Chapter 4
As the girl swiveled in the big woman's embrace, reaching for the paddle, the matron fell to her knees. Her thick arms clutched Noreen's thighs like a vise and she pressed her face hard against the girl's trembling body. "You darling! You sweet! You honey!" Noreen hit her with the flat side of the paddle. She was so frightened she could hardly breathe, yet she fought to remain calm. She mustn't hit the crazy old cow too hard!
The blow landed across the back of the matron's skull with a meaty sound, the shock partially absorbed by die woman's thick hair. Matron Ayers moaned and slid down in a mountainous heap of flesh at the girl's feet. Her clutching hands, as she fell, ripped part of Noreen's dress away.
The matron was out cold. The girl, breathing hard, stared for a moment at the huddled figure. Had she struck too hard after all?
After a second or two the stentorian breathing of the matron reassured her. Now there was not a moment to waste. Noreen reached down, put her hands beneath the sweaty armpits, and tugged with all her strength to drag the bulging, corpse-like figure to the mound of dirty sheets. A distance of only a few feet, but it cost her nearly all her young energy. She stopped to catch her breath, glancing around.
She must hurry! She began to twist dirty sheets into stout ropes and tie them around the inert figure of the matron. The woman had not stirred, though her breathing was more normal. Noreen bound her arms, legs, and stuffed a dirty napkin into the flaccid mouth. This she secured with a second napkin. She took her time on the knots, putting every ounce of her strength into the task. When she had finished she was covered with perspiration. But only the first part of the job was done. Now came the dangerous part.
I'm committed now, she told herself. I've done it and there's no backing out. If they catch me they'll send me to the Women's Farm for sure. Maybe even to the Women's State Prison as an incorrigible! Only they weren't going to catch her. Not if her luck held and she didn't turn chicken and lose her nerve.
She felt a draft on her leg, where the cheap dress had ripped. With a final glance at the mummy-like figure of Waffle, Noreen ran quickly to one side of the main room, where the freshly laundered clothes were hung or stacked. She would get a new dress.
She moved along the wall, keeping in the shadows, away from the gaze of anyone chancing to look in the window. Not that there was much chance of that. Outside the prison-for so the girl thought of it-was settling down for the night. Waffle had cleared her for the nine o'clock bed check. With luck, and if Waffle didn't get loose, her absence would not be discovered until midnight. By then she had to be far away.
Her luck was in. Among the dresses on the racks she found one that was not of the prison seersucker. One of the matrons, probably, getting her laundry done for free. The girl snatched at the dress, of light blue material that felt like chiffon. It was too big for her, but not much. She ripped off the seersucker and hurled it away with a little sound of animal delight. Stinking uniform. She would never wear seersucker again as long as she lived. Unless she were caught.
She started for the little office when she had a thought. Even the change of dress might not be enough. She was so slim. And the night had eyes. She ran back into the sorting room Waffle was still out, breathing in a slobbering snore. Noreen quickly heaped a pile of the dirty sheets over the matron, being careful not to smother her. Then she wound three of the sheets around her own lithe body, from her armpits to just above her knees, using them as padding and leaving them loose enough for free movement. Now, with the tent-like rain coat of the matron's, and the horrible hat, she might pass a cursory inspection.
She buttoned the raincoat tightly over the-sheets that swaddled her. It was still much too large, but now at least she looked a little like the fat woman.
She tugged the monstrosity of a hat down over her forehead as she had seen Waffle do. She was ready now. Out the door, turn left, walk the hundred yards to the parking lot. Freedom!
A sudden impulse struck her. She never knew just why she did it. It was risky and took time she could not afford. She found a piece of paper and a pencil on Waffle's desk and wrote a brief note to the warden, spelling the name wrong:
Dear Miss Poindexter-I write this to tell you I am sorry I had to hurt the-matron. But she is a bad one and shouldn't be around young girls. Make her tell you what she tried to do to me. I can't stay here, Miss Pointdexter, or I would go crazy. I am not a criminal. I am running away and am going to try to make something good oj myself. I am only leaving this note because you were nice and treated me like a human being.
Yours sincerely, NOREEN CASEY.
She was about to leave the note on the desk when she thought that the warden might never get it that way. The matron might see it first, or someone else who would tear it up. She took an envelope and a stamp from the desk, quickly addressed the envelope and stamped it and slipped it into the pocket of the raincoat. She would mail it at the first opportunity.
She started toward the boiler house, trying to imitate the slow waddle of Matron Ayers. The gravel was loud beneath the cheap prison shoes she wore, but she dared not step off on the grass verge. It might look funny to anyone watching.
Most of the place had gone to sleep. Here and there in the brick buildings a yellow rectangle glowed. Noreen could see the ghostly blue sheen of night lights in the Johns. The Administration Building was dark.
She passed under the swinging light. It cast wavering shadows as a freshening breeze moved it. There was a smell of coming rain in the air. Noreen held her breath as she crossed the little puddle of light. If the night man at the boiler house saw her and became suspicious....
She needn't have worried. As she plunged into the shadows again she shot a quick glance through a window of the boiler house. The two men on duty were absorbed in a card game. On the table between them was a bottle of whisky. The girl laughed softly. This was her night! A lovely summer night of freedom, with a freshening storm coming on.
The parking lot was deserted except for a dozen cars belonging to the night shift. It took Noreen but a moment to find Matron Ayers' car, a beatup gray Chevie sedan. She prayed there would be enough gas and that the wreck would go a few miles without falling apart. That was all she needed-a few miles. She had no intention of driving through the town of Crawfordsville, where the police block-if any-was sure to be set up.
She was almost sure that Ayers had road maps in the car. She had seen the woman studying them in the office one night and when she had gone for the night she had taken the maps with her.
Noreen found the maps in the glove compartment. She flicked on the dash lights and, forcing herself to be calm, studied the maps briefly. After a moment she found what she wanted, a map of the state showing Crawfordsville as a speck of a village.
The Chevie was a '50, with the gear lever on the steering column. She could handle that. Studsy's hot rod was an old job too. She winced as the gears clashed loudly as she put it into reverse. She backed slowly around, her heart chilling as she saw, from the corner of her eye, the door of the boiler house open. A man stood silhouetted in the shaft of light. But he was looking at her from the rear. If he could make out anything it would only be her padded shoulders beneath the raincoat and the back of the terrible hat.
Noreen resisted the temptation to tramp down on the gas and roar through the gate. That would be a sure giveaway. She kept to an even fifteen miles an hour as the car rattled and chugged down the drive between the thick growing shrubs and tall trees. God-what a clinker old Waffle drove. Noreen gave a laugh of pure triumph. The stinking fat old cow! I sure fooled her! Even if they catch me I fooled her. Fixed her, too. Wait 'till the warden gets my note! Oh, she's a cop too-even if she is beautiful and educated and everything, but I bet she'll fire Waffle. Maybe even put her in prison!
The guard was standing in the door of the gate house. She could see his bulky figure outlined against the soft light behind him. Noreen sank her chin into the raincoat collar, hunched over the wheel, and slowed to ten miles an hour. This was the big moment! If he got suspicious and checked she could still get away, but not for long. If he was unsuspecting she probably had until midnight. Or at least a good start.
Suddenly her breath would not come. Her hands were sweaty on the steering wheel. Then, as she was within twenty feet of the gate house the first driving squall of summer rain came, beating at the car with a flurry of huge glistening drops. In an instant the windshield and the windows were a gray smear.
Laughing, delighted at the break the Fates and her own daring had given her, Noreen waved a hand at the guard as she turned left out of the drive. Through the rain misted window she saw him wave back as he retreated hastily into the gate house. She had done it!