by Jamie Bowers
Limping back to the bedroom, Joe picked up the lighter from the floor and grabbed a handful of his clothes from the wardrobe, along with a pair shoes. He sat on the edge of the bed and slowly undressed, replacing the ill-fitting items with ones of his own. Standing up as straight as his body allowed, he felt like a free man once again, wearing a dark blue shirt and blue denim jeans, he slowly slipped his feet into a polished pair of black dress shoes. He grabbed a sand coloured jacket from the wardrobe and slid his arms in, the soft material felt good as his hands went to the end of the sleeve. Stepping back into the hallway Joe opened the top draw of the sideboard and reached his hand to the back, pushing around loose papers and envelopes. Grabbing something, Joe slid his hand out of the draw, his fingers gripping a wooden box. He placed the box on top of the sideboard and opened it carefully to reveal a gleaming, silver revolver and a box of bullets. Both looked fresh and clean and possibly never used. He loaded the gun with some bullets and closed the cylinder, hearing the click as it locked in place. Grabbing what was left of the bullets; he took the box and put them in his right jacket pocket. Joe slid the gun down the back of his trousers, covering the handle with his jacket.
Joe hobbled down the stairs to the door that led to the street, opening it slowly he peered into the alleyway to make sure nobody saw him. As he closed the door behind him, he turned up the collar on his jacket to try and obscure his face. Joe walked down the street and got back in the Fleetline, still parked next to the kerb. The traffic of people and vehicles meant he could blend in with less chance of being spotted. Turning the key in the ignition, the pain started again, radiating from his lower gut, it crippled Joe, freezing him to the seat as he slumped over the steering wheel. With all the energy he was able to conjure up, he sat up straight and slowly pressed on the accelerator, pulling the car carefully into the traffic. As he drove along the Manhattan street, the pain became worse, making him feel weak. His vision became blurry and he started to sweat. The sweat ran down his brow and into his eyes, making it harder to see anything. The sun began to set over the city, colouring the sky in a vibrant orange glow, but Joe was unable to admire the view as he needed to use all of his concentration on the road ahead.
After just a few seconds of driving, the pains from Joe’s stomach pulsed through his organs, causing him to lose concentration and swerve the car across the road into the path of oncoming traffic. Every car horn or flash of lights brought Joe’s attention back again, but not for long before the next abrupt throbbing that crippled him. Veering in and out of his lane, Joe struggled to keep the car on the road without drawing unwanted attention. He slowly released the accelerator, decreasing his speed in the hope that this would be easier for him to manage. Further down the road he could see the traffic lights changed to red and the cars ahead were stopping. As Joe slowly pressed his foot onto the brake further pain radiated throughout his body, causing him to collapse sideways onto the passenger seat as the car continued to roll towards the standing traffic. The car hit the one in front with an immense crash, throwing Joe into the foot well underneath the dashboard. His eyes closed shut as his body flopped onto the carpet.
With his eyes still closed, Joe could only hear the loud, continual sound of the car horn rattling in his head.
‘What the fuck was that?!’ Joe could hear a man shouting. ‘Get out of the car, mother-fucker! Get out before I drag you out!’ Joe slowly opened his eyes and tilted his head to look towards the passenger door. He could see a blurred silhouette of a man at the window, his outline illuminated by the street lights. The door was quickly opened and the man leant over Joe and clenched his hands around the lapels on his jacket. The man pulled Joe head first out of the car, dragging his feet along the floor.
He lifted Joe’s limp body and pinned him against the side of the car. ‘What the fuck is your problem?’ he demanded as he held Joe firmly by the shoulders. Joe was too weak to lift his head, let alone respond. Another man approached the two men and grabbed the man off Joe.
‘Can’t you see he’s injured?’ he exclaimed pulling the man back.
