She saw Galindez go down in a curled ball as two cons showered him with blows from stumps of timber. Then Reuben Wilson darted in and let go with the fastest five-punch combination Devlin had ever seen: left hooks to the liver and neck, right overhand bomb to the head, another left to the balls, and a final blurred right uppercut to the chin that extinguished the con’s nervous system. But as the last punch landed Wilson spasmed forward as something popped inside him and the second con axed a length of two-by-four across the back of his skull and Wilson fell to his face beside Galindez, groping the floor with shuddering arms. As Coley raised his cudgels to take the guy out Horace Tolson grabbed the steel bars and plucked them from Coley’s grip. Lopez flung his frail body against Tolson’s monstrous bulk, a scalpel darting for his throat, and Tolson swatted him aside like a bug. As Coley turned to face him Tolson brought the bars of steel down on Coley’s collar bones and battered him to his knees. Coley’s arms hung limply by his sides. Tolson raised the bars again. Klein flung the knife and charged after it. The blade thunked into Tolson’s breastbone and dropped out. Devlin found herself looking at Tolson down the barrel of the gun. Before she could fire Klein tore into him, his right-hand fingers plunging into Tolson’s eyes, his forearms locking around his neck, his knee pumping frenziedly in and out of Tolson’s groin and belly. Tolson, his eyes hanging out down his cheeks by the strings, dropped the bars and wrapped his huge arms round Klein’s body and heaved. Klein arced backwards as his ribs crackled like stale breadsticks and his spine threatened to snap. Tolson’s massive neck was too strong for Klein. The giant threw his head back and bellowed with the rage and pain of his blindness. Klein’s arms fell limp as Tolson jerked him savagely from side to side and Devlin couldn’t shoot for fear of hitting Klein and she ran over the sprawling bodies to reach him. Then Vinnie Lopez jumped on Tolson’s back, his legs wrapped round Tolson and Klein both, and the three of them waltzed and staggered down the smoking aisle, a grotesque mutant life form with three screaming mouths. Vinnie’s hand coiled round Tolson’s neck. A scalpel glinted. Then a red tide cascaded down over Klein as Tolson’s throat parted, his severed trachea bubbling in the flood as one last furious howl escaped from his lungs and the mutant toppled in a long slow parabola to the floor.
From the yard came a ripple of gunfire and a series of dull thuds. A cloud of vapour erupted outside the windows. A convict silhouetted in one of the broken frames jerked and screamed and toppled from view. A blinding pain threw Devlin’s head to one side and she heard the word ‘bitch’ and a fist smashed into her belly. She staggered into the wall. There was warm salt on her lips, blood streaming from her onto her shirt. She recovered her balance and through the smoke saw Gimp Cotton stumping on past her in his cast, his tattoos writhing in a spasm of hate. Fixed in his sights was Earl Coley, who was lumbering to his feet with his useless arms, his back to Cotton. The Gimp’s hand slid into Coley’s pocket from behind and whipped out his keys. He threw them across the room to the con with the two-by-four. Klein struggled to haul himself from under Tolson’s corpse. Gimp spun Coley round and stabbed him in the belly.
‘You fat nigger fuck! You fat nigger fuck!’
On each ‘fuck’ Gimp stabbed him again and Coley just stood staring at him without blinking and wouldn’t back off. Devlin lunged, stumbling through the flames. A gas bomb landed at her feet in a fountain of blinding smoke, a blast of heat against her leg. She hurdled it, reeled on.
‘You fat nigger fuck.’
Devlin swiped a handful of tears and blood from her eyes and shoved the muzzle of the gun into Cotton’s ear. Cotton started to turn, his hate turning in an instant into panic. Devlin squeezed the trigger and blew his brains out. There was more gunfire outside. Coley started to fall. Suddenly Klein was beside him, taking his arm across his shoulder, squinting in the gas. Through the ward gate Devlin saw the con fumbling at the lock with Coley’s keys. She pointed the gun at him and fired. The con ducked as splinters exploded from the door into his cheek. Devlin ran towards him. Her foot caught a sprawled leg and she fell on her hands, the gun skittering towards the gate. She dived after the gun, grabbed it, up on her knees, her feet, her lungs were scorching, through the gate, the con had the key in the lock, was twisting it. As Devlin put the gun to his head and shot him the door burst inwards and sent her reeling down the corridor. She threw out a hand and grabbed the doorframe of the dispensary and held herself up. She blinked desperately to clear her vision.
