then they would all fall about laughing.
It made no sense to Sam at all.
He looked back at the fence. So thin, so delicate, yet so vicious with its shark’s teeth of jagged metal.
The idea had been in his mind from the moment he had found the codes for the electronic doors, but actually making the decision to escape was another thing.
On one hand, there was an unspecified amount of time in jail. (They’d throw away the key, according to Kiwi.) On the other hand was a life of running and hiding, constantly looking over his shoulder. An outlaw, an outcast, a fugitive.
Would he ever be able to see his mother again? Or Fargas? Would he have to leave the country, sneak over the border into Canada or Mexico and live the rest of his life in some foreign land?
But then he looked around at the razor-topped fences and tried to imagine spending month after month of his life in this one small patch of land, constantly under watch by armed guards.
And worse. In a few months’ time, on his eighteenth birthday, the transfer to an adult prison. What kind of horrors would that hold, amidst the burglars, murderers, and gangsters?
Recton was scary enough. The thought of some unknown adult prison “upstate” was simply terrifying.
Sam saw Kiwi walking toward him and stood up.
Together they strolled along the exercise track that ran around the circumference of Recton, a yard or two inside the white picket fence.
He counted his paces, although he was careful not to look like someone who was counting his paces.
It had been two weeks now since he had arrived. Two weeks of limp, flavorless food, communal showers (which he hated), and a horrible claustrophobic feeling every night as the electronic door beeped and locked itself at nine o’clock.
He had put that time to good use, though. Noting the routines of the guards. Where their rounds were. Who was scrupulous, who was punctual, who was lazy and did the barest minimum to fulfill their duties.
He had drawn a map of the fences and sketched in the sensors and other hidden alarms that he located on the security system on the admin computer. He had measured distances on the ground and compared those with the information online, working out times and distances.
He had full run of the computer network, and there was nothing he couldn’t find out if he wanted to.
Two weeks of researching, planning, and finally he was ready to go.
11 | PRISON BREAK
Sam was ready at ten to ten, standing just inside the door of his bedroom, waiting for the fire alarm.
He had accessed the fire-control system and scheduled a fire drill for ten o’clock, then disabled the line of code in the program that knew it was only a drill.
As far as the computer was concerned, the fire would be real, and it would react accordingly.
His few belongings were shoved into the pockets of his warm jacket.
Everything now relied on Kiwi. He had agreed, a little reluctantly, to Sam’s request. If caught, he could wave goodbye to his hopes of serving out his sentence in New Zealand. But he’d agreed anyway.
Seconds ticked away on his watch, and the minutes slowly dripped away as well.
Was he prepared for this? he wondered. A life of constantly hiding. A life without his family and friends. A life underground.
The fire alarm sounded just outside the door to his room. A long bell that went on and on.
When a fire alarm went off at Recton, the computers that controlled the facility would automatically unlock all the cell doors to make sure no inmates were trapped inside.
The door in front of him unlocked itself with a beep and the clunk of the electronic latch. Sam was through it and running down the hallway the moment the handle came free in his hand.
He had counted every step between the dormitory and the admin block and knew exactly how much time he had.
He’d make it, as long as he didn’t stumble or trip over something.
He was already flying out of the hallway door into the courtyard as other doors were
It made no sense to Sam at all.
He looked back at the fence. So thin, so delicate, yet so vicious with its shark’s teeth of jagged metal.
The idea had been in his mind from the moment he had found the codes for the electronic doors, but actually making the decision to escape was another thing.
On one hand, there was an unspecified amount of time in jail. (They’d throw away the key, according to Kiwi.) On the other hand was a life of running and hiding, constantly looking over his shoulder. An outlaw, an outcast, a fugitive.
Would he ever be able to see his mother again? Or Fargas? Would he have to leave the country, sneak over the border into Canada or Mexico and live the rest of his life in some foreign land?
But then he looked around at the razor-topped fences and tried to imagine spending month after month of his life in this one small patch of land, constantly under watch by armed guards.
And worse. In a few months’ time, on his eighteenth birthday, the transfer to an adult prison. What kind of horrors would that hold, amidst the burglars, murderers, and gangsters?
Recton was scary enough. The thought of some unknown adult prison “upstate” was simply terrifying.
Sam saw Kiwi walking toward him and stood up.
Together they strolled along the exercise track that ran around the circumference of Recton, a yard or two inside the white picket fence.
He counted his paces, although he was careful not to look like someone who was counting his paces.
It had been two weeks now since he had arrived. Two weeks of limp, flavorless food, communal showers (which he hated), and a horrible claustrophobic feeling every night as the electronic door beeped and locked itself at nine o’clock.
He had put that time to good use, though. Noting the routines of the guards. Where their rounds were. Who was scrupulous, who was punctual, who was lazy and did the barest minimum to fulfill their duties.
He had drawn a map of the fences and sketched in the sensors and other hidden alarms that he located on the security system on the admin computer. He had measured distances on the ground and compared those with the information online, working out times and distances.
He had full run of the computer network, and there was nothing he couldn’t find out if he wanted to.
Two weeks of researching, planning, and finally he was ready to go.
11 | PRISON BREAK
Sam was ready at ten to ten, standing just inside the door of his bedroom, waiting for the fire alarm.
He had accessed the fire-control system and scheduled a fire drill for ten o’clock, then disabled the line of code in the program that knew it was only a drill.
As far as the computer was concerned, the fire would be real, and it would react accordingly.
His few belongings were shoved into the pockets of his warm jacket.
Everything now relied on Kiwi. He had agreed, a little reluctantly, to Sam’s request. If caught, he could wave goodbye to his hopes of serving out his sentence in New Zealand. But he’d agreed anyway.
Seconds ticked away on his watch, and the minutes slowly dripped away as well.
Was he prepared for this? he wondered. A life of constantly hiding. A life without his family and friends. A life underground.
The fire alarm sounded just outside the door to his room. A long bell that went on and on.
When a fire alarm went off at Recton, the computers that controlled the facility would automatically unlock all the cell doors to make sure no inmates were trapped inside.
The door in front of him unlocked itself with a beep and the clunk of the electronic latch. Sam was through it and running down the hallway the moment the handle came free in his hand.
He had counted every step between the dormitory and the admin block and knew exactly how much time he had.
He’d make it, as long as he didn’t stumble or trip over something.
He was already flying out of the hallway door into the courtyard as other doors were
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