark, as they kept dropping to the floor with a wet slap.
"I'm sure there's a good reason for this," I whispered. The equipment room was dead ahead; deserted, but you never knew when the blacksuit was going to return. Donovan managed to cram a couple of gloves into a particularly big crack above his head, then turned to me.
"What if we have to leave in a hurry?" he asked. "The guards'll be on our tail like rats after cheese. If we demolish this tunnel after we've got through, then we'll have all the time in the world to blow the floor and get into the river."
"Makes sense," I replied, nodding. I picked up a couple of gloves and looked for suitable holes in the ceiling, stretching up with considerable pain to fit them all in. By the time we'd finished, the top of the tunnel looked like the underside of a mutant cow-all bulging udders and no legs.
"Moo," I said, as Donovan unwound the last of the fuse, jamming it between a glove and the wall, then running it down and out into the cavern. There wasn't much string left, but hopefully enough to give us a bit of distance before the tunnel collapsed. He tucked the lighter flint under the end of the fuse so he'd easily find it again.
"So," he said, climbing back into his overalls and rubbing his hands on the material to get rid of the pungent smell of lighter fluid. "We're done."
"Finished," I added. "All we've got to do now is get everybody here without anyone seeing us, blow a hole in a solid rock floor, and jump into a raging underground river."
"Easy," he added, laughing quietly. I couldn't really see his expression in the dark, but he suddenly fell silent, and I could sense an intense gaze in my direction.
"You don't just wanna go now?" he asked. I stared into the shadows where his face was.
"And leave the others?"
"We might never get another chance," he went on. "What if something happens?"
"Donovan," I said gently. "I know you don't mean that. You risked everything to save me the other day. I know you're not the kind of guy to abandon his friends. I know it."
"What did I tell you when you first got here, Alex? You don't have friends in Furnace."
"Yeah, right," I said. "Play the hard man all you like, but I know you're not going anywhere without Zee and Toby."
There was a moment of silence, then Donovan laughed.
"Jeez, look what you've done to me. You've turned me into a sentimental old fool!"
"Come on," I said, leading the way back to the wooden boards. We'd left the tunnel so many times it was almost automatic now, and we returned to the chipping room without incident. It was only when we'd started hacking at the walls with our picks that Donovan winked at me.
"So… tomorrow then?" he asked.
I rested my pick over my shoulder and nodded.
"Tomorrow."
THE LAST NIGHT
AFTER HARD LABOR WE showered and ate, then retreated back to our cell. Toby and Zee were already there, chatting excitedly about something or other when we strolled through the door. Their heads jerked up, their faces creased with anxiety.
"So?" asked Zee, drawing the word out.
"Guards caught us," Donovan answered. "They destroyed the gloves, sealed off the room, and took Alex and me through the door. They turned us into monsters, and now we're back to eat you."
He threw himself at the two smaller boys and they jumped back to avoid him.
"What's got into him?" Zee asked as Donovan fell onto the bottom bunk, giggling. "Did he inhale some gas or something?"
"I'm not sure," I answered, pushing Donovan out of the way and sitting on the foot of the bed. But I did know: he was drunk on hope, on excitement. We all were. "Everything went to plan, though. It's all ready to go. Tomorrow's the day."
"Tomorrow?" Toby said, turning pale. Zee grabbed his shoulders and shook him.
"Don't cave now, Toby old boy," he said gleefully. "Too late to back out."
"I just didn't expect it to be so soon," he replied as the color slowly returned to his face. "Are you sure we're ready?"
"Nope," I said. "You're welcome to wait here for a couple of years, but I'm going now, ready or not."
"And me," said Zee, adding a soft little whoop as he punched the air.
"So what are you gonna do when you're out?" asked Donovan. "First thing I'm gonna do is grab the biggest burger I can find, all relish and onions and bacon and-oh mamma, my mouth is dripping."
"I just want the air," I said. "Give me a beach and a sea breeze and the sound of seagulls and I'll be the happiest man on earth."
Zee budged me over and sat down.