Busted Flush

His arm still hurt from the shot they’d given him. Whatever it was supposed to do, it hadn’t worked, and the doctors weren’t happy about it. Justice had him in tow again. The hallway they’d entered was blue and the doorway to it had two heavy bolts on the outside.

“Is that you again, spic?” a voice came from deep inside one of the rooms. Drake couldn’t see inside because the heavily barred window was too high. Justice didn’t reply and kept walking.

A horrible face appeared at another one of the windows. It was gray and the mouth had huge teeth. “Love to eat them fat boys. Fat boys what I love to eat. Bite they fat-boy heads off. Nibble on they fat-boy feet.” The voice put a cold knot in Drake’s stomach.

“Why are you putting me in here with them?” he asked.

“It won’t be for long, Drake. That much I promise you.” Justice unbolted the door to an empty room and herded Drake inside. There was a bed, a toilet, and not much more. Justice closed and bolted the door in place. His footfalls receded evenly down the hallway.

“Love to eat them fat boys.” There was a laugh that sounded like gravel being poured down a garbage disposal.

Drake sat down on the hard, lumpy bed and closed his eyes. There had to be a way to make all this go away.

Zane waited in the television lounge, mimicking the color and wood-grain pattern on one of the tables. The same table where Pham tossed his key ring when he watched TV. He didn’t notice when his keys disappeared.

Good work, Zane! I’m proud of you, said Niobe. Okay, you two, it’s your turn.

They had until the end of Pham’s break, a little under half an hour. Niobe headed for Q Sector. She stifled the urge to run. Hurrying would arouse suspicion.

Meanwhile, Zoë and Zenobia crept toward the central guard station. Zoë hid around the corner while her wraith-sister drifted down the corridor to take a position under the console. She studied the controls until she found the switch that unlocked Drake’s cell.

Ready, Mom?

Ready, kiddo.

Zenobia flipped the switch. K-chunk. A four-inch steel bolt slammed into the solenoid situated on the outside of Drake’s door.

Niobe tiptoed inside. “Psst, Drake,” she whispered. “It’s me, Niobe.” She nudged his shoulder. “Wake up.”

“Go ’way. Sleeping.”

“It’s Niobe. Please, get up. It’s important.”

A heavy sigh. “Fine.”

Drake sat up, a sad and pudgy figure in his underwear. His hair was pressed flat on one side and sticking straight up on the other.

She licked her thumb and wiped little crumbs of sleep from his eyes. He pulled away. “What?”

“Get dressed, kiddo. We’re leaving.”

His eyes opened a little wider. “What?”

Niobe opened the bag she carried and yanked out shirts, pants, socks, and underwear. “Do you like it here?”

“No.”

“Well, you’re gonna like it here even less when you find out what they have in store for you.” She handed him the bundle of clothes, then looked away while he changed. “They’re gonna hurt you, Drake.”

“Done.”

“Here,” she said, pulling a handful of cotton balls from her pocket. “Shove these in your ears.”

Drake looked at her. “Are you nuts?”

“Trust me.” She winked.

“Why should I?”

“Please? Just take them.”

She held her hand out to him. Slowly, reluctantly, he took the cotton, but he didn’t put it in his ears.

“What now?”

“Now we wait.”

Now it was up to Zane. Pham’s key ring would unlock the elevator, but Zane had to get there first. There was a limit to how quickly he could shift his coloring. He could make other things invisible, but not himself.

Niobe watched through his eyes as he snuck through the complex. Twice he had to stop in plain sight while orderlies and security techs made their rounds.

Ten minutes until the end of Pham’s break. Five.

The elevator doors came into sight at the end of a long corridor. Close enough for government work.

“Get ready, Drake.”

Zen, now.

Zenobia, still hunched under the central guard station, reached through the console with ghost fingers to flip a row of bright red toggle switches.

Click, click, click-click-click-click.

Cell doors started to open throughout the medium- and high-security wings of the facility.

“What the—” The security tech immediately slammed the switches back. Zenobia reflipped them from her vantage inside the console, and then trashed the wiring.

“Shit, shit, shit.” The tech punched the alarm panel, drew his fléchette pistol, then bolted down the corridor.

Warbling sirens sounded throughout the facility at ear-shattering volume. Drake fumbled the cotton into his ears. “Happy now?” he shouted.

Niobe filled her own ears as best she could. It helped, but not much. But the cotton wasn’t intended for cutting down on the alarm noise.