And damn if that didn’t practically make me cry.
Nodding, I eased out of our cell. And of course we’d only gone as far as the very next prison room when Strepp sprang out at us, her face aglow with triumph.
“Not so fast,” she crowed.
83
CASSIE
I’M THE LEVELHEADED, SENSIBLE, RULE-FOLLOWING one. I had doubts that this tissue-paper-thin plan would work, and was pretty sure we’d all end up even more on death row. The smart thing to do was leap back into my cell and insist I knew nothing about any of it, they were making me, etc.
Instead I balled my hand into a fist, jumped forward, and slammed it into Strepp’s face as hard as I could. To tell you the truth, it probably hurt me more than her; I heard a snap and my hand exploded in pain.
Strepp went down like a shock of wheat in a windstorm. Her eyes fluttered closed and an angry red blotch appeared on her temple where my knuckles had left imprints. I dropped to my knees, staring at my hand in amazement: I hadn’t known anything that small could hurt that much. It dangled in front of me like a dead thing, radiating ungodly pain.
Becca gave the Kid a brisk order. “Search her. We need any kind of key she has on her.”
Hesitantly at first, the Kid started rifling through Strepp’s pockets. I got to my feet with difficulty. When the Kid pulled out a handkerchief, I took it and bound it gingerly around my throbbing fingers.
“Here!” The Kid held up a key ring and shook it excitedly.
“None of them are marked—that would be too easy,” Becca muttered, examining them. “We’ll have to try them all.” She gave me a grin. “Excellent work, Killer.”
I gave a tight-lipped smile.
“Kid, help me out here,” Becca instructed. They each grabbed a foot and dragged Strepp into our room, stepping out quickly and hauling the barred door closed behind them.
“You just signed your death warrant!” Strepp’s voice, angry but weak, floated out to us. Becca hurriedly began jamming key after key into the lock, trying to find the right one.
“More of a death warrant than being on death row?” Becca countered, working fast. She snapped a key sharply to the left, locking Strepp in, and stepped bac
k triumphantly.
Getting unsteadily to her feet, Strepp put her hand in her pocket. “You forgot I have a panic alarm.” A slight frown creased her forehead as she tried another pocket.
“You forgot you was out like a light, lady,” said the Kid, and pointed to the contents of her pockets, piled on the hallway floor.
For the first time, Strepp looked scared. “You don’t understand,” she said, licking her thin lips.
“I understand that you’re lost in the weeds without a hoe,” said Becca, starting to stuff Strepp’s belongings into the pockets of her jumpsuit.
“No,” said Ms. Strepp. “Girls—be careful.”
That made Becca snap her gaze to the older woman. “Be careful? A bit late for that, isn’t it?”
Ms. Strepp pressed her face against the rusty bars, like we always did. “Think about this, girls—we aren’t drugging you. We’ve been getting you off drugs—the drugs they put in every cell’s drinking water.”
We stared at her. She looked oddly sincere.
“You’re only seeing part of the picture,” Ms. Strepp went on. “I promise that if you saw the whole picture, you would understand.”
“Mostly I sees you, stuck in that jail,” the Kid said.
“Really,” Becca said, crossing her arms over her chest.
I couldn’t listen to another minute. I didn’t want to stand here and yap with our enemy, I didn’t care what the big picture was. While they were still arguing, I faded off down the hall.
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