Through the wooden door came Bubba Tolson. Under his arm ducked a hairless, blistered waif with a single glittering eye.
‘Hope your cornhole’s tight, Doc!’
Blue-shirted convicts loomed in the hallway behind them. Her vision blurred over again. Lopez staggered blindly from the ward and bumped into Bubba. Bubba grabbed hold of Vinnie’s face with one hand and stove the back of his skull in against the wall. As Vinnie hit the floor Devlin turned and ran.
‘Bring her back to papa, Bubba!’
A crashing, heavy-footed gait echoed behind her. She slipped and stumbled her way up the first flight of stairs, her breath whistling through raw lungs inflamed by gas. The gate to Travis ward, locked, anxious faces yelling inside. Heavy steps on the stairs. The corridor. Her eyes blurred again. Up ahead: the door. The keys. She dug in her pocket and pulled out the two keys, forced her brain to remember to choose the right one. She threw her shoulder into the door, it opened, she was through. Shut the door and lock it, she told herself. Charging footfalls, a bearded red face, she slammed the door on it. The door exploded back into her. She fell back on the steps, scrambling up the narrow stairs on her ass as Bubba sprawled below her, his thick fingers groping for her ankle. She twisted over and sprinted upwards. She swopped the keys in her hands. The gate above was open. She went through, swung it shut. She inserted the key into the lock, turned it, prayed. The tumblers clicked into place. She glimpsed a fist coming through the bars.
Her brain cut out.
She woke up on the floor, dazed. She turned. Bubba had his hand through the bars of the gate and was turning the key. He must have punched her out for a second. As Bubba pushed the door open Grauerholz appeared behind him. Devlin climbed to her feet. She still had the gun in her hand, down by her side. Bubba lumbered down the ward towards her. Devlin blinked and backed away. She was still concussed. She had two bullets left. Or one. She couldn’t remember if she’d heard the click of the blank. No, two. Bubba got closer. Enormous poundage. Only a head shot would stop him. She stopped backing away and concentrated on not firing until she knew she wouldn’t miss.
‘Ain’t gonna shoot Old Bubba with my gun are ya, Doc?’
She ignored Grauerholz’s wheedling voice. Bubba looked at the gun in her hand and slowed. Grauerholz sneaked up behind him.
‘She ain’t gonna use it, Bub. Look at her eyes. Look at them tits. Mmm!’
Bubba stretched his hands out towards her and speeded up again. At two paces Devlin cocked and raised the gun and shot him through the forehead. Bubba took another step and she felt his hands clamp onto her breasts, pushing her backwards. The light went out in his dull eyes and he exhaled a last foul breath into her face. Her back crashed into the wall and Bubba’s face flopped onto her shoulder. Over his back she saw one frantic eye in a blistered face, the other eye moving underneath its glued lid. Bubba fell into a heap at her knees. She felt a sharp pain in her wrist, brutally twisting her fingers.
Grauerholz stepped away from her holding her gun in his left hand. He wiped his nose on the crudely bandaged stump of his right.
‘Now,’ he said and giggled. ‘Let me see ya take them panties off.’
Two choices flashed through her mind: humour him or humiliate him. She heard a sound on the stairs. The choirboy in Grauerholz made her mind up for her.
‘Why, what you gonna do, Hector? Fuck me with your stump?’
Grauerholz blinked and stepped back.
Behind him Klein appeared in the gateway. He was limping and his eyes were shot with
blood. In his hand was a steel bar. He started painfully down the aisle.
‘It’d feel a whole lot better than your stubby little dick,’ sneered Devlin.
She stepped over Bubba’s corpse towards him and Grauerholz backed off another pace.
‘Come on. Hector. Let me see that cute little dick. Mmm!’
Grauerholz licked his lips nervously. ‘You sure got a bad mouth on you fo’ a doctah.’
Klein hadn’t made a sound but suddenly Grauerholz stepped to the side and turned. He pointed the gun at Klein’s chest. Klein froze. Grauerholz stared at Klein as if a ghost had walked in. Klein nodded towards the revolver in Grauerholz’s fist.
