Not failure, but low aim, is the crime. In great attempts it is glorious even to fail.
—BRUCE LEE
As Jenny slowly climbed higher, I tried to figure out how we could get over the barbed wire without getting hurt. Or at least not too hurt. While there were gaps on the sides of the gates where they connected to each other and the fence, they were only a couple of inches wide.
The barbed wire wasn’t completely taut. Some of the strands sagged in the middle. The kung fu sash in my backpack! I could throw it over the barbed wire and then pull the ends down and back. That might compress the wires enough for Jenny to climb over. And then she could do the same for me.
But even as I pictured it, I realized it wouldn’t work. After Jenny went over, the sash would still be on this side and she would be on the other.
What about the Bruce Lee book currently stuffed down Jenny’s shirt? Could we lay it on top of the barbed wire? But it wasn’t big enough, and it was too stiff. It would only protect us from the top strand. We needed something that would drape over all of them.
And then the solution hit me. We were surrounded by cars. Cars with floor mats. Ducking into the nearest car, I grabbed the floor mat from the front passenger side. Made of carpet with a rubbery backing, it folded easily when I tried to bend it.
But there was no way I could climb the fence while holding on to the mat. Not with a broken wrist. With my bad hand, I pulled the bottom of my coat away from my other layers, then shoved the mat under and up so that it covered my torso. The stiff top edge pressed against my throat, right where Sir had held the Taser. He would surely do much worse if he caught us. That thought made me hurry to the fence.
Jenny had only made it about three feet off the ground. In fact, she had stopped climbing and was simply clinging to the fence, trembling so hard I could see it from several feet away.
“Come on, Jenny. Keep going!” I grabbed the fence next to her with my good hand and tried to step up, but I couldn’t get any purchase. Seeing that Jenny had toed off her shoes, I did the same. Then I jumped as high as I could. Like a monkey, I grabbed with my toes as well as my right hand. The mat threatened to slide loose, but I clamped it against my torso with the elbow of my bad arm. And then I kept clambering.
I had gotten about halfway up when there was a shout behind us. Sir was awake, and he knew we were gone.
We both shrieked in response. I had thought all my adrenaline was used up, but I could feel more flooding me.
Jenny turned to me, her face as pale as a ghost’s. “He’s going to catch us and kill us.”
“No, he’s not.” I tried to sound like I believed it. Moving as fast as I could, I stepped up one foot and then the other, clinging to the fence with my good hand. “Come on! Don’t stop. We are getting over this fence now!” I pushed up hard with shaking legs as I reached for a new handhold.
When I looked over, Jenny hadn’t made much progress. The pale green hand towel I had tied around the dog bite now looked black. How much blood had she lost? How much could she afford to lose?
And how long until Sir came for us? My head was on a swivel as I looked from Jenny to the gravel road and back again.
“I’m sorry.” Her voice broke. “I’m not strong enough.”
“Yes, you are. Look! Just take one more step up and then you can stand on that metal cross pipe.” Encouraging her helped me to ignore my own pain, to keep moving up myself.
Trembling, she did as I said.
“That’s excellent. You’re almost there. Now just reach your right hand up. Good. And now your left. We have to get over this fence before he comes.”
Even one-handed, I made it to the top before Jenny. Holding on to the metal pipe, I considered the strands of barbed wire. I needed to put the floor mat over them—and I also needed to hold on to the fence. To do both of those things was going to take two hands, even if one of them wasn’t working right. Jenny was clearly in no shape to help me.
I grabbed the top horizontal pole with my left hand, ignoring the grating jolt of pain from my broken wrist. With my right, I tugged the floor mat free of the sweatshirt. I had planned to put the narrowest part over the strands. Now that I was looking at the barbed wire, the mat seemed far too narrow. How could we hold on to it while also getting our legs over? Shifting my grip, I laid the mat down lengthwise. Then I pressed with all my might, making the wires dip.
Jenny was finally even with me. “You go first,” I told her. “Grab the mat with both hands and pull it down as hard as you can.” The barbed wire groaned when she put her weight on it, giving even farther. “Okay. Push on your toes and straighten your elbows. Good! Now swing your right leg wide and put it to the other side.”
But when she tried to push up, Jenny’s elbows buckled. After months of being locked away, she was simply too weak.
The sound of a motor made me jerk my head in the direction we had come from. An engine revved.
My heart crammed into the back of my throat as the white van came roaring out of the wall of crushed cars. It was heading straight toward us. The headlights blinded me.
I had thought he would come for us on foot.
But this was worse. He was going to run us over.