My new cell was exactly that—a cell. Not that I had ever been in jail before, but I assume this is what a cell would look like. A single cot was off to the side with a sink and toilet close by. There was no window to the outside, just a tiny one in the door showing the empty hallway. I was getting really tired of the minimalist accommodations.

My stomach growled, berating me for misbehaving and missing breakfast. Even the slop from last night sounded good. I patted by my hipbone where I still had the switchblade stashed. In all the commotion, it hadn't fallen out. Still had the ace up my sleeve—or down my pants to be more correct.

I laid down on the cot to plan. I couldn't just stab a guard and escape. There were too many of them and no doubt the exits would be locked up. I wrinkled my nose at the memory of slamming into the sealed exit door last night. My nose wasn't broken, but I was willing to bet there was bruising and maybe a black eye or two. Too bad mirrors were prohibited in solitary.

In order to get out of here alive, I would need the cooperation and help of the other prisoners. If we escaped as a group, we could overrun the guards. But the guards were armed, even if the weapons were mainly for show, they might still shoot if swarmed. Why had there never been a group escape attempt? I mean there was only about sixteen people all together, but that still was better than only a few. Leo never mentioned anything other than a single person trying to get out. If they all just worked together, they could get out—probably. I just needed to get back to the cafeteria. They were just locking me in here to try to exert their power; to break my will, but it wasn't going to happen.

I turned over on the cot and saw the tiny line markings in the paint. Someone had gouged hundreds of tiny tics into the wall, torn fingernail clippings stuck in some. I gulped and rolled back around. Would that be me soon?

They brought me lunch and supper; each time the guard brandishing pepper spray like I was a rabid drunk. It shamed me to admit, but I scarfed down the terrible food. I was starving and I would be no use without my strength. If they really wanted to break a person they would deprive them of food, which was kind of throwing me off. This place was confusing. They kept us here like criminals in jail, yet we weren't left to rot in a cell—unless we attacked them. They gave us food and clothes; the only torture coming from the experiments and I was willing to bet they didn't count that as torture.

After being left for zombie-chow, I'd beg to differ. Facing the infected was scary enough, but facing them unarmed and stuck in a tiny space had been horrifying. I hope whoever they sent out to collect a new infected was torn apart in the process.

My hateful fantasizing was interrupted by the lights going out. Must be bedtime. Looks like I'd be spending the night in here. I wondered how they were powering this place. There must be backup generators; all hospitals had them. But that was an awful lot of fuel needed. This place had been going for a few months, it had to running on fumes. Maybe I could just wait it out. Once this place ran out of juice, escaping would be easier.

I spent the night dozing, too tired to toss and turn. This time I didn't dream of the lady hanging from the ceiling, but instead of being trapped in a kennel then being released and chased. No matter how much I ran, I could never get away from the unseen thing chasing me. This place was going to mess with my head eventually.

In the morning, the guards tossed me a clean outfit to change into with my breakfast. Once I ate and they came to collect the tray, I complained about needing a shower before I changed into the clean clothes. I felt gross from stewing in zombie goo all night. The guards looked at each other like they didn't have a brain between them. One left to ask for permission and when he came back, they took me to the communal showers. No one else was in there, but I still felt awkward stripping down in a giant empty bathroom.

I quickly peeled off my stained outfit and washed my hair and skin with the toiletries laying around. Everything was communal in here. There was a pile of clean towels folded in the corner that I used to dry off before slipping into the clean clothes and tucking the switchblade into my pajama pants waistline. I towel dried my hair as best as I could, but it was still wet, soaking the shoulders of my shirt.

Unsure of what to do next, I banged on the door. "I'm done."

The guards opened the door and escorted me to the cafeteria. Mac ran to me as soon as I the doors slammed shut behind me.

"Holy shit, Bailey, you gave me a scare. I thought something happened to you!"

"Something did," I muttered, pointing to my bruised face.

