If Tommorrow Comes Part 11

The amazon grinned. "Or what? Your black b.i.t.c.h is gettin' out. I'm arrangin' to have you transferred to my cell."

Tracy stared at her.

Big Bertha nodded. "I can do it, honey. Believe it."

Tracy knew then her time was running out. She had to escape before Ernestine was released.

Amy's favorite walk was through the meadow, rainbowed with colorful wildflowers. The huge artificial lake was nearby, surrounded by a low concrete wall with a long drop to the deep water.

"Let's go swimming," Amy pleaded. "Please, let's, Tracy?"

"It's not for swimming," Tracy said. "They use the water for irrigation." The sight of the cold, forbidding-looking lake made her s.h.i.+ver.

Her father was carrying her into the ocean on his shoulders, and when she cried out, her father said, Don't be a baby, Tracy, and he dropped her into the cold water, and when the water closed over her head she panicked and began to choke....

When the news came, it was a shock, even though Tracy had expected it.

"I'm gettin' outta here a week from Sattiday," Ernestine said.

The words sent a cold chill through Tracy. She had not told Ernestine about her conversation with Big Bertha. Ernestine would not be here to help her. Big Bertha probably had enough influence to have Tracy transferred to her cell. The only way Tracy could avoid it would be to talk to the warden, and she knew that if she did that, she was as good as dead. Every convict in the prison would turn on her. You gotta fight, f.u.c.k; or hit the fence. Well, she was going to hit the fence.

She and Ernestine went over the escape possibilities again. None of them was satisfactory.

"You ain't got no car, and you ain't got no one on the outside to he'p you. You're gonna get caught, sure as h.e.l.l, and then you'll be worse off. You'd be better doin' cool time and flnis.h.i.+n' out your gig."

But Tracy knew there would be no cool time. Not with Big Bertha after her. The thought of what the giant bull-d.y.k.e had in mind for her made her physically ill.

It was Sat.u.r.day morning, seven days before Ernestine's release. Sue Ellen Brannigan had taken Amy into New Orleans for the weekend, and Tracy was at work in the prison kitchen.

"How's the nursemaid job goin'?" Ernestine asked.

"All right."

"I seen that little girl. She seems real sweet."

"She's okay." Her tone was indifferent.

"I'll sure be glad to get outta here. I'll tell you one thing, I ain't never comin' back to this joint. If there's anythin' Al or me kin do for you on the outside---"

"Coming through," a male voice called out.

Tracy turned. A laundryman was pus.h.i.+ng a huge cart piled to the top with soiled uniforms and linens. Tracy watched, puzzled, as he headed for the exit.

"What I was sayin' was if me and Al can do anythin' for you--- you know--- send you things or---"

"Ernie, what's a laundry truck doing here? The prison has its own laundry."

"Oh, that's for the guards," Ernestine laughed. "They used to send their uniforms to the prison laundry, but all the b.u.t.tons managed to get ripped off, sleeves were torn, obscene notes were sewn inside, s.h.i.+rts were shrunk, and the material got mysteriously slashed. Ain't that a f.u.c.kin' shame, Miss Scarlett? Now the guards gotta send their stuff to an outside laundry." Ernestine laughed her b.u.t.terfly McQueen imitation.

Tracy was no longer listening. She knew how she was going to escape.

Chapter 11.

"George, I don't think we should keep Tracy on."

Warden Brannigan looked up from his newspaper. "What? What's the problem?"

"I'm not sure, exactly. I have the feeling that Tracy doesn't like Amy. Maybe she just doesn't like children."

"She hasn't been mean to Amy, has she? Hit her, yelled at her?"

"No..."

"What, then?"

"Yesterday Amy ran over and put her arms around Tracy, and Tracy pushed her away. It bothered me because Amy's so crazy about her. To tell you the truth, I might be a little jealous. Could that be it?"

Warden Brannigan laughed. "That could explain a lot, Sue Ellen. I think Tracy Whitney is just right for the job. Now, if she gives you any real problems, let me know, and I'll do something about it."

"All right, dear." Sue Ellen was still not satisfied. She picked up her needlepoint and began stabbing at it. The subject was not closed yet.

"Why can't it work?"

"I tol' you, girl. The guards search every truck going through the gate."

"But a truck carrying a basket of laundry--- they're not going to dump out the laundry to check it."

"They don' have to. The basket is taken to the utility room, where a guard watches it bein' filled."

Tracy stood there thinking. "Ernie... could someone distract that guard for five minutes?"

"What the h.e.l.l good would---?" She broke off, a slow grin lighting her face. "While someone pumps him full of suns.h.i.+ne, you get into the bottom of the hamper and get covered up with laundry!" She nodded. "You know, I think the d.a.m.ned thing might work."

"Then you'll help me?"

Ernestine was thoughtful for a moment. Then she said softly, "Yeah. I'll he'p you. It's my last chance to give Big Bertha a kick in the a.s.s."