‘I gonna have to take that away from you again, Hector?’ said Klein.
Grauerholz’s lips quivered and Devlin thought he was going to shoot Klein on the spot. Maybe that was Klein’s intention, to take the bullet. In the space of a second a thousand possible interventions raced through her brain, a thousand phrases that might swing Grauerholz’s attention back to her – or by the same token make him pump the trigger. On instinct she chose silence. The endless second stretched out into two. Then three. Then Grauerholz giggled. He glanced back at Devlin.
‘Look who’s here, Doc. Mus’ be my lucky day.’
Klein laughed. ‘You looked in a mirror recently?’ He clutched his ribs and groaned and staggered two steps forward.
‘Cut that shit.’
Grauerholz cocked the revolver and Klein froze. She could see his eyes judging the distance. It was still fifteen feet.
‘I’m gonna shoot you in the gut, Klein. Then while you lyin’ there laughin’ an’ shit, you can watch me shoot yo’ girlfriend in the cunt.’
Klein’s body relaxed and she knew he was going to move and she knew that if he charged him Grauerholz would pump the trigger more than once.
‘The gun’s empty, Hector,’ she said. ‘No more bullets. Bubba got the last.’
He giggled at her. ‘I may have a stubby little dick but I ain’t a fool.’
She started casually towards him. ‘Take your time, Klein, and finish him,’ she said. ‘The gun is empty.’
Grauerholz squeezed the trigger and the hammer snapped down with a bright, empty click. Klein walked towards him without rushing. Grauerholz looked at the gun then grinned at Devlin stupidly. He started to back away from them.
‘Well whaddya know,’ said Grauerholz. ‘You got me.’ He shrugged and put the gun against the side of his head beneath his ear. ‘Guess it ain’t my day after all,’ he said.
Then Grauerholz pulled the trigger and blew away the lower half of his jaw.
He staggered, then caught his balance. His one eye wobbled, staring down in disbelief at the smoking gun in his hand.
‘No,’ said Devlin. ‘I guess it ain’t.’
Grauerholz dropped the gun and fell forward on his face and lay gurgling with what was left of his tongue. There was a clang as Klein dropped the steel bar and bent forward in pain. She went over to him and put a supporting arm round his waist.
‘Lucky I got here in time,’ he gasped. ‘If you’d fucked Hector Grauerholz I really would’ve started to get jealous.’
There was a clattering of feet on the stairs and a pair of rifle barrels jutted through the bars either side of the gate.
‘Klein? Is that you, you smart son of a bitch?’
Captain Cletus came through the gate. He saw Devlin and did a double take.
‘Jesus.’
Klein straightened up. ‘Where the fuck have you been?’ he said.
‘Watching a Doris Day picture,’ growled Cletus. ‘You okay, Doctor Devlin?’
She nodded.
‘We’d known you were here we’d’ve got you out hours ago. I’m very sorry.’
Cletus ripped open one of the pockets covering the front of his suit and pulled out a sealed paper bag. He tore the bag and produced a sterile gauze dressing and handed it to Devlin. For a moment she didn’t realise what it was for. Cletus gestured to her cheek. ‘Your face,’ he said.
She’d forgotten she was bleeding. She took the dressing and held it to her cheek. There was no pain.
‘Thank you, Captain.’
‘Where’s mine?’ said Klein.
‘Fuck you, Klein. You’re lookin’ at ten years in seg for this.’
He winked at Devlin, then glanced at Tolson and the charred, gurgling figure on the floor. He motioned to his men.
‘Get rid of this shit.’
As they dragged the bodies away Cletus glanced around the deserted, cobwebbed ward. ‘Christ,’ he said. ‘Let’s get outta here.’
As they left Devlin palmed the key from the lock.
THIRTY-TWO
WHILE THE GUARDS put out the fire in Crockett Ward, Devlin and Klein helped evacuate the men from Travis. Watched by riflemen in the west tower a thin stream of refugees wended across the yard in the beams of the searchlights towards the main gates. On the steps of the infirmary as they left Klein and Devlin found Earl Coley, sitting, watching his patients go. His whites were covered by a thick apron of blood and he breathed in short gasps. His left arm was buttoned in the crude sling of the front of his shirt. Clasped tight in his right fist was the rolled-up copy of the green journal. Klein looked at him. Coley blinked wearily.