We walked over to the table Leo was sitting at. Unfortunately, Rose was right beside him. She stared me down as I plunked onto the hard steel stool.

"What?" I barked at her.

"You didn't let it bite you. You goin' to regret that," she said and crossed her arms.

She winced when her arm pushed up against her wounded ribs. Good. Leo looked back and forth between us. As far as he knew, Rose and I had not yet been acquainted.

"They threw you in with a sick one?" Mac asked, his face going pale.

"How did you get out without a bite?" Leo asked before I could answer Mac's question.

"I bashed its head in." I jutted my chin out.

"With what?" Leo asked, his eyes narrowed.

"The floor."

"Hmm."

Our attention was briefly drawn to the cafeteria doors when Josh came through and talked with the guards. He was speaking to them so that his back was facing the populace. Together they looked around the room, his eyes momentarily locking with my own and I could have sworn he shot me a smirk. Then without fanfare, Josh left back out the doors and the guards resumed their tough-guy poses.

"What normally happens when they force you in with the infected?" I asked, starting up the conversation again.

"Once it bites or scratches you, the guards rush in and subdue the dead one—or kill it," Leo said.

"How would they know you're bit?"

"The window in the room is a two-way mirror," Rose said as if that was common knowledge.

"And how would you know that?"

"Been in a cop station a couple times in my day." I didn't doubt that.

It made sense, in a sick sort of way. They could stand behind their window all safe and secure while watching their patient get scarred for life in more than one way. I gritted my teeth. The people running this place were the crazy ones.

I leaned over the table. "We need to get everyone here on board for an escape."

Rose scoffed. "Good luck. Most people here either keep to themselves or their kind. Not much for socializing."

I assumed she meant the obligatory white-power crew. Well they would just have to get over themselves if they wanted out of here.

"I'll go talk to them," I said.

All three looked at me like I had just claimed aliens were walking among us.

"Well, at least we'll finally get some entertainment 'round here," Rose said with a shit-eating grin.

When we escaped, I would have no problem leaving her behind. Locking eyes with her, I shoved myself from my seat slowly and walked over the group of three white males sitting on the other side of the room. They stopped talking as I approached and eyed me warily. At least they didn't sport swastika tattoos. They did however have a bunch of gnarled scar tissue similar to Leo's arm. One guy even had the outline of a set of teeth in the apex where his shoulder met his neck. That must have been painful, not to mention hard to hide.

"Can we help you?" the biggest one asked, his undertone telling me to fuck off.

"I was thinking we could help each other."

His eyebrows shot up and the three snickered. "What exactly could you help me with?" He eyed me up and down.

I breathed through my nose and ignored his lewd gaze. "I assume you don't like being locked up, but who knows, maybe you're accustomed to being in jail."

He scowled at me. "You better watch what you say. Those leaf-blowers ain't goin' to be able to protect you."

Show no fear. To their surprise, I sat down beside the big guy in the empty spot.

"You're telling me you don't mind being held prisoner by these psychos?" I asked, my voice mostly steady.

"What're you gettin' at, girl?" the guy with the longish brown hair and full beard asked from across the table.

"Escaping."

"We ain't workin' with no dead weight," the big guy said.

"Really? We're all on the same side here and we can fend for ourselves," I said through clenched teeth.

"Your face says otherwise." They all laughed.

My fingers touched at the bruising and swelling beneath my right eye and I glowered. "You should see Amelia before you judge me."

They stopped their snickering and the big guy gave me a different kind of stare. "I'll believe that when I see it."

I shrugged, feigning indifference. "Whatever, just think about it. We have the bigger numbers; if we work together we can get out of here."

"Yeah? Against armed guards?" the bug guy challenged.

"I'm sure you prison savvy individuals can fashion a shiv or something." I don't know if I was a masochist, but I was angling to get another black eye.

They regarded me in silence for a moment before the main guy spoke up, "Go back to your group." He waved his hand and turned from me.

I got up and walked back over to the others trying to appear normal. In truth, I was fighting the urge to run from my first encounter with the Arian brothers.

