The Sandman

132

Today Saga is first into the dayroom, and immediately gets onto the running machine. She manages to run for four minutes, and has just lowered the speed and started to walk when Bernie comes in from his room.

‘I’m going to start driving a taxi when I’m free... Bloody hell, like some fucking Fittipaldi... and you can ride for free, and I’ll get to touch you between—’

‘Just shut up,’ she cuts him off.

He nods, looking wounded, then walks straight over to the palm leaf, turns it over and points at the microphone with a thin grin.

‘Now you’re my slave,’ he laughs.

Saga jabs him hard, making him stumble back and sit down on the floor.

‘I want to escape as well,’ he hisses. ‘I want to drive a taxi and—’

‘Shut up,’ Saga says, checking over her shoulder to see if the guards are on their way in through the airlock.

But no one seems to be watching them on the monitor in the security control room.

‘You’re going to take me with you when you escape, do you hear—’

‘Shut up,’ Jurek interrupts behind them.

‘Sorry,’ Bernie whispers quietly at the floor.

Saga didn’t hear Jurek come into the dayroom. A shiver runs down her spine when she realises that he may have seen the microphone under the palm leaf.

Maybe her cover is already blown?

Maybe it’s going to happen now, she thinks. The crisis she’s been dreading is happening now. She feels adrenalin rushing through her, and tries to visualise the plan of the secure unit. In her thoughts she moves quickly through the marked doors, the different zones, the best places to take temporary shelter.

If Bernie blows her cover, she’ll have to barricade herself in her room to start with. Ideally she needs to get hold of the microphone and shout for immediate backup, get them to come and rescue her.

Jurek stops in front of Bernie, who’s lying on the floor whispering his apologies.

‘You’re to pull the lead off the running machine, then go to your room and hang yourself from the top of your door,’ Jurek tells him.

Bernie looks up at Jurek with fear in his eyes.

‘What? What the fuck...?’

‘Tie the lead to the handle on the outside, throw it over the door and pull your plastic chair over,’ Jurek explains curtly.

‘I don’t want to, I don’t want to,’ Bernie says, his lips trembling.

‘We can’t have you alive any longer,’ Jurek says calmly.

‘But... what the fuck, I was only joking, I know very well that I can’t come with you... I know it’s just your thing... just your thing...’