In the evening he got on the bike and made his way to the bank’s location. The GPS showed him being just a bit higher than the target location. At midnight the watch started to glow in its usual deep blue light and he crouched and pushed the button. The next moment he landed on the stairs, but not quite right, causing him to sprain his ankle upon impact and falling down the rest of the stairs. He got up, slightly angry at himself, limped into the vault room and started working on the boxes. Hours later, after opening ten random boxes, he had nothing of importance or value, apart from one box containing women’s jewelry which he skipped in favor of not having to explain how he acquired such things to a potential buyer who, as he knew himself, would probably be the first pawn shop owner he could find. The other ones were full of personal belongings that held more of a sentimental value. Then, finally, on the eleventh one, he scored. The box seemed small and he almost passed it, but in the last second he changed his mind and went for it. Inside, stacked in four rows, was the almighty cash showing off its number 500 on every row, and he correctly guessed there would be more 500’s below each of the four rows. He placed the money into his backpack and sat down, resting for the first time in the last three and a half hours. After some daydreaming about the possibilities of being rich and able to travel in a way he now could, he got up again and tried his luck on another random box. Out of the next six safety deposit boxes, four were hits – two of them had money inside, a large one had a couple of gold and silver blocks, and the last one had a gun with two full clips next to it.
He sat back down and casually started reading through all kinds of papers he found in the other boxes, hoping to find valuable things or useful information. Around seven o’clock he pulled out his lunchbox and ate the meal he prepared for this occasion; nothing special – a sandwich with tuna, mayo, cheese and tomato. By eleven o’clock he began feeling sleepy and had to do his best to keep from giving into the body’s desire for rest. He could feel his eyelids getting heavier and slower with each blink; twice he began to doze off, thinking he was still awake, as you do when your mind starts playing tricks on you.
At midnight the light came on, but the deep blue glow was far less intense than usual. The watch also did not present any warmth. He pushed the button, but nothing happened. He pushed the button again and again, each time without the desired result. He checked his wrist watch – the one minute window was closing; he tried the button again – nothing! The silver pocket watch was not working!
He started sweating heavily and the vault room suddenly felt like a sauna. The only other option now was to break out of the bank, something he had not planned at all. He went back up the stairs, limping and cursing all the way, kick-opened the doors separating the staircase from the ground floor, setting off a silent alarm at the same time. The signal got sent to central with light speed, where it was immediately sent forward to a guard on duty that night, patrolling the town and the 18 buildings and businesses in his sector under the company’s protection. Jason made his way to the front door of the bank, using power-tools to get it open, as you can not really break through plexi-glass effectively. The drilling set off another alarm, this time a very loud one, echoing through Sunday night, waking up people in nearby houses. He somehow managed to get the door open and started running in a slow, limping sort of matter. One of the neighbors called the police, with the security guard already very close to the bank. He knew the town pretty well – all the side alleys where he used to drive through when delivering food, or simply for the kick of it. All this knowledge was useless now, his foot was swollen, he could not run and the blocks in his backpack turned out to be quite heavy. The next series of events unfolded fast and not in Jason’s favor. Car lights from behind cast his shadow on the wall in front, a man called out, he tried to run, the man gave chase, they fell to the ground, he did not resist. The security guard tied a bit of plastic around his wrists and the police showed up soon after. He was put in the back of the van, driven to the police station and, after some paper work, sent to a cell, soon to be awaiting trial in a court of law.
9: THE JUMP
One hour and twenty minutes to go...
He decided to try his luck hiding in the one the rooms designated for overnight stays for staff; he dared turn on the lights and quickly look around. The place had a small kitchen, a bathroom divided in two – a toilet with a sink in one part, and a shower and laundry machine in the other. The shower was one of those old-timely bathtubs with a plastic sheet to go around when used as a shower; he soon abandoned the idea of lying down into the tub and hope for the best, but then again, hoping for the best was his only option right now.
He opened the window next to the shower, turned off the lights and stepped behind the door just in time to hear running footsteps pass by – a guard was making his way to the watchtower. Standing there behind the door he had to hold back laughter from thinking about his childhood days when he would do the same – hiding behind one of the doors in his family’s old apartment and waiting for mom to come and find him when she came back from work. He thought about her and how sometimes she would go along with the game and actively search for him awhile before finding him behind the doors, again and again, as there was little place to hide in that small apartment. He remembered how sometimes, when she must have been in a bad mood, she would simply ignore his games and go about her daily routine after a hard day’s work. On such days he felt very dumb standing there without being searched for and would, eventually, come out of hiding to greet his mother. He wondered about the mood of the guard that should come soon – would he be interested in his little game and look for him, or just pass by without care.
