Dark-uniformed figures emerge from behind the trucks, from the corners or buildings. Twenty of them at least, between us and the gate. And that's not even thinking about the watchtowers. Syra's tugging on my arm, whispering, cajoling, "Come ON Lynch, we have to GO," and I'm just staring at the blond kid lying face down on the concrete. What if that's me in just a few minutes time?
There's a shout. The concrete by my foot explodes upwards, and I'm running. Running with death only a second away. Syra plunges on ahead, down the side of the prison building and into a smaller courtyard between it and a workshop on the far side. Briefly, we're obscured from the wardens by the gate by the corner of the building. There's a door; we shoulder our way inside and we're running down a sterile white corridor with offices on either side. The alarm is going off here too. A man in a white coat emerges from his office and I raise the gun and fire. The wall explodes into shards of plastic and dust and the man disappears, slamming his door.
Left. Right. Another pair of double doors and we're outside again. A shout from our left and I turn and raise the gun and start to fire. I crush the trigger until the thing clicks empty; at the end of the alley we have emerged into a warden crumples. Two others dart back into cover.
"This way." I can hear the panic in Syra's voice. We're rabbits in a run here; all the exits blocked, but running all the same.
We leave the alley and we're in what looks like a car park. Ordinary, civilian-looking cars stopped in neat rows. Two temporary huts at the far end, like you might see on building sites. My legs are jelly from the running, muscles broken and screaming. Don't let them give up on me now.
"The fence," Syra yells, and she's dragging me towards the head of the car park . . . and she's right. There's the fence, and on the other side nothing but the tall, dark shapes of pine trees. We sprint for it, passing in and out of the glow from the light posts. Weaving through the cars. The closer it gets the more imposingly tall that wire fence seems.
And then we're up against it, and Syra leaps up and grabs onto the mesh with her fingertips. She swarms up, over in a second, and down the other side. Watching her, my heart sinks. I can't do it. There's no way. I can barely even run anymore, and this fence is three times my height.
I'm on my knees. I'm clinging to the fence and Syra's fingers are touching mine through the mesh and this is all that separates us. This and a world.
