Oblivious

by Jamie Bowers

  Joe brought himself to his feet and looked around. The roof was flat, edged with a wall that came to waist height made of the same red brick as the rest of the building. From Joe’s position all he could see was the chimney stack at the end of the wall and green hills in the distance, he was at the highest point of the prison. He slowly walked towards the wall and the first thing he saw was two guard towers on the perimeter wall, watching everything that was going on. Joe knew they wouldn’t spot him because they wouldn’t think to look up high, but still didn’t want to take any chances at being seen. He looked over the edge of the roof and could only see a drop around ninety feet to the ground, there was no way that he would live if he tried to jump. The end of the roof was the same, nothing but gravity stood between him and the unforgiving solid ground. He looked over another wall and this time saw the roof of the prison extending out, several pitched, tiled rooftops reach out to the edge of the prison walls. The roof was closer than the ground, around fifty feet, but he knew that he still wouldn’t survive the fall. He spotted an emergency escape ladder on the corner of the wall that went down to the roof. Joe carefully slid his body over the wall and placed both feet on the top rung. He looked around and could see the guards in the towers patrolling their posts, it would only be a matter of time before he got spotted so he placed his feet on either side of the ladder and slid down as fast as he could. Hitting the roof below, Joe’s leg didn’t support him and he fell in a heap onto the tiles. Scrambling in pain to get to his feet he got to one side of the roof, the guards view obscured by the small wall that ran along the edge.

  He could hear inmates in the yard shouting. Joe slowly looked over the wall and could see two men arguing. One jumped on the other which drew the attention of everyone, including the guards in the towers who pointed their guns down to the yard as they watched. This was the distraction that Joe needed so he could run. Sticking to the side of the wall, he ran along the rooftop, keeping low as he went. Each incline and decline put strain on his leg but the adrenalin was preventing him from stopping. As he got to the end of the roof he ducked down behind a chimney stack and could see the guards were still watching the altercation in the yard, but it wouldn’t be long before the fight was halted. Keeping his back to the brickwork, Joe slid his body around the corner where he had no cover and no wall ran along the edge. Below he could see chain fences either side of an area and a dirt path that led out of walls through a gate secured by a single guard. The drop to the ground was shallow enough for him but he could still draw unwanted attention. There were three prison vans within a few feet of where he was that he could get onto in order to help him down. Joe stepped backwards to make a jump when he saw two guards step out from a door below him. He quickly stopped and lay on his front, watching them from above.

  The men both lit cigarettes and started to walk around the vans. ‘We’ve got to make this quick,’ one guard said, ‘we have to be back at the cells in a minute for that guy coming back from the infirmary.’ Both guards stopped in between the vans and continued to smoke as one leant his back against the side.

  ‘What do you reckon will happen when the Warden gets his new job?’ Joe was intrigued by what they were talking about.

  ‘You know they’ll give me the job because they want a young man to shape up these shit-heads.’

  ‘Yeah right. You know that the job will go to Richards. He’s been sniffing ever since the Warden said he was going.’

  Joe didn’t want to stay lying on the roof for much longer because he was exposed and soon he’d be spotted.

  As Joe was trying to listen he remembered the keys he had taken from one of the guards. He placed his hand in his pocket and took out the small set on a brass clip. They were of different sizes, no clear indication what they are for. On one of the keys he could just make out a mark scratched into it. It was 03 engraved by hand, with dirt ground into the etching. Joe could see that the van the guards were using as a prop had 03 painted on the door, he figured that the keys must be for that vehicle, but getting the guards away was not going to be easy.

  Joe’s thoughts were interrupted by the prison siren; they must have found out that he was now missing, so time is precious. The two guards quickly flicked their cigarettes onto the ground and ran in through the door. Joe looked up and could see that the men in the guard towers were now eagerly looking around for him. Without any hesitation, Joe got to his feet and pounced onto the roof of one of the vans as best he could. He slid himself down the side and dropped to the dirt covered ground. Without a thought for any pains, he scrambled for the keys in his pocket and took them out, opened the driver’s door and jumped into the seat the best he could and started the engine. Looking ahead Joe could see the guard on the gate was now extra vigilant and nothing could get past him without reason. He took off his hat to wipe his brow and repositioned it enough to shadow the marks on his face. Calmly, Joe drove the van to the gate and wound down his window to speak to the guard.

  ‘It’s going crazy,’ said Joe, trying not to make too much eye contact, ‘Warden wants me to drive around the perimeter to make sure it’s ok.’ The guard looked at Joe as the beads of sweat ran down his face. The few seconds of silence felt like a lifetime.

  ‘Sure,’ the guard said as he stepped back into his booth, ‘it’s too fucking hot to be running around for these ass wipes. Rather you than me.’ The guard pressed a button on the console inside the booth and the large chain-link gate started to open. ‘See you soon.’ the guard said as he waved his hand at Joe. Joe tipped his finger to the guard as thanks and slowly drove the van out. He couldn’t believe what he had just done, if he wasn’t before, Joe was a criminal now.

