But now they were going out five days early.

"You finish ahead of schedule?"

Chino looked toward the fence along the front of the yard, between the administration building and the gun tower close to the chapel.

"You see what they doing, those posts out there?

Putting up another fence, five meters on the other side of the one that's there. We wait until Super Bowl Sunday they could have the second fence built and we have to dig another nine ten days. So we going soon as it's dark."

"During the count."

"Sure, and when they get the wrong count," Chino said, "they have to start over. It give us some more time to get out of here. You want-I mean it-you can still come."

"I didn't help dig."

"If I say you can come, you can come."

"I appreciate the offer," Foley said, looking toward the fence and the visitors' parking area just the other side, a few cars in the front row facing this way, not twenty yards from the fence.

"And it's tempting. But, man, it's a long run to civilization, a hundred miles to Miami? I'm too old to start acting crazy, try a stunt like that."

"You no older than I am."

"Yeah, but you're in shape, you and little Lulu." Foley winked at the queer and got a dirty look for no reason.

"I ever make it out it won't be in state clothes or no idea where I'm going. Shit, I'm fairly new here, still feeling my way through the system."

Chino said, "You do okay, man. I'm not going to worry about you."

Foley put his hand on the little guy's shoulder.

"I wish you luck, partner. You make it out, send me a postcard."

Some of the newer white boys doing time for drugs called home just about every day after noon chow. There they were lined up by the phone outside the captain's office. Foley went in to put his name on the list, came out and went to the head of the line saying, "Fellas, I got an emergency call I have to make.