The inmates who had just stepped out of their cells blinked in the blood-red light. One stared up at the nearest security cam in confusion. The other looked at Bruce in disbelief, as if still not quite sure he himself had escaped from his confinement. From somewhere above, Bruce could hear the alarms blaring on the higher floors and feel the tremble of footsteps thundering.
“System lockdown!” a voice over the speakers shouted. “System lockdown!”
Bruce glanced toward the exit door as a loud buzz echoed throughout the hall. The light over the exit door flashed green, indicating it was open. Run, he thought. Get out of here. His eyes darted to Madeleine’s cell for an instant. She hadn’t opened her door, but she was also nowhere in sight, out of her window’s view.
The first freed inmate charged toward the exit. Before Bruce could stop himself, he ran to block the door.
The man bared his teeth at Bruce and lunged, aiming to bite him. Bruce darted back, protecting his neck. He swung a fist at the man’s jaw, catching him in a clean blow. The man stumbled backward, shrieking a curse. Then he lunged toward Bruce again. There was a wildness in his eyes, a searing desperation, and his voice sent a shudder through Bruce.
“Let me out,” he hissed. “Get out of my way—”
Bruce winced as the man’s clawing fingers raked across his shoulder. He ducked, then threw his full weight at the inmate, sending him careening backward and off his feet. Bruce collapsed to the floor with him and grabbed for the mop handle lying nearby—his hands found it right as the inmate scrambled back to his feet. Bruce whipped the mop handle out, catching the man hard in the shins. He let out a yelp. Bruce leaped to his feet and hit the inmate again with the handle, this time jabbing him hard in the stomach. The man doubled over, his eyes bulging, and collapsed onto his side. The alarm continued to scream around them; everything had become a blur of scarlet.
Bruce lifted his head to see the second inmate. It was the man who’d threatened to cut Bruce. The inmate wasn’t focused on the exit. Instead, he had wandered to Madeleine’s cell and put his hand on the door. Fear shuddered through Bruce.
As the man pulled Madeleine’s door open, Bruce shoved him away. But the prisoner towered over Bruce by at least an extra foot. A dark grin appeared on his face. I’m going to die here. The sudden thought sent adrenaline surging through Bruce’s veins. The man swung. Bruce ducked to the ground, narrowly avoiding the blow, then darted away and toward Madeleine’s door.
The inmate turned on him and prepared to strike.
Guards burst through the hall door, shields up, guns drawn, helmets on—blurs of black as they shouted at the inmates to get down on the ground. The enormous man facing Bruce looked away as the guards surrounded him. He opened his mouth in a snarl, then shuddered as one of the guards fired a Taser at him, forcing him to collapse. Bruce looked on as the guards dragged the inmate, still struggling and shouting, back to his cell. The alarm blaring overhead finally quieted. The doors on each cell locked once more.
James appeared. Her eyes settled on Bruce, and for the first time since he’d known her, she looked shocked. Maybe even guilty. “You okay?” she asked as he picked himself up. Strands of her hair had loosened from her braid, and she was breathing heavily. “Damn storm. You shouldn’t have stayed down here. I—” She sighed, shaking her head as she put a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry. Let’s get you out.”
Bruce turned to look into Madeleine’s cell as he went. She was back on her bed now, leaning forward on her knees, her hair a river over her right shoulder. She looked like she was trembling slightly. As he left, she lifted her head to look at him. A brief smile appeared on her lips, one that flickered in and out like a candle, so brief that no one else must have seen it.
Bruce found himself thinking about Madeleine’s words again. Just rats in cages, she had said. And he had leaped to protect her.
Bruce’s hands were still shaking as he turned away and followed James out of the hall, the shouts of the other inmates still echoing behind him.
Bruce didn’t return to the asylum until the following week, needing some time off after the brief jailbreak was mentioned in the news and reporters swarmed the front gates.
James seemed subdued when she saw him again, and her usual sarcasm was replaced with concern. She even informed him that she would put in a word with Draccon and the court to shorten his remaining hours, due to what had happened. His duties cleaning the intensive-treatment level were done away with altogether.
Except Bruce didn’t want to shorten his time at Arkham, or stop visiting the lowest floor. He had too many questions, too much about Madeleine still to figure out. He went to go find Draccon at the precinct and see what she could tell him.
“I’m glad you were unharmed,” Draccon said to Bruce as she flipped through folders of court documents in her office. Bruce watched her work from his chair across her desk. “I’ll put in a word with the court. I’ve never heard of a malfunction before at Arkham Asylum, but the storm had apparently initiated a perfect chain reaction of faults in the security system. It shouldn’t happen again.”
“Madeleine never even tried to escape, you know,” Bruce replied, frowning. “Why would she just stay put like that, when she had a chance to run for it?”
“I have no idea. Did she say anything about the underground discovery?”
Maybe I’m telling you to be careful. Or maybe I just like you.
Bruce pushed her words out of his head. “She didn’t say anything else, but she didn’t seem surprised when I told her about it, either,” he said. “Anything else useful that she might have said, I’ve already mentioned to you.” Bruce studied the detective. Madeleine had asked him not to, but he wondered if he should bring up the issue of the bruises he’d seen on her, to ask about her medications. But if he sounded like he was criticizing the police’s handling of her, it might also start to sound like he felt pity for her, even affection.
The thought of not talking to Madeleine again brought up a strange, unpleasant feeling in his chest. Why had he protected her?
Don’t tell Draccon, Madeleine had whispered.
Maybe it would be better, Bruce thought, if he went off on his own again. There had to be something out there about Madeleine’s mother and her time in prison. He would figure it out himself. His eyes settled on the neat stack of folders sitting on the edge of Draccon’s desk, all of Madeleine’s documentation to date.
“And the rest of the conversation?” Draccon asked over her shoulder as she grabbed a thick black binder from her top shelf and pulled out a form.
Bruce opened his mouth, still torn about how to tell Draccon about Madeleine’s recounting of her mother’s arrest—but what came out instead was “She asked me about my parents. So I told her.”
“Then I’m glad we’re no longer sending you down there,” Draccon said, shaking her head. “It isn’t worth endangering you to risk getting some potential information out of her.” She sighed, then knelt to pull a container of folders from her bottom shelf. “Ah, here are your court papers.” For a moment, she disappeared from sight.
Bruce thanked Detective Draccon for her concern, but a rumble of doubt lingered in the back of his mind.
What if Madeleine was confiding in him?
And as Draccon searched for his paperwork, Bruce reached for the document showing Madeleine’s profile. He quietly rolled it up and tucked it into the inner pocket of his jacket. He needed to get to the bottom of this girl’s mysteries; he needed to get all the information he could. And he needed to do it without the police looking over his shoulder.