  Still trying to keep his speed low, as to not draw any unwanted attention, Joe pulled the van out onto the main road that ran adjacent to the prison walls and followed it. As he got past the edge of the prison he continued down the road, looking at the fortress in his mirror. The prison disappeared from his sight and he could see New York City on the horizon. Several miles later and still some distance from the city, he saw an old farm. Joe turned the van off the main road and proceeded down a dirt path leading up to the main farmhouse.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Joe drove the van up the sandy lane towards the old farmhouse. The building looked beyond repair it was obvious that it had been some time since the wooden exterior had seen a new coat of paint. Following the path as it went around the back of the building he stopped the van in an area between the house and a dilapidated barn out of site from the main road. He turned off the engine and slumped over the steering wheel in relief.

  ‘What now?’ he said, looking at his reflection in the rear-view mirror, ‘What’s your plan?’ He took off the hat and belt and along with the baton tossed them onto the passenger seat. As he opened the door he could hear police sirens in the distance getting closer with every second. Joe jumped out of the van and landed awkwardly on his bad leg. Falling onto his backside in the dirt, he looked down at his trouser leg and could see it was stained dark with blood. He grabbed hold of the mirror on the side of the van he hoisted himself up, the pain was becoming unbearable and he didn’t know how much longer he could withstand it. Hearing the sirens getting closer, he edged himself to the back door of the farmhouse and saw the screen was hanging off its hinges. Pulling it to one side he turned the handle but it was locked. There wasn’t enough strength in his body to break it down. Leaning against the back wall for support, Joe shuffled himself through the weeds to the edge of the house. He carefully looked around the corner and watched as several police cars sped along the main road, on their way to the prison. It would only be a matter of time before they started searching nearby buildings for Joe and the van.

  Limping around the van to the barn, Joe could see it was clearly locked from the front with a large padlock holding the doors together. He limped closer and scrambled through the shrubbery that was all around. Around the back there was a large amount of timber piled up below a window. He hop
ped onto the wood pile and sat on the edge and then pulled himself up to the next level where the window was. The window was made up of four small panes of glass, held in place by a very old and rotten wooden frame. Sitting on the pile of wood Joe tried to force the frame with his shoulder but it was still solid and hard to move. He grabbed the edges and tried to prise the edge of the frame with his fingers but struggled to gain a firm enough grip. All the while he could hear more sirens in the distance he knew that he needed to get inside. He grabbed a small rock from the top of the woodpile and gripped it tight in his fist. With a sharp movement he broke one of the small panes of glass, using the rock to knock away the pieces from the edge. He reached his hand inside and held the handle between his thumb and fingers. With some force, he managed to unlock the window and pull it open. Looking through the opening it was too dark to see, he could only see a few boxes under the window and the dust in the air being illuminated by the sunlight. Turning himself around, still sitting on the woodpile, Joe slid his feet gently through the window frame. The opening was just about big enough for him to get slide with no trouble. Holding onto the edge of the frame, Joe pulled himself through, resting his good leg gently onto the boxes below. Still holding the window ledge he stood up on the top box to look around. There were some shelves nearby with what looked like old car parts, but other than that there was nothing more that he could see. It was too dark for him to make out what he could see. Suddenly, the boxes he was standing on started to wobble and weaken. The top box began to collapse under his weight and before he knew it he plummeted to the ground with a great crash. Joe screamed in agonising pain as the fall had caused him to land on his broken leg. Lying strewn amongst tools, vehicle parts and pieces of cardboard box, the air was filled with years of dust that had been blown around the barn. Joe felt paralysed in pain, his leg felt worse than ever and he couldn’t do anything but lie there.

  He rolled up his trouser leg and could see the blood had soaked through the orange dressing and was quickly pumping out of his veins. Without the need to undress the wound to see the extent of the damage Joe knew that he was losing blood at an alarming rate. Undoing the tie from around his neck, he quickly wrapped it around his thigh as a makeshift tourniquet. Pulling it as tight as possible, the pain became more of a throbbing sensation and this made him feel light headed.

  The only light in the barn was from the window he used to enter and the dust in the air still made visibility poor. Joe turned his body around so that his leg was directly in the light. The orange cloth around his leg had turned blood red and was stuck to his wound. Gently untying the knots that held the splint to his leg, Joe could feel the blood had soaked through the material like a sponge. As he released the knots, the pain worsened and the bone started to protrude through his skin. He pulled the tourniquet tighter to reduce the blood flow as he continued to remove the dressing. He couldn’t leave it as it was unless he wanted to die in that barn. Shuffling himself around the floor some more, Joe turned his left foot and slipped it under the bottom of the shelves, lay on his back and reached above his head grabbing something that felt like a railing and placed his right foot on the edge of the shelf, above his left.

  ‘Here goes nothing,’ Joe said to himself. ‘1, 2, 3.’ As Joe finished the count he pushed with his right leg and pulled with his arms as hard as he could. He screamed in pain as the bone in his left shin was pulled straight. The agonising pain was a relief for Joe to know what he had done. Still feeling faint, he took off the guard’s jacket he had been wearing and bundled it under his feet for support. He ripped the sleeves off his shirt and tied one firmly around his wound; ripping the other sleeve into two he tied the splint back onto his leg.

