Page 102 of Ned

And it sounded crazy, but, “Judah has a plan. He says he can get us away.”

Vikka just stared at her. Then, suddenly, laughed. “You trust him? He has been here longer than any of us. Why has he not escaped before? Because he is a cra-zy. That is why everyone avoids him.”

Shae stilled. She hadn’t thought of that.

But Judah didn’t seem crazy. He seemed sane. Calm. Kind.

In a Russian gulag? Yeah, suddenly that did sound crazy. “I believe him.”

Maybe it was her tone, the way she met Vikka’s gaze. But Vikka stopped laughing, considered her a moment.

“Fine. What can it hurt? I am doomed anyway. So da, I will beat you good.”

Shae didn’t flinch. “I’ll fight back.”

“I hope so.”

Vikka patted her cheek, then walked away. “See you at dinner.”

See you at dinner.

Then she just had to convince Judah that the time was right.

He’d turned quiet a long time after she’d whispered the plan to him through the hole on her floor. She lay in her blanket like a burrito and found that the floor wasn’t any worse than the cot. And frankly, having Judah right there, a whisper away, seemed to keep her thoughts from spiraling out, from believing Ned dead, or in custody as a traitor, or…

“We need to do it tomorrow night, at dinner,” she whispered. “Because Vikka thinks we’re going to be sold, and even if not, I need to get ahold of Ned and tell him not to come for me—because Vikka is right. They won’t let us go. No way.”

“It’s not time yet.”

“Then when is time, Judah? You’ve been here for three years. When are you going to enact this plan? Or is it just a crazy fantasy—”

“It’s not crazy. It will work.”

“And then what? You say have faith, but I need to know how—”

“I’m a spy, Shae. An American, undercover here, but it’s time I leave. I have people on the other side—I just need you to have faith.”

That had sort of shut her down.

They might actually do this.

Now, twenty-four hours later, sitting in the infirmary, well, maybe not as much.

“It was not a bad plan,” Vikka said in the darkness. Their wrists were both secured with zip-ties. Although, frankly, Ned had taught her how to get out of those, so that wasn’t an issue.

The bigger issue was the man outside the door.

And, of course, the fate of Judah, who had been caught in the kitchen, despite their epic, Chuck Norris-style fight with thrown furniture, a food fight, and yes, some blood.

But he’d been holding a couple potatoes, as if stealing food, so…

“I cannot believe he wore blasting powder on himself all day.”

“Wore it in a pillowcase around his neck, under his jacket.”

“I told you he was crazy.”

“Mm-hmm.” She twisted her wrists. Maybe, but she’d used his trick to steal a spoon from the table. Now it sat in her boot, ready to be sharpened.

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