Roland disagreed. His hindbrain estimated Sasha and the doctor could afford a solid eight minutes of emotional closure before they got too close to the jail.

“Is eight minutes a lot of time for you people?”

Everyone stared at him, their individual disagreements forgotten for a moment. Roland realized, late, that he’d spoken out loud.

“Sorry,” he said. “That was just supposed to be in my head.”

They still stared.

“Well, now you only have like, seven minutes and forty seconds.”

“Ignore that,” said Manny. “He’s a maniac. That’s why you don’t want us to let him loose in your city.”

“Dr. Brandt,” Sasha added, “I know you’re a good man. The Lord put you on this earth to save lives. This is your chance to do that.”

The doctor kneaded the bridge of his nose with his hand. He did an admirable job of not giving too much away with his body language, but Roland could smell the truth. The scent of stress wafting off the doctor faded. It was a sign the man had made a decision: there was something about choosing that calmed the human soul.

“You are correct of course, Sasha. I never approved of us holding those women in the first place. It was foolish, to antagonize things like him,” he nodded toward Roland. “If I can avert a massacre, I will. But I sincerely hope you plan to escape with them, Sasha. I won’t hide or protect a traitor.”

“I’ll leave,” Sasha said.

The doctor gave a somber nod.

“I won’t be able to get you out of the jail with those prisoners, you know.” He said to Roland. “I can get you inside, and I can probably get them to send the prisoners into an examination room. But the guards won’t let them leave the building.”

“I’ll take care of that part,” Roland promised. “I’m real good at making doors.”

Roland was aware of the old saying, “No plan survives contact with the enemy.” For some reason his hindbrain remembered the original version of the quote, from an old Prussian General named Moltke: “No plan of operations extends with any certainty beyond first contact with the main hostile force.”

People who observed Roland in battle tended to think he just sorta winged it and ballsed his way through on sheer violent potential alone. But Roland was, at his core, a planner.