Miriam said, “How are we going to get them all out? It’s too dark and the way back is too complicated. It's a labyrinth. We’re going to lose some of them.”

I said, “You’ll get lost, not me. Because I’m not coming.”

“What do you mean, you’re not coming?”

I pointed to the locked door. “I’m going the other way.”

“Suicidal.”

“No, more like homicidal at the moment.”

Miriam shrugged. “Your call. So what do you suggest?”

“I suggest that you avoid getting lost.” She gave me an exasperated look. I said, “Come with me.”

We went back through the laundry room. I stepped into the clothes drying cave. The clothes were hanging on thin line. I held it in my fingers, it was braided fishing line.

“This is improvised. It’s not the usual stuff people hang clothing on.”

“So?”

“So, maybe there’s more of it lying around somewhere. Nobody uses fishing line for laundry unless it happens to be lying around.”

I pushed through the hanging laundry to the back of the cave. There was a bunch of old cardboard boxes piled up, just as I’d figured. The spool of fishing line was resting in the first box, exactly where it had been thrown after use. The box was full of fishing gear. Bait and tackle boxes, spools of line. An old French clasp knife with a wood handle. It was a big spool, the label said twelve hundred meters. I figured they’d used about thirty to hang the washing. I picked it up and turned to Miriam.

“You’re going to let this run out behind you. I’ll have the other end.”

“What’s that going to do?”

“Two things. The girls will go after you in single file, running the line through their hands as they go. They’ll stay in touch and organized. Second thing, if I find the others, I can send them down the line to you.”

“What others?”

“There are empty beds.”

She nodded. “How do I find my way back?”

“You’ve got a light, you’ll have to figure it out.”

Miriam said, “Is that enough line?”

“It’ll do.” She looked up at me, fierce and determined. I said, “Good to go?”

“Good to go.”