“No fuckin’ way.”
So discipline was pretty strong in the gray ranks. I moved the rifle a few inches and fired a shot past his ear.
“Screw you, pal,” the man said.
I heard a clatter of boots on the stairway behind. I had a few seconds, at most. I pointed the rifle at the touch pad, then thought again and loosed off some rounds at the lock mechanism. One of the doors remained where it was, but the other swung back a few inches. I put my shoulder to it and was out. I heard shouts and then a rattle of shots hit the door that I’d just pushed shut again. The glass was obviously bulletproof. The ricochets would have peppered the guards I’d taken out; it seemed that the escape of patient L24 was being treated more seriously than the health of the people who staffed the place.
Breathing in cold air, I rapidly took in the scenery. A high razor-wire fence rose about thirty yards in front of me. Beyond it, tall pine trees covered a gentle slope beneath low, iron-gray clouds. I heard orders being yelled out somewhere to my right, so I headed left. Visibility wasn’t great, but that could be to my advantage. Getting over the fence wasn’t going to be easy, though. I looked back at the building. It was long and low, with very few windows. At one end there was a raised area-that may have been the room I awoke in.
Suddenly lights came on, lights set in the ground at regular intervals along the inside of the fence. So much for my advantage. A pair of rifle-toting men in the standard uniform came round the end of the block. One knelt down and sent a volley of shots in my direction. I hit the ground and heard bullets cut through the air above me.
“Over here!”
I looked to my right and saw a black man standing behind one of the fence posts. It wasn’t exactly giving him much cover, especially since he was a big guy. He was unshaven and wearing what looked like blue-and-white striped pajamas. When I crawled closer, I realized the flesh on his face was slack and he was much thinner than the loose clothes initially suggested.
“You ain’t one of them,” he said, squatting next to me.
“How can you tell?” I said, glancing at the uniform I was wearing.
“You’d already have shot my ass.” He handed me a lump of bread, then put his hands together. “Now get the hell outta here.”
I put one foot on his joined palms.
“I’m gonna give you as much of a lift as I can,” the man said. “There’s enough electricity in these wires to fry an elephant.”
“Oh, great,” I said, my heart pounding. Then another volley of shots flew past us. “Here, take this.” I held out the rifle to him.
“What am I gonna do with that, boy? Throw it over there.”
I did what he said.
“Ready?” he asked when both my hands were resting on the top of his head.
“When you are. And thanks.”
I felt my legs move down slightly, then I was arcing over the fence, my belly missing the vicious barbs by a whisker. I bent my knees and landed and rolled toward the rifle.
“Run!” the inmate yelled.
I did what I was told. The tree line must have been seventy yards away. My lungs were heaving and my legs burning as I made cover.
I stopped and looked back. The guards had caught up with the black man before he got back inside. One of them hit him in the face. Then the other took out his pistol and without hesitation shot him through the throat.
I gasped and saw red. I raised the rifle and loosed off several rounds. The guards both dropped, but I wasn’t sure if I’d hit them. The murdering pieces of shit. I almost ran back into the open to give myself a better shot. Then there was the roar of an engine and a gray pickup emerged with at least five men in the back, all of them carrying rifles. I had to go.
There was very little light under the dense branches of the pines. Although the forest floor was relatively clear of undergrowth, I couldn’t make out any paths. Voices rang out behind me, so I pressed on as fast as I could. At first my throat became clogged with phlegm, but as I got into a rhythm with my running, it loosened up. The muscles in my legs weren’t fully stretched yet, but I felt they could cope. I must have been a fit bastard in my previous life.
I didn’t stop to look round, not that the trees would have allowed much of a view, but I reckoned I was increasing the gap between me and my pursuers. That should have made me feel good, but it didn’t. The farther I went, the stronger became the feeling that I was leaving something important behind. No, more than that, something essential. I ran on autopilot as I racked my memory for what that could be. Nothing. I had no idea. I had very little memory. I could remember everything that had happened since I’d woken up in the comfortable bed, but things before that were locked securely away. All I was thinking about was the savagery I’d seen-the man tied to the post and slaughtered like an animal; the emaciated man summarily executed for helping me. What could have inspired such brutality?
Then I considered what I’d done. I’d knocked out the nurse, clubbed the doctor, smashed two men’s heads together, beaten the hell out of the naked man’s killer and laid into the two guards at the exit. And I’d shot at the black man’s killers, perhaps killing them. I wasn’t much better than the gray-uniformed scumbags. And now I was abandoning something vital back in that prison. What was it? And how had I come to be at the heavily guarded location? What had happened to me there?
All the time I was struggling to find answers to those questions, I was moving across ground that was gradually becoming steeper. The space between the tree trunks began to grow. Looking up, I saw that night was falling. That would make things much harder for the men who were after me. I’d run at several different angles, so I may already have lost them. But, as I came out of the forest and into tall grass, I realized I was the most lost of all. I didn’t even know which country I was in, never mind where the nearest town was. I stopped and listened for any encouraging sounds-no cars, no music, no people, hostile or not. I turned a full circle. There were no lights anywhere. I felt completely alone. For some reason, that didn’t frighten me, though I felt disoriented by the scale of the trees and the vast number of them all around. Either I had no imagination or I’d done this kind of thing before.
After checking behind me, I moved off again. I’d only been going for a few minutes when the moon, three-quarters full, appeared ahead of me. A jagged line of rock was caught in the white light, slopes without tree cover leading up to it. I was in the middle of a wide meadow. To my right were more trees and I headed for them. When I made the cover, a wave of relief washed over me. The pines weren’t as tall as the previous ones, but they were closer together. I had to push my way past the lower branches but kept going. My throat was parched and my stomach was rumbling, but I didn’t feel tired. I would get farther away from my pursuers and then settle down to eat the bread I’d been given by the doomed man.
Then I heard a sound that worried me. Despite the state of my memory, I had no difficulty in identifying the howl of a hunting dog. It wasn’t as far off as I’d have liked. Had that been why I’d lost the men behind me? Had they stopped to wait for the hound to join them?
It looked like it was going to be a long, hard night.
Seven
After twenty years in Washington D.C.’s Metropolitan Police, twelve on the homicide team, Detective Gerard Pinker had gotten used to corpses. That didn’t mean he found attending autopsies easy. His partner Clement Simmons never complained. In fact, Pinker reckoned Clem even breathed through his nostrils during the procedures-too dedicated for his own good.