He realized he should have taken his wrist watch as well, he did not know exactly how long had he been standing here, foolishly hidden behind a door and deep in his memories; on the other hand, time did not really matter, all he had to do was wait for the pocket watch to wake up, only then can he make his move. He heard another set of footsteps approaching and continuing out to the tower. He heard muffled words being spoken and through the window he saw that bright white light, looking around, almost playfully dancing in the night. Some time went by and the talking stopped. One guard was on his way back; the footsteps seemed to pass him, only to be heard walking into the break room. Would he come here next, he questioned and held his breath. The answer was yes, as the steps walked into the room and the lights were turned on. He imagined the guard examining every corner, then saw the shadow walk to the bathroom. A head poked in and he could feel the guard’s breath, while doing his best to keep his own. The guard did not seem to be interested in the open window and left the room, turning the lights off. He could breathe again now.
He slipped back to his childhood memories; he tried to remember his mother at that age, she must have been close to thirty then, the same age he was now. But the memory escaped him, he could only see her as she was today, approaching 50 years of age. She had always looked the same to him, only pictures in family albums revealed her aging when viewed side by side.
More footsteps, but these ones walked in a different pace than the ones before, there was more authority to be felt in each step. They followed the same pattern – first to the watchtower, then to the guard room. He knew which room was next. It did not take long for the lights to come back on and he held his breath again. The shadow came to the bathroom, but this time it did not stop, it went straight for the window. By that time the shadow became a person, with a gun and baton around the belt. The guard turned away from the window and looked directly into the corner from where Jason had been watching. Their eyes met and for a second there was nothing but silence, they stood still like statues built facing each other in a constant state of a war-like stare.
Then there was a sound – a start of a guard calling out, quickly interrupted by a body mass plunging into him, taking away his voice, knocking him down on the bathroom tiles and closing the door in the process. The attack was as much a surprise to Jason as i
t was to the guard, he had never been in a fight before, but at the same time hitting and punching came natural and he had no problem conquering the middle aged guard, knocking him out on the fourth strike.
He got up, trying to calm his breathing and listening if anybody heard the yell, but the heartbeats were too loud, the blood was pumping through his body like thunder and he felt shivers all over his skin. He walked over to the front door, locked it and turned off the light. Then he returned to the bathroom and looked out the second story window. He should be fine, he told himself. The thought of old man Moore returned, the image forever burned in his mind. He, too, thought he was going to be fine.
The room filled with light again, but it was not the yellow light from the bulb above, nor was it the white search light from outside; the light came from below and made the room shine in a beautiful shade of ocean blue. The time had come and everything was in its place, as much as it can be when attempting a prison break.
He heard yet another set of footsteps, but this one did not follow the previous pattern, these ones went straight for this room. The locked door would not stay locked for long – a force was doing its best to break it open. It was time to make the jump. He picked up the silver pocket watch and felt, after a long time, the warmth it created when ready. He stepped over the knocked out guard, on to the window ledge and looked back just in time to see the door surrender and open wide.
Officer Jones was a new addition to the prison, having been working here for just over six months. He did not yet have a lot of friends and was still somewhat careful when talking to other co-workers, often staying quiet in a large conversation and feeling left out as the only non smoker. When at home, he would think about his choice of working here – had he made the right one, should he stay for longer or already ask to be re-assigned someplace else.
Officer Jones was also left with a new dilemma on this one particular night – what, if anything, to say when his superior wakes up and the rest of the guards arrive. He could not, for the sake of his future, say that upon entering the room by breaking down the door he saw the convict in question jump out of a second story window into what seemed like a bubble of blue light, then disappearing completely when he stepped to the opening and looked out. He chose, wisely, to stay quiet about it, saying only the door was locked and once inside he found his superior officer unconscious and there was no sign of the escaped prisoner. He then called in the situation and stayed with his superior, waking him up and making sure he was alright. He left the blue light sighting to others, whoever may decide to share it.
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AUTHOR’S NOTES
I started writing this short story one rainy night in mid-March, while camping somewhere on the south island. The idea came after a conversation about aliens and other worlds, the story fell into place after a dream about escaping prison, and the whole thing got tied together by my experiences working as a delivery guy.
I still have quite a few stories to finish, stories I started writing a long time ago and still haven’t finished, or gotten any further with, in case you were wondering. I will get there one day, maybe next month, if I’m not too busy with my departure from NZ.
I took the time and went through a spell check, so it should be good – the grammar at least; the story is what it is. Thanks for reading, let me know if you like it or not.
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Random outbreak: for the past couple of months there has been a song constantly playing on NZ's rock radio station - a song by Stone Temple Pilots with the guy from Linkin Park as the new vocalist, screaming something about time... I would like to go on record and say that it is one of the worst songs in rock history. I don’t know much about STP, never got into them so I don’t know what they were like before, but this is garbage. End of message.
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