"So when's the great escape?" Rose said.

I ignored her. "So looks like they're out. Care to help me round up the others?"

Mac looked at the entrance and back at me. "You're going to have to do it more discreetly or the guards will know something is up. Maybe try talking to people in the food line or when people gather around to watch a movie."

"Good idea." I hadn't thought of that. I didn't want to tip off the guards and foil our escape before it even happened.

"Okay, I have to ask. What are you even plannin' we do after we get people onboard? Just storm the guards?" Rose asked.

"I don't know. We need the numbers and someone whose familiar with the layout."

"George has been here the longest, so I'd start with him," Leo said. He discreetly stretched and pointed to the man sitting on the window sill in a house coat.

"We have no weapons," Rose said.

"Not exactly. It's not a gun, but I have a knife."

"How did you get a knife?" Mac asked.

"There was a switchblade in the pocket of the infected I took down."

"You just got a horseshoe up your ass, dontcha?" Rose said with distain.

"You keep being a bitch and you can watch me leave your ass behind," I growled. I was anything but lucky.

"Hey, hey, hey," Leo held out his hands. "We don't need to be turning on each other. Like you said, we need to work together."

I had no idea what had brought Leo and Rose to team up in here, but it sure wasn't their personalities. Or age. Leo could have been her son for all I know except that he didn't refer to her as his mother. They both had tanned skin and black hair, but their features were wildly different. Rose had a more angled and skinny face where Leo had a rounder face and wider eyes.

We waited until we were called to line up for lunch to talk to anyone else. I watch George saunter over to the line, his ratty housecoat swaying limply on his form. The belt normally used to tie up a robe was missing. I made sure I was next to him, butting past a girl around my age. She didn't even acknowledge that I had jumped ahead of her.

"George?" I whispered.

At first I got no reaction from him, even though I had spoken right beside him. I tapped his arm with my elbow to get his attention. He jerked like I had just stabbed him in the kidney with my concealed knife. His eyes were wide when he looked at me.

I held up my hands. "Sorry, didn't mean to scare you."

George tilted his head and made a gesture with his hand. I didn't know what to make of that so I continued on. "I heard you've been locked up here the longest." He made the gesture again and at the confused look on my face, he pointed to his ears and shook his head.

Oh God, he was deaf. Thanks for the intel, Leo! How did I explain this?

I talked really slowly—but softly—focusing on mouthing my words. "Can I eat lunch with you?"

He seemed to understand because he nodded. The lunch lady served us something that finally didn't resemble gruel. It looked like noodles and eggs. I lead George over to where Mac was playing with his food. "Who puts powdered eggs with penne noodles?"

I assumed that was a rhetorical question, but eggs and pasta went further to fill a person up. George sat down beside Mac, so I sat across from him so he could see my words better. I just hoped that him reading my lips in the lunch line wasn't a fluke.

I didn't start badgering him immediately, instead opting to let us eat our exotic meal. Rose and Leo had sat down beside a couple others a few tables down and hopefully were discussing an escape with them.

George finished and looked up at me. I smiled as reassuringly as I could, although I'm sure my bruised face ruined it. "George, can you understand what I'm saying?"

He nodded; I guess he could read lips. Mac's eyes widened as he set down his forkful of lunch. Looks like he hadn't known George was deaf either.

I had to pick my words carefully so that George could answer. "How many months have you been here?"

George held up three fingers then made a pinching motion not allowing his fingers to meet. Three months and a bit.

"How well would you say you know the layout of the halls?"

He made a so-so gesture while rocking his head left to right. I was going to ask if he could describe it, but I managed to hold my tongue before those words awkwardly slipped out. That wouldn't work. And I'm sure the chances of someone in here being able to translate sign language was nil. I looked around to see if anyone was watching our exchange. Most heads were down either still eating or just minding their own business. My eyes landed on a pile of books tossed on the corner table.