The prison grapevine buzzed with the news of Tracy Whitney's impending escape. A breakout was an event that affected all prisoners. The inmates lived vicariously through each attempt, wis.h.i.+ng they had the courage to try it themselves. But there were the guards and the dogs and the helicopters, and, in the end, the bodies of the prisoners who had been brought back.

With Ernestine's help, the escape plan moved ahead swiftly. Ernestine took Tracy's measurements, Lola boosted the material for a dress from the millinery shop, and Paulita had a seamstress in another cell block make it. A pair of prison shoes was stolen from the wardrobe department and dyed to match the dress. A hat, gloves, and purse appeared, as if by magic.

"Now we gotta get you some ID," Ernestine informed Tracy "You'll need a couple a credit cards and a driver's license."

"How can I---?"

Ernestine grinned. "You jest leave it to old Ernie Littlechap."

The following evening Ernestine handed Tracy three major credit cards in the name of Jane Smith.

"Next, you need a driver's license."

Sometime after midnight Tracy heard the door of her cell being opened. Someone had sneaked into the cell. Tracy sat up in her bunk, instantly on guard.

A voice whispered, "Whitney? Let's go."

Tracy recognized the voice of Lillian, a trusty. "What do you want?" Tracy asked.

Ernestine's voice shot out of the darkness. "What kind of idiot child did your mother raise? Shut up and don't ask questions."

Lillian said softly, "We got to do this fast. If we get caught, they'll have my a.s.s. Come on."

"Where are we going?" Tracy asked, as she followed Lillian down the dark corridor to a stairway. They went up to the landing above and, after making sure there were no guards about, hurried down a hallway until they came to the room where Tracy had been fingerprinted and photographed. Lillian pushed the door open. "In here," she whispered.

Tracy followed her into the room. Another inmate was waiting inside.

"Step up against the wall." She sounded nervous.

Tracy moved against the wall, her stomach in knots.

"Look into the camera. Come on. Try and took relaxed."

Very funny, Tracy thought. She had never been so nervous in her life. The camera clicked.

"The picture will be delivered in the morning," the inmate said. "It's for your driver's license. Now get out of here--- fast."

Tracy and Lillian retraced their steps. On the way, Lillian said, "I hear you're changin' cells."

Tracy froze. "What?"

"Didn't you know? You're movin' in with Big Bertha."

Ernestine, Lola, and Paulita were waiting up for Tracy when she returned. "How'd it go?"

"Fine."

Didn't you know? You're movin' in with Big Bertha.

"The dress'll be ready for you Sattiday," Paulita said.

The day of Ernestine's release. That's my deadline, Tracy thought.

Ernestine whispered, "Everythin' is cool. The laundry pickup Sattiday is two o'clock. You gotta be in the utility room by one-thirty. You don' have to worry about the guard. Lola will keep him busy next door. Paulita will be in the utility room waitin' for you. She'll have your clothes. Your ID will be in your purse. You'll be drivin' out the prison gates by two-fifteen."

Tracy found it difficult to breathe. Just talking about the escape made her tremble. n.o.body gives a s.h.i.+t if they bring you back dead or alive.... They figure dead is better.

In a few days she would be making her break for freedom. She had no illusions: The odds were against her. They would eventually find her and bring her back. But there was something she had sworn to take care of first.

The prison grapevine knew all about the contest that had been fought between Ernestine Littlechap and Big Bertha over Tracy. Now that the word was out that Tracy was being transferred to Big Bertha's cell, it was no accident that no one had mentioned anything, to Big Bertha about Tracy's escape plan: Big Bertha did not like to hear bad news. She was often apt to confuse the news with the bearer and treat that person accordingly. Big Bertha did not learn about Tracy's plan until the morning the escape was to take place, and it was revealed to her by the trusty who had taken Tracy's picture.

Big Bertha took the news in ominous silence. Her body seemed to grow bigger as she listened.

"What time?" was all she asked.

"This afternoon at two o'clock, Bert. They're gonna hide her in the bottom of a laundry hamper in the utility room."

Big Bertha thought about it for a long time. Then she waddled over to a matron and said, "I gotta see Warden Brannigan right away."

Tracy had not slept all night. She was sick with tension. The months she had been in prison seemed like a dozen eternities. Images of the past flashed through her mind as she lay on her bunk, staring into the dark.

I feel like a princess in a fairy tale, Mother. I didn't know anyone could be this happy.

So! You and Charles want to get married.

How long a honeymoon are you planning?

You shot me, you b.i.t.c.h!...

Your mother committed suicide....

I never really knew you....

The wedding picture of Charles smiling at his bride....

How many eons ago? How many planets away?

The morning bell clanged through the corridor like a shock wave. Tracy sat up on her bunk, wide awake. Ernestine was watching her. "How you feelin', girl?"