Chapter 47
47 I drop the useless grungy manacles and pull the wet dirty socks on my feet—my toes and soles will need the protection. Sepsis through my abraded ankles is tomorrow’s worry. At least the wounds left by the manacles have had a chance to scab over, sorta. Then I find a piece of flat, comparatively soft dirt three alcoves back down the tunnel, and pull out into the splits. The guards on this underground cell block probably check the first alcove for an ambush, and they might check the second. They’ll quit by the third, though. Rob and Bradley stand watch in the alcove opening. Our best hope is that Noah told us the truth. That it’s after dinner. If we’re lucky, the guards have locked us in for the night. And hopefully they leave the lights on all night. The thought of trying this stunt
- Writer
