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I doubted it.
Not that it mattered. She was here.
And she was a historian. I couldn’t let anything happen to her.
In my mind, I made a slight alteration to the course I needed to take. It wouldn’t take more than a handful of minutes to return her to the Prize Pool. Then she would be their problem, not mine.
I shifted the bloodied pole from my hand and into the other holding the device. I extended my free hand to her.
“Come with me,” I said. “I’ll return you to the Prize Pool.”
The look of apprehension and fear on her face was palpable. She didn’t look convinced.
She peered at my extended hand and then up into my face. She never flinched like the others at my appearance. That surprised me about her from the start.
Her courage.
Not everyone could look a Vulcarian in the eye and not flinch.
Yes, she was special all right. I wouldn’t see her harmed.
She took me by the hand and let me pull her to her feet.
“Stay close,” I said. “Your costume might confuse some of the inmates, but unfortunately, not all of them are blind.”
The hallways grew worse the deeper we moved into the prison. More foot traffic, more inmates, more guards coming under attack.
It wouldn’t be long before the warden sent reinforcements to lock our prison down.
In fact, I was counting on it.
I didn’t glance back to check on Agatha until we reached a section where the view was clear on every side and I could risk taking my eyes off the hallways around us for a moment.
Most of the violence was happening between gangs. Turf wars. Many inmates were caught between the competing rivals through no fault of their own.
The journey to the Prize Pool was not a short distance. It meant traversing the open corridors that reminded me more of a rat run than anything else. Other prisoners ran for cover from one hallway to the next. They might have been in a warzone.
I peered around the corner to ascertain what caused them to suddenly bolt in the opposite direction. I couldn’t for the life of me figure out what it was. The prisoners acted like sheep. When one bolted, they all did.
I took us down another hallway and was immediately accosted by a flock of harried prisoners carrying homemade weapons. They waved them threateningly over their heads.
I backed up and pressed Agatha to the wall behind me, my body acting as her shield.
I was relieved when the prisoners turned their attention on escaping and not attacking. They buffeted me as they rushed past. They knocked me off balance and cajoled me until I lost my footing, almost getting swept along the manmade river.
I shoved them back but they had already dislodged Agatha from the wall. Her face was screwed up in a mask of fear.
I rushed to meet her. I grabbed her by the arm and thrust her into the thin crevice of the doorway of a prison cell. I turned to face her and braced the wall with my elbows and straightened my back, forming a bridge over Agatha’s body so she wouldn’t be swept aside by the rising tide of angry prisoners.
Agatha stared at the prisoners as they rushed past us. They were not gentle as they shoved and elbowed me in an attempt to pass the obstruction I was in their eyes. They almost knocked me off balance a dozen times but I grit my teeth and focused on keeping my feet.
If I should fall, there would be no chance for me to get up again. I would be crushed beneath their marching boots and there would be no hope.
Agatha wore a mask of utter terror.
“I shouldn’t have left your room,” she muttered. “I never should have left your room.”
“Hey,” I said, grunting as I took another sharp elbow to my back. “Look at me.”