I held up my index finger for George to stay put and headed toward the books. The selection was crappy, mostly used and discolored paperbacks you'd find at a garage sale in the fifty cent bin. Good thing I wasn't planning to use them for reading. I just needed the paper inside for George to draw out some schematics for us to plan our escape route. Now I just needed a pen. There were no markers or pencil crayons, but there were wax crayons nearby. They took the "no sharp objects" rule very seriously. I scooped up the books with the widest pages and the darker crayons before heading back to our table.

The guards watched me with interest as I moved across the room. They looked so bored that maybe they were hoping I would start something to help pass the time. When I sat back down, they turned away from me, the one guard's chest deflating. Sorry to disappoint.

"What's that for?" Mac asked.

"I'm hoping George here can draw us a map."

I flipped through one of the books until I got to the couple of blank pages at the back, then passed it to George. When he looked up at me, I mouthed "escape" and "map." A smile spread across his face as he picked up one of the crayons and began drawing lines on the page. Mac and I held our breath as we watched him draw out various corridors. Eventually it began to look like a maze from all the lines, but that was more due to the cramped drawing space and dull crayon.

When George finished, he put down the crayon and gave me back the book. I looked it over. He had written "Cafe" to indicate the room we were currently in. According to the map, the main entrance was on the opposite side of the building. And guarded. He drew a stick man beside it and any spot where he had seen a guard posted.

I smiled and patted George on the hand. He grabbed a different novel and scribbled something down.

I read his words and answered, mouthing each word so that George could see what I was saying. "When? I don't know. We need the right moment. Any kink in their schedule you know about?"

George scribbled some more before turning the page back to me. He had written, "When they send the guards to collect more of the dead ones. Less guards to worry about."

I frowned. We had missed that chance yesterday when Amelia sent them out after I killed their last test dummy. "That was yesterday."

George furrowed his brow as he tapped the crayon on the table. I turned to Mac as George thought on it and passed him the book. The guards were blocked from my view thanks to Mac and George sitting in front of me, so they didn't see us shifting the book back and forth.

"Is this the part where I have to stuff the map down my pants?" Mac joked as he examined George's drawing.

"Please don't do that," I deadpanned.

"What if the guards find it?"

"Can we take books back to our rooms?" I asked and Mac shrugged.

"You think his drawings are correct?" Mac asked.

We both looked at George who was scribbling down something new. It's not like he heard what Mac had said, but still, it was rude to talk about him while he's right there.

"Not like we have a bunch of map makers to choose from."

George shoved his book at me again, but before I could finish reading the words, the cafeteria doors opened yet again. This time it wasn't Josh. When Amelia came through with more guards, all the prisoners stopped what they were doing and turned to her, their faces a mask of fury and horror. Some ducked their heads, trying to make themselves shrink into their environment. No one wanted to be the next name called.

Amelia's face looked as bruised as mine felt. I was getting good at punching people. The three macho guys I had talked to earlier definitely took notice as the big leader looked from Amelia to me and back again. Now he would believe me. She continued to speed walk over to where I was sitting. Jesus, not again.

When she approached our table, her face was passive but something was lurking underneath that calm. I could see her hands twitching inside her lab coat pockets. Mac quickly slammed the book shut.

Amelia stood a foot from the end of the table and took a breath before speaking. "Mac, come with me please."

I jumped up in my seat. "I thought you were out of infected?"

Mac stared down at the table, sitting ramrod straight. My outburst may have just made things worse.

"No need to concern yourself, you'll be coming too," Amelia said with zero emotion.

Mac looked up at me, confused. The others never mentioned them taking two at a time for the experiments. Having two of us against an infected would actually be better, so I was doubly suspicious. What the hell did she have in store for us?

Amelia jerked her head toward us and the guards sprang into action as if they were trained dogs. They grabbed both Mac and I in a tight grip and led us toward the doors. I looked back to see George slip the book into the pocket of his robe and give me a small thumbs-up sign, but his gesture didn't match the worried look on his face.