Slocum's Breakout - Jake Logan [9]
“You think Valenzuela next door knows where to find the tools we’ll need?” Doc asked.
“I’m more worried about Murrieta finding the hole through the outer wall,” Slocum admitted.
“You got a point, Jarvis—or whatever your name is. We’re gonna be hangin’ out there all exposed, no matter where the hole is. If it takes more ’n a few minutes to open it up, we’re gonna hang. Or wish they’d hang us since spendin’ the rest of our lives down below in that dark hell is worse than anything else they can do.”
Doc turned, flopped onto the pallet, tucked his hands under the back of his head, and stared up at the ceiling.
“Git some sleep. We’re gonna need it real soon.”
“Why’s that?” Slocum asked.
“You wouldn’t know, but it’ll be dark of the moon tomorrow night. If we don’t try it then, we got to wait another month.”
Slocum sucked in his breath as he stretched out on the hard pallet. He had lost all track of time being in solitary. He hoped that Conchita was still waiting for him and José’s pa hadn’t up and died.
Slocum, Murrieta, and Valenzuela huddled together near the wall. The warm sun beat down on them. The canvas prison uniform would have been uncomfortable, but Slocum was so glad to see the sun again he didn’t complain.
“Been working the far side of the yard, in the garden,” Valenzuela said. “I have hidden a pick there.” He hardly moved his lips as he spoke. He didn’t look at either Slocum or Murrieta and might have been doing nothing more than enjoying the sunlight.
“That is good,” Murrieta said. “It is near where the wall was patched.”
“How do we get out tonight?” Slocum asked.
Both men laughed at him.
“The one in the cell with you—Doc—he will show you. It is not so hard,” Valenzuela said. He sighed. “I would again see my lovely Conchita.”
“And your pa. Your sister said he could hang on until you got to him.”
“Ah, yes, his deathbed,” Valenzuela said. “You are a good man to do this for su novia.”
Slocum moved away without answering because a pair of guards began drifting in his direction. He wanted to keep as much distance between him and the blue-uniformed men as possible. The less he had to do with them, the better chance he had to stay out of solitary.
Then he saw the problem rising up in front of him and tried to veer away. Mick wasn’t having any of it.
“You!” the huge man bellowed. “I got a bone to pick with you!”
Slocum knew any confrontation with the enraged inmate would land them both in solitary again. He doubted Valenzuela and Murrieta would wait another month to escape now that he had gotten them together, matching the tool with a plugged way out through the wall.
A quick look around showed he was in big trouble. Three guards, including the sergeant with his ledger book tucked under his arm, were all homing in on him, hawks with the pigeon reflected in their eyes. Slocum saw no way of avoiding the angry inmate. He wasn’t afraid of Mick but was of being tossed into solitary again.
“I don’t want to fight,” Slocum said, but he would if it came to that. Better to knock this stupid son of a bitch down again and end up in solitary than to crawl. There’d be another chance for him to escape from San Quentin, though he had no idea when or what it would be.
There would be plenty of time to think up something if he had to waste away for a week or two in the dark, cold subterranean cell.
Slocum balled his fists, judged the distance as the bull of a man charged toward him, and then simply stared when Mick fell facedown in the dirt. His feet kicked feebly, and he tried to get to his hands and knees. He didn’t make it because Doc swung a rock he clutched in his hand again and caught Mick behind his ear a second time. Blood gushed from the double cuts.
“Take that! You can’t say a thing like that. You can’t insult me no way, no how!” Doc turned and held up the bloody rock as the guards swerved from circling Slocum and went to him.
“You know better ’n to hit a man from behind, Doc,” the sergeant said, flipping open the book. The guard scanned the pages, turning them quickly. He