Free Deadly Quicksilver Lies by Glen Cook

stopped.
    “How are you doing? I’m Ivy.”
    My act wasn’t fooling Ivy. I considered putting him out of his misery.
    Which gave me an idea. A twist on the riot scheme. I went looking for the big guy. I found him seated against the far wall. I planted the reverse side of my lap on the hardwood, grunted. “I got about enough splinters.”
    “Send out for a chair.”
    A wise guy. “How come it’s so quiet?”
    “Maybe on account of it’s the middle of the goddamn night.” Eloquent verbal stylings, too.
    “I mean, we only had one screamer.” Not counting him. Nobody was yelling at the moment. “I heard there was lots of screamers. Mostly guys who can’t handle what they remember about the Cantard.”
    His face darkened. “Yeah. There’s some of them. They get drugged if they get too bad. Like they get each other going.”
    Interesting. “Know any way to set one of them off now?”
    He studied me narrowly. “What you up to, Slick?” He thought there had better be a damned good reason for pulling a stunt like that.
    “Up to getting out of here.”
    “Can’t do that.”
    “Maybe not. But they didn’t empty out my pockets before they dumped me in here. You game to try?”
    He thought about that. His face grew darker. “Yeah. Yeah! I got business out there. Yeah. You get the damned door open, I’ll go.”
    “You figure any of these guys would help?”
    “Plenty would go if the walls fell down. I don’t know how many would help make them fall.”
    “So could you get some guy screaming as the first step?”
    “Sure.” He got up, strolled to the far end, messed with somebody a minute, headed back. Plenty of inmates watched him. The man he’d visited started screaming. Chills slithered all over me. He was one of the lost souls.
    The big man asked, “Good enough?”
    “Perfect. Now try to round up some guys willing to help out.”
    He went away again.
    I went into my act. “Shut up down there! I’m trying to sleep.”
    The guy didn’t stop screaming. I’d been afraid he would. I glanced at the observation windows. Someone was up there, but the racket didn’t interest him. Were they that indifferent? I needed to be seen.
    I yelled at the screamer. Somebody yelled back at me. I yelled at him. Some genius yelled at both of us like that would shut us up. The racket picked up. We were like a troop of monkeys. Some of the men started moving around, just shuffling numbly, without purpose.
    The uproar finally caught the ear of whoever was on duty. He looked down but didn’t seem concerned.
    I screamed louder than the screamer, threatening mayhem if he didn’t shut it up.
    “How are you doing? I’m Ivy.”
    “Pack your trunk, Ivy. We’re checking out of this cuckoo inn.”
    The big guy came by. “I got a dozen guys willing, Slick. You want more?”
    “That’s plenty. Now I need everybody back away from the door. It’s going to get nasty there when they come in.” I hoped. If I hadn’t been suckered too bad.
    “They’ll figure we’re up to something, Slick. They only look dumb.”
    “I don’t care. That won’t matter. I just need the door open.”
    He sneered, confident I was on a fool’s quest.
    I screamed some more at the screamers.
    There were several people at the observation windows now — including she of the glorious gams.
    I chuckled, sure I was on my way out. No woman would work the Bledsoe unless she had a giant soft spot. I roared, bounded over pallets, started strangling the loudest screamer.
    The big guy came by and pretended to drag me off. I gave him further instructions, then ran him off. He wasn’t a bad actor.
    Me, I was a master. I made it look real good. To my surprise, none of my fellow patients tried to stop me.
    I only strangled my victim a little, enough to cause unconsciousness.
    I galloped to the other end of the room, went to work on another screamer.
    Soon there were guys flying all over the place. The majority got into the spirit. It wasn’t exactly a riot,