Page 156 of Switch!

I unlock the door and slip inside the cell, taking the tube of fake blood out of my pocket. “Uh oh!” I say, passing it to Caleb, who is already on his feet. “Looks like your nose is bleeding. I better get you to the infirmary.”

Caleb examines the tube, then looks up at me with an incredulous expression. “It’ll never work. No one gets out of their cell for a bloody nose. I speak from experience.” He takes the lid off the tube and bites through the plastic tip below. “But if I cut my hand open…”

I watch as he squeezes most of the tube into his palm. Then he grabs toilet paper and wraps it around his hand, like he’s trying to stop the bleeding, when in truth it hides the lack of an actual injury.

“Are you ready?” I ask him.

He nods. “If this doesn’t work, I’m leaving the other way.”

By committing suicide? He must really hate it here. I’m not eager to stick around either. I lead him to the hall that connects to the dorms. We’ve just made it there when a door at the far end buzzes and we’re joined by Jim.

“What’s going on?” he asks.

“Travis managed to cut his hand open,” I gripe, like it’s ruining my evening.

“Should we call the doctor?”

“Naw. It doesn’t look too serious. I’ll bandage it up and put him back in bed with a warm glass of milk.”

Jim doesn’t laugh. He tilts his head toward the direction we came. “There should be bandages in the first aid kit.”

“Should be,” Caleb repeats with emphasis. “This place is a freaking joke.”

“Or,”I retort, “one of you dumb kids emptied it when we weren’t looking.” No need to lie. That actually happens. I turn back to Jim. “Someone forgot to restock, I guess. We’ll be back in a jiffy.”

Jim still looks concerned. “Want me to go with you?”

“I’ll be fine. Put some coffee on, will you? It’s been a long night.”

Jim nods and returns to the administrative area.

Close one! We walk down a long hall to another door. Roscoe doesn’t have much experience with the infirmary. I use his badge to gain entry, my heart leaping when I see the world through an exterior window. Jesse insisted they would have the infirmary on the outside of the building, to make it easier to transfer patients to and from an ambulance. He was half-right. An ambulance could pull up and park, but there isn’t an exit to the outside.

“Now what?” Caleb asks.

I switch on the light and start searching for bandages, just in case we’re being watched on the security camera. While doing so, I check Roscoe’s memories of the building’s layout and wish his knowledge was more complete. He doesn’t visit this side of the building very often.

“Well?” Caleb says, sounding impatient.

“Give me a second.”

I open drawers until I find a roll of bandages and scissors. I set these on the counter and motion for Caleb to join me. “There should be a door just around the corner from this room. Roscoe thinks his badge will work on it, but he’s not sure. You’ll have to take that from me by force. Make it look convincing. Push me down or something.”

Caleb doesn’t hesitate. He shoves my shoulders while hooking one of my ankles with his foot. I fall over backwards, bouncing off the edge of the counter and ending up on my side. Caleb rips my badge off its lanyard and is turning away when the infirmary door opens. It’s Jim. His head is down, attention on the bandages he’s carrying.

“You didn’t check the first aid kit in the rec room,” he says. “These should—” He looks up and tenses. “What the hell?”

I watch as Caleb grabs the scissors off the counter. Not cool! I don’t want anyone getting hurt! I struggle to my feet, but Roscoe isn’t very agile. By the time I’m up again, Caleb and Jim are grappling with each other. The older man has his hands around Caleb’s wrists, holding him at bay so the scissors can’t come near enough to do harm. I hurry forward and wrest them from Caleb’s grasp. He glares at me, but I don’t care. We aren’t stabbing someone just so he can escape.

Caleb changes tactics. He uses the same trick on Jim, sweeping his legs and knocking him off his feet. Then he grabs a metal tray and smashes it over Jim’s head, once, twice, and a third time. Jim is down but not unconscious. He tries to get up again and slips.

Caleb raises the tray, but I grab this too, my eyes wide and darting toward the exit. He finally gets the message and takes off. I’m supposed to pursue him. That’s part of the plan, but I stop to check on Jim first.

“Are you okay?”

“Get the little fucker,” Jim mumbles, attempting to push himself upright.

He’s dazed, but I don’t see any blood. He’ll be fine. I lumber from the room, and when I look down the shortest length of hall, I see an open door and the parking lot beyond. I run, wishing that Roscoe was in better shape. I should have told Caleb what to do next. He needs to flee in a very specific direction, but I don’t see him at all. I keep running past the parking lot. We’re lucky this isn’t an adult prison or there would be a fence and barbed wire to contend with. Once I move beyond the light of the parking lot, I can see his silhouette racing across the field and growing smaller by the second.