“Indie?”
I turn my head to Regina, watching me as I get lost in my thoughts, her voice pulling me back just enough from the edge to keep me at my safe distance.
I drag in in a deep breath, my eyes flutter shut briefly, and then I throw the rock with all the force I have.
It tumbles through the air, clattering along the ground as it cracks in two.
My frozen gaze is fixated on the rock, waiting for the reality to crack in two just like it did. That what we’re doing, and the risk we’re taking, will come down on us just as hard.
Regina appears beside me, stuffing the tablet into her bag and handing me a pair of bolt cutters. “We’re good. Let’s head up to the front door.”
We dip under the detached mesh, me holding it for Regina as she slips under, then her keeping a hold whilst I follow. We jog across the car park, and my legs weaken at the knees.
We’ve been watching this place for weeks, the patrols the ‘Chief’ mentioned not once being on or near the grounds.
Just another lie spoken.
My hands fist against the cutters under my jumper, flexing and releasing to try and take my mind off where we are. I need to focus, can’t allow fear to grip me, especially in front of Regina.
She needs me to keep us both strong.
She glances around, a gloved hand patting around the stones for any keys to allow the door to open.
I move on instinct, trying the door handle and twisting it at the knob. My breath catches when it opens, but it doesn’t go far, the inside jamming as chains clank from a padlock.
My hand reaches up and pulls my hood down, allowing me to hear better through the masked material.
“It’s chained from the inside?” I look at her nervously, and she looks just as unsettled as me, her throat flexing on a swallow.
“Okay, you cut and I’ll stick my hand through and catch it.”
Positioning the cutters, I angle it through the door, my head twisting back out into the street when I feel a shiver creep up my spine.
You’re fine, Indie. You’re just paranoid.
“Ready when you are,” she whispers.
I pull the red bars as wide as I can, then fight the resistance before the snap of metal sounds.
Regina catches the padlock, but the chains ultimately clatter to the floor with the weight, the clang echoing through the hallway as they hit the surface.
She freezes, and so do I.
I grip the rattling cutters tightly in my hand, waiting for the door to swing open, for someone to really get their hands on us this time.
For no one to save us.
Seconds go by, the two of us motionless as we wait for fate to slide us another filthy hand.
But it decides not to.
The doors don’t swing open to reveal a shrouded figure, and no one comes bursting out from the car park to take us away.
“I think we’re good,” I whisper, tucking the cutters back into Regina’s backpack as she stays crouched on the ground.
When I zip it up, I tap the bag, and she rises to her feet.
I can’t see her face, but her eyes in the balaclava tell me everything.
