The Kid grinned back at him, even taking one hand off the bar to give Nate a thumbs-up.
The truck drove through the gates and rumbled down a narrow alley. A bit of grimy oil dripped onto Nate’s face, and he shook his head so it wouldn’t roll into his eye. When the truck squealed to a stop the Kid started to get down, but Nate shook his head urgently. Booted feet passed them and opened up the truck’s cargo area. Voices shouted about unloading.
The Kid looked anxious. Nate’s muscles were starting to shake and burn. He tried to send the Kid a mental message—hang on just another minute—but the Kid was looking distinctly uncomfortable.
This was an awesome plan, Nate congratulated himself bitterly. What now? Just hang on until the freaking truck drove right back out the gates and into the darkness? Why did the stupid Kid have to follow him here, anyway?
The vehicle jolted as the rear doors were slammed and bolted. The Kid looked over at Nate with wide eyes.
The driver climbed back into the cab and started the engine.
Nate made a quick decision: when the truck rolled forward he dropped down, staying carefully between the sets of wheels. The Kid didn’t wait for instruction but dropped down, too, lying on his stomach and covering his head with his hands as the heavy truck rolled over them.
If they could just run and find cover…
“Hey! You there!”
The Kid’s head jerked up as Nate scrambled to his feet. He grabbed the Kid’s arm, half dragging him toward the open door of the building. They hadn’t gotten five yards before they were surrounded by guards holding rifles.
“You!” one of the guards said unnecessarily. “Who are you, and what are you doing here?”
Nathaniel looked around wildly, weighing his options. Which were zero, and zilch.
“His name is Nathaniel Allen,” a woman’s voice called.
The guards parted respectfully as a pale woman in an olive-green suit, her brown hair coiled up into a bun, strode toward them. She gave Nate and the Kid a chilly, serpentlike smile.
“Welcome, Nathaniel,” she said. “We’ve had our eye on you for some time. Now you’ve saved us the trouble of fetching you. And you brought a little friend.”
The Kid started to speak angrily, but the woman held up her hand.
“Save it,” she advised. “My name is Ms. Strepp. I’m in charge here.”
“Where is here?” Nate asked bravely.
Ms. Strepp smiled again. “You just broke into prison. Welcome to death row.”
74
CASSIE
BECCA AND I CAME UP with the next steps in our plan, agreeing to keep it to just the two of us.
“What about Hot Tim?” I asked.
She made a rueful face. “Hot Tim will be merely decorative until I know him better. I mean, it seems like I can trust him, but—”
“Yeah,” I said.
The sound of the door lock opening made us jump apart and immediately put scowls on our faces.
“It’s about time!” Becca snapped as the guard stood aside to let us out. “How long were you gonna make me breathe the same air as her?”
“At least I shower sometimes!” I snarled, shoving her shoulder.
She wheeled on me, face contorted with amazingly convincing rage, and the guards pulled us apart.
“I see your time in the pen didn’t have the desired effect.” The Strepp’s voice was dry and brittle, like a tin can rolling down a street. “It looks like I’ll have to take further measures.” She gave the guards a crisp nod, and they hustled Becca and me down the hall.