Well, they weren?t backing off. He might feel like hell some days, but other times he was pretty good. No one said it would be easy. No one had ever gone over that wall. He and Morgan would be the first, and he meant to do it right.
Half asleep, he didn?t let himself think that his powerful urge to conquer the wall was encouraged by the dark spirit. He wasn?t being led. This wasn?t Satan?s pushing. He and Morgan were beholden to no one. He was nearly asleep again when he felt the ghost cat return. Misto was fully visible now, bold and ragged,clearly seen in the glow of the cellblock lights, sharply outlined when lightning flashed. The yellow tomcat didn?t want petting now. He stood stiff-legged, staring at the back of the cell. His snarl keened so loud that Lee stared across to the other cells. No one seemed to be looking, maybe no one else heard the cat?s yowl, no one but the shadow that stood against the cell wall, the wraith?s voice pounding heavy against the beating rain.
?You fret over Morgan?s loss of courage, Lee. Don?t let his fear dishearten you.You can bring this off,you have the courage to do this, even if Blake falters.You won?t fail, I?ll see to that. This will be an easy escape. Tomorrow night you?ll be over the wall and on your way riding the freights, free and unimpeded?if you do as I require.?
The cat snarled again. The shadow shifted and thinned, but then it darkened and drew close to Lee, its cold embracing him.?If you follow where I lead, you can thumb your nose at the feds. And,? Satan said, ?you will reap substantial profits from your venture.?
?What do you want? What do you think I?d be willing to do foryou??
Beside Lee the ghost cat paced, his eyes blazing, his claws flexing above the blanket.
?This is what I want, only this one small favor. In return I will guarantee the success of your long journey. When you reach Terminal Island,? Satan said, ?or perhaps before you reach the coast, you will turn Morgan Blake in to the authorities.?
Lee wanted to smash the shadow. He knew he couldn?t touch it, that nothing alive could invade that dark and shifting power.
?You will both be arrested for the escape,? Lucifer said. ?You, Lee, will swear that Blake forced you to help him. I will see that the arresting officers believe you, I am adept at that.You will go free, Fontana, while Morgan Blake remains behind bars.? The devil smiled, a shadow within shadowstwisting up eerie and tall. ?You will receive a reward for Blake?s capture, for the apprehension of a cold-blooded murderer. The amount will be considerable.You alone, Lee, will leave California, loaded with cash and enjoying great notoriety for the capture.?
?What do I want with notorietyor with the curse of your money? Get the hell out of here.?
?Didn?t you want to be the first one to scale the wall? Isn?t that notoriety? And,? Lucifer said, ?you turn Blake in, you?ll not only be rewarded and admired, you?ll most likely be pardoned for your heroism. You can head for Blythe a free man. Richer than you dreamed, no law enforcement tailing you, and with a long and satisfying retirement before you, just as you planned.?
?No one?s going to pat me on the head and turn me loose. If I double-crossed Blake, the reward I?d get would be an extended sentence for escaping, more time in the pen. The feds would laugh at some effort to play hero; they?d lock me up until they buried me.?
The cat stalked down the bed snarling, tail lashing. The tall shadow shifted and grew thinner. Thunder shook the cellblock, the clerestory windows flashed white; and the shade was gone, vanished.
29
LEE FOUND THE rope behind a row of trash cans outside the mess hall where Gimpy had left it, a coil of half-inch hemp secured with a cotton cord. Gimpy hadn?t asked questions when Lee made his request. His eyes had widened, then he?d clapped Lee on the shoulder and nodded. Because they were alone, no one watching, he?d given Lee a hug that brought tears to Lee?s eyes.
Before heading for the kitchen Lee slipped the rope inside his shirt. Moving through the kitchen into the pantry, he pulled on a white cotton jacket with a stain on one sleeve. Opening a seldom-used cupboard, he hid the rope inside an iron pot he?d never seen Bronski remove from its dusty shelf. He worked steadily all evening. Adding hot water to the dishwater, plunging his hands in, he thought this might be the last time he?d feel warm for a good while. He thought about the cold, windy boxcars, about walking cold along the tracks in thenight; and he hungered to get on with the job.
At the end of shift, after two short-termers finished mopping the floor, he wiped down the steam table, then set the chairs in place for breakfast. Bronski, busy around the stoves, nodded good night to the other five workers.?About ready, Fontana??
?I?ll be along as soon as I get the last load of trays out on the line.? Lee shuffled the trays, watching Bronski?s broad back as the big man moved through the dining area and shoved out through the double doors, heading for the cellblocks. There?d be a guard along in a minute to lock up.Beyond the mess hall windows, the outdoor lights were bright, the sweeping prison spotlights swinging back and forth, back and forth. A guard was clearing the building, moving through the dining area toward the kitchen. He gave Lee a long look, studied the stack of trays in Lee?s arms, and glanced up atthe wall clock. ?Ready to wrap it up??
Lee nodded, stacked the trays at the end of the counter, then turned back to the kitchen. He knew the guard would linger, waiting for him. Moving into the pantry he took off the white jacket, retrieved the rope from the iron pot, and slipped it inside his shirt. He pushed out the back door past the waiting guard into the darkness between the shop buildings, heard the door lock behind him, and from the shadows Morgan fell into step. They didn?t speak.
They emerged from between the buildings at the top of the stairs, a story above the yard. Stood looking across at the prison wall, stroked by the tower?s sweeping lights. Blinding light, and then dark. Punishing light, then dark. Lee told himself the thirty-foot rampart wasn?t a barrier, it was a vertical concrete road, a road to freedom. It was all timing now, timing and speed.
Descending the stairs, they waited in the shadows underneath, Lee?s heart pounding, Morgan silent and tense. The sweeping lights crossed, then swung apart. Crossed and swung away. Crossed .†.†. ?Go!? Lee croaked. They broke from the shadows running.
Morgan quickly outdistanced him. Lee gave it all he had, sucking in ragged breath. The space seemed miles, not yards. Gulping air, he kept his feet flying. Dizziness gripped him.Run. Run. But an uneven patch tripped him, he fell sprawling, sharp pain stabbed his hand as he tried to catch himself, and the sweeping light headed straight at him.
RUN!? SAMMIE SHOUTED, wide awake.?Run, the light?s coming!
Becky heard her screams and came to kneel by the bathtub, trying to hold her, the child thrashing, her slick, soapy body flailing. She thrust forward so violently the bathwater surged and she lunged past Becky as if to grab someone.?Get up! Run! The lights .†.†.?
Becky gripped Sammie hard to keep her from hurting herself. The child stared past her, fixed on something Becky couldn?t see; she was unaware of Becky. She cradled her left hand, tears of pain glistening. Then suddenly she went limp, turned blindly to Becky, wanting only to be held.
Becky lifted her from the tub, wrapped her in a towel, and kissed the hurt hand, though there was no abrasion, no redness. The child clung to Becky, but she was still far away, watching the violence unfold, so far removed from the safe, warm room where her mother held her.
AT THE MOMENT Lee fell, the cat appeared in the guard tower, solid and real. His sudden yowl startled the two guards; they swung around, rifles pointed. Misto, on the table, glared at them. Both men backed away, but then the short, stocky guard paused, grinning.?How did you get in here??
The tall guard still fingered his rifle.?How could a cat get up here? Get it out of here, Willy. I don?t like cats. Where the hell did it come from??