She slipped it on and asked her father, “What did you see around the laundry chute?”
He stepped into his shoes while buttoning up his shirt. “A cart full of laundry and shelves with cleaning supplies.”
“It’s in a supply closet, then.” Enzo scooped the guard’s holster from the floor. “We just have to find it.” He handed his old gun to Charity and headed down the hallway, strapping the guard’s holster on. She strode beside him, nearly running as she searched the hallway for something that looked like a supply closet. Her father trailed behind them. They passed door after door, all of them prison cells.
The girl ran to catch up. “We’re on the third floor,” she whispered. “Won’t falling that far down a laundry chute break every bone in our bodies?”
“Hopefully not,” Charity said.
The girl glanced over her shoulder. “Um, why don’t we take the elevator? It does the same thing without killing you in theprocess. I think I could make the guard’s boots work with this outfit.”
Charity noticed a door with no number. “Found something.” She hurried to it and pressed the button. After a facial recognition scan, the door opened. No code needed this time.
A large supply closet met them, complete with a laundry cart, industrial floor cleaning machine, a sink, and shelves. The group shuffled inside. A square metal chute sat in the back wall, a couple of feet wide.
Enzo scooted by the cart and flung open the chute’s door. “It’s straight down several floors. We’ll need some sort of ladder or a rope.”
They glanced around the room at the bottles, brooms, and boxes. Nothing useful. Charity’s father moved stacks of things on the shelves to see what was behind them.
Enzo leaned into the chute. “Plan B. It’s small enough that we’ll be able to press our legs against one wall and our backs against the other and scoot down that way. It will take longer but is doable.”
The girl lifted her hands in frustration. “Did you really not think this through? You just broke into a building where they keep federal prisoners without an exit strategy?”
Her continued outbursts weren’t helping. “What’s your name?” Charity asked with strained patience.
“Blue.”
That probably wasn’t her name, but whatever. “Ok, look, Blue. My dad is a psychic, so his instructions are our best bet for evading capture.”
Blue huffed. “No offense, but they already captured him once.”
Charity didn’t respond. She’d spotted the solution. “The floor cleaning machine. We’ll use the cord for a rope.”
She unwrapped it. The cord was extra-long. Maybe forty feet.
Her father tugged a length of cord. “Will it be strong enough to hold us?”
Enzo was doing the same sort of evaluations. “Maybe not the two of us, but Blue and Charity should be fine. If the cord breaks while you’re going down, put your legs and hands on the chute wall. At the very least, it will slow your fall.”
Enzo took a stack of cleaning cloths from the shelves. “Use these to hold onto the cord so you don’t get rope burn on your hands.”
Her father tossed the end of the cord through the chute. Enzo handed Blue two cloths. “You’re the lightest. Do you want to go first?”
She eyed the group and didn’t take Enzo’s offering. “Is this some sort of experiment? Are you really police officers, and you’re just putting me in situations to see how I’ll respond?”
“I’m not going to answer that.” Enzo gave Charity a couple cloths. “Your turn. Once you’re down, shine your phone’s light up here so we know it’s fine to throw Blue in.”
He was probably joking about that.
Charity took the tranquilizer gun from her purse, gave it to her father, and tossed the purse in the corner. She took hold of the cord and climbed into the chute.
“You’ve got this,” Enzo told her. He clearly had more faith in her abilities than she did.
Her weight immediately pulled her downward. The metal sides of the chute flew by. She gripped the cord tighter and pressed her lips together so no startled exclamations popped out.
Her descent slowed a bit, but the pieces of cloth smoked from the friction. In a few seconds, they’d either be torn to shreds or become so hot she’d have to let go. She couldn’t see how far left she had.
The plug at the end of the cord dug into her hands, breaking her grip. Two seconds later she landed with a thud onto an enormous pile of laundry. She pitched backward and lay there among the dirty sheets for a second, catching her breath. Her hands stung, but nothing seemed to be broken.