‘That the last of ’em?’ asked Coley.
Klein nodded. ‘You should’ve been the first.’
‘They needed the stretchers. Thought I’d wait, make sure they all okay.’
Coley glanced at Devlin, at her bloody face, and Klein knew he’d been waiting for them too.
‘You make it to the gate or do I have to carry your black ass?’ said Klein.
Coley let out his breath very slowly to control a spasm of pain. He shook his head. ‘I ain’t been across that goddamn yard in years. Couldn’t find no reason to make th’ effort.’ He grinned through another spasm. ‘Think I’ll just set here for a while.’
Klein knew he couldn’t move Coley against that ornery will, especially now he was dying. Especially now that Coley knew he was. Before Klein could start fighting about it Devlin pointed at the far wall beyond the cellblocks.
‘Looks like dawn,’ she said.
Klein looked hard. There was the merest lightening of the indigo sky.
Coley narrowed his eyes in the direction of her arm. ‘I do believe you right,’ he said.
‘See it a whole lot better without that wall,’ said Devlin.
She and Coley looked at each other. Whatever it was that passed between them Klein couldn’t follow it, but after a moment Coley turned to him and said, ‘Well? Is a helpin’ hand too much for a old guy with broken arms to expect these days?’
They got him to his feet and Coley gritted his teeth and they shuffled together along the concrete path that wound in the shadow of the main wall. Three times they had to stop while Coley dealt with a spasm and each time Klein thought he was going to die, but Coley cussed and fussed like the fucking old woman he was and they continued. And eventually they shuffled through the main gates and into the tunnel.
Inside a milling chaos of wounded and sick men were watched over by a number of confused, heavily-armed guards. Three ambulances were on the scene and paramedics were working on the injured. Up ahead the sliding steel door was open and a fourth ambulance was nosing its way through. Beyond it the final set of huge iron studded gates were tight shut.
‘I stop now I ain’t never gonna start agin,’ wheezed Coley.
Devlin spotted Galindez smoking one of Cletus’s cigarettes and nodding as the Captain spoke to him. She ran across the reception area while Klein and Coley went on. Coley was leaning heavily on Klein’s arm now and his breathing was rattling in his chest. Klein felt a terrible need to tell Coley all the things he’d never told him, a terrible haste that at the same time felt unseemly.
‘I’ve been meanin’ to tell you, Frog . . .’
‘Don’t,’ said Coley. ‘I know. I know.’ He lacked the strength to lift his head and lo
ok at Klein. He grinned at the concrete ahead of him instead. ‘I’m a fucken old woman, right?’
Klein swallowed. ‘Right,’ he said.
They passed through the open steel door and Klein glanced over his shoulder. In reception he saw Devlin glaring at Cletus and mouthing something Klein was glad he couldn’t hear. Cletus scratched the back of his neck with a pained look on his face, then nodded and spoke into his radio. Devlin started back towards Klein. Klein turned back. The wooden gates were twenty feet away.
‘Got somethin’ to tell you too,’ said Coley. ‘Might matter.’
‘What’s that?’
‘Nev Agry’s got the virus,’ said Coley. ‘He’s positive.’
‘What?’ said Klein.
‘Had me test him, good five years ago, long before you came up.’
‘You never told me.’
‘Wasn’t your fucken business.’
‘Is Claude positive too?’
‘Far as I know he never been tested.’
As Klein digested this an electric motor droned and the gates in front of them started to creak open towards them. Devlin caught up with them. As the gates opened the sound of a chorus of birds drifted in on a sweet-smelling breeze. Damn, thought Klein, there were birds out there after all, and not gulls either. Coley quickened his pace, his head leaning forward. Three steps later they were outside.
They were outside.
The gates were at the tip of the southern apex of the hexagonal wall. From here there was an uninterrupted view across the bottomlands, to the trees lining the bend of the Green River. Above the horizon beyond the trees a strip of pale red sky shaded into purple and grey and finally into the indigo blackness over their heads.
‘Red sky at morning,’ breathed Coley. ‘Goddamn.’ He shook off Klein’s arm. ‘Think I’ll take me a walk.’