Page 7 of Factory Thief

He holds his face for a moment, and then launches himself at me again. This time, I’m prepared, however. I lash my foot out and catch him in the breadbasket. Jack doubles over, grunting in the dark.

“Knock it off, idiot,” I hiss through clenched teeth. “I’m here to—”

Jack rushes me again. He manages to get his hands around my neck from behind. I run my feet up the wall and push off when they’re at head height. We fly backward, me landing hard on top of him.

I roll with the impact and wind up on my feet again. I drop my knee down on Jack’s sternum, hard. The air whooshes from his lungs and he lays there coughing in a crumpled heap on the floor.

The sawing next door stops, and I cringe at how loud his coughing becomes. One of the workers next door laughs.

“Oh no, I think he’s dying. Better call for help.”

They laugh in unison, much to my relief.

“Good riddance. Some asshole who stabs an old woman to death deserves to choke to death.”

“Oh, he’s just trying to trick us.”

“Please,” Jack gasps in a guttural voice, “there’s someone—”

I clamp my hand down over his mouth and put my lips right next to his ear.

“Listen, idiot. I’m here to bust you out, understand? If you don’t shut the fuck up, we’re both going to get caught. Nod if you can understand me.”

His head moves slightly. I take my hand away and he stares up at me, holding his chest.

“Who are you?”

“No time for that,” I growl. “Fortunately for you, the Factory wants you out of here in one piece.”

I glance over at the rope dangling from the exercise yard ceiling.

“Are you in good enough shape to climb?”

Jack glares. “I was, before you kicked my ass.”

“You’re going to have to manage. Get up.”

I help him to his feet and shimmy up the rope to the top. I then turn about and watch while he struggles to repeat the feat I just performed. Fuck, all those pushups and squats in his cell have given him beach muscles—they felt awfully nice while I was pressed up against him—but he has no cardiovascular conditioning at all. He’s huffing and puffing before he’s halfway up.

I have to help haul him onto the roof. He lays there, gasping like a landed fish, and I tug his hand.

“No time for that. Stay low and follow me.”

“Who are you?”

“I’m the bitch who’s getting you out of jail. Are you coming or not?”

“Maybe I should stay right here. We’ll never get over the fence anyway.”

I grind my teeth in frustration as the saw whines below us.

“If you stay, they’ll never believe you didn’t have anything to do with this escape attempt. You’ll be stuck in solitary for the next decade and a half—if they don’t add to your sentence for the escape.”

“There are guards all around. What if I run to the edge of the roof and scream?”

“If you get me caught, I’ll tell them it was all your idea.”

Jack sputters. “Fuck you, lady.”

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