I was yards away from my door before my panic left me. Then I remembered
where and who I was and took a fast look around. There was no one else
in the corridor, of course, or I would not have been able to cut and run
as I had. But I looked around anyway until my reasoning power told me
that I had done little to help my position.
Like the canary, my plans for escape ended once I was outside of my
cage. I literally did not know what to do with my new-found freedom. One
thing was becoming painfully obvious: I'd be pinned down tight once I
put a foot outside of the dead area in which this building was
constructed. What I needed was friends, arms, ammunition, and a good,
solid plan of escape. I had neither; unless you call my jailed friends
such help. And there I could not go; the tell-tales would give me away
to the master control center before I could raise my small--and
unarmed--army.
So I stood there in the brightly lighted corridor and tried to think. I
got nowhere, but I was driven to action again by the unmistakable sound
of the elevator at the end of the corridor.
I eyed the various cell doors with suspicion; opening any but an empty
room would cause some comment from the occupant, which again would give
me away. Nor did I have time to canvass the joint by peeking into the
one-way bull's eyes, peering into a semi-gloom to see which room was
empty.
So instead of hiding in the corridor, I sloped towards the elevator and
the stairwell that surrounded it, hoping that I could make it before the
elevator rose to my floor.
I know that my passage must have sounded like a turbojet in full flight,
but I made the stairway and took a headlong leap down the first short
flight of stairs just as the elevator door rolled open. I hit the wall
with a bumping crash that jarred my senses, but I kept my feet and
looked back up the stairs.
I caught a flash of motion; a guard sauntering past the top of the well,
a cigarette in one hand and a lazy-looking air about him. He was
expecting no trouble, and so I gave him none.