She let her eyes track the wall's length. No gate. No break. No tree close enough to climb. Climbing was not part of her repertoire tonight. She pressed her hand against her stomach and let the curtain fall.
The door next.
She had already established that it opened. That was something. That was more than she had expected. She eased it back, standing in the frame, mapping the corridor in slow, deliberate sweeps.
To the right: the narrow staircase she had taken earlier, leading toward the entrance hall, toward the room with the bare bulb and horrors she was not ready to think about.
To the left: the corridor continued past three closed doors before terminating at a larger door, heavier than the others, fitted with a keypad lock glowing faint green in the dark.