  Joe didn’t have the energy to try and walk just yet and knew that if he fell he wouldn’t be able to fix his leg again. He decided that the best thing to do would be to get some rest and hope nobody came whilst he was asleep. With the sound of sirens in the distance rushing through the countryside, he slowly closed his eyes and tried to get as comfortable as possible with the anticipation that sleep would eventually come.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Coughing from the dust as he awoke, Joe could feel the moonlight shining down on his face from the high window. He sat up and looked at his leg, the white shirt sleeves were dirty and stained with blood, but not as bad as he had imagined. He took the lighter from his pocket and lit it, the flame jumped in the air as he moved it around him. There was an oil lamp on the shelf next to him, he picked it up and gave it a shake. A small amount of oil was still inside, maybe just enough to light it. He took the lid off and put the lighter inside, it took a moment but eventually the lamp was lit, giving Joe more to see. The barn was cluttered with pieces of wood and farm equipment. Most of the space was taken up by something large underneath a tarpaulin and a pile of boxes.

  Joe reached up to the shelves and pulled himself to his feet. Regaining his composure as he stood, he gently placed his left foot on the ground. It was able to hold his weight much better, but he knew that he still wasn’t able to run or even walk fast. He limped to the tarp and placed his hand on it. The layers of dirt and dust made it evident that it had been many years since it was moved. Joe looked inside the boxes on top; it was just three boxes with more vehicle parts and tools, nothing of use at this time. He picked up the boxes and carefully piled them up on the floor. He grabbed the edge of the tarp and pulled it, revealing some kind of vehicle underneath. He limped around to the side to get a better hold on the cover and gave a big pull. As the tarp started to fall, the weight carried the rest of it to the ground. Underneath revealed a pale green, 1948 Chevrolet Fleetline. Joe couldn’t help but smile as he was happy to see such a vehicle in the great condition it was. He looked inside and could see it was well looked after, the tarp protected the car even after the owners had left. He pushed some boxes away from the door and turned the handle on the passenger side door, it was locked, he had a feeling it wouldn’t be that easy. Looking around he could see so many boxes and shelves, it would take Joe weeks to try and find a key, that’s if it’s in there at all. He tried again to open the door from the handle and then the back door but it was no good, it was locked tight. He wasn’t able to try the other side as the car was too close to the wall. The light in the oil lamp started to dim as the oil ran out.

  Joe stepped to the front of the car and placed his hands on the pristine, chrome grill. He bent his knees and with all the strength his legs would allow pushed the car backwards towards the doors. The sweat ran down his face like a mountain stream. He strained as he pushed, trying to get the momentum going. Eventually the car started to roll, it was slow but it was mobile. A slight drop in the floor by the doors meant that if he could get the car onto it then hopefully the weight will shift the car and break the doors open. Pushing it further, Joe needed to get the car just a few more inches. He managed to get the Fleetline onto the gradient and it slipped away from him as it rolled, hitting the doors it quickly ripped them from their hinges, flattening them against the dirt outside. The car continued to roll over the doors and down the sandy pathway besides the house. Gathering speed it quickly went past the house and carried on towards the road before mounting an embankment covered in weeds and shrubs. As it rolled up the ridge it hit a fence post that once had barbwire attached. The fence post stopped the car from going anywhere; it just sat with one wheel in the air spinning freely.

  Cautious in case anyone had seen, Joe walked to the car as quickly as he could. Wearing his now sleeveless shirt and trousers with one leg rolled up, he hobbled down the driveway to assess the damage. He pulled himself up the mound of plants and could see that the rear of the car had a considerable dent, nothing so bad that you can’t drive it, but it could draw some unwanted attention. Joe paused for a moment and as he looked at the dent in Chevy and started to laugh out loud. It was a contagious laugh that would make you laugh, even if you didn’t know what was so funny. He projected his laugh up above him, stretching his neck as hig
h as he could towards the night sky.

  Under the light of the almost full moon, Joe could see a picturesque landscape, illuminated beautifully by the night sky. It was like another world to him, he saw no skyscrapers, traffic jams or people rushing about. He could hear the crickets in the fields and the faint sound of bats flying between the trees. He hobbled around to the driver’s door and turned the handle. With a piercing screech from the mechanism and the stiff hinges, the door opened. Joe was so relieved and quickly got into the car. He stretched his hand under the seat and checked the sun visors but there was no key to be found. Getting out of the car, Joe limped back to the barn and started to rummage through the boxes. He took a small hammer and screwdriver and went back to the car where he placed the screwdriver in the ignition and hit it hard with the hammer. He knocked the screwdriver a few times to make sure it was wedged in tight. He gripped the handle and turned it with force. Joe hoped that there would be enough fuel to get him away from here. He tried several times and eventually the engine started, blowing out clouds of black smoke as it kicked into life. Joe put it into gear and pulled back onto the driveway leading to the house. He looked at his reflection in the mirror and then down at his dirty, torn clothing. He couldn’t go anywhere looking like this; he doesn’t want anyone to notice him as he is now a fugitive on the run.