‘What the fuck has this got to do with you? He answered, ‘Someone has got to pay for this damage.’ He dropped Joe’s limp body to the floor and turned his attention to the passer-by. The two men started to argue with one another as Joe lay almost lifeless in the street. He lifted his head gently to see that a crowd had gathered around to observe the incident. The discussion between the men became heated and they started to push one another. The driver of the other car pushed the other man onto the kerb and then stood over him as he punched him in the face repeatedly. Joe could hear the dull thud as each fist caused blood to spill over the sidewalk. The crowds of people started to shout for him to stop but this was ignored as he continued to hammer on the head of the man who had now become limp. Using up what energy he had, Joe tried to get to his feet, slowly pulling himself up on the side of the car. Joe stood as tall as he could, clutched his stomach and shouted.
‘Hey! Leave him alone!’ The cry drew silence amongst everyone around and the man stopped hitting the other man. He stood up slowly and turned to Joe.
‘You don’t know who you’re messing with.’ he said to Joe as he walked towards him, ‘Look at you, hardly able stand and now you want to stand up to me.’ As pedestrians rushed to the aide of the downed Samaritan, the man looked Joe up and down at his frail body, the clothes hung off his once athletic build as if he had been deprived of food for weeks, ‘Are you on something or do you just want a beating as well?’ Joe stepped backwards, resting his hand on the car for balance he looked down at his feet as he gathered his breath.
‘It was an accident,’ said Joe softly into his chest.
‘What was that you said?’ questioned the man as he took a step closer to Joe. Joe lifted his head and took a large intake of air before responding.
‘It was just an accident.’ He said staring directly into the eyes of the man. Still with blood on his hands, the man pushed up against Joe, pinning his entire body back up against the car.
‘Don’t I know you?’ he said staring deep into the darkness of Joe’s eyes. Joe shook his head and tried to avert the man’s gaze by looking at the people in the crowd that had now grown bigger. He could see people talking amongst themselves and pointing. How many of them know him as the escaped convict on the run? Joe dropped is head again to try and stop any more people from seeing his face.
‘I don’t think you do.’ He said looking around the ground. The man dipped his head so that he could look at Joe further.
‘If I am not mistaken you are the guy in the news, the one who has escaped from prison and has a very nice reward on his head.’ Joe tried even harder to look at the ground and stop him from seeing his face but it wasn’t working, ‘I’m right, am I not?’ said the man with a menacing smile across his face. ‘Well, I suppose I had best take you to the police, but not without teaching you a lesson first.’ The man slowly took one step backwards and clenched both of his fists.
‘I’m going to enjoy this.’ He said as he lifted both arms into a sparring position. Joe stepped away from the car, softly raised his hands and copied the stance of the man. The two of them started to move around one another as the crowd gathered closer to form a circle that could not be escaped. ‘You see this man here?’ the man said shouting to the crowd as he continued to walk around, ‘He is a wanted man. He’s the guy who escaped from Hampton Penitentiary and when I’ve given him a lesson I’ll take him downtown and claim my reward.’ Joe couldn’t believe this, the crowd noise rose as they started to mutter amongst themselves.
‘Let’s get this over with.’ said Joe as he lifted his fists higher in front of his face, ‘I have things to do.’ The man just laughed and then quickly stepped forward jabbing his right fist directly into Joe’s jaw causing him to stumble backwards. Joe wiped his hand across his mouth and saw the blood that had come from his lip.
‘I didn’t hear the bell,’ he said with a smile on his face, ‘but
that doesn’t matter, now I know we’ve started.’ Taking a large step forward Joe swung his right fist and the man ducked the strike, hitting Joe firmly in the gut. Joe quickly dropped his hands to shield his stomach and took another two fists to his unguarded face, stumbling backwards and dropping to his knee.
‘I thought so,’ said the man as he stepped over Joe, ‘prison didn’t make you anything but weak. You look like you’re ready to drop dead.’ Joe spat blood onto the floor and felt the pains in his stomach become unbearable once more. Standing up as quickly as he could, he raised his fist with vengeance and struck it hard on the man’s chin with a fierce uppercut, knocking him quickly off his feet and onto his back. The man lay on the floor, almost still, rubbing his hands around his face as Joe stepped over to him, placing a foot each side of his torso. Joe dropped down to the man’s chest, pressing his knee firmly into his throat.
‘You think I’m dead?’ he said, restricting the air flow as he pressed down harder, ‘Well, this wouldn’t hurt then, would it?’ Joe lifted his fist high above his head and dropped in rapidly, thrusting his knuckles into his skull. Repeatedly, with both fists, Joe continued an onslaught of hits, each one spilling blood onto the ground. With each hit, the man became more lifeless until Joe’s attention was broken from a scream in the crowd.
‘Please stop! You’re going to kill him!’ a woman shouted. Joe froze, staring down at the mangled face below, he couldn’t believe what he saw. He stood up slowly and looked up at the people around him, stunned in silence. A couple of people rushed over to tend to the man and Joe’s concentration was turned to the sound of sirens getting closer. Panic started to rush through Joe’s mind, he needed to do something.
He slipped his hand around his back, underneath his jacket and drew the out the pistol. The crowd became stunned and quickly stepped backwards. As fast as he could, Joe ran at the crowd and pushed his way through. Knocking people over, he had no regard to anyone else, he had to be quick if he wanted to get away. Running into a nearby alleyway, he went as quick as his legs would take him, limping with each movement whilst still gripping his aching stomach. He managed to run about two hundred yards before collapsing to his knees. Looking over his shoulder he could see the crowd still watching him and the sound of the sirens getting closer. Shuffling his legs, he got to his feet once again and started to move further down the alley. Stumbling with each movement and swaying from side-to-side, he appeared drunk and unable to hold his own weight.
He looked back once again and saw the street behind him was lit up with flashing lights and it was only a short time until the police came down the alley after him. Leaning his shoulder against a dumpster for support, Joe lifted the lid to reveal several bags of waste and an old carpet. Joe tried to lift himself into the dumpster but he did not have enough strength to do so. He could hear people at the end of the alleyway shouting and coming towards him. He grabbed the carpet and with all his strength pulled it out. Sliding between two dumpsters, he pulled the carpet around him. To someone walking past, Joe hoped that it looked like a rolled up carpet and nothing more. Joe could hear the voices and footsteps getting louder and closer, he used all of his concentration to control his breathing as it was loud and erratic. The footsteps and voices quickly passed but Joe remained still under the carpet, knowing that if he gets seen he would not be able to get away quick enough.
Still covered by the carpet, he slipped off his jacket and placed it between his head and the side of a dumpster to make a pillow. He got as comfy as he could and tried not to let any noises disturb him.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Joe wasn’t able to get any sleep, but he was able to rest long enough to gather up the energy to be able to move at a better speed. He pushed the carpet from around his body and stepped out slowly from between the dumpsters. Checking the alley in both directions he was unable to see anything that concerned him. He walked slowly down the alley, in the opposite direction of the previous night’s confrontation and went to the street. Keeping alert to everyone around him, Joe walked down the street with the morning sun burning onto the back of his neck. He walked past a few people on their way to work, but not many seemed to pay an attention to his bloody, dirty face as they were too busy on their way. Joe tried to keep his composure and walked several blocks without a thought for where he was going. Reaching a park area, Joe sat on a bench below some trees and watched the world rush by. At the end of the bench was a drinking fountain that Joe was able to use to wash the blood and dirt away from his hands and face, helping him to blend in more. He sat on the bench for several hours as people went by without a thought for his presence. A few people threw scraps of food and drink into a waste bin and Joe consumed whatever was disposed of to try and keep his energy up.
As the sun moved across the sky and the commuters went home at the end of the working day, Joe knew that he needed to find somewhere to sleep as he did not want to spend another cold night on the street. He walked across the street and up a couple of blocks to a bus stop. Standing for some time in the entrance of an abandoned shop, Joe watched each person get off each bus as it stopped. Five buses came and dropped off passengers but Joe remained standing on the kerb, watching as each one left. As the next bus pulled to the stop, a few people got off along with a familiar face, it was Francis, still dressed in her nurses uniform covered by a long, black overcoat. Joe stepped out of the doorway as she walked past and followed her for a few steps before speaking.
‘Francis.’ He said, placing his hand on her shoulder to stop. She turned and looked at Joe,
‘What the hell, Joe?’ she said, surprised to see him, ‘What are you doing here?’ She grabbed him by the arm and quickly pulled him to one side, out of the view from the busy street. ‘Everyone is looking for you, Joe. What are you doing coming here? They could be watching me.’
‘I’m sorry, Franny.’ He said with a look of desperation in his eyes. ‘I have no place else to go. I’m innocent and can prove it, Franny. I just need your help.’ Francis looked at Joe with clear concern.
‘How can I trust you, Joe?’ she said shaking her head, ‘Me and Doctor Gable were willing to help you but you decided to run away.’
‘I know, but.’
‘Don’t even start on me, Joe. We have been questioned time and time again by the prison board about what happened and we had to tell a lot of lies to cover for you. And then there is the Warden, let’s just say he was not at all happy about what happened. I’m lucky I didn’t lose my job over this.’ Joe reached his hand out and caressed Francis gently on the arm.
‘I know what I put you through and I’m sorry.’ Francis stepped back and pushed his hand away.
‘You don’t know, Joe. And what’s worse is that you come here and ask me for my help. I don’t know what I can do to help you. You have to turn yourself in before we both get into more trouble. And if you don’t do it, I will.’ Francis started to walk away and Joe grabbed her by the wrist.
‘Please don’t, Franny. You are the only person left that I can turn to. I’m begging you to please hear me out. Let me explain and if you still want to turn me, then fine, but please just listen.’ Francis could see the desperation in Joe’s eyes.
‘Okay,’ she said with concern, ‘but if I don’t like what I hear, I’m going straight to the police. You have one hour and that’s it.’ Joe gave a smile as he was glad with what he heard,
‘Thank you, Franny. Let’s go to your house and I’ll explain everything.’
‘No way,’ said Francis, ‘I have only agreed to listen to you for now. Around the corner is a bar called Geri’s. I’ll meet you there in twenty minutes. I just want to go home and get changed; I don’t want to be seen with an escaped criminal in my prison nurse’s uniform.’ Francis walked away and continued down the street, leaving Joe feeling a bit relieved and happy that she didn’t scream out for help.
Joe took a slow walk around the corner and found Geri’s Bar. He could tell that this was the kind of place that was not p
opular amongst the tourist and anyone who did walk in through the doors was not questioned about their motives or reasons for being there. From the look of the front, the interior décor would probably be as old and dilapidated. Joe walked through the door, the instant musk of stale beer and cigarette smoke overwhelmed all his senses. Keeping his eyes firmly fixed on the floor to not draw unwanted attention, he walked past the bar to a table towards the back. He sat in the chair facing the door, looking through the thick, dense smoke in the air. The bar was not at all busy, with the only people being two men sitting at the bar, the barman and two men sitting at another table ready to pass out with the amount of alcohol they had already consumed. He looked at the clock on the back wall; it was showing five fifty-five which didn’t mean much to Joe as he didn’t have much sense of time anymore.
The barman walked up to Joe and stood over him.
‘Sorry, fella.’ He said tucking a small towel into his back pocket, ‘We’re not a homeless shelter. You either buy a drink or you get out.’ Joe looked up at the barman who showed no signs of emotion.
‘I’m not homeless.’ Joe replied. ‘I’m meeting someone here. She will be here soon.’ The barman shook his head in disbelief.
‘If you say so, but if you are sitting here, you need to buy a drink.’ Joe dipped his hands into his pockets and emptied the contents on the table. All that he placed down was a lighter and an old tissue that looked like it had been washed with the trousers. The barman leant forward and placed both hands on the table.
‘I don’t want any trouble here, but if you haven’t got any money, you’ll have to get out.’ Joe rubbed his hand across his head.
‘I don’t want any trouble either.’ He said slipping his hand around his back, ‘I just want to wait for my friend.’ He took the gun that was concealed under his jacket and held it out beside him for the barman to see. ‘If you can just leave me alone, I’ll leave you alone. I just want to meet my friend.’ The barman took a step back and raised his hands.
