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. Nobody gives a shit 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 bitch!…

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?”

“Fine,” Tracy lied. Her mouth was dry, and her heart was beating erratically.

“Well, we're both leavin' here today.”

Tracy found it hard to swallow. “Uh-huh.”

“You sure you kin get away from the warden's house by one-thirty?”

“No problem. Amy always takes a nap after lunch.”

Paulita said, “You can't be late, or it won't work.”

“I'll be there.”

Ernestine reached under her mattress and took out a roll of bills. “You're gonna need some walkin' around money. It's only two hundred bucks, but it'll get you on your way.”

“Ernie, I don't know what to —”

“Oh, jest shut up, girl, and take it.”

Tracy forced herself to swallow some breakfast. Her head was pounding, and every muscle in her body ached. I'll never make it through the day, she thought. I've got to make it through the day.

There was a strained, unnatural silence in the kitchen, and Tracy suddenly realized she was the cause of it. She was the object of knowing looks and nervous whispers. A breakout was about to happen, and she was the heroine of the drama. In a few hours she would be free. Or dead.

She rose from her unfinished breakfast and headed for Warden Brannigan's house. As Tracy waited for a guard to unlock the corridor door, she came face-to-face with Big Bertha. The huge Swede was grinning at her.

She's going to be in for a big surprise, Tracy thought.

She's all mine now, Big Bertha thought.

The morning passed so slowly that Tracy felt she would go out of her mind. The minutes seemed to drag on interminably. She read to Amy and had no idea what she was reading. She was aware of Mrs. Brannigan watching from the window.

“Tracy, let's play hide-and-seek.”

Tracy was too nervous to play games, but she dared not do anything to arouse Mrs. Brannigan's suspicions. She forced a smile. “Sure. Why don't you hide first, Amy?”

They were in the front yard of the bungalow. In the far distance Tracy could see the building where the utility room was located. She had to be there at exactly 1:30. She would change into the street clothes that had been made for her, and by 1:45 she would be lying in the bottom of the large clothes hamper, covered over with uniforms and linens. At 2:00 the laundryman would come by for the hamper and wheel it out to his truck. By 2:15 the truck would drive through the gates on its way to the nearby town where the laundry plant was located.

The driver can't see in the back of the truck from the front seat. When the truck gets to town and stops for a red light, just open the door, step out, real cool, and catch a bus to wherever you're goin'.

“Can you see me?” Amy called. She was half-hidden behind the trunk of a magnolia tree. She held her hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle.

I'll miss her, Tracy thought. When I leave here, the two people I'll miss will be a black, bald-headed bull-dyke and a young girl. She wondered what Charles Stanhope III would have made of that.

“I'm coming to find you,” Tracy said.

Sue Ellen watched the game from inside the house. It seemed to her that Tracy was acting strangely. All morning she had kept looking at her watch, as though expecting someone, and her mind was obviously not on Amy.

I must speak to George about it when he comes home for lunch, Sue Ellen decided. I'm going to insist that he replace her.

In the yard, Tracy and Amy played hopscotch for a while, then jacks, and Tracy read to Amy, and finally, blessedly, it was twelve-thirty, time for Amy's lunch. Time for Tracy to make her move. She took Amy into the cottage.

“I'll be leaving now, Mrs. Brannigan.”

“What? Oh. Didn't anyone tell you, Tracy? We're having a delegation of VIP visitors today. They'll be having lunch here at the house, so Amy won't be having her nap. You may take her with you.”

Tracy stood there, willing herself not to scream. “I — I can't do that, Mrs. Brannigan.”

Sue Ellen Brannigan stiffened. “What do you mean you can't do that?”

Tracy saw the anger in her face and she thought, l mustn't upset her. She'll call the warden, and I'll be sent back to my cell.

Tracy forced a smile. “I mean… Amy hasn't had her lunch. She'll be hungry.”

“I've had the cook prepare a picnic lunch for both of you. You can go for a nice walk in the meadow and have it there. Amy enjoys picnics, don't you, darling?”

“I love picnics.” She looked at Tracy pleadingly. “Can we, Tracy? Can we?”

No! Yes. Careful. It could still work.

Be in the utility room by one-thirty. Don't be late.

Tracy looked at Mrs. Brannigan. “What — what time do you want me to bring Amy back?”

“Oh, about three o'clock. They should be gone by then.”

So would the truck. The world was tumbling in on her. “I —”

“Are you all right? You look pale.”

That was it. She would say she was ill. Go to the hospital.

But then they would want to check her over and keep her there. She would never be able to get out in time. There had to be some other way.

Mrs. Brannigan